Motor Mouth (Alex Barnaby 2)

When I sit at my desk, I look out the window at Topper’s. Most nights it’s packed, but this was the day before Thanksgiving and there wasn’t much going on. Teams were taking minivacations in the Florida Keys and visiting family.

Steven Sikulski had been easy to lure to the computer lab. I knew his only two weaknesses. A new computer problem to solve and cheesecake. Sikulski was a big, loose-jointed guy who looked like he should be setting out fruit in a supermarket. His face was unlined at fifty and perpetually looked like Sikulski didn’t have a care in the world. And maybe he didn’t.

I’d brought him the required offering of New York cheesecake, and now Hooker and I were pacing behind him, cracking our knuckles, waiting for Sikulski to solve the riddle of the chip.

“The small chip is obviously damaged,” Sikulski said. “It’s a microprocessor with wireless ability, and I’m guessing that the damaged portion contained leads to control some sort of mechanical process. The circuitry isn’t complicated, but the miniaturization is impressive. That’s all I can tell you on a quick look. The second chip is much more interesting. It can send and receive wirelessly. The fact that it was encased in a shell is fascinating. It would indicate that it doesn’t attach to a wiring system. That it can perform its function entirely wirelessly. Perhaps this is a relay of some sort. The primary brain in a complicated routing system. The circuitry is much more sophisticated than the circuitry in the damaged chip. Again, it’s microminiaturized. And here’s the good part…it carries its own power source. It’s riding on a veneer that seems to function as a battery. It’s not my area of expertise, but I suspect the battery is the most exciting part of this little sweetheart. If I had more time, I could work my way through the circuitry and tell you more.”

“Unfortunately, we haven’t got more time. Is there anything else you can tell us?”

“Because I know the location of the chips, and because I know their suspected use, I can give you a hypothetical situation. A driver could adjust the mechanical function of a car, such as engine speed, with a remote. For that matter, anyone at the track could signal the circuit board. It’s like one of those remote-control cars for kids, only this chip controls a real car. The puzzle is that there are two chips. It would seem to me the small chip could do the job.”

“Anyone at the track could control this gizmo?” Hooker asked. “It wouldn’t have to be the driver?”

“I’m speaking hypothetically,” Sikulski said. “The remote would be a simple on/off switch. There’s no reason why someone in the stands couldn’t operate it.”

“Would there be an advantage to a team member operating it? A spotter, for instance.”

“I imagine a spotter would have a better sense of when to turn it on and when to turn it off.” Sikulski closed the file on his computer. “You understand, this wireless technology could have other uses. It’s total James Bond, Mission Impossible shit.”

Hooker and I were in his Mooresville house, in front of his big-screen plasma, watching a ball game, eating Thanksgiving pizza. Beans was on the couch with us, waiting for scraps of crust, looking happy to be home.

I was happy to be home, too, but I couldn’t get rid of the anxiety that periodically fluttered through my chest. Helping Gobbles had seemed like the decent thing to do. And if I had to do it all over again, I’d still try to help him. I just wish it had turned out better. If only we hadn’t left Beans in the hauler…

“I was just so tired,” I said. “I wasn’t thinking right.”

Hooker looked over at me. “I missed the first half of that.”

“I’m worried.”

Hooker slid an arm around my shoulders. “It’ll work out okay. I’ve got a feeling.”

“Another feeling? You’ve got a lot of feelings these days.”

“You don’t know the half of it. I’m a hotbed of feelings. If you’d just stop being mad at me, I’d explain some of them to you.”

“I’m not mad at you. I’m disappointed. You broke my heart.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Do you want the last piece of pizza? Would that make us even?”

“You slept with a sal

esclerk! You can’t equate that with the last piece of pizza.”

“You don’t know much about men,” Hooker said. “And this isn’t any old pizza. This is extra cheese and pepperoni.”

EIGHT

“Not many people working the day after Thanksgiving,” Hooker said, looking over my shoulder.

I was at my desk in my little cubicle at the Stiller R & D center, and I’d been the only person in the building until Hooker showed up.

“How did you know I was here?”

“Process of elimination. You weren’t home, and it’s too early in the morning for the mall to be open.”

“I wanted to look at race tapes. And I had some models I wanted to run.”

“Trying to gather evidence?”