Runaway Heart Read Online Free PDF Page B

Devastating. "I
am de man. I rule." Lincoln smiled to himself as he watched the intruder
move around in his shadow system.
     
    Outside in the bushes Roland decided to
try to find out how employees might be organized into work groups at Gen-A-Tec.
He tried looking at the /etc/group file and the systems administrator
let him do it. Roland's contempt for this SA was becoming enormous. The guy was
a beast, a Barney, an e-jerkoff.
          Roland could see that Jack Sasson's systems access rights were pretty
high. In fact, he was on all the key user groups, including the one called reshcorn, that probably stood for
Research Corn. "There we go, my man. We is strollin' with Roland . . .
hittin' wid Minton." Roland grinned as he downloaded the entire corn file,
but as it came in on his screen it seemed pretty damned ordinary. The kind of
stuff you'd find in the newspaper: descriptions of bio-enhanced corn, stories
about its new insect-repellent qualities and increased vitamin content—nothing
that the Strockmeister could use in court. Roland shrugged. At least he got the
goods as promised. Before logging off he downloaded a few of the company's
"Mahogany Row" e-mail boxes for perusal later.
          He disconnected his laptop, closed the phone junction box, packed up his
equipment, then calmly walked back to his rental, got in, and pulled away.
          "Adios, dickhead. You've just been kavorked," Roland said to
the five giant blocks of blue tile as he drove off.
     
    Lincoln Fellows watched as the cracker
in the shadows logged off. The hacker had downloaded some newspaper articles
and dummy e-mails. "Good crack, butt-munch," he said softly to the
empty screen. "Come back any time."
     
     
     
     
     

FOUR
     
    " H e's not
converting as fast as I'd like," the solemn-faced Dr. Lance Shiller said,
slapping nervously the metal clipboard in his right hand against his thigh. He
was looking at Susan Strockmire and she, not her father, was the one causing
his nervousness. The woman was exquisite. He was determined to impress her with
some medical wire-walking, maybe take her downstairs for a cup of mud and a
little case consultation, get her away from the manic frenzy of the Cardiac
Care Unit at Cedars.
          It was hard to get any romantic traction with code blues going off all
over the place, while crash carts whizzed by and cardiovascular post-ops rolled
through on bloodstained sheets.
          "If you want, we could explore some options," Shiller said.
"Tell you what, I'm off in twenty minutes and I haven't eaten since this
morning." He looked at his gold watch. "Holy Moley, that's almost
eight-and-a-half hours ago. No wonder I'm starved. How 'bout we jump downstairs
now and get a bite? I think we need to discuss getting your father a more
permanent result. The drug therapy doesn't seem to be doing it."
          "Okay," she said nervously. "Okay . . . sure . . .
whatever you think is best, Dr. Shiller."
          "Right. Well, that's what I think is best. . . and I prefer
Lance."
          The windowless cafeteria was overlit and bustling with medical people of
all shapes and specialties, as well as a few civilians from the four o'clock
visitors crowd. Most were carrying trays or hunched over processed meals at
institutional tables, looking uncomfortable in straight-back metal chairs.
Susan and Lance were in one of the few leather booths along the wall. Susan
only ordered coffee and Lance was poking at something called "The
California Plate" that was just an avocado and chicken salad with
honey-mustard dressing. He really wasn't hungry because, truth be told, he had
eaten only an hour ago.
          "What other kinds of things are you suggesting?" Susan asked,
leaning forward, her beautiful, delicate features porcelain and perfect even
under the harsh neon glare. But her pale blue eyes, the color of reef water,
were clouded with concern.
          God. . . I am falling in love, Lance thought, as he