“One thin’ you can count on,” Ty said. “This guy Rome and the dude in the green Windbreaker are connected somehow.”

“But we don’t know if Greenjacket is connected to the virus,” Pete reminded him.

“Sure would be terrific to find Rome,” Jupe mused.

Jupiter stared off into space. Suddenly he slid a hand into his pants pocket. He pulled out the piece of paper he’d shown the guys before — the one with Norton Rome’s name and telephone number on it.

“What gives?” asked Pete.

“I forgot that I know where Rome works. See, I put a notice on some of the BBSs around town — ”

“Hold it.” Ty lifted a hand. “What’s a BBS?”

“An electronic bulletin board system,” Jupe explained. “You call it up on your computer, and it shows on your screen. It’s a place where computer users leave messages, write letters to each other, share software… and help each other solve computer problems.”

“Okay,” said Ty. “You put up a notice. Why?”

“When our computer club decided to have guest speakers,” Jupe said, “I put up messages asking for volunteers. Norton Rome called to say he could talk about designing computer games — ”

“Speed it up, Jupe,” Ty said. “There’s a van out there waitin’ for my TLC. Where does the dude work!”

“The Reasoner Corporation.” Jupiter grinned triumphantly. “Rome mentioned he was a programmer there, and I jotted it down!” He waved the paper again.

“What happened to your photographic memory?” gibed Pete.

“Tomorrow’s Monday,” Jupiter went on, ignoring him. He got out the workshop’s copy of the phone directory and turned pages, looking for the address of the Reasoner Corporation. “Everyone will be going back to work. We can drive over to see if Rome shows up!”

“Yeah,” Ty said. “Hope the dude’s in better shape than his apartment.” He leaned back and tossed his empty soda can into a cardboard box. “Gotta get back to the van. You comin’?” he asked Pete.

“Right with you.” Pete glugged down the last of his soda, and the two mechanics headed for the door.

“That’s weird.” Jupe looked up. “There’s no Reasoner Corporation. In the white or yellow pages.”

“Try information,” Pete suggested.

Jupiter dialed on the workshop extension and asked for the telephone number. As he listened to the operator, he shook his head at Pete and Ty. He hung up. “She shows no entry for it. She’s never even heard of the Reasoner Corporation.”

“Another dead end,” Pete said, disgusted. “How can a guy work for a business that doesn’t even exist?”

“Maybe he lied,” Jupe groaned.

Pete and Ty could only shrug as they went out to the grease pit.

Alone, Jupiter sat for a long time thinking. He made himself another peanut butter and banana, ate it, and at last shook his head again. He was getting nowhere fast.

Jupiter went over to the trailer and spent the rest of the evening cleaning out the virus’s garbage from his PC. Devon called to bring him up to date: Everyone in the club had an infected PC. To try to stop the virus’s spread, each would contact the people to whom they’d loaned software.

By the time Jupe quit, it was near midnight. Both Ty and Pete had left long ago, after completing the van’s tune-up. Jupe trudged tiredly across the street to the two-story house where he lived with Aunt Mathilda and Uncle Titus. He couldn’t wait to see his comfortable bed. He brushed his teeth and fell exhausted into it.

Soon he was dreaming of a smoothly working PC — no glitches, no viruses, just well-organized data…

And then, suddenly, he heard some strange noise he couldn’t identify. He was confused and groggy, still half-asleep and dreaming. His dark room was shadowy. He heard the noise again. Chills crept up his spine. Something was outside!

Jupiter told himself to calm down. He took a couple of deep breaths and listened carefully. There it was again! Now he could decipher it — gravel against his second-story window. Who?…

He opened the window and peered down. “Ty!” he said in a husky whisper. “Be right there.”

He padded quickly downstairs and unlocked the front door.

“Hi, cuz,” Ty said, grinning from ear to ear. He was rumpled, red-eyed, and wearing his battered back-pack. Jupe guessed he hadn’t seen a bed that night. Nevertheless, he looked oddly happy and excited. “What’s up?” Jupe said. “You want to sleep here?”

“Naw. I’m outta here. Got to meet a dude in Albuquerque. I just stopped by to let you know I found the Reasoner Corporation. Here.” He handed Jupiter a greasy slip of paper.

“No kidding!” Jupiter was really impressed. “How’d you do it?”

“The name stuck in my head like I must’ve seen it before.” He shrugged. “So I hitched to the other side of town and hiked around till I found it. I remember cruisin’ past it a few months ago when I was tryin’ out a Jag. No big deal.”

“No, really. That’s great. Thanks! Want something to eat before you go?”

“What ya gonna give me?” Ty laughed. “Peanut butter and bananas? Thanks but no thanks!” He hitched up his backpack. “One more thing. Here’s a piece of advice: Good drivers don’t get stuck in the fast lane. See, I don’t know what’s goin’ down at the Reasoner Corporation, but after I spotted it, I got a feelin’ it ain’t good.”

“What did you see?”

Ty shook his head. “Go slow and easy, cuz. The other lanes are good for drivin’ too.” He touched his index finger to his forehead in salute, then slipped away.

Uneasily Jupiter watched his lean, wiry cousin disappear into the street’s shadows. Jupe returned to bed wondering what he’d find tomorrow when he visited the Reasoner Corporation. What had spooked Ty? What was this outfit hiding — or hiding from?

The next morning proved long and frustrating for Jupiter. He called Norton Rome’s home telephone several times, but no one answered. Then he had to help out Aunt Mathilda in the junkyard. Some hot prospective buyers needed to know right away what sinks the yard had in stock. Unfortunately for Jupe, the sink inventory was included in one of the blocks of computer data — the 2033 to 2092 file — that the virus had eaten.

So while Pete spray-painted his van, Jupe worked through Uncle Titus’s pile of sinks, updating the inventory list that had been printed out earlier in the month. There were complete descriptions of bathroom and kitchen sinks — colors, sizes, shapes, dimensions, fittings, manufacturers… more about sinks than he ever wanted to know.

Finally at two o’clock he finished the list and turned it over to Aunt Mathilda. By then the Ford van had a shiny blue paint job, and Pete was cleaning his equipment.

“How much longer?” Jupiter asked as he wiped a sweaty arm across his red face.

“Ten minutes.” Pete looked up. “Why?”

“Gotta grab a bite.” Jupiter headed for the workshop. “Want some?”

“Your gourmet diet? Count me out!”

Seated on a stool in the workshop doorway, Jupe munched happily. This was the most satisfying diet he’d ever tried. Very filling, and he knew the pounds were melting away.

“Yo!” Bob called across the junkyard. “What gives?” He trotted up in jeans and a black Batman T-shirt.

“You got my message?” Jupe licked his fingers.

“Yeah. So where are we going?”

“The Reasoner Corporation.”

“You found it?”

Jupe filled Bob in about Ty’s discovery.

“Cool!” Bob said. “A lead! But I wonder why Ty said go slow?”

The three guys piled into Pete’s car and zipped off.

“Two hours is the magic number,” Bob reminded Pete. “Remember, we’re taking the girls to Cosmic Trek.”

“Relax. No way I’m going to forget this time.” Pete assured him.

“Or you won’t live long afterward.” Jupe chuckled. “That is, if Kelly has anything to say about it!”

“This is from the shy dude who dates only when we make him?” Pete asked Bob. “How’d you get to be such an expert on babes, Jupe?”