She set the card aside, picked up the prescription form, and examined it. It was dated Monday, yesterday, probably written in the morning when Ashley had been supposedly released from the Neponset Hospital. Later in the day, Pam had been running her forum, its banner FIGHT BACK. LIES KILL. There was more than a little irony to that.

"The signature on the form wasn't all that legible, but the initials P and B were clear. She Googled Pamela David-Braverman, MD. Back came thousands of hits. She'd been an activist for handicap rights at NYU Medical School. There were news articles about demonstrations and pet.i.tions she'd organized to get the teaching hospital to adapt equipment to the needs of physically handicapped physicians. Her nickname had been "h.e.l.l on Wheels."

Diana found plenty of links between Pam and Cambridge City Hospital. Lots of mentions of her in connection with the Spaulding Rehab Center and the Fund for Science, Honesty, and Morality. She also found the home page for Compa.s.sionate Care Medical, P.C., with Pam's name listed along with Dr. William Kennedy and three other physicians.

If Diana had saved the access codes to Neponset's systems, she could easily have checked whether Pam was one of their attending physicians. But it was standard practice, part of Gamelan's contract with every client, to obliterate from their systems every bit of information and every copied file when a project ended. Overwriting the data from a completed project was time-consuming, but it was a ritual Diana had diligently followed from day one.

GROB had offered to help. Would his "special access" get her answers?

The pipes thunked as the shower turned off. It would be at least another fifteen minutes of blow-drying her hair and getting dressed before Ashley emerged. Diana opened a session in OtherWorld and activated Nadia. While she waited for her home office to rez, she checked to see if GROB was in-world.

He was.

She hesitated for a moment. She'd never invited another avatar, not even Jake's, to her virtual office. A few typed numbers and a click later, she'd sent GROB its coordinates.

She didn't have to wait long before a chime sounded. She clicked yes, he could come in, and GROB materialized. He took off his mirrored sungla.s.ses to reveal dark, deep-set eyes. He did a 360 as the person controlling him checked out her office. The "room" felt much smaller with him and his broad-brimmed Stetson in it.

"Thanks for coming so quickly," she said.

"I'm afraid to ask." She recognized his synthesized voice. "Your sister? Is she okay?"

From the bathroom, over the hair dryer's buzz, Diana could hear Ashley singing, "I will survive!" and doing a shockingly decent Gloria Gaynor imitation.

"I found her. She's turned up, back in her apartment, incoherent at first. She's literally lost four days of her life. She had some paperwork that shows she was at Neponset Hospital for four days with trypanosomiasis. That's sleeping sickness."

GROB whistled. "Sleeping sickness?"

"Right. How likely is that? And the paperwork she came back with? It feels wrong. Like there's a hodgepodge of tests that I doubt they'd have ordered. Of course I'm no doctor, but you offered to help and I'm hoping you can check it out."

"Sure. Neponset Hospital?"

"I want to know. When she was admitted. When she was released. The names of the doctors who treated her. Anything that can be verified."

"Do you have the release form?"

"Right here."

"Good. That makes it easy. There should be a case number somewhere on the top of the first page. Can you find it?"

Diana read it off to him.

"I'll do a little digging and get back to you as soon as I can."

"Are we talking minutes? Hours?"

"Depends. But if I run into a problem I'll let you know." GROB held out his hand to Nadia.

She wanted to make her avatar take it but she stopped herself. Touching meant linking, and she couldn't risk losing control of Nadia. She wasn't taking any more chances.

"Thanks," she said.

His hand dropped to his side. "Friend?" The empty voice balloon over GROB's head seemed to evaporate slowly.

"Friend," she said. Please, be a true friend.

GROB hesitated a moment more, then vanished.

It would be a while before GROB got back to her. Anxious and edgy, Diana listened for rea.s.suring sounds of life from the bathroom while she checked through the stack of messages from Jake. In one dated yesterday, Monday afternoon, after Diana had fled her apartment, he said he'd submitted the proposal to Vault Security and left her a copy of it in their shared e-mail. A few hours after that, he sent her an update saying that Vault had received the proposal. Then another update, later that evening: initial reactions were positive but the company's executives had a few follow-up questions. Was she available the next morning for a call?

The next two messages, sent late into the night on Monday, had wanted to know if she'd received the previous messages. Then a message sent this Tuesday morning. "Never mind" was in the subject line. He'd been able to address their concerns.

A final message had been sent an hour ago.

RE: FOUND VOLGANET.

First Jake confirmed what she already suspected. Volganet was not in Eastern Europe. Their server's time clock had been altered to make it look as if they were. He'd used satellite tracking, triangulating on their signal, and determined that they were actually located not far from Boston.

His message went on: F*ING tapeworms. Parasitic sc.u.m.

Two years ago, the three of them would have deserved precisely those sobriquets.

His message continued: You were right. This is not the first time we've been hit by them. They've been onto us for weeks. Maybe more. I shut them out. Gave them a taste of their own. My bad.

Inside for weeks? How many? Had the creeps behind Volganet been targeting their clients? Were they responsible for infiltrating her security systems too? Jake said he'd shut them out, but was it really safe for her to go home? Was it any safer to go back to Pam's? She looked around Ashley's apartment and shivered. Was it safe anywhere?

Ten minutes later, a chime sounded, and she let GROB back into her virtual office.

"Your sister definitely was at Neponset Hospital." The electronic voice p.r.o.nounced it Nep-on-set, like it was three words. "Admitted last Friday, released yesterday morning. You must be the Diana that your sister lists as next of kin."

Diana tried to catch her breath. He probably had her home address now too.

GROB went on. "There were two physicians connected to her case: Dr. William Kennedy." Diana didn't bother to copy the phone number he gave her. It was the same one that was on Dr. Kennedy's business card.

In the bathroom, the hair dryer switched off.

GROB continued, "And Dr. Pamela Braverman. Same number."

Diana winced.

"Diana, you can talk to one of her doctors," GROB said. "But I wouldn't advise you do that until you hear the whole story."

"What whole story?"

"I can't tell you . . . not here."

"Why not?"

Ashley emerged from the bathroom dressed in a white terrycloth bathrobe.

"Hang on," Diana said to GROB. She muted the sound and lowered her laptop screen.

Ashley sank down on the edge of the bed, her brush pulled halfway through her long hair. She returned Diana's gaze. "What? Have I got soap on my face?"

Diana reached over and wiped an imaginary soap bubble from her sister's forehead, noting as she did so that Ashley didn't feel feverish. "You still hungry?"

Ashley eyed the folded over laptop screen, then narrowed her eyes at Diana. "It's that GROB, isn't it?"

"I thought you couldn't remember anything."

"You think I don't notice things, but I do."

"I like your hair that color," Diana said. "Nice highlights."

"Nice try. I'll be in the kitchen when you decide to get real." Ashley heaved herself to her feet. She left behind a swirl of jasmine and ginger.

Diana raised the laptop screen again. GROB was still there. She unmuted the sound. "Why the h.e.l.l can't you tell me now?"

"Because this Wi-Fi connection might not be secure. What I can tell you is . . . that diagnosis? It's bogus. And there's more. I'm not even sure I understand everything I found out."

The room went fuzzy as Diana's throat constricted. She tried to swallow.

"Meet me," he said.

"When? Where? And how will I know who you are?"

But before she had an answer, GROB had vanished.

"How do you make rice?" Ashley called out to her from the kitchen.

A moment later, a text box appeared. It contained the words: I'LL KNOW YOU. NOON TOMORROW.

Beside that were two numbers-a pair of real-world GPS coordinates.

Ashley cleared her throat. "Diana?"

Diana looked up and saw Ashley staring at her from the doorway and holding a gla.s.s measuring cup.

"Okay, now I know someone died," Ashley said.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong."

"Now you're being ridiculous."

The last thing Diana wanted was for Ashley to worry, not until Diana knew what they should be worried about.

"Okay, okay. You're right. It's GROB. He wants me to meet him."

Ashley's face broke into a grin. "That's great. Oh, honey, that's really wonderful. Are you going?"

Diana forced a smile. "I'm going to try."

"When?"

"Tomorrow."

"Where?"

"I'm not sure." Diana brought up a map and entered the coordinates. "Somewhere in New Hampshire."

Ashley's look turned somber. "Diana, it's been a long time since you were out there. Are you sure you know enough about him? I mean, he's just someone you met online. He could be anyone."

"You're a fine one to talk, Miss Match Dot-Com."

"Diana." Ashley gave her a hard look.

"Ashley . . ." Diana stuck out her tongue. "Listen, you've been wanting me to get out. I'm getting out!"

"Promise me you'll stay out in the open where there are lots of other people."

"And if I get into trouble, I'll call. Promise."

Ashley shook her head and sighed. "So, where in New Hampshire?"

Diana turned the computer so Ashley could see a little flag that was midway between Concord and Manchester at a town called Mill Village.

Ashley sat beside her. "You ever been there?"

Diana shook her head.

"Me either. But it looks like that's about a ninety-minute drive. You up for that? Alone?"

Diana zoomed in and toggled to STREET VIEW. A black-and-white photo of a street lined with typical, mid-twentieth-century New England storefronts came up. Cars were parked at meters on the street.

She rotated the view. Down the street was a brick building from the fifties with plate-gla.s.s windows, probably once a department store, and the same vintage motel. She rotated the view some more. Across the street was a broad expanse of lawn, the town green with trees and benches and a bandstand, and beyond that a neat row of Victorian houses with gingerbread trim.

"Looks like a very darling village. Tres New England," Ashley said. "Want me to come with?"

Diana shot her what she hoped was a withering look. "Don't you have to work?"

"Okay, okay. Just asking." She held up the gla.s.s measuring cup. "Rice?"

"One part rice to two parts water," Diana said. "Salt and a little b.u.t.ter."

Ashley flashed her a thumbs-up and returned to the kitchen.