"What now?"

"Do you know the story line for The Gate,Sergeant?"

Sebeck gave Ross a look. Clearly he did not.

"It's about a cult opening a gate to the Abyss and releasing a demon that lays waste to the world."

Sebeck just stared at him.

Ross laughed. "I'm talking about Sobol's game,Sergeant-I don't believe in demons and devils."

"Good. You had me worried for a second."

"The only daemon I'm worried about is the Unix variety. There's a delicious irony here that I don't think Sobol would be able to resist. You'd know what I'm talking about if you played his games. Now consider this: The Gateis an MMORPG."

"What the hell is that?"

"A massively multi-player online role-playing game."

"And what the hell is that?"

"It's a persistent 3-D game world experienced simultaneously by tens of thousands of players over the Internet."

Sebeck pointed at Ross. "Okay, now that sounds bad."

"In this case it's very bad."

"Well, the Feds powered down the whole server farm last night. There's not a pocket calculator running over at CyberStorm now. So whatever he planned is…"

Ross didn't look reassured.

Sebeck persisted, "I mean, hell, whoever did this couldn't put tens of thousands of steel cables and electrocution traps in people's houses. Failing that, this is basically just another computer virus."

Ross jerked his thumb. "I need my laptop." He walked back and pulled his laptop case from the rear seat. He laid it on the trunk and unzipped the top compartment.

Sebeck walked up to him. "What are you doing now?"

Ross had a credit-card-sized device in his hand. He scanned the area with it. "I'm seeing if there's a Wi-Fi signal in this area." He looked to Sebeck. "And there is." He pointed to the meter on the device, which indicated a strong signal.

Sebeck took the device and examined it while Ross started unpacking his laptop. "Okay, so what's this prove?"

Ross pointed to the gate down the road. "We need some indication that we're on the right track."

"And this does that?"

"Well, for starters it confirms that the gate or the winch could be wirelessly hooked in to the Internet."

"Like the black box over at CyberStorm."

"Right. It means a living human being didn't have to be involved in this. The news reports said Joseph Pavlos went riding down here just about every day. That means his gate remote became a murder weapon only afterSobol died."

Sebeck nodded. "Meaning the Daemon told the gate to kill Pavlos after it read the news of Sobol's death."

"That's what I'm thinking. Now we'll see what I can glean from this wireless network."

Sebeck leaned over Ross's shoulder as his laptop booted up. "What are you looking for?"

"The usual: whatever I can find." Ross logged on to his laptop, shielding his logon from Sebeck. Then he launched NetStumbler and waited for it to initialize. "This is a freeware program that helps me see wireless networks."

"I'm not computer illiterate, Jon. I have a wireless network at home."

Ross turned the laptop so the wireless card faced the Wi-Fi signal, and he almost pushed his laptop off the trunk lid. He caught it just in time, held on to it, and continued scanning.

In a moment Ross smiled. "Oh yeah. I picked up an AP." His face suddenly got serious. He looked up at Sebeck.

Sebeck moved over to him. "What?"

"If there's one thing I know from playing Sobol's games, it's this: time works against you. You need to act fast or you're dead."

"Okay, and…?"

Ross turned the laptop around for Sebeck to see.

Sebeck leaned down. The single entry in the NetStumbler window showed text under a column labeled SSID. The text read simply:

DAEMON_63

"I'd say there's more trouble coming, Sergeant."

Sebeck pointed. "Get in the car."

Chapter 11:// The Voice

Anderson was nearing forty minutes on the stair climber. Her work-out music mix drowned out everything except the pain. The sweat and the rage poured from her body.

How could they replace her? She wasn't old. Not yet.

She kept driving forward.

The Bay Club was pricey and exclusive, filled with high-powered business types and trophy wives. More than once she thought she saw them whispering and pointing. Her professional demise was in the trades. She burned with humiliation.

Without another network-level job, she couldn't afford this gym, much less her condo. Her credit card balances kept her driving forward, legs burning.

She had saved nothing. She had been projecting an image of success. The reality of her modest roots was something she'd tried to hide even from herself. Her artificial world was coming down around her ears. They'd call it vanity. No one would understand that it was more than that. It was ambition. It was a willingness to risk everything. Wasn't that admirable?

Anderson's cell phone lit up and vibrated on the tray in front of her. She stopped and pulled her earbuds out. She steadied her breathing and considered not answering it. It vibrated again.

It could be Melissa with news of a job. She checked the display. The caller's number was unknown.

Anderson let it ring one more time, then answered it. "This is Anji."

"Is this…Anji…Anderson?"It was a strangely clipped and measured voice. A woman. British.

"This is she."

"Was that a yes?"

The sound was odd. It must be an overseas call. "Yes.I'm Anji Anderson. Who is this?"

There was a pause. "I'm calling to let you know about a news story. A story that's about to happen."

"I don't know how you got this number-"

"You just lost your job. I can give you a big news story. Are you interested?"

Anderson just stood there, trying to decide. What was this, some sort of telemarketing scam? Was it another stalker?

"I didn't hear you say anything. Do you want the information? Just say 'yes' or 'no.'"

She tried to imagine what Christiane Amanpour would do. "Okay. I'm listening."

"'Okay' is not 'yes' or 'no.' You must understand before we continue that this is not a person. This is an interactive voice system. It can only understand certain things you say."

Anderson hung up. Damned telemarketers.

Her phone rang again almost immediately. She let it go to voice mail. Psycho telemarketers.She looked around for someone who might be staring at her. No one seemed to be watching.

Her phone beeped, and the text VOICE MESSAGE appeared on her display. She stared at the text, waiting for the phone to ring again. It did not.

She speed-dialed her voice mail and put the phone to her ear, then pulled it away again and tapped in her voice mail password. Phone to ear once more.

The familiar computer voice said, "You have…one…new message."

The message played. It was that measured female British voice again. "Anji, watch the news tonight. The biggest news story in the world is about to occur in Thousand Oaks, California. The next time I call, perhaps you'll listen."

Anderson saved the message. Should she tell someone? Should she call the police?

What if the voice was telling the truth? She thought about that again: what if it wastelling the truth? She considered it some more, then grabbed her water bottle and hurried toward the locker room.