“First thing I’ll need to know is the location of the meeting. The exact location.”

“I can get that.” I think.

“Good. Next thing is, you’ve got to get yourself some hacking clothes.”

“Such as?”

“Well, in the summer, when the AC is on, I use long Johns. But in the winter, it can get hot in those ducts. Even in the returns. So I’d recommend a lightweight coverall—sans buttons, or a rugby shirt and panty hose.”

“Panty hose? Jeez, Dud!”

“You’re gonna be belly-crawling every which way you can, Jack. You gotta be able to slide, man.”

“Yeah… but pantyhose?”

Another Post headline flashed before his eyes:

PANTY-HOSED PEEPER PINCHED IN PIPES!

Jack said, “I’ll go with the coveralls, I think. What else will I need?”

“A three-piece suit.”

“Aw, no!”

2.

2.

“Where did we meet?” Alicia said, cradling the phone against her shoulder as she unwrapped half a turkey sub from the Blimpie’s down the block. “In Gordon Haffner’s office. He’s Thomas’s lawyer.”

She’d waited all morning to hear from Jack. He’d been so excited last night after finding that magic marker squiggle in the Hand Building lobby. He’d started babbling about building hackers—whatever they were—and somebody named Milkdud. He’d taken her home, checked out her apartment to make sure it was empty and secure, then left her, saying he’d call in the morning.

Well, he hadn’t called. And she’d had some very bad moments walking to the hospital this morning. She’d kept to the center of the sidewalk, eyeing every van near the curb, every passerby, tensing at every set of hurried footsteps behind her. She’d never been so relieved to see the guard at the front door.

Her relief had turned to dismay when she saw Hector’s blood culture report: Candida albicans, the opportunistic fungus that rode into AIDS patients on the backs of other infections. She’d added IV amphotericin B to the mix of meds flowing into Hector, and crossed her fingers.

His foster mother probably hadn’t been giving him his prophylactic Diflucan either. At least Alicia hoped that was the reason for the infection. If not, it meant he’d picked up a resistant strain, and that could be bad. Very bad.

She took a bite of her sandwich. She hadn’t had dinner last night, hadn’t been able to stomach breakfast this morning; it had taken until noon for the thought of food to occur to her. And now, just as she was starting lunch at her desk, Jack called.

“Gordon Haffner,” Jack said. “Where’s his office on the floor?”

She swallowed. “I’m not sure.”

“It’s important, Alicia.”

“All right, then. Let me think.”