pzb.drawingblood-第35部分

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w　Orleans　field　office。　But　Bosch　was　smarter　than　ten　such　crooks；　and　far　more　dangerous。　He　didn't　brag　much。　He　didn't　leave　cute　little　clues　in　his　wake。　He　just　breezed　through　systems　nobody　should　be　able　to　get　into；　stealing　information　and　wreaking　havoc；　and　he　covered　his　tracks　like　an　Indian。
　　Finally　a　fifteen…year…old　software　pirate　under　interrogation　had　given　them　the　keys　they　needed　to　trace　him。　Scratch　a　hacker　and　find　a　rat；　ask　him　the　right　questions；　marvel　a　little　at　his　amazing　technical　feats；　and　turn　him　into　an　eager　rat。　Some　of　these　kids　were　terrifyingly　smart；　but　they　were　still　kids。　And　Agent　Cover　believed　all　kids　were　basically　amoral。
　　He　got　his　warrant　and　moved　in　fast。　Bosch　couldn't　have　had　time　to　slip　between　his　fingers。
　　Still；　once　the　first　flush　of　adrenaline　began　to　wear　off；　he　found　himself　looking　doubtfully　at　the　two　bawling　kids。　He　hadn't　expected　Bosch　to　fold　so　easily。　Most　of　these　teenage　whiz　kids　turned　to　jelly　when　they　saw　a　few　guns　and　badges；　but　then　most　of　them　had　only　broken　into　a　system　or　two　and　browsed　through　sensitive　files；　maybe　used　a　stolen　phone　code　here　and　there　or　downloaded　some　software　they　shouldn't　have。　Most　of　them　weren't　brazen　enough　or　criminally　inclined　enough　to　rip　shit　off　on　the　scale　that　Zachary　Bosch　had。
　　Cover　took　one　last　loving　look　at　his　Heckler　&　Koch　and　tucked　it　back　into　the　holster　inside　his　jacket。　He　hadn't　needed　a　gun　on　a　hacker　raid　yet。　These　kids　loved　to　brag　on　the　boards　about　how　they　would　go　down　shooting；　but　the　deadliest　weapon　Agent　Cover　had　found　in　a　hacker's　possession　was　a　dental　probe　the　kid　used　for　jimmying　phone　jacks。
　　As　he　approached　the　suspects；　the　punked…out　Asian　girl　lifted　her　head　and　stared　at　him　in　teary　defiance；　like　a　gut…shot　deer　watching　a　hunter　loom　over　her　in　the　bloody　snow。　She　had　enough　crap　dangling　from　her　earlobes　to　set　off　a　metal　detector；　and　her　hair　looked　like　she'd　cut　it　with　a　weed…eater　in　the　dark。　Cover　always　wondered　what　had　been　done　to　these　kids　in　early　childhood　to　make　them　want　to　look　the　way　they　did。　He'd　busted　one　hacker　who　had　a　blue　mohawk　and　scorpions　tattooed　on　the　shaved　sides　of　his　skull。　Scorpions！
　　The　tall；　sickly…looking　boy　bolted　for　the　bathroom。　Two　of　the　cops　were　right　behind　him。　Cover　heard　the　toilet　lid　bang　up；　the　thick　liquid　sound　of　vomiting。
　　〃Hey！〃　One　of　the　cops　stuck　his　head　back　in；　an　expression　of　dismay　plastered　across　his　broad　shiny　face。　〃He　just　chunked　his　wallet　an'　keys　in　the　crapper！〃
　　〃Fish　'em　out。〃
　　〃But　they're　floatin'　in　a　puddle　of　puke…〃
　　〃Fish　'em　out；〃　Cover　repeated。　The　girl　was　watching　him　with　a　mixture　of　terror　and　loathing。　The　rush　of　forced　intrusion　left　him　and　he　felt　suddenly　weary。　From　the　bathroom　he　heard　〃Awright；　you　little　crook；　fish　'em　out；〃　followed　by　another　round　of　puking。
　　The　U。S。　Secret　Service　was　charged　with　all　manner　of　important　duties　and　missions；　any　of　which　Ab　Cover　might　have　been　assigned　to　upon　his　graduation　from　the　Federal　Law　Enforcement　Training　Center　at　Glynco；　Georgia。　He　could　have　protected　the　President　from　freaks　and　mies　and　assassins。　He　could　have　guarded　the　precious　metals　in　Treasury　vaults；　or　fought　the　clearcut　war　on　counterfeiting　and　forgery　of　U。S。　currency。
　　Instead；　he　was　part　of　an　ongoing　crackdown　on　puter　crime　that　had　begun　with　Operation　Sundevil　in　1990。　Based　in　Arizona；　Sundevil　had　targeted　hacker　abuse　of　credit　card　numbers　and　phone　codes。　More　than　forty　puters　and　twenty…three　thousand　floppy　disks　had　been　seized　from　private　citizens　across　the　country。　Since　then；　the　Secret　Service　had　acquired　a　taste　for　the　slippery　little　anarchists　who　loved　to　hide　behind　their　keyboards　in　their　dark　dens　of　iniquity；　but　could　be　so　rewarding　once　they　were　dragged　out　into　the　sun。
　　So　instead　of　guarding　the　President；　Cover　busted　funny…looking　misfit　geniuses　who　weren't　usually　old　enough　to　go　to　prison　for　crimes　that　nine　tenths　of　the　American　public　didn't　understand。
　　In　Washington　they　told　him　it　was　an　honor。　At　any　rate；　it　was　a　living。　But　sometimes　he　wondered　if　it　was　a　good　one。
　　
　　Eddy　clutched　her　copy　of　the　search　warrant　and　watched　the　cops　swarm　over　the　apartment。　Now　that　the　guns　had　been　put　away…though　she　was　very　conscious　of　the　filthy　things　bulging　under　jackets　and　dangling　from　carelessly　snapped　holsters；　looking　as　if　they　might　crash　to　the　floor　and　go　off　at　any　moment…she　was　able　to　take　a　look　at　the　men　behind　them。
　　The　Secret　Service　drones　were　sleek　and　broad…shouldered　and　well　dressed；　with　razor…cut　hair　bed　severely　back　from　feral　faces；　with　clean　square　jawlines　and　hard　glittering　eyes。　They　all　seemed　to　be　wearing　expensive　leather　tassel　loafers；　and　Eddy　was　hardly　surprised　to　see　that　several　even　sported　mirrorshades。　She　assumed　that　the　guys　in　the　cheaper　jackets　and　plain　loafers　were　lower…echelon　agents；　though　in　fact　they　were　from　the　telephone　pany。
　　And　of　course　she　recognized　the　New　Orleans　cops。　She　had　a　long　and　bitter　acquaintance　with　them；　from　her　bust　for　a　joint's　worth　of　marijuana　at　sixteen　（which　Zach　had　since　wiped　from　her　record）　to　the　clumsy　attempts　at　entrapment　she　had　been　subjected　to　at　the　Pink　Diamond　（〃How　much　wouldja　charge　to　show　a　little　more？〃　they'd　leer；　tugging　at　the　crotches　of　their　tacky　plainclothes　slacks）。
　　After　the　agent　in　charge　had　examined　her　driver's　license　and　realized　that　there　was　no　puter　equipment　left　in　the　place　except　the　printer；　he　seemed　to　view　Eddy　as　a　minor　threat　at　best。　She　still　saw　his　mean；　handsome　face　glowering　in　her　direction　from　time　to　time　as　he　snapped　out　orders；　but　she　had　mostly　been　forgotten。　The　printer　quickly　disappeared　out　the　door　in　the　arms　of　another　sharp…dressed；　eerily　efficient　Secret　Service　man。
　　〃Zach　moved　out　months　ago；〃　she　said。　〃I　think　he　left　the　country。〃　No　one　paid　any　attention。　A　suit　with　a　camera　clicked　off　shot　after　shot　of　the　desk；　the　bookshelves；　the　towering　stacks　of　paper。　Two　others　busily　sorted　and　packed　puter　printouts；　smudgily　printed　zines；　cassettes　and　CDs。　With　a　sinking　heart　she　saw　the　folded　page　from　the　Times…Picayune　going　into　one　of　their　goodie　boxes；　along　with　a　copy　of　the　science　fiction　novel　Neuromancer。　That　had　been　one　of　Zach's　favorite　books。　The　main　character　plugged　his　puter　directly　into　a　jack　in　his　brain　and　entered　the　matrix；　where　he　stole　information　from　huge；　faceless　corporations。　To　Zach；　William　Gibson's　seamy　world　must　have　read　like　the　paradise　of　his　wildest　dreams。　To　these　guys　it　was　just　more　proof　of　sedition。
　　They　unplugged　the　phone　and　the　answering　machine　and　took　those　too。　They　took　poor　Stefan；　Eddy　saw　him　being　hustled；　out　the　door　between　two　broad　blue　backs；　a　thin　string　of　puke　still　dripping　from　his　chin。　She　wondered　what　they'd　gotten　him　for。　Tampering　with　evidence；　probably；　for　throwing　his　ID　in　the　toilet。　Eddy　thought　it　had　been　a　pretty　good　trick；　too　bad　he　hadn't　managed　to　flush　and　send　them　fishing　in　the　sewers。
　　New　Orleans'　finest；　busting　pitiful　teenage　geeks　while　old　ladies　visiting　their　husbands'　graves　stood　a　good　chance　of　getting　robbed　or　raped　in　the　cemetery。　Real　heroes。　And　robbed　and　raped　was　how　she　felt　right　about　now；　watching　these　cookie…cutter　robots　swarm　over　her　home　and　sift　through　her　belongings　and　not　being　able　to　do　a　damn　thing　about　it。
　　As　soon　as　this　nightmare　was　over；　Eddy　decided；　she　would　go　to　the　bank　and　withdraw　part　of　the　ten　thousand　dollars。　Not　all　of　it；　that　might　look　suspicious；　but　enough　to　have　around　in　case　。　。　。　what？　In　case　she　needed　to　leave　in　a　hurry？
　　Goddammit；　she　thought；　I　haven't　even　broken　the　law　yet　and　I'm　already　as　paranoid　as　Zach　was。　Is　this　any　way　to　live？　Is　it　worth　the　gnawing　in　your　stomach；　the　constant　urge　to　look　over　your　shoulder？　For　Zach　she　supposed　it　had　been；　he　was　addicted　to　the　thrill；　the　risk。　But　for　her；　this　state　of　affairs　would　not　do　for　long。
　　She　didn't　know　if　she　should　go　anywhere　near　that　money；　and　wished　she　had　been　able　to　ask　Stefan　if　it　was　safe。　But　Eddy　thought　she　would　feel　more　secure　with　wads　of　cold　cash　sewn　into　her　mattress　than　with　illegitimate　funds　lurking　in　any　electronically　accessible　part　of　her　life。　She　wished　she　had　never　seen　a　puter。
　　Right　now；　if　she　was　to　be　perfectly　honest；　she　wished　she　had　never　met　Zach。　He　was　the　best　friend　she　had　ever　had；　he　was　generous　and　brilliant；　he　had　introduced　her　to　all　manner　of　exotic　things　she　might　never　have　found　on　her　own。　But　he　was　also　confusion　and　trouble　and　heartache。
　　And；　on　top　of　all　that；　she　missed　him　so　badly　she　thought　it　might　kill　her。
　　
　　　
　　　Chapter　Thirteen
　　
　　Trevor　was　in　a　small　square　room　with　a　high　ceiling　lost　in　the　shadows　of　dawn；　a　room　whose　walls　were　painted　shabby　gray　to　match　the　city　beyond。　He　heard　rain　hitting　the　loose　panes　of　the　window。　Soon　would　e　the　sound　of　doors　opening；　boys'　footsteps　in　the　hall；　boys'　voices　in　the　early　morning　stillness；　and　it　would　be　time　to　get　up；　time　for　breakfast　and　school；　the　sameness　of　another　day。
　　He　often　dreamed　that　he　was　back　at　the　Boys'　Home；　that　he　had　been　handed　all　those　years　like　penance　to　do　over　and　over　again　until　he　got　them　right　。　。　。　whatever　right　would　be。
　　Trevor　opened　his　eyes　and　found　himself　staring　at　the　back　of　a　neck　in　extreme　closeup。　The　dark　hair　at　the　nape　had　been　recently　shaved　and　stood　up　in　baby…fine　bristles。　The　skin　was　translucent　white；　almost　poreless。　The　neck　curved　down　to　a　bony　shoulder；　Trevor　saw　his　own　hand　resting　on　that　shoulder；　encircling　the　sharp　knob　of　the　bone。　The　rest　of　the　body　was　nestled　cozily　into　the　curve　of　his　own。
　　He　was　amazed　that　the　sensation　of　another　person　in　bed　with　him…the　slow　rise　and　fall　of　breathing；　the　vibration　of　the　curious　heart…hadn't　kept　him　awake　all　night。　He　was　used　to　sleeping　in　unfamiliar　beds；　but　always　alone。　What　happe