Norquist had produced a badge by this point. "Yes. We're with the Data Enforcement Agency, Dr. Silicane."Jim took it. "Thanks," he said hoarsely. He took a moment to sip the water and examine the guy in the chair. He was in his fifties, with a full head of curly hair, mostly black but peppered with gray. He was clean shaven and he wore Ben Franklin glasses low down on his nose, just like Susan the department secretary. Jim smiled at that. The guy had on a white short-sleeved dress shirt, gray slacks and a thin black tie. He was slightly overweight. He wasn't wearing any sidearm that Jim could see, but he was obviously some kind of cop.
"Your girlfriend called Campus Safety when you didn't show up for dinner," the cop told him. "Take it easy. You've had a pretty nasty knock on the head."
Jim glanced at his wristwatch. It was a quarter to seven. "That's bullshit," he said amiably. "There's no way I've been gone long enough for Natasha to decide I'm missing and get a search going. How about you tell me what's really going on?"
"Geez, you professor types sure are smart," the cop said sarcastically. "All right, have it your way. Hey, Phil!" Another cop looked up from the desk where he was shuffling papers, rose and walked over to Jim. This guy was younger than the other cop. His brown hair was receding in the front and he wore thick, black horned-rim glasses. He had on a gray three-piece suit that didn't fit him especially well. He looked like an accountant.
"Oh, good, you're awake," the cop in the suit said without bothering to introduce himself. "Dr. Silicane, we have a few questions we'd like to ask you. . ."
"Not so fast," Jim interrupted. "I'm not telling you a damn thing until you tell me who the hell you guys are and what I'm doing here. You're partner's already lied to me at least once."
A look of surprise flashed across the cop's face. Jim wondered if it was genuine, or if he was just a talented actor. "What? Oh, for God's sake, Jerry. . ."
Jerry raised his hands defensively. "Sorry, boss, but I didn't want to fill him in on the scenario without your say-so. That's the procedure, right?"
"Yeah, that's the procedure, you pain in the ass, but that doesn't mean you have to lie to witnesses. Dr. Silicane, I'm Special Agent Phillip Norquist. My overenthusiastic colleague is Agent Gerisimos Agnostopolis."
"Call me Jerry," Agnostopolis interrupted with a smile. "Everybody does, 'cause nobody who's not Greek can say my full name."
Norquist had produced a badge by this point. "Yes. We're with the Data Enforcement Agency, Dr. Silicane."
A sudden spike of terror shot through Jim's heart. These guys were the bane of every computer hacker in North America! Jim suddenly found himself mentally reviewing his personal security measures. Everything dangerous was pretty much encrypted. . .when was the last time he'd had Stan purge his filespace? Oh, Christ, he did have that new spreadsheet from MegaSoft; he was using a copy that Baxter had hacked. Baxter and his fucking pirate software--Jim could get the damn stuff through the University, but he was too lazy to fill out the purchase order half the time. Well, they can fine him for that, but it shouldn't be too serious. Hopefully Natasha hasn't downloaded anything too kinky in the last day or two. . .
Norquist and Agnostopolis were watching him. "What does the DEA want with me?" Jim said carefully.
"Relax, Dr. Silicane," Norquist said. "You're not a suspect here. We were just hoping you could assist us with an investigation we're conducting."
"I might," Jim agreed, calming down slightly but remaining on guard. "First, though, I'd like to know how you guys managed to find my unconscious body in the middle of a forest and get me here, all within half an hour."
"Fair enough," Norquist agreed. "Dr. Silicane, we have had you under surveillance for the last several days. . ."
Jim felt his fear turn to outrage. He seemed to have picked up a certain amount of secondhand anarchist anger from hanging out with Baxter. "What? What the hell makes you think you have the right to keep me under surveillance?"
"I assure you, it's for your own protection, Dr. Silicane," Norquist assured him. "For some time now, we've been on the trail of this man--" Norquist snapped his fingers, and Agnostopolis handed him a large color print-out. The image was of a man in his early twenties, very unkempt, with long, scraggly brown hair and a droopy mustache. He had danger in his eyes. "--who is wanted in connection with a number of violations of federal data law. His name is Steven Cromwell. We had reason to believe that he would try to contact you in some way."
"What reason is that? I've never seen him before in my life."
"I'm sorry, Dr. Silicane, but I'm afraid that's confidential. All I can tell you is that Cromwell is an extremely dangerous criminal, and that we believe he will try to approach you. That's why I assigned Agent Agnostopolis to keep an eye on you."
"Well, he sure did a bang-up job of it," Jim replied dryly, fingering the lump on his head.
"Hey, I don't get around as good as I used to," Agnostopolis said, patting his substantial belly. "And you move pretty fast through those trees, Doc."
"Now, Dr. Silicane, this is very important," Norquist continued. "Cromwell is a data criminal, so he might well try to contact you electronically. Have you received any unusual electronic messages recently? Any strange video files or software uploads?"
Jim's mind raced. Should he tell them about the memory module? It could be that they knew about it already, and were waiting to see if he'd admit to having it. Jim didn't much care for their cloak and dagger bullshit, but then again, he didn't owe anything to this Cromwell guy, whoever he was. And he wasn't about to risk trouble with the DEA over some idiotic comp porn package.
"Yeah. I got a memory module in the mail today. I didn't have a chance to look at it." Well, that was almost true. The less he knew about this business the better.
Norquist's face brightened. "Where is that module, Dr. Silicane?"
"In my shoulder bag."
Norquist turned to Agnostopolis. "Jerry--?"
"Yeah, it was right on the ground next to him when I found him," Agnostopolis replied. He reached behind the couch. "Here it is."
Jim rummaged around in the bag. The sooner he came up with the "Justine" module the sooner he could use it to buy his way the hell out of here. The bag contained his lecture notes--he preferred to read from a hard copy rather than a terminal when he lectured; it was easier on the eyes--and a couple of energy bars in case his blood sugar got low. No module.
"It isn't here," Jim said with dismay. "They must have grabbed it when they hit me. Maybe that's what they were after."
"Yeah, I was kind of wondering why Cromwell would send you that module and then knock you on the head," Agnostopolis mused, reclining in his office chair. "It makes even less sense for him to go to all that trouble to get the module to you, then knock you on the head and steal it back. So maybe it wasn't Cromwell who hit you."
"Well, then, who the hell was it?" Jim demanded.
"I have some ideas about that," Norquist said mysteriously.
"I don't suppose you'd like to share," Jim said dryly.
"I'm afraid not," Norquist replied. If he noticed Jim's sarcasm he was ignoring it. "Dr. Silicane, you've been very helpful. I'd like to give you my card, if I may, and ask you to contact us immediately if you receive anything else from Cromwell, or if you have any contact with him at all."
"Fine," Jim agreed, fishing in his pants pocket for his wallet. He handed the wallet to Norquist, who pressed it against the interface point of his own. There was a beep as Norquist's wallet dumped message addresses and access numbers into Jim's machine. "Oh, could you give me a picture of this Cromwell guy? I'm not very good with faces." Norquist nodded and made another transfer, then handed Jim his wallet.
"Thanks again for your co-operation, Dr. Silicane."
"Should I do anything special if I do happen to run across Cromwell, or if my friend with the truncheon comes back?" Jim asked.
"If you're concerned for your safety, I can assign Agent Agnostopolis to protect you," Norquist offered.
Jim looked disdainfully at the pudgy fed, who smiled and waved. "No, thanks," Jim replied. "I can manage."
Sure it can! Visit The Electronic Frontier Foundation to find out about the U.S. government's latest attempts to control and censor the Internet.