"Two ... one!"

As I stepped through the queue at the node, I felt a ripple along the wire.

What the heck was that? An untagged broadband crossed through the LINK.

"Yahoo!" Sharron shouted through the cab's open window. I opened my eyes to see her waving a fist in the air. Before I could congratulate her, she said, "Mouse rocks. Alarms are clanging from here to Timbuktu! I don't know how he did it, but it looks like hackers are popping up on almost every node."

Thanks to the confusion, I slipped easily through the next node. I was one step from Kick's. I slitted my eyes to concentrate, but I couldn't keep a grin from my face. As impossible as it first seemed, I might get away with this.

"Hold on to your avatar," Sharron beamed, "because here goes nothing."

She punched a key on her board triumphantly: I felt the LINK'S power dip again.

Fuck! A collective swear slipped through the system's censors. A full-fledged smile took over my face, as I passed through the last jump. If the broadband profanity censors had crashed, then the syscops had abandoned their posts. All I had to watch out for was the local patrol now.

Another terrorist attack, I think, someone said nearby. As I made my way along the entertainment band, snippets of conversation washed past me. The syscops weren't maintaining line privacy; chatter came from several users at once. I narrowly escaped Mexico City's node. I was hardbooted out of my game. Cairo is suffering some kind of brownout, I guess, because I just lost the signal! Where the hell are the system controllers?! Someone call the cops!

I slid out of the main byways to Kick's on-line cafe, a stationary and private spot on the usually fluid LINK. Despite the uniform's shifting ID pattern, my heart raced as my entry was automatically registered in the cafe. Though heads popped up to check me out, no one was interested enough to offer chatter. I let my breath out in a long sigh.

I feigned casualness as I checked the cafe's menu for the list of users. If my hands weren't virtual, they would have been shaking. Scanning the names, I noted several regulars from the days I used to frequent the real-time version of the tavern. Among the usuals, one name jumped out at me: John Kantowicz. Per LINK protocol, along with his name, a badge number appeared. Kick's had a long history of being a cop hangout. It could just be a coincidence that an officer with a traditionally Jewish name was hanging out here at this time,

"You got a guy named Kantowicz?" I asked Rebeckah out loud. "A Lieutenant John Kantowicz?"

"Not that I know of, but that doesn't mean anything necessarily. We organize in cells. I only know the ringleaders."

I glanced at the other names one more time. Like a tap on the shoulder, I felt my icon being chosen for chat-mode. Deidre? Is that you?

I turned to see the image of a police shield floating in front of me – no fancy, handsome avatar, just a shield. It could only be one man: Captain Morgan. I'm sorry? I'm afraid you've mistaken me for someone else.

It was a lame lie, but I prayed the armor's defense would keep the captain guessing. I hung up quickly, then selected Kantowicz's name from the menu. I had to act quickly. If I knew anything about my former captain, it was that he was very by-the-book.

Are you Danny's ... ? I started to ask Kantowicz, but, before I could get more out, I was interrupted by a loud click. A larger version of the New York police badge floated in front of the cafe's logo. The captain worked fast, I thought ruefully, and you've got to admire that.

A synthesized female voice calmly intoned, This is the police. We have secured a warranty and are initiating an address lock-down. Please stay on-line until your identifications have been processed. Any attempt to disconnect at this time will be considered a hostile action. We are authorized to use deadly force. Repeat. We are authorized by the warrant to use deadly force. Do not disconnect or your LINK connection could be irreparably damaged. Your cooperation is appreciated."

"Shit," I shouted over the roar of the engine. "I was IDed. The cops just crashed the party. Sharron, are you off?"

"Powered down and out."

"Dee," Rebeckah's voice was urgent with concern, "you've got to get out of there. Drop the contact. We'll find another way to get ahold of Daniel."

"No. They've already got a lock-down – I'm busted either way. I might as well try a little evasive maneuver. Hang on."

Rebeckah yelled something, but I switched my concentration back to the LINK. I used the fact that Kantowicz and I were still connected by virtue of the chat volley and mentally pushed his avatar down on the floor of the club. I extended my senses outward.

What are you doing? Kantowicz shouted in protest. I could feel him resisting dissolution.

We're going under the door, like a mouse. Trust me.

Trust you? Who are you? Your ID keeps shifting.

A friend of Daniel's. I continued to pull him down, underneath the LINK the way Mouse had coached me earlier. We dropped through the floor easily. When we came to the police lock-down barrier, I felt a slight electric shock as we squeezed under it. Kantowicz and I got as far as Mouse's door before I realized I didn't have a key or a password.

Glancing back up at Kick's, I knew we couldn't go back. If the cops arrested my LINK address, I'd be a comatose homing beacon until they found my body. Rebeckah would keep me moving for a while, but she was a practical woman; she'd have to abandon my body eventually. I'd wake up in a holding cell, where I'd rot until they could prosecute me for what I did to Dorshak and the FBI agents during my grand escape from the precinct. Arrest now would mean the end of everything. No chance to see Daniel again. No chance to fix things with Michael, if that's even what I wanted. The rest of my life would be nothing but regrets.

There was no other option; I had to try to hack mouse.net.

//This electronic story, can be viewed either in full virtual reality LINK-interface, or is available in faux leather-bound hard copy for only 100 Christendom credits.