Dance For The Devil (11 page)

“He left,” Amy said, pointing to the exit.

“We need to talk to him, it’s very important. Do you know him?”

Amy looked at the cops, then at her dad. She started to tell the truth
but something came over her, some instinct for survival. She shook her head.

“What did he want?”

“Money, spare change.”

“Did you give him any?”

“No,” Amy said, starting to cry. “I didn’t give him anything. I didn’t help him at all.”

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Jake said soothingly. “Excuse us, officers, my daughter is exhausted and I need to get her home. Everything will be okay in the morning, sweetheart. You’ll see. A good night’s sleep can cure anything.”

No it can’t, Amy thought. She sobbed all the way home, her face pressed against the car window, tears mirroring the rain drops cascading down the other side of the glass.

**

Almost five o’clock in the morning by the time they finally got home, and Jake was still unable to sleep. He tossed and turned, a dark premonition of gloom weighing heavily on his chest. The bed sheets felt like chains, tying him down. When the phone rang shrilly at seven, he answered it almost eagerly, glad for the interruption.

Gil was babbling hysterically. Something was wrong at Marvelworks and he needed Jake immediately.

Jake frowned. He planned to take the day off, taking care of Amy, fluffing her pillows, bringing her soup, and finding out why the hell she’d been climbing out her bedroom window. He pressed his fingers to his temples and Gil continued his tirade.”Look,” he said wearily, “I spent the better part of last night at the Emergency Ward and I’m really beat. Can it wait?”

“No,” Gil said abruptly, “it’s urgent. I need you here.”

Jake felt like his head was splitting open. “Okay, I’ll come in for an hour or so, but I need to be back home before the kids wake up.”

“Phone Carmen, she’ll come over early.”

“Jesus, Gil, haven’t you been listening to what I’m saying? We’re in crisis here, I need to be with my kids.”

Gil’s response was to hang up.

Carmen, bless her soul, offered to come immediately. At the ages of fifteen and twelve, his children were certainly old enough to fend for themselves in the morning, and occasionally did, but this morning he felt better having a reliable adult around. Carmen whistled in like a warm summer breeze, wrapped the apron around her ample middle and shooed him out the door.

The parking lot at Marvelworks was already half full.
So, his wasn’t the only early-morning frantic call. He stopped at his secretary’s desk, rubbing his eyes. The lack of sleep made him look haggard, and Lisa looked at him compassionately. “What’s the buzzword?” he asked her, grabbing a cup of coffee.

Lisa shook her head. “Doesn’t look good, you’d better go straight to the conference room. Gil’s expecting you.”

He grimaced, gagging on the coffee. It was stale and burnt, yesterday’s sludge. Another swallow and he tossed it out. “Sorry,” Lisa apologized, “no time to make fresh.”

“Actually, it was just what I need
ed to bolt me awake. Man, what a night.”

“Yeah, I heard about your daughter.”

Jake frowned. “Really? How?”

“Office grapevine – better than Email.” She cast her face down, flushing.

A pasty-faced Dick Lendall clapped Jake on the back. “C’mon, old man, I’ll walk with you to the conference room. Word’s out that Vandercamp’s gone apeshit, and there’ll be safety in numbers.”

Jake looked around. Everyone wore funeral expressions. “Come on, it can’t be that bad.”

Dick’s lips quirked. “That’s right, you haven’t been here long, have you, Montclaire? Take a word of advice – sit back, keep quiet, and when heads start to roll, pray like a bastard that it’s not yours.”

**

Gil waited at the head of the table, eyeing everyone as they took their seats. Without preamble, he threw a video game on the table. “Any explanation for this?” He paused for effect. “No? Let me enlighten you. This is an advance copy of Vids-4-Kids newest game, which is being released today. It’s called Galactic Gallery. In a nutshell, it’s a direct rip-off of Pluto’s Playground.”

A startled murmur rippled thought the room, and Jake’s headache swelled to gigantic proportions. He knew exactly what that meant – somebody at Marvelworks stole the plans
for Pluto’s Playground and sold them to a rival company. The video game industry was as competitive and cutthroat as the games it developed, and the stakes were high: millions of dollars in revenue stood to be gained... or lost.

“Goddamnit!” Gil bellowed. “Who would do such a thing? You all know we’ve been developing this game
for almost six months. We have advance buyers, our advertising campaign is set, the game was due to be launched next week, just in time for Christmas.”

“What exactly does this mean?” Dick Lendall asked. “Dollar-wise?”

“Dollar-wise, Dick?” Gil snarled. “Let’s see if I can put this into terms you’ll understand.
We’re fucked.
Already, three orders were cancelled and that’s just the beginning. More will come in after they read this.” Gil held up an early edition of The Province newspaper. Galactic Gallery had an enticing blurb on the front page. “There’s more inside.” Gil continued, his face matching the cherry-red wallpaper behind him as he flung open the newspaper. “The entertainment section gives Galactic Galaxy four-stars and a three-inch-accolade on how cutting edge the whole fucking thing is, and the business section gives a half page write-up on Vids-4-Kids and how Stephen Morris is the second-fucking-coming of Christ. Their stock is up a dollar-fifteen while ours dropped twenty cents. Anyone care to comment?”

“How bad is it? Can we still release Pl
uto’s Playground?” someone queried. Jake didn’t recognize the voice, and didn’t bother looking around to see who asked. It was a dumb question, not worth acknowledging.

Gil, however, pounced on it. “Can we still release it?” he mimicked, his voice rising several decibels until it sounded high and girlish. “Can we still release it? Haven’t you been fucking listening? Of course we can’t release it, you imbecile. To release it now would make us look stupid. Like copycats.”

“But... but the spinoff marketing might generate interest.”

“It might, but that’s not what Marvelworks is about. We might not be the biggest but we’re the best. We aren’t releasing a game that rehashes what’s already been done. If we do, we lose our innovative edge. Now, somebody in this company sold me out, and when I find who, he’ll pay big time. I’ll personally rip him from limb-to-fucking-limb. Then I’ll have him charged with industrial espionage, and that’s not a threat, it’s a fucking promise. Now, everyone get the fuck out of here so I can think. Except for you, Jake. I need to talk to you privately.”

Jake remained sitting while the others shuffled out. He kept his face bland and impassive.

“Well?” Gil asked, when they were alone. “What do you think?”

“Could be anyone, from a janitor to a secretary, or even one of the executives. Hell, it could even be a courier. This place is totally unsecured, people come and go at all hours.”

“Anything you care to tell me, Jake?”

Comprehension dawned. “Jesus, Gil, you can’t expect it’s me?”

“Why not? You’re the new man on the totem pole, and I know you have contacts at Vids-4-Kids.”

“But what would I gain from leaking it? I’d be cutting my own throat.”

“Revenge, perhaps? You were mighty pissed-off when I made those changes. No one can exactly call you a team player.”

Jake rubbed his eyes. “This is nuts, Gil, I haven’t had enough time to do this. For them to have beaten us to distribution, it would’ve been leaked weeks ago, probably longer.”

“That doesn’t let you off the hook, maybe you’ve been playing me for a fool, pretending you coul
dn’t fix the problem with level six, stringing me along to buy more time while you lined your dirty pockets.”

“If you believe that, there’s not
hing left to say. I’ll clear out my desk immediately.”

“Not planning to defend yourself?”

“What’s the point? You just accused, judged and hung me. If you wanted to act rationally, you’d realize that finding the true culprit wouldn’t be terribly difficult.”

“How?”

“Keep your eyes peeled for anyone who quits in the near future, and watch for a change in lifestyle. Whoever sold to Vids-4-Kids probably got paid well, and I’ll bet it’s burning a hole in his pocket. Watch for anyone driving a new car or going on an expensive vacation. That sort of thing. If you really want to be thorough, monitor everyone’s bank accounts. That should give you a few clues.”

Gil was watching him carefully. “Why, Jake, I do believe that’s illegal.”

“I’m sure it is, but I suspect that won’t stop you.” He scribbled on a slip of paper. “Here’s my account number, but it’s pretty sad right now – buying the house cleaned me out.”

“All the more reason to earn some fast cash, hmmm?” Gil shoved the paper aside. “Do you think I’m completely stupid? You’d hardly tell me the right account.”

“Gil, this is insane.”

“Okay, if you’re on the level, help me get back on track. I know you’ve been working on some ideas by yourself, and now’s the time to share them. Pluto’s Playground is dead, but if we hustle, we might be able to get something else ready.”

“I do have some thoughts I’ve been tossing around.”

“Fine, talk to Harris immediately, and get a replacement game on my desk by the end of the day... Oh, for Christ’s sake, now what’s wrong?”

“I can’t do that right away. I need to get home.”

Gil’s head snapped back. “You’re pushing it, Montclaire.”

Jake held his temper in check. Blowing up at Gil would only exacerbate the situation, and despite his glib offer to clear out his desk, he really couldn’t afford to lose his job. “I told you about Amy, about spending the night at the Emergency Ward.”

“Nothing serious?”

“No, thank God.”

“Then let Carmen handle it. It’s what you pay her for.”

“No.” Jake glanced at his watch. “I have to do this first, but it won’t take long. Ten minutes to get home, ten back... I’ll be less than an hour, and that’ll give me the rest of the day to tackle the game problem. Don’t give me that expression, Gil, this is non-negotiable.”

“At least, stop by and give the team your ideas first so they can get started. You must have some plans
laying about, some hardcopy?”

Jake nodded curtly, then left the room before he could say anything else.

Gil sat still for a full minute, thinking. Then he picked up the phone, punching in a prearranged number combination. “He’s on his way. Time’s up.” He listened for a moment, then nodded. He allowed himself a tiny smile of satisfaction. All the years of waiting, all the years of planning was about to pay off. Jake Montclaire was in for the ride of his life, a one-way ticket to Hell.

**

The design team was delighted to review his ideas. Jake opened his briefcase and tossed a disc onto the table. “Three prospects,” he instructed, briefly outlining. At the last moment, he kept back a second, more important disc, containing data of his best work
. I’ll show it to them later
, he justified,
when I can fully detail it.

Fifteen minutes later, Jake was pulling into his own driveway. The house appeared peaceful, which should have calmed him, but instead made Jake feel queasy.
Must be the coffee,
the thought.
I’ve got to get some food into my stomach.

It was still early; the children would be soundly asleep, recuperating from their horrendous night. It had been
close to five when they arrived home and Jake was operating on no sleep.
How nice it would be to climb back into his own bed,
he thought wearily.

The first clue
something was amiss was the front door left ajar.

The second was a wildly keening Carmen, flapping around the house like the proverbial chicken. Skeeter staggered down the stairs, rubbing his eyes. “What’s all the fuss about?”

Jake’s heart skipped a beat. “Good question, Skeet.”

Carmen was rattling something off, a combination of English and Spanish that made little sense. Jake led her to the sofa and instructed her to take deep breaths.

“It’s Amy!” She wheezed in great gulps. “Amy’s missing.”

“Gone? Where?”

Carmen shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “I went to check on her, to open the curtains, and she was gone. I searched the whole house, even the basement. She’s gone.”

“Calm down, Carmen.” Jake’s heart was making up for that skipped beat and now palpitated double-time. “I’m sure there’s a simple explanation.” But even as he spoke he feared it wasn’t true. His stomach knotted, a sickness rising from his gut, awash in acidic bile, burning a path upwards via his esophagus. The kind of feeling a parent gets instinctively when something is wrong with his child.

Carmen’s accent thickened. “I was in the kitchen, making eggs and bacon, so when the children woke they could eat right away. I had the music turned up, you know the station I like? I was dancing a little, I like to listen to the music loud when I cook.”