The Great Race Read online

  Probably the warning had gone out when Ms Ramirez tried to locate the room or checked the register. All it would take was an inserted hang-and-terminate program to pass the alert and erase itself.

  Any really good programmer could pull that trick. David could do it. Maybe even Matt and Andy. Which meant that the surveillance wasn’t necessarily official. A team member - or a whole team - could have been scouting out the opposition.

  Using the receiver dish wasn’t exactly high-tech either. In fact, it was trailing-edge technology, using something that most people would consider obsolete.

  But then, people had to make do with lots of old-fashioned technology in the Carpathian Alliance. The international embargoes kept new systems out of the country - folks in the C.A. had to use computers that had long ago gone to the scrap heap in other parts of the world.

  The problem was, Leif was left with a tantalizing set of clues, but no hard indication to tell who was after them.

  After getting up and heading to the hotel restaurant for dinner, the boys resumed their discussion over whodunnit.

  ‘It’s that Cetnik guy,’ Matt said after they’d put in their orders. ‘We saw already that he doesn’t mind throwing his weight around. Spying on us might give his team a crucial leg up … and win the race for the glory of the Carpathian Alliance.’

  ‘And cause an international incident if he got caught?’ David shook his head. ‘The more I think about it, the more the whole thing looks like a stupid prank. It’s the sort of thing a kid might pull off, not an adult who had something to lose.’

  ‘If you think it’s a kid, what about the cigarette smoke?’ Andy asked.

  David looked at him. ‘Like you’ve never met a kid who has tried the wicked weed? If a kid is naughty enough to spy on his - or her - competitors, the kid is naughty enough to smoke.’

  ‘And stunt their growth,’ Matt added with a grin, parroting a warning that had to be a hundred years old by now.

  ‘On the other hand, whoever it was had surveillance in place, was warned by it, and got away. An amateur probably wouldn’t have thought of that, even if it was in his capabilities to do the programming. That gives the operation a professional flavor,’ Leif said. ‘That brings us back to Mr Cetnik - or some other agent of the C.A. The Alliance considers the U.S. to be a major enemy. They must have spies in place.’

  Andy hooted with laughter. ‘Comrade, you must stop zee evil American warmongers from winning zis race on der holonet!’ he hissed in a thick Mittel-European accent. ‘Yawohl!’ He glanced around the table. ‘Or whatever they say in Whatzislavia. It’s a stupid holo show, Leif. I don’t see why you have to drag spies and stuff into it.’

  ‘Not counting the propaganda value of winning a race on a “stupid holo show” that appears all over the worlds there’s the question of the prizes,’ Leif answered. ‘Pinnacle Productions is offering all sorts of computer stuff—’

  ‘Which the C.A. zookeeper said they would give away if they won,’ David pointed out.

  ‘Right,’ Leif responded. ‘But I’m sure they’d have to “evaluate” it before they give the stuff away to all those deserving groups. If you were doing that job, how much embargoed technology would you be able to carry off in your head?’

  David closed his mouth with a snap.

  ‘I also hear that the winners will get some simulation time on the LM-2025/ Leif went on. ‘That’s the hottest system in the world right now. Getting into the guts of a machine like that would tell a good technician a lot about the latest computer design.’

  Matt nodded. ‘And what’s to stop them from calling up all sorts of other designs in veeyar? Even stuff that we’d consider hopelessly over the hill could jump-start their technology ahead by decades.’

  David frowned. ‘They’re forced to make their own computer chips because of the embargo,’ he said. ‘Getting a look at a modern chip design would be a big help.’

  ‘Okay, so there’s a more grown-up motive for spying on us,’ Andy said.

  ‘And there’s the fact that the hotel system was penetrated and rigged to provide a warning if their listening post was threatened,’ Leif went on.

  ‘We don’t know that,’ David objected. ‘The hotel people didn’t say anything about a security breach.’

  ‘As if any hotel is going to admit that,’ Andy said.

  Matt nodded. ‘From what I saw of that Ms Ramirez, I think they’d prefer to sweep the whole thing under the rug.’

  ‘And we still don’t know that we didn’t somehow scare them off.’ Andy put a hand on his chest and a virtuous expression on his face. ‘Well, I know I didn’t. I was asleep. But the rest of you guys - maybe they had the room bugged, or were bouncing a laser off the window glass to pick up what you were saying.’ He gave them a wry grin. ‘I don’t know. Maybe whoever was up there could read lips.’

  Leif let his breath out in a long sigh. Anything was possible. Maybe his whole effort to catch the spy had been doomed from the beginning. There didn’t seem much sense talking about it. They just went in circles, spinning off more and wilder theories.

  Matt frowned. ‘You think we should tell Captain Winters about this?’ he asked. ‘After all, it could be a plot to steal prohibited technology.’

  His suggestion brought another sigh from Leif, who’d been kicking the same idea around during his sleepless time on the hotel-room bed. ‘I don’t think we’ve got enough for him to justify any action,’ he said. ‘Do you really want to ask him to activate a Net Force team over something that may turn out to be a teenage prank?’

  The sudden silence around the table was as much of an answer as that question needed.

  ‘Maybe we don’t know who put us under surveillance,’ David finally spoke up. His face was grim. ‘But we know for sure it did happen. Tomorrow morning, I’m going to go to the head honcho - Wallenstein - and tell him all about it. The least we can do is rattle some cages.’

  Andy nodded enthusiastically. ‘Yeah! We can shake things up a little. If we keep quiet, the spy can just hunker down as if nothing happened. But if we stir things up, they’ll have to react.’ He grinned. ‘And maybe, just maybe, they’ll make a mistake and we can catch them.’

  The waiter came with a large tray. Leif sniffed appreciatively. Real food, not the mass-processed soybean mock-meat that somehow always left a fish-oil flavor on the tongue.

  Diverted from their conversation, the boys grabbed knives and forks for something they could deal with.

  The publicist from Pinnacle Productions, Jane Givens, came to pick the Net Force Explorers up early the next morning. ‘We have a pretty full schedule today,’ she announced. ‘There’s a studio tour, including a visit to the Ultimate Frontier permanent sets.’ The young woman made it sound as if that were a privilege not too many visitors were allowed. ‘Followed by a luncheon, arrangements for your team’s rental car, and then we’ll see how your ship designs look on our computers—’

  ‘I didn’t want to say anything yesterday,’ David said, ‘but none of us is eighteen yet. I don’t think it would be legal for any of us—’ Washington, D.C., didn’t allow anyone under the age of eighteen to apply for a driver’s license without a special waiver, and very few of those waivers were granted.

  ‘Do any of you have a license?’ the publicist asked.

  ‘I do,’ Leif volunteered. He’d taken his road test at the age of sixteen, which was legal in New York State, although he still wasn’t allowed to drive in New York City.

  ‘And you’re at least sixteen years old?’

  Leif nodded.

  ‘Then there should be no problem. Here in California, the legislature passed statewide approval for licensed drivers sixteen and up last year.’ She shook her head. ‘Don’t thank me. Thank the anarcho-libertarians.’

  ‘The whoozy-watzians?’ Andy said.

  ‘You mean you’ve been in California a full day and haven’t heard the gospel according to Derle?’ The young publicist seemed almost surprised. ‘He’s g
ot ads on every holo-net and radio broadcast.’

  ‘I guess we haven’t bothered with either,’ David said.

  ‘Mainly we slept, ate, and then slept again,’ Andy explained.

  ‘Well, you’ll encounter the propaganda machine sooner or later,’ the young woman said. ‘Elrod Derle is a millionaire, the kind we grow especially well here in California -eccentric. After making a pile in computers, he went into politics. Set up his own party, fighting for individual liberty against what he calls “the government rules monopoly”.’

  Leif blinked. ‘Isn’t that what all the political parties are saying?’

  The woman laughed and shook her head again. ‘But Derle and his anarcho-libertarians are trying to do something about it. “Free intelligent people from the toils of micro-management.” That’s the way they put it. They believe that if you’re competent to drive a car, you should be allowed to do it - in any kind of traffic. On the other hand, if you cause an accident, you’re hit with a stiff fine to pay restitution to the injured party.’

  ‘Pretty heavy,’ Leif said.

  ‘It’s driving the regular politicians crazy - not to mention the insurance companies and the personal-injury lawyers/ the young woman said. ‘But Derle has the money to blow a serious amount of zeroes on ads - and he’s gathering in a lot of people who agree with him. For now he’s concentrating his efforts on his home state to build up a grassroots effort.’

  The publicist rolled her eyes. ‘But you know what they say. As California goes, so goes the rest of the country -sooner or later.’

  Leif frowned. He’d heard some of his wealthy pals spouting that ‘too many rules’ line. At the time, he’d just dismissed it as everyday rich-kid arrogance. But maybe they’d heard this gospel according to Derle.

  ‘Well, it’s nice to hear that we can have a car during our stay,’ he said. ‘But I’m afraid we have to mess up some of your schedule. We need a meeting with Mr Wallenstein.’

  The publicist stared at them in surprise. ‘Mr Wallenstein.’ I’m sure you’ll be able to talk to him during lunch—’

  Now it was Leif’s turn to shake his head. ‘I don’t think he’d like to have this conversation in front of the other competitors. No, we need a private meeting, behind closed doors in his office. We have evidence that one of the teams is trying to cheat. He may want to handle it discreetly.’

  The world-famous arched gateway to Pinnacle Studios looked like something out of an old-fashioned movie - either a gladiator epic or The Three Musketeers, Leif couldn’t decide which. The publicist spoke to the gate guard, and a second later commandeered his phone to speak with Wallenstein’s office. When they drove through the landmark gateway, they didn’t turn off to join the studio tour. Instead, they zigzagged between what looked like private cottages and open-air sets to one of the office buildings that rose on the seventeen-acre dream factory.

  They pulled into a tiny parking lot shaded by beautiful palm trees. As they came to a spot, Leif read a sign posted in front of them. Reserved for D,Z, Antonoy Executive Producer,

  ‘I happen to know he’s out of town today,’ the publicist said before he could ask. ‘And I want you people in to see Mr Wallenstein ASAP.’

  They walked into the office building and got on an elevator. The publicist pushed a button for a high floor. When the elevator doors opened, she shepherded them through a reception area and through corridors full of offices.

  So much for the magic of Hollywood, Leif thought, looking around. I don’t know what I expected from the nerve center of the holo’drama business, but this isn’t it.

  Except for the posters for past theatrical hits, the setup didn’t look all that different from the accounting department at his father’s company.

  Through the open doors, he saw people hunched over desks, reading scripts, sometimes dictating into hush-mikes. A few people were examining holo-drawings of sets.

  Then their group turned into a new corridor, and the carpet under their feet became much plusher.

  They approached another reception area, smaller than the one by the elevator, but also considerably more elegant. A young man sat behind a state-of-the-art computer desk that would have looked at home on the bridge of the star cruiser Constellation.

  When he saw the publicist and the boys, he raised a hand. ‘He’s on an international conference call, but he’ll see you as soon as he finishes.’

  The Net Force Explorers spent their waiting time examining the exhibits on display in glass cases set into the paneled walls. Bathed in indirect lighting were Ultimate Frontier relics like a model of the first edition of the Constellation from the original flatscreen series^ various technical doodads and weapons as the series had evolved, and service and dress uniforms.

  Leif smiled at the so called ‘handicom’ that the first cast members had used. Supposedly the fruit of a technology three hundred years in the future, it was bulkier and cruder than the wallet phone Leif presently carried in his back pocket.

  From behind his console, Wallenstein’s assistant cleared his throat. ‘You can go in now.’

  He stepped to a heavy door and opened it. Leif and his friends entered the inner sanctum.

  Ultimate Frontier had obviously been very, very good to Milos Wallenstein. The producer sat behind a wooden desk only a little smaller than the car that had brought the boys to the studio. From the color of the wood and its uninterrupted grain, Leif figured it had to be an antique. The government had declared a moratorium on cutting down redwoods of that size a good twenty years ago.

  ‘You have a complaint to make,’ Wallenstein said abruptly.

  ‘Call it a report,’ Leif replied. ‘One of the teams involved in your Great Race - or someone connected with them - sneaked into a hotel room overlooking ours and put us under surveillance. The only explanation is that they were trying to steal information about our ship’s design that could be used against us.’

  The heavy, bearlike man scowled. ‘That’s a rather large - and fairly wild - allegation.’

  ‘No, it’s a fact. You can call Ms Ramirez, the assistant manager at Casa Beverly Hills. She and a hotel security man named Harris will tell you about the unauthorized person who was in a room with a view of our suite. That person got in by bribing a bellman named Oswald. Three of us saw the dish antenna used to pick up radio-frequency emanations from Mr Gray’s laptop computer.’

  Wallenstein buzzed his assistant and told him to call the hotel. His scowl deepened as he talked to Ms Ramirez.

  ‘Are you making a direct accusation about anyone?’ the producer asked after he cut the connection.

  ‘I’ll only point out that the room stank of cigarette smoke - from the kind of Turkish tobacco you find in the Balkans.’

  ‘So you want to disqualify the team from the Carpathian Alliance before they even have the chance to compete.’

  ‘Certainly not. The evidence isn’t clear enough for that,’ Leif said. ‘We merely want you to make all the teams aware that someone’s been spying, and to be alert to the possibility it could happen again.’

  Wallenstein leaned back in his chair. ‘I don’t think I’d like the repercussions from that scenario.’

  ‘There might be more serious repercussions if the C.A. team cheats its way to a chance to look over sensitive, embargoed technology,’ David retorted angrily.

  ‘Ultimate Frontier is broadcast all over the world - including several countries which are not great friends of the U.S.A, and the Carpathian Alliance isn’t the only country of that type represented among the competitors. There’s a team from the New Arabian Republic, which has several ongoing disputes with Washington - and where the people smoke Turkish tobacco. We also have a South American team from the nation of Corteguay—’

  ‘Corteguay?’ David asked in disbelief. ‘Who could have entered a design from there? The government controls all the computers in that country.’

  ‘The entry came from La Fortaleza, Corteguay’s military academy,’ Wallenstein said. �
�I don’t necessarily like the government there - but Ultimate Frontier is something that has transcended borders, including theirs. And that, I thinks is a good thing. I don’t want to create an international incident out of what should be an entertaining broadcast. An announcement of the sort that you’re requesting would undoubtedly do just that.’

  ‘But what about the spying?’ Leif demanded. ‘If you don’t tell the teams that the possibility exists, nobody will be prepared to deal with it!’

  ‘I’m reminded of an old French legal motto,’ Wallenstein said. ‘Tout ce que le hi ne defend paSy est permis. “The law permits everything it does not forbid.” The rules of entry certainly didn’t forbid trying to find out about competing ships. I don’t intend to micro-manage this race.’

  ‘That sounds like a very anarcho-libertarian viewpoint,’ Leif said.

  Wallenstein glared at him. ‘As a matter of fact, I happen to support what Mr Derle is trying to do. Does that cause a problem for you, Mr—’

  ‘Anderson,’ Leif said. ‘No, it’s no problem - as long as we know where we stand.’

  Silently, he thought, so here we are. Thanks to the anarcho-libertarians, well enjoy a free car. But we won’t get much backup in a race that can only get nastier.

  He sighed.

  Looks like Derle giveth, and Derle taketh away.

  Chapter Eight

  ‘Well, I feel ever so much better now that we’ve gotten things straightened out,’ Andy said bitterly as they left Wallenstein’s office.

  ‘What do we do now?’ Matt asked.

  ‘The tour has barely started,’ Jane Givens said, taking his question at face value. ‘You’d have no problem catching up.’

  Matt gave her a look. ‘I meant, what do we do about the spying - and cheating?’

  ‘I think Jane has the right idea,’ Leif said. ‘We should join the tour. Jane, could you tell everybody we were delayed by a possible security breach in our room? I don’t think, given the lack of support we got, that we want to advertise our meeting with Wallenstein. But maybe we can shake the trees a little, and see what falls out.’