She scrolled through the contacts until she found the number Anne had given her. It was after midnight, but some places never closed. She pressed the icon on her phone.
“You've reached the Internet Café,” a young woman's voice came on the message. “It's Gamer Night. If you've reached this message, it means we are off to another universe, fightingbattles, and slaying dragons. Do stop by or leave your number, we'll get back to you.”
Gamer Night. She ended the call without leaving a message.
One of the assistants at her office was into internet gaming, and had invited her along to one of their sessions. At the time, her publisher was putting out a book on the widespread popularity of internet gaming, and she had accepted the invitation to verify firsthand some of the information that was included, and out of curiosity over something she'd heard a lot about but had only limited experience with. It had been fascinating, and intense.
The usual gamer night bore no resemblance to World of War or other video games found on the commercial market. Their world was an underground network of players that spanned the country and beyond, and participants took everything very seriously to the point of stalking other gamers and sabotaging them in an attempt to take them out of play, all with alter identities. Throw in the occasional investigation by the FCC or NSA, and she decided this part of the cyber world was a little too dangerous for comfort.
She'd opted out of the next invitation, even though the experience helped validate the book, which sold well within the gaming community.
Eye shadow and tattoos.
She didn't care if Innis had blue hair, if he was able to help her find Cate's manuscript.
CHAPTER
FIVE
The Internet Café was in the part of the city that dated back to the days of good old Prince Charlie and the '45 Rebellion, surrounded by three-hundred-year-old buildings that had been converted into an eclectic blend of boutiques, specialty shops, art galleries, pubs, and cafés.
It was Saturday, and in spite of the late season, there were a lot of tourists out on a cold morning, students, and locals dressed in sweatshirts and jeans, woolen sweaters, and Macs.
She had been a theology major at college with a history minor, then changed her major her third year. She had never lost her passion for history, though, and had spent days in the old part of the city on earlier visits over, exploring narrow cobbled streets and other old places, poking about churches with gravestones that told their own stories.
Old places, as Cate called them, and stories waiting to be discovered.
It was early, but the phone message when she called simply stated, “We're open.”
She turned at the next corner and eased the rental car to the curb next to a gleaming black motorcycle. She cut the motor and grabbed her shoulder bag. At the end of the cobbled sidewalk,James Morgan leaned against the saddle of a gleaming black BMW, a to-go cup of coffee in one hand.
“Dangerous,” she commented, gesturing to the powerful motorcycle, and recalling her conversation with Anne Morgan the night before, and the worried expression on her face at the thought he might re-injure himself.
He shrugged a shoulder. “It's only my second cup. It's not dangerous until the fourth or fifth one.”
“I meant the motorcycle.”
He knew exactly what she meant. “We all have to die sometime.”
As soon as he said it, he knew he'd touched a nerve. He saw it in her eyes as they darkened, the tiny frown lines that appeared as she fought back unwanted emotion.
“I was thinking of Anne.”
Direct shot, and not the first time. He'd tapped into something she didn't usually let anyone see. He recognized it. Wounds, that had yet to heal. He knew a little about that.
“Let's start over,” he said. “Anne asked me to stop by.” He cut a glance to the Internet Café.
“This place attracts a lot of different sorts, and Innis can be...”
“A real wanker?” she replied.
Truce. He nodded.
“Aye, well, he can be a bit of a hooligan, even though Cate apparently got along well enough with him. But Cate had a way about her.”
“Meaning?”
“She didn't take any shit off anyone.”
