978044100119450599

PRAISE FOR WILLIAM SHATNER AND
HIS ELECTRIFYING TEK NOVELS ...
TEKWAR
Introducing Jake Cardigan, a tough ex-cop battling
a world of high-tech drugs and future shock...
"FAST-PACED SF ACTION ADVENTURE!"
—Library Journal
"SHATNER DELIVERS ... THE PACE IS UNRE-
LENTING!"	—Publishers Weekly
TEKLORDS
Jake Cardigan fights reprogrammed human "zom-
bies" to pierce the powerful heart of the TekLords ...
"A COMBINATION OF MIAMI VICE AND BLADE
RUNNER."	—Locus
TEKLAB
The ruins of twenty-first century London are the
battleground for Jake Cardigan and a deadly serial
killer...
"SHATNER IS A GOOD WRITER . . . THIS READ-
ER AWAITS HIS NEXT EFFORT!"
—Nashville Banner
TEK VENGEANCE
The murder of Cardigan's girlfriend is the worst
mistake the TekLords could have made ...
"FAST ACTION ... TONGUE-IN-CHEEK HUMOR
. . . A GOOD READ!"	—Booklist

Ace Books by William Shatner
TEKWAR
TEKLORDS
TEKLAB
TEK VENGEANCE
TEK SECRET

TEKSECRET
WILLIAM
SHATNER
ACE BOOKS, NEW YORK

If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that
this book is stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and destroyed"
to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received
any payment for this "stripped book."
This Ace Book contains the complete text of the original
hardcover edition. It has been completely reset in a typeface
designed for easy reading, and was printed from new film.
TEK SECRET
An Ace Book / published by arrangement with
the author
PRINTING HISTORY
Ace / Putnam hardcover edition published 1993
Ace paperback edition / December 1994
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 1993 by William Shatner.
Cover art by Boris Vallejo.
This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part,
by mimeograph or any other means, without permission.
For information address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
200 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10016.
ISBN: 0-441-00119-X
ACE®
Ace Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,
200 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10016.
ACE and the "A" design are trademarks
belonging to Charter Communications, Inc.
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
10 987654321

During the intervening months between Tek Ven-
geance and this book, I had the opportunity to meet
a group of dedicated professionals who are consumed
with making the movie cum series, TekWar.
They are many in number and varied in skill. They
range from the caterer to the cinematographer to the
producers to the script supervisor and all the fellows
and girls who make up the crew of TekWar. I've
never enjoyed a filming experience more and I've
never looked forward to seeing the finished product
as much.
I dedicate this book to all my newfound friends at
TekWar.

The Tek tsunami continues .
A ripple of enthusiasm from Marvel Comics' TekWorld,
ending its first year.
A riptide of interest and the fifth book is in print.
A deluge of creativity and TekWar; the movies, are being
readied for presentation at the beginning of 1994.
Causing all these undercurrents are . . .
First and foremost, Ron Goulart, who has aided and
abetted me in all five books.
Fabian Nicieza at Marvel Comics and his brilliant
team . . . and the wonderful group of filmmakers at
MCA and Atlantic Films bringing to life on the screen
fantasies that, until now, resided on the pages of the
Tek novels.
And pooling everybody's talents is Carmen LaVia, agent
extraordinaire, at the Fifi Oscard Agency.
Other invaluable surfers on our journey are Roger
Cooper, Susan Allison, and Ivy Fischer Stone.
All of you have my gratitude.
One can only speculate on what the future holds. . .

1
IT WAS A rainy night in the late spring of the year 2121.
As he flew his skycar southward, he said again, "I've got
to find her."
Barry Zangerly sat crouched stiffly at the controls,
both hands tightly clenched. He was a lean, dark man
in his early thirties and he was heading for the Ocean
Park Sector of Greater Los Angeles.
When the vidphone on the dashpanel buzzed, he
flinched and jerked upright in the driveseat. Then,
after taking a slow breath in and out, he touched the
respond key.
An~plder, huskier version of himself appeared on the
small rectangular picscreen. "So you're really going to
this damn meeting?" asked Roger Zangerly. '"You're a
bigger idiot than—"
"Don't try to interfere," Barry warned his brother.
1

William Shatner
'"You should let the cops search for Alicia Bower."
"Damn it, Rog, this is something I have to be involved
in."
"Okay, allright." His brother was still at his office at
the headquarters plant of Mechanix International in
the Hawthorne Sector of Greater LA. Out the wide
windows behind him you could see the rain hitting at
the huge brightlit domes of the sprawling complex. "I
didn't call to have a fight, Barry. It's only that I don't
like to see you walking into trouble."
"I intend to find Alicia," he said. "She's been miss-
ing for three days. I just don't understand why her
father or—"
"I work for Owen Bower," reminded Roger, "and,
trust me, I know him a hell of a lot better than you do.
He's very much concerned about her and even though
he's in the hospital, he's—"
"Nobody from Mechanix is doing enough to locate
her."
'"We've got our own people hunting for her. And you
know the cops are busting their butts on this, too."
Lowering his voice, Roger leaned forward. "Don't get
mad again, but there's something else I have to say
to you. Alicia is, we all agree, a very attractive young
woman. But, Barry, you have to admit she's none
too stable. She was, afterall, in that institution last
year."
"That was last year. I've been living with her for
nearly ten months now and I know that she—"
"Actually this is my fault. Yeah, I went and intro-
duced you two at that damn cocktail party. I've said
2

Tek Secret
to Dad more than once that I feel responsible for all
this."
"Responsible for what, Rog? My being in love with
your boss's daughter? Are you afraid that's going to
screw up your—"
"I know quite a bit more about her than maybe you
do," said Roger. "Before you there were other guys. A
hell of a lot of other guys, in fact. She's never, you know,
been able to settle down with one man. What's probably
happened this time is that she got restless again."
"I don't want to hear any more of this crap from
you."
"Listen to me." Roger shook his head. "I know you're
eager to find her. But simply because you get a call
from some anonymous hoodlum— Really, Barry, that's
no reason to go flying off by yourself to a meeting in
some damn slum."
"I'm sorry I confided in you at all. I had the notion
that you were the sort of brother who—"
"I'm the best god damn brother you'll ever have."
Roger's voice grew louder. "Maybe I'm not smart
enough to teach at SoCal Tech the way you do, but
I sure as hell know how the world works. Alicia Bower
is just some crazy little bitch who's determined to sleep
with as many guys as she can. You had your turn and
she's probably just run off with the next one in line."
"Drop it, Rog."
His brother urged, "Forget about going to this meet-
ing. Or at least wait until I can join you."
"I was instructed to show up alone. Don't try to screw
this up."
3

William Shatner
"You never have, you know, been able to take proper
care of yourself. I've always had to come along behind
you and—"
"Go to hell, Rog." He hung up.
The vidphone buzzed again a moment later. Barry
didn't answer.
He guided his skycar on through the heavy rain.
It was exactly 10 p.m. when Barry landed on the park-
ing field near the Arcade. The rain was heavier now,
slamming straight down through the night and hitting
at him as he came hurrying out of his car.
Barry sprinted across the dimlit lot, which had only
a dozen other vehicles scattered across it.
There was nobody visible through the windows of the
ticket kiosk at the exit gate. Inside it, though, a dented
and rusty robot sat on the floor. His left eye dangled
on a few twists of red and yellow wire, hanging three
inches below the rust-rimmed socket. Clutched in his
left hand, which was missing a finger, was a sheaf of
parking chits.
"Guess parking is free," Barry decided and hurried
on.
A thin black girl, not more than fifteen, was leaning,
arms folded, near the ground entrance of the Arcade.
Slowing, Barry scanned her. He was fairly certain
that the person who'd vidphoned him this afternoon,
keeping the screen blanked, had been a young girl.
When he was nearly to the entryway, the girl smiled.
"$100 for an hour, $300 all night," she said in a gentle
voice. "Blow job is extra."
4

Tek Secret
"Thanks, no."
The first level of the structure housed fifteen or
so establishments. There were cafes, betting parlors,
saloons, and gaming rooms. More than half were shut
down and dark. Less than fifty people, most of them
young, were frequenting this level of the Arcade.
The plastitile floor was splotched with wide puddles
of muddy water. As Barry crossed to the upramps, sev-
eral drops of rain fell from above and hit him just over
the ear.
The globes of floating light hanging over the en-
trance to the Level 3 ramp were smeared with dirt and
one of them was flickering.
Far across the chill Arcade a young woman suddenly
cried out in pain.
"Shut up, bitch," shouted a gruff voice.
Barry stepped onto the moving ramp. Roughly half-
way to Level 2 it commenced making loud, ratcheting
noises. Then the ramp ceased to function.
Barry climbed the rest of the way.
In the shadowy doorway to the defunct souvenir shop
on Level 3 a young woman was huddled. She had her
bare knees pressed tight together, her fisted hands
crossed over her chest. There was a lopsided smile
on her pale face and she was hooked up to the Tek
Brainbox that was wedged in her lap.
"I love you, too," she was murmuring.
Barry had been instructed to meet his informant
at a place called Gypsy's at 10:15. Gypsy's was mid-
way along the righthand tier. Next to it was a small
jewelry shop called Moonstone's. The shop was shut,
5

William Shatner
its display window offering nothing but a long dead
mouse.
The signscreen next to the door of Gypsy's an-
nounced: ALL THE LATEST FORTUNE-TELLING DEVICES &
MORE! CLOSED FOR NOW.
Barry reached for the door. Before his fingertips
touched it, the door whispered and swung slowly open
inward.
In the middle of the dimly illuminated foyer, he
saw the body of a woman stretched out facedown on
the floor.
"Oh, god!"
He ran to the body, knelt beside it. The door shut
behind him.
This wasn't Alicia. It wasn't a woman at all, only
an android dressed in the costume of a gypsy fortune-
teller.
When he rolled the android over on her back, Barry
saw that someone had opened her chest and removed
most of the inner workings.
At the back of the shadowy room another door
opened.
Two men, large and thickset, came in. Then a big
coppery robot, wearing a long black overcoat, followed.
The three remained near the open doorway, side by
side, watching him, saying nothing.
Barry rose to his feet. "Did one of you contact
me?"
The larger of the two men nudged the robot.
Nodding, the robot came walking slowly over to Bar-
ry-
6

Tek Secret
"That's why I'm here," Barry started to explain. "I got
a call to meet—"
The robot hit him, hard in the midsection.
Gasping, doubling up, Barry stumbled backward.
The robot followed. Carefully, patiently, he punched
Barry. Pounding him in the stomach, in the chest, in
the ribs. Finally, when Barry had collapsed to his knees,
the big robot went to work on his head and face with
his metal fists.
Time got fouled up about then and Barry lost a few
minutes. After awhile he found himself lying flat out
on the floor, staring into the blank face of the dead
android.
Someone was kicking him in the side.
Someone said, "Quit looking for her."
Barry lost some more time.
7

2
Dan Cardigan watched the skycab climb back up into
the rainy night. Smiling to himself, he ran across the
apartment complex courtyard.
The uniformed doorbot who stood under the metal
awning made a chuckling noise and opened the wide
plastiglass door. "Second night in a row," he commented
in his tinny voice. "And out until after 11 p.m. on a school
night. Tsk tsk."
"You should oil yourself more often, Otto," suggested
Dan, a lean, young man of fifteen. "It might fix that odd
tsk noise you're always making."
The rain drummed on the awning over their heads.
The robot said, "She's an attractive young lady."
"That she is." Dan went on into the lobby.
He let himself into the apartment he shared with his
father. "Dad?" he called, after glancing around the
living room.
9

William Shatner
"Out here, Dan." Jake Cardigan was standing on the
sheltered balcony, looking across the beach toward the
dark, foamy ocean.
Dan went out and joined him. "You went there again
today, huh?"
"Went where?" Jake continued to watch the black
sea.
"C'mon, you know. I mean the cemetery where Beth
Kittridge is buried."
His father turned to face him. Jake was nearly fifty,
handsome in a weatherbeaten way. "I was there for
awhile, yeah," he admitted.
"You haven't missed a day since . . . well, since two
weeks ago."
"Since Beth's ashes were interred there." He moved
back into the living room. "No, I guess I haven't. How
was your date?"
Dan followed his father. "Don't you think you're
maybe dwelling on all this too much?"
"Probably, sure." Jake sat in a low black chair. "Could
be it's a sign that I'm turning into a sentimental old
codger."
"Hell, you're not an—"
"Her death hit me hard. I keep figuring I'll get over
it." He leaned back in the chair, then sat up again.
"Afterall, Beth has been dead for over a month."
"You loved her and she—"
"I've got to accept the fact she's dead and gone,
you're right." Standing, Jake wandered in the direction
of the balcony and stood on the threshold, again staring
10

Tek Secret
out into the rainy night. "I've never been especially
mystical or religious. But going out there . . . sitting in
that chapel..." He shrugged and turned toward his
son. "So how was the date?"
"Good."
'Just good?"
"Terrific then. You want me to review my date with
Molly Fine as though it was a vidwall movie? Colossal,
earthshaking, sensational—"
"You like her, don't you?"
"Quite a bit."
"She seems to like you."
"Fortunately for me."
Jake returned to the chair, sat again. "Spend as much
time with her as you can," he advised. "And be sure
you tell her how you feel. Because you never know
when—"
"Dad, hey, you are starting to sound like an old coot."
"Overdoing it, am I?"
Nodding, his son told him, "You've never been the
type of person to feel sorry for himself."
"Until lately?"
'"Well, you have been moping around like a—"
"I'll reform," promised Jake, grinning briefly.
"Where'd you and Molly go?"
'To a skyball game between our SoCal State Police
Academy and Santa Monica Sector Hi."
"Who\von?"
"Them."
Jake stood, stretched. "Now that you're safely back in
the nest, I can turn in."
11

William Shatner
"Oh, I almost forgot," said his son. "We had a guest
lecturer at the academy today. Somebody who used to
know you."
"You didn't get into a squabble with this one?" Jake
asked him, frowning. "Now and then you're going to
run into someone who still believes I deserved that
prison stretch up in the Freezer."
"No, this was somebody who likes you."
"Oh, so?"
"A lady named Bev Kendricks," answered Dan. "She
told me, after class, that you and her used to be SoCal
cops together."
"About ten years ago, yeah."
"She runs her own private investigation service now.
It's nowhere near the size of the outfit that you and
Gomez work for, but she has a very good reputation and
supposedly does damn well. Very pretty lady, too."
Jake eyed his son a few seconds before asking, "You
aren't trying to matchmake, are you?"
"Nope, Dad, no," Dan assured him, smiling. "Al-
though she did give me the impression she wouldn't
mind seeing you again. Maybe just to talk over old
times."
Jake said, "You probably didn't get the right impres-
sion. As I recall, Beth was never especially fond of me
back—"
"Her name is Bev," corrected Dan.
"What did I say?"
It was just shy of midnight when Sid Gomez got the
call.
12

Tek Secret
He had been sitting out over the Pacific Ocean in
the glassbottomed cocktail area of Capt. Noah's sea-
food restaurant. The rain was hitting the clear domed
ceiling; beneath his feet the dark ocean swirled.
Gomez, a curlyhaired and moustache'd man who was
fast approaching forty, had both elbows on the plastiglass
table top and both hands circling his glass of ale. "No es
verdad," he said to the blonde young woman across the
table from him. "Which means in English, chiquita, it
just ain't so."
"I speak Spanish, Gomez," Marny Selwin reminded
him.
"I forgot," said the detective. "My point is that I've
worked with Jake Cardigan ever since he came home
from the Freezer and I haven't seen any sign of—"
'The fact that you aren't very perceptive doesn't
invalidate my—"
"In the first place, Jake was never a serious Tek user.
So there isn't much chance, even if your theory is true,
that he—"
"Gomez, dear, I'm an Associate Professor of Biotech-
nology at SoCal Tech," Marny told him. "Most of the
research in the report I'm trying to tell you about was
done by me and my associates. Trust me, there's ample
proof that Tek use, even on a modest scale sometimes,
can cause brain damage. I'm willing to bet you that
Cardigan's reflexes, his judgments and probably—"
"I can refute you there, almita. His judgment is
obviously not impaired one whit—since he made
the obviously brilliant decision to team up with me."
"I'm serious." Marny shook her head. "You really
13

William Shatner
ought to consider switching to a new partner. My study
shows that people who've habitually hooked up to a
Brainbox and used Tek chips to spin themselves assort-
ed fantasies are prone to—"
"All I can say is that Jake is the best partner I've ever
worked with," Gomez said. "As a cop back when, and
now as a private investigator." Turning in his chair, he
started glancing around the large, circular room.
"What?"
"I came to this bistro originally to attend the tenth
wedding anniversary shindig of my cousin, Eddie
Navarro," he said. "Then I ran into you, allowed
myself to be distracted, became entangled in this
deepdish conversation with—"
'Tour cousin left a half hour ago, along with his wife
and most of their other guests."
"I missed that."
"You were arguing intensely at the time."
"Wait now, chiquita. It isn't arguing when I'm simply
stating absolute unvarnished truths. It's more a lec-
ture."
"Honestly, I really do know more about Tek
than . . . Now what?"
"I was trying to spot the bunch you came to dinner
with."
"They departed right after your cousin."
"I didn't even get a slice of Eddie's cake."
"Were you hoping my friends would haul me off now?
So you can weasel out of facing the fact that—"
"I never weasel." Lifting his glass, he took a sip of ale.
"I'm more the fox type."
14

Tek Secret
"I'll send you a copy of the report. What's your
homefax number?"
He held up his left hand, shook it negatively. "We
ought to change the topic," he suggested. "You and
I haven't seen each other in nearly two long years,
not since you did that consulting job for the Cosmos
Detective Agency, and yet—"
"I actually like you, Gomez," she said. "I've never
met Cardigan, but I've heard a good deal about the
man. He may be a fine detective, but eventually the
fact that he's addicted to Tek is going to affect his
performance."
"He's not an addict. He doesn't even use the stuff
anymore."
"How do you know?"
"He told me."
She smiled. "You trust the guy?"
"Si, yes, I do."
"And to your knowledge he hasn't used Tek since he
got out?"
Gomez studied the dark ocean underfoot. "Not much,
no."
Marny laughed. "Not much? What the heck does that
mean? You just now told me he quit."
"When Beth Kittridge was murdered by the Tek-
lords—well, he did a little backsliding."
'The odds are he'll backslide again."
"I don't think so."
"You really should read my report, at least skim the
thing. The statistical charts alone ought to convince—"
"Are you Mr. Gomez?" inquired the chromeplated
15

William Shatner
robot in a white sailorsuit who'd stopped beside their
table.
"I am."
"There's a call for you, skipper."
Rising, Gomez said to the young woman, "Excuse me
for a moment, cara."
In the vidphone alcove he found a heavyset man of
about thirty-five scowling at him from the phonescreen.
"Do you remember me?"
"Is there a prize involved if I guess this correctly?"
"There's another annoying thing I remember about
you, Gomez. You're too much of a wiseass."
Gomez inquired, "How'd you know I was here,
Zangerly?"
"Your poor longsuffering wife told me when I called
your home," answered Roger Zangerly. "She's not your
first wife, is she?"
"Far from it."
"Right, I didn't imagine any one of them lasted long
with you."
"Anything else that's none of your damn business that
you'd like to chat about?"
"You handled a case for a friend of mine about a year
ago," said Roger. "Harvey Conn, who's Junior CEO at
Botoys, Ltd. We met at that time."
"St, I recall the encounter with fondness," said the
detective. "You advised Conn to dump us and hire a
competent agency."
"I was wrong. Turns out you did a damn fine job for
Harvey—and you people were discreet about it."
"Ah, is one of your mistresses threatening to—"
16

Tek Secret
"This is about my brother. Barry, my younger broth-
er," said Roger. "He's—well, it's a complicated situa-
tion. They found him an hour ago in the Ocean Park
Sector. Somebody's worked him over—more than one
person probably. They beat the crap out of him. He'll
be okay eventually, but right now he's in the hospital. I
want someone besides the cops to work on this. A good
reliable agency like Cosmos."
"Give me some more details."
"I'd rather you talk to my brother first, get his ver-
sion of what's going on," said Roger. "Can you do that
tomorrow?"
"Is he up to visitors?"
"No, but he can use the vidphone—so the hospital
tells me."
Gomez nodded slowly. "I'll set it up with my boss,
Walt Bascom, and we'll talk to Barry from the Cosmos
offices tomorrow. Is eleven okay?"
"Should be."
"Until then."
"Gomez."
"Si?"
"I know you'll do a damn good job," Roger told him.
"But I still don't much like you."
Gomez smiled. "Wait till you meet my partner."
17

there was no one else in the small chapel. Jake sat on
a bench near the rear, hands folded and looking toward
the rows of small copper-doored cubicles on the wall at
his left.
The urn that held all that was left of Beth Kittridge
rested behind one of those small metal doors. It was
cubicle #27.
The simulated stained-glass windows rattled. A sharp
wind was blowing through the morning cemetery out-
side. When the bell tower began chiming the hour of
ten, Jake stood up, nodded in the direction of door #27
and started up the narrow aisle.
His son was probably right. Jake should quit com-
ing out here to the Glendale Sector. For awhile he'd
been able to pretend that this was a way to remain
in touch with Beth. But it was growing increasingly
19
3

William Shatner
difficult to feel that. She was dead and he had to accept
the fact.
There was no place now he could go to be close
to her.
He walked down the chapel steps into the grey, windy
morning. The path back to the parking area led down
across two grassy acres of cemetery that were thick with
impressive monuments. There were angels, cherubs,
obelisks rising up all around him. Each and every one
no more than a holographic projection.
As he passed the knight in armor that was commem-
orating the memory of someone named Hurford E.
Stone, he noticed it was flickering. The lifesize figure
almost faded away, then snapped back into seeming
solidity.
A gust of wind came rushing uphill, grabbing up sev-
eral of the plastiblossoms from the base of the knight's
pedestal.
A few hundred yards downhill from him a priest
stood praying beside a grave that was watched over by
a huge projection of a praying, widewinged angel. The
priest wore a black robe and cowl and had on black
gloves. He was fingering a dangling string of glittering
metallic rosary beads.
Another strong gust of wind swept through the
cemetery, catching at the skirt of the priest's robe and
lifting it. Beneath the robe was a bright chromeplated
leg.
Frowning, Jake slowed his pace. "Maybe that guy's
just got a metal leg," he said to himself. "But maybe
he's a robot pretending to be a priest."
20

Tek Secret
Casually, Jake reached inside his jacket and rested his
palm on the butt of his holstered stungun.
Just then all the monuments vanished. Someone had
clicked off the projection system and Jake was now
standing in the middle of an immense blank field of
grass with the dubious priest.
Jake dived to the ground, stretching out flat.
As he settled into the wet grass, the robot yanked out
a lazgun and fired.
The sizzling beam sliced a rut across a stretch of
ground less than five feet from Jake's left side.
He rolled away from the smoking line that had been
etched in the ground. Tugging his gun all the way out,
he flipped over onto his chest. He aimed and fired at
the robot.
Black robe flapping, the robot was zigzagging down-
hill. Jake's initial shot didn't connect.
Spinning, the robot swung his lazgun around to make
another try for Jake.
Jake fired again. This time the stunbeam hit. The
robot straightened up, right arm swinging wildly up
and the lazgun firing up into the grey morning.
The wind flapped his skirt up again, revealing both
silvery legs. Then, after swaying twice, the legs folded
up and the mechanism fell over.
Jake remained crouched down. "There's still the
gent who shut off the tombstones to worry about," he
reminded himself.
Up above him an approaching skycar sounded. It was
dropping down for a landing.
Rolling to his left, he looked up.
21

William Shatner
"Relax, amigo. Rescue is at hand." Gomez's voice came
out of the speaker in the belly of the descending car.
It settled down on a patch of hallowed ground a few
feet away.
Running over to the car, Jake hopped into the cabin.
"Scoot over to the main chapel, Sid. That's where the
controls for the monuments are and—"
'Too late, Jake. I noted two goons come rushing out
of there and into a skycar as I was setting down," his
partner told him. "No doubt they're the ones who shut
down this conspicuous display of mourning. They're
long gone in the direction of the placid Pacific."
Jake lowered himself into the passenger seat. "How'd
you know I was here?"
"You're here about this time each and every morning,"
answered Gomez. "A fact that others besides myself are
obviously aware of."
"Yeah, looks like."
"We've got a meeting with Bascom in a little over a
half hour."
"New case?"
"Si, and hopefully one that'll give you something else
to think about."
"I wonder if that's why this happened," said Jake.
"Did somebody want me to miss the meeting?"
Walt Bascom was a modest-sized man in his middle
fifties. The suit he was wearing had, like almost all of
his business wardrobe, a rumpled, slept-in look. He was
perched on the edge of his cluttered desk at the center
of his large, cluttered office in Tower 2 of the Cos-
22

Tek Secret
mos Detective Agency. Out of the viewindows showed
the other towers of this part of the Laguna Sector.
Skycars, skycabs and airtrams whizzed by out in the
grey morning.
Absently tapping his fingers on the* saxophone that
was sprawled across the scatters of memos, files and
faxcopies collected on his desk, the agency chief said,
"Before we have the interview with our client, gents, I
want to pass on some useful background stuff."
Gomez was slouched low in a comfortable chair, feet
up on a databox. "Stuff concerning Barry Zangerly?"
"Concerning what this case is all about," answered
Bascom. "After you called last night, Sidney, I did some
digging into—"
"You do have a home, don't you, chief?" inquired
Gomez.
"A palatial one, as you well know."
"It's just that you're never there, even in the small
wee hours. When I called late last night, you were still
here."
"Actually, it's the only place I can practice my sax in
peace."
Jake was straddling a straight metal chair, facing the
agency head's desk. "So you already have an idea as to
why Barry was beaten up?"
Grunting, Bascom stretched out his arm to punch a
control pad on the far side of his desk. "Take a gander
at Platform 3."
Over near where Gomez was slumped, one of the
hologram platforms came to life. The image, full size,
of a young woman appeared there. She was slim,
23

William Shatner
auburnhaired and in her late twenties.
Jake asked, "That's Alicia Bower, isn't it?"
"None other," replied Bascom. "She's the only child
of the widowed Owen L. Bower."
"Head man of Mechanix International." Easing to
his feet, Gomez began, slowly, circling the image of
Alicia Bower. 'They're the largest producer of robots,
androids and servomechs in the world. She must be a
mighty wealthy senorita. "
"Four days ago she disappeared." Bascom touched a
key and the image was gone. "Word hasn't as yet leaked
out to the media. Her father is in the hospital and she
was supposedly en route to pay him a daughterly visit
the day she vanished. She never reached there."
"Kidnapping?" asked Jake.
"The police don't think so," said Bascom, shaking his
head. "Nor do Bower's security people."
"Por que?"Gomez was sitting once more. "Kidnapping
sounds like a pretty logical assumption."
"Not, they claim, in light of the lass's prior record,"
explained the agency head. "She's got a history of men-
tal problems, for one thing, plus a tendency toward
promiscuity." He shrugged with his left shoulder only.
"The police theory is that she simply ran off with some
lad and is shacked up at an as yet unknown locale. The
folks at Mechanix International apparently agree."
Jake said, "But Barry doesn't agree."
"He's been living with Alicia for a year or so. His
brother, Roger, and his pop, Bernard Zangerly, both
hold down important jobs at Mechanix. It was Roger
who introduced her to his sibling."
24

Tek Secret
"Does her father approve?"
"Not so you'd notice, Jake."
"What about Barry's dad?"
"He's enthusiastic about the match. Probably because
he's hoping his offspring'11 marry the Mechanix heiress
and make his position that much more secure."
Gomez said, "So you're implying, jefe, that what befell
Barry is linked to the vanishing of Alicia."
Bascom spread his hands wide. "You lads will do the
implying. I have merely been filling you in on some
background facts in the case," he said. "It could turn
out that he was roughed up by some disgruntled SoCal
Tech students, who were unhappy about the grades he
gave them."
His desk buzzed.
Leaning back, Bascom shifted a stack of infodiscs to
get at a keypad beneath it. "Yep?"
"A Mr. Zangerly's out here to see you."
"I thought he was stretched out on a bed of pain over
in the Burbank Sector."
"This is Mr. Roger Zangerly."
Bascom frowned, first at Jake and then at Gomez.
Jake shrugged.
Gomez raised his eyebrows.
Sighing, Bascom said, "Okay, send him on in."
"I decided I'd better sit in on this," announced Roger
as he came striding into the office. "Hello, Gomez."
Pointing with a thumb, Gomez said, 'This is my part-
ner, Jake Cardigan."
Roger shook hands with Jake, brow wrinkling. "Have
I heard of you?"
25

William Shatner
"Only you can answer that."
Bascom suggested, "Sit in that blue chair, Mr.
Zangerly. Keep in mind, however, that if your brother
doesn't want you sitting in, you'll have to scram."
"It's not a question of his wanting me," said Roger,
settling into the chair. "It's a question of his needing
me."
26

Up on the vidwall Barry Zangerly was saying, "God
damn it, you have the completely wrong idea about
her."
"No, it's you who has a totally naive notion about who
and what this woman really is." Roger was on his feet,
fists clenched at his sides, shouting at the image of his
bedridden brother.
"Alicia is not sleeping with anybody else. She's in
some kind of serious—"
"You're the only one who believes that. Because you're
simply too damn stubborn to—"
"What you need is some air." Jake had come up
beside the angry Roger. He took hold of his arm. "Right
away."
Shaking free, he snarled at Jake. "Get your damn
hands off me," he warned. "I intend to remain right
here until this whole—"
27
4

William Shatner
"You can walk out," explained Jake amiably, "or I can
carry you out over my shoulder."
"It's not very damn likely, friend, that I'll let you carry
me out of here."
"You'll be unconscious by then."
"Are you threatening me?"
Jake grinned. "Matter of fact, I am." He nodded
in the direction of the door. "You're disrupting the
proceedings."
"But I have a perfect right to—"
"Mr. Zangerly," cut in Bascom, "it probably would be
a nifty idea if you stepped outside for a spell."
Roger sucked in a deep breath, held it for sever-
al seconds before he exhaled. "All right, okay." Spin-
ning on his heel, he went tromping out of the tower
office.
"Thanks," said the bandaged Barry. "Roger and I
don't agree on this, which you may've noticed."
Gomez asked him, "What do you think really hap-
pened to Alicia Bower?"
"I'm not sure, but it certainly isn't what Roger and
her father's people think," he said. "Let me explain
some of what's been going on. Alicia did suffer a break-
down of some kind about fifteen months ago. Rog is
right about that, except—"
"What sort of breakdown?" asked Bascom.
"I don't have all the details. That happened before
I really knew her—and Alicia's never wanted to talk
about it that much." He shifted slightly in his wide
hospital bed. "She was working at Mechanix then, in
28

Tek Secret
the Advertising Division. She had a collapse of some
kind, and her father arranged to have her sent to the
Mentor Foundation Psych Centre. That's back in the
Kansas Region of Farmland."
"And muy expensive," observed Gomez.
"Did she collapse at the Mechanix headquarters?"
asked Jake.
"No, at home."
"How long," inquired the agency head, "was she in
Kansas?"
"Just five weeks. She came back cured, although one
or two of her friends have told me that she seemed
somewhat subdued to them after that." Barry shifted his
position again. "Alicia and I have been living together
for the past ten months. About two months ago she
decided that she wanted to get into some sort of therapy
situation."
"Why?" asked Jake.
"She was feeling depressed and, once in awhile, things
that seemingly had nothing to do with her would upset
Alicia deeply."
"Such as?"
"One night, for instance, we were watching the news,"
continued Barry. "There was a report about the acciden-
tal death of a South American politician. Alicia went
pale, hugged herself, started shaking uncontrollably.
That lasted for several minutes."
"She knew the guy?"
"No, she didn't. She'd never heard of him and
couldn't explain why she'd become so upset."
Gomez asked, "Who was this unfortunate Latino?"
29

William Shatner
Barry thought for a few seconds, the fingers of his
right hand rubbing at the bandages on his head. "His
name was Antonio Corte, a member of the opposition
party in Brazil," he said. "It was about that same time
that Alicia started having quite a few bad dreams."
"What were the dreams about?"
"She could never remember them once she was
awake," he replied. "Anyway, without consulting her
father or anyone else, she started working with a therapy
group down in the Venice Sector of Greater LA. It's a
lowcost sort of operation she'd heard about, run by Dr.
Harry Moreno."
"Did Moreno's group help her?"
Shaking his bandaged head, Barry answered, "Not at
all, in my opinion. I think it made things worse, but
Alicia kept insisting she—"
"Worse how?" asked Jake.
'The nightmares, for one thing, grew much more
severe. She'd wake up once or twice a night. Sometimes
she'd scream and then, starting about two weeks ago,
she started crying out a name. Tin Lizzie."
Gomez narrowed his left eye. "Nickname for an auto-
mobile that flourished way back in the twentieth centu-
ry."
Barry said, "She has no idea what the name
means—whether it's a machine or a person or some-
thing else. But, being Alicia, she made up her mind she
was going to find out."
"She hasn't, though?" asked Bascom.
"Not as far as I'm aware," Barry told him. "One rea-
son I couldn't persuade her to quit Moreno and his
30

Tek Secret
Oceanfront People's Clinic is because she felt she was
getting closer to an answer."
Jake stood and started pacing amidst the assorted
clutter on the office floor. "Have you talked to Dr.
Moreno since she disappeared?"
"I've spoken to him, yes, and to dozens of others,"
he said forlornly. "I've also talked to the police and
Mechanix security people and anybody else I thought
might know something. I haven't learned much of any-
thing, except that I seem to be the only one who sus-
pects something serious has happened to her."
"Maybe because she found out who Tin Lizzie is?"
"It might be that, it might be something else," said
Barry. 'The point is, I know her better than anyone else
does. Maybe she did see a lot of men once, but that is
just not true any longer. I trust her and I'm certain she
hasn't run off with someone."
Bascom said, "She was supposed to have been on her
way to visit her dear old dad at the Salkin Private Hos-
pital the day she disappeared. Did you see her before
she left?"
"We were together that morning. It was a teaching
day for me, though, and so I left hours before she did.
If I hadn't, then maybe—"
"Did anyone see her leave your place?"
"Yes, about midday."
"She never made the hospital?"
"So they say."
"You don't believe them?"
"In a way I don't really believe anybody." He leaned
back against his pillows. "They all seem to be talking
31

William Shatner
about an Alicia that I don't know. She isn't like that
at all. Not crazy and hardly likely to have run off with
some guy."
Jake leaned against a desk. "But she does know other
guys, doesn't she?"
"What do you mean, Cardigan? I just told you that
she would never—"
"Does she have other male friends?"
"Yes, a few. None, though, that she's that close to.
Don't you take my word that—"
"Have you talked to them?"
"Yes, sure, of course. No one knows anything."
"And there's nobody on the list who might've wanted
to hurt her?"
"Kidnap her or kill her? No, none of them."
Gomez requested, "Can you, por favor, tells us a bit
more about how come you walked into that stomping
last night?"
"I received a call at my office at SoCal Tech," he said.
"The screen remained blank, so I never saw who was
calling. Sounded to me like a young woman, a teenage
girl I'd bet. She told me she had information about
Alicia Bower. No, actually she said Miss Bower. T know
where Miss Bower is.' Then she instructed me to be
at the Arcade in the Ocean Park Sector that night.
Somebody would meet me at a place called Gypsy's on
Level 3. I had to be there no later than 10:15, come
alone and bring $2000 in cash."
"You brought the money?"
"Yes. And, no, they didn't rob me. When I woke up
here in the hospital, I still had the cash."
32

Tek Secret
Bascom asked, "Who else did you tell about the
meet?"
"Nobody," Barry said. "Well, I told Roger. My brother
and I don't get along all that well. But still, there are
times when you feel like talking things over with your
brother."
Nodding, Bascom said, "According to the police
report, three gents worked you over."
"Two men and a robot. The bot did most of it."
"You didn't provide a very detailed description of any
of them."
"Because I never got a good look at any of the
bunch."
"If I sent somebody over there with a portable ID
Simulator, could you come up with a picture of any of
these goons?"
"The robot maybe, but not either of the men."
"Was it a Mechanix bot?" asked Gomez.
After frowning, Barry said, "I think so. Why?"
"Merely curious."
Barry sat up. "Can your agency get to work on this?"
"We've already started," Bascom assured him.
33

THE SLIM, BLACK woman came walking briskly across the
mosaic tile floor. She halted, hands on hips, beside the
table where Gomez was seated. "I hate Mexican food,"
she informed him.
The day had brightened and sunlight was showing
at the windows of the Kaliente Kafe. Some of it was
spilling in on the detective. "But you have a sincere,
and justifiable, fondness for me, Sarge."
She sat suddenly down opposite him, warning in a
whisper, "Don't use my rank, Sid."
"Sorry, Onita."
Onita Quillian took a careful look around the small,
robot-staffed restaurant. "At least no cops ever dine in
this hole."
"Actually the food isn't too terrible," he said. "Not
authentic, but—"
35
5

William Shatner
'Til just have a cup of nearcaf," she told the robot
waiter, who'd come lumbering over.
"St, senorita, " it rumbled before lurching off.
Onita rested her folded hands on the table top. "I
shouldn't, if I wasn't loony, be here with you at all."
"Chiquita, we were once minions of the law together.
Side by side we fought crime and chicanery in the can-
yons of—"
"Quit babbling, Sid, and let me pass on what I can
about this Bower case," she interrupted. 'Then I'll go
sneaking back to my desk at the SoCal State Police
office."
Gomez smiled broadly. "I was hoping we could turn
this into a festive social occasion, but if you insist on
making it all business—"
"You risk phoning me. You wheedle and cajole me
for information on Alicia Bower. You practically sob
into the vidphone. It's the first time, by the by, I've
even heard from you in over a year. And now you want
to pretend this is a date?"
"Forgive me. It was the sight of you after all these
many months that made me giddy," he said. "I do,
Onita, appreciate your help. Can you tell me what you
folks are doing about the missing young lady?"
"We don't think she's missing."
"Eh? You know where she is then?"
The police sergeant answered, "Not exactly, but the
theory is—and keep in mind that I'm not working direct-
ly on this one—the theory is that Alicia Bower has simply
run off with one of her gentlemen friends."
"Nobody thinks she's been murdered or kidnapped?"
36

Tek Secret
Onita shook her head. 'The odds, judging from her
record, are against her having been killed," she said.
"And if it's been a kidnapping, there'd have been a
ransom demand by now."
"Nobody's done that?"
"Nary a soul."
"What record are you alluding to?"
"Alicia's run off before, dropped from sight for a few
days. Usually with fellows considerably older than she."
"When?"
"Mostly when she was in her teens."
"Hey, she's way up in her twenties now. Has she done
it lately?"
"Not very often, but we—"
"Has anybody from Mechanix International talked to
you about this?"
"Naturally. Her father is in a private hospital just
now. But his security people have been in touch with
our office here in the Long Beach Sector from the
start. They've provided considerable background infor-
mation."
"Info that Alicia is simply up to her old tricks?"
"They know her, Sid. Especially does Myra Ettinger
know her."
"Who might she be?"
'The acting CEO of Mechanix. She's very close to
old Bower and, according to her, practically a second
mother to Alicia."
"Some mom."
"She's just being truthful," said Onita. "Your client is
Barry Zangerly, right?"
37

William Shatner
"Your nearcaf, senorita. "With a lurch, the robot wait-
er placed a cup on the table.
'Thanks."
Gomez said, "We're working for Barry, si."
"He's a very emotional fellow. He's come barging
into our offices more than once to yell at everybody."
"He maintains she's mended her ways."
"So she told him."
"Proof to the contrary?" inquired Gomez.
"No, we don't have concrete proof that she's been
sleeping with all and sundry. But a lot of people who
know her well say that it's likely."
"Hearsay."
Onita sighed. "You've met her, have you, at some
point?"
"Nope, merely viewed a projection of her."
"She's young and pretty and you're smitten. You've
vowed to protect her, rescue her, defend her rep-
ut	"
"What I want to protect her from is tangible threats.
Like murderers, rapists and kidnappers," he told the
police sergeant. "Sounds to me like you've allowed the
Mechanix gang, especially this Ettinger mujer, to point
you in the direction they want you to—"
"Look, do you want to come back to the office and
talk directly to Lt. Verbeck? I'm simply passing on what
I've been able to dig up."
"Your loyalty to me is admirable and won't go unre-
warded," he assured her. "If not in this world then more
than likely in the next. Did anybody spot her leaving
her apartment on the day she disappeared?"
38

Tek Secret
"Yes, a woman across the way and the robot gar-
dener."
"How'd she intend to travel to the hospital to visit
her ailing pop?"
"Zangerly says she usually took a skycab. As yet we
haven't found any cabbie with a record of having picked
her up."
"You don't think Alicia ever reached the place?"
"There's nothing to indicate that she did."
"What time did she depart from her digs?"
"About 12:40 P.M."
"No trace of her since?"
Onita hesitated, then answered, "No."
Gomez leaned foreward. "Cara, are you holding back
some vital fact?"
"I'm not." She pushed back from the table. "I'd better
be going."
"I appreciate your help," Gomez told her. "And your
undying devotion."
"Don't be too sure about that last one."
Jake had remained at the detective agency. He was in
Tower 1 now, holed up in one of the office cubicles of
the Info Center.
"Darn," said the computer terminal that sat on the
desk Jake was using.
"Something wrong, Rozko?"
Rozko-227N/FS answered, "I'm having a little trou-
ble accessing the security system cameras at the Salkin
Hospital. These not-exactly-legal jobs, you know, can
be buggers sometimes. Meanwhile, while we're wait-
39

William Shatner
ing, here's a shot of a couple of the Salkin nurses
sunbathing up on the roof of the joint. Redhead's sort
of cute, huh?"
On the three-foot-square screen appeared a long shot
of two naked young women lying facedown on a float-
ing sunmat.
"I'm not especially interested in—"
"You've been in mourning long enough, Jake, if you
ask me."
"Rozko, there are several flaws in your character."
"Exactly. They were built in to humanize me. Do you
want me to zoom in on the redhaired one?"
"No need."
Rozko blanked the screen, commenced whistling a
Mexican folk tune that Gomez had recently taught him.
"Bingo," he exclaimed after a moment.
"Meaning?"
"I've made it around the roadblocks. I'm scanning,
even as we speak, the vidcam footage for the day in
question."
"Getting anything?"
"It'll take a couple more minutes." The computer
went back to whistling. "Gomez working with you on
this one?"
"As usual, yeah."
"How come he isn't here?"
"Out in the field, checking with a SoCal police con-
tact."
"That's right, you couldn't handle that. Lots of cops
continue to believe that you sold out to the Teklords.
Despite the fact that eventually you were complete-
40

Tek Secret
ly cleared of all charges, they— Okay, Jake, I've gone
through all the footage that pertains. There isn't a sign
of Alicia Bower's having visited the hospital that day."
Jake leaned back in his chair, contemplating the grey
ceiling. "Make me copies of all thevidfilm."
"You think it was diddled with?"
"I'd like to have somebody check," he answered.
"While you're doing that, can we look in on Owen
Bower?"
"You got it."
The screen went blank and remained that way.
Jake asked, "Don't they have a monitoring camera in
his room?"
"They do, sure. Trouble is, it's blanked for some
reason. Seems they don't want anybody getting a look
at our tycoon."
Jake said, "There's something else I want."
'The redhead's home address?"
"I wish one and all would quit trying to match me
up," he said. "What do you have on Antonio Corte, a
Brazilian politician who died a couple months back?"
"Hang on."
A painting of a plump woman in a white gown
appeared on the screen.
"What's this?"
"Just something for you to look at while I'm digging.
I painted it myself. In the style of Renoir. Not bad,
huh?'
"Lovely. Now can we—"
"Here we go." A photo of a thickset, darkhaired man
replaced the plump woman's portrait. "Antonio Corte,
41

William Shatner
age fifty-two at time of death. This is a publicity shot
used by his campaign office. The next one's a trifle
more grisly, Jake. This is after the fall."
"What'd Corte fall from?"
"The balcony of his suite on the fifteenth floor of
the Hotel Maravilha down in Rio de Janeiro. He lived
there."
"What did the police say about his fatal descent?"
"That it was purely accidental. Senhor Corte had been
using a new medication to stimulate the action of his
faulty plastic heart. The stuff made him woozy, say
medical experts, and he took the long tumble. Thirteen
stories to the nearest pedramp."
"What was his political persuasion?"
"Liberal. He was an opponent of General Silveira,
who runs the country."
Placing both elbows on the desk top, Jake asked, "Any
similar cases?"
"You don't want all the accidental falls?"
"Accidental deaths involving politicians or related
types."
"Have you hit some kind of insight?"
"More like a very small hunch."
After nearly sixty seconds Rozko said, "Huh. That's
funny."
"Share it."
"Turns out Senhor Corte was the fifth political figure
to die in an accident in the past year." A succession of
photos and copy blocks started to appear. "All of them
liberals of one sort or another, all opponents of the Tek
trade, all residing in Central or South America."
42

Tek Secret
'They didn't all fall?"
"Nope, but each suffered an accident in the home or
office, always while alone."
"Any link between the five?"
"Nothing that's showing, except that Tek opposi-
tion."
"Connections with Alicia Bower, her father or Me-
chanix International?"
Rozko answered, "Not a single one, Jake."
"Then why the hell did Corte's death upset her?" he
wondered. "What would her reaction have been to the
other deaths?"
'Tough one to answer."
Standing up, Jake moved away from the desk. "Print
me up whatever you have on these five deceased gents,"
he instructed the computer. "Even though I still don't
quite see how the hell any of this ties in with her
disappearance."
43

Up ON THE roof of the landing area Jake was settling into
the driveseat of an agency skycar when the vidphone
on the dashpanel buzzed. "Yeah?" he said, tapping the
answer key.
"Greetings, amigo," said Gomez from the phone-
screen. "Are you ready to divide up the chores of
the day?"
"Was just on my way to the Kaliente Kafe to discuss
agendas with you, Sid."
"Let me share what I've learned thus far, then you
can do similarly," offered Gomez.
He filled his partner in on what he'd picked up from
his police contact. Jake then told Gomez what he'd
come up with in the agency Info Center.
Gomez said, "We have to talk to Dr. Moreno and
Myra Ettinger, among others. Any preferences?"
45
6

William Shatner
Grinning, Jake said, "From the way you said her name,
you're not too anxious about encountering the acting
CEO."
"Executive ladies rarely charm me."
"Okay, I'll take her."
"Bueno, down to the Vencie Sector for me then. I'll
be in touch with you."
Jake asked, "You think she's still alive?"
Gomez shrugged. "It's too soon to tell, amigo."
"She's about the same age Beth was."
Nodding, saying nothing, Gomez broke the connec-
tion.
The afternoon had grown grey again. Outside the vast
reception room in the Executive Wing of the Mechanix
International plant in the Hawthorne Sector of GLA, a
dozen sooty gulls were circling in the overcast sky.
Jake sat in a hard metal and plastiglass chair. He
was the only human in the large metal and plastiglass
room. Arranged around the place were samples of
twenty-five of the bestselling Mechanix products. There
were robots, androids, servomechs. Nearest Jake's chair
loomed a white-enameled nursebot. A small plaque
pointed out that this model, MNSN/RT/39, had
received seventeen awards of excellence from the
medical profession and allied industries since it had
been introduced by Mechanix International eleven
years ago.
On a pedestal directly across from him stood the com-
pany's popular housekeeper android. Built to resemble
a plump, matronly woman, HK/LN-232 had sold over
46

Tek Secret
1,000,000 copies since Owen Bower had invented it five
years ago.
After Jake had been sitting there among the mecha-
nisms for roughly ten minutes, he rose up and stretched.
He went wandering over to the viewindow to gaze out
into the grey afternoon. There were only ten circling
gulls now.
"Mr. Cardigan?"
He turned and found himself facing a very pretty
blonde young woman. 'Yeah," he admitted.
"We're sorry you've been kept waiting," she told him.
"If you'll follow me, I'll escort you to Myra Ettinger's
office."
"Thanks." He trailed her across the wide reception
room and along a curving blank corridor.
"I'm an android," explained his escort, "in case you
were wondering. You'll find me in the latest Mechanix
International catalog under Receptionists/Compan-
ions. My name is Maxine/2140V/ELS. I was introduced
only last year and have proven extremely popular."
"I don't doubt it."
"Here's Myra Ettinger's office," announced Maxine,
halting before a wide neowood portal. "It's been very
nice meeting you, Mr. Cardigan, and perhaps we'll get
together again sometime. I retail for $146,000."
"Worth saving up for." The neowood door slid slowly
aside ?|nd he went into the office beyond.
The room was nearly as large as the reception area
and there was nothing in it except a single metal chair,
a vidphone and a short, plump woman of forty-six.
She had shortcropped silvery hair and deeply tanned,
47

William Shatner
leathery skin. She was sitting, tan legs crossed, in the
chair and smoking a cigarette.
"It's real tobacco, outlaw stuff," she explained as Jake
was crossing the thick purple carpeting to her. "I buy
them a carton at a time from a bootlegger down in the
Borderland."
"I wanted to ask you some questions."
She exhaled smoke. "Do," she invited.
Jake squatted on the floor. 'What do you think has
happened to Alicia Bower?"
After a long drag on her illegal cigarette, Myra said,
"Have you ever met dear little Alicia?"
"Nope."
"Seen pictures?"
"Yep."
"She looks very sweet and demure in most pictures.
Cameras make her seem—what? Vulnerable."
"You don't like her."
"Not at all, not a bit," admitted Myra. "She's a spoiled
little whore."
"Subjective judgment."
"I know, personally, Cardigan, seven men who still
work for us who've slept with innocent little Alicia."
"Recently?"
"No." She exhaled smoke. "I have to admit that she
either reformed after moving in with Roger's broth-
er—or she learned to be a hell of a lot more discreet."
"Nobody hereabouts," said Jake, "seems to be worried
about the possibility that she might be dead."
"She isn't dead."
"Any proof of that?"
48

Tek Secret
"Only my gut judgment of her character. In the past,
whenever the little darling showed up among the miss-
ing, she was always found safe in somebody's bed."
"Mechanix has several serious business rivals," he
mentioned. "You're not afraid one of them has harmed
her?"
When Myra laughed, she snorted out swirls of smoke.
"We have a very good intelligence system here," she
assured him. "We know just about everything our com-
petitors are up to."
"Including kidnapping?"
"Yes, even that."
Jake said, "You steered the police to the theory that
she has simply run off with—"
"No, you're mistaken. I only confirmed the domi-
nant police theory. Lt. Verbeck's a longtime vet on the
SoCal—"
"I know Verbeck. Yeah, he's been around awhile."
'The lieutenant has quite a fat file on her escapades.
He's of the opinion that this is one more of the same."
"But he doesn't have any idea where she is this time
around?"
"Not yet, although I'm certain he'll find her soon."
Jake got to his feet. "I'd like to talk with Owen Bower.
Get his ideas on—"
"Impossible, Cardigan." She took another slow puff.
"Owen^is extremely ill, hospitalized. He can't even be
bothered about mzyor Mechanix business just now."
"Which is more important than his daughter."
"To us, I'm being honest here, it is, yes." She stood.
"Let me add, in order to save us both time, that besides
49

William Shatner
our own security people, we've hired a private investiga-
tion agency to look into this whole trouble over Alicia,"
Myra told him. "I agreed to see you today as a favor to
Roger and Bernard Zangerly. But it would be against
our best interests from hence onward to discuss any of
this with anyone but a representative of the detective
agency we've hired."
"Which agency is it?"
She laughed. "Being an excellent detective, you'll
find that out soon enough, Cardigan."
Seven and a half minutes after Jake left her office,
Myra's vidphone buzzed.
Picking the laptop phone off the purple carpeting,
she touched the answer key. "Yes, what?"
"Has he talked to you?" asked the gaunt sixty-year-old
man who showed on the small screen.
"If you mean the private eye, Bernard, yes."
"I think I better come in and talk to you about this."
"I've no time."
Bernard Zangerly said, "Damn it, Myra, this is
imp	"
"Not as important as the other Mechanix business
that has to be dealt with immediately."
"What did you tell Cardigan?"
"Precious little."
"Does he have any notion about—"
"Bernard, please. I really can't take any more time
to—"
"Barry was nearly killed last night," his father
reminded Myra. 'That was not supposed to happen."
50

Tek Secret
"We did agree, however, that the dear boy was to be
discouraged from hunting for that little bitch," she said.
"The fellows who were hired for the job were simply a
shade too enthusiastic about their work."
"They could've killed my boy. As it is, Myra, they put
him in the hospital."
"We don't want anyone finding Alicia for at least
another three weeks, not anyone," she said evenly.
"That's important to me, it's important to Mechanix.
It should be important to you."
"Of course it is, Myra, or I'd never have consented
to—"
"I really have to get back to work."
Bernard said, "I'm warning you that nothing more
had better happen to Barry."
Myra took a slow drag on her tobacco cigarette and
then laughed. "I'm amused at your selective concern
for human life."
"You're, every damn one of you, to leave him alone
from here on, Myra."
"He's safely on the sidelines now."
"But he hasn't given up, the beating didn't discour-
age him. Barry's still determined to find that girl."
Myra laughed again. "From now on we'll concentrate
on discouraging Jake Cardigan and his friends."
51

A ROBOT TRIED to sell Gomez a souvenir.
The detective was strolling along the Oceanfront
Esplanade in the Venice Sector when the rainbow-hued
bot hopped into his path.
"Holoviews of the Venice Sec, chum?" he inquired,
plastic eyes rolling enthusiastically in his metal head.
The head had been painted a basic white, and then
crimson asterisks, purple ampersands and golden excla-
mation points added. "Send 'em to your friends. Two
bucks a pop."
"Do I, my good man, appear the sort who'd insult his
cronies with views of this gaudy sprawl of mercantile
real estate?"
Two android delivery boys came roaring by on
jetskates, each balancing a large carton of Moonfood
on an upheld, gloved hand.
53
7

William Shatner
The robot vendor said, "You appear, chum, to be a
wiseass who probably doesn't have a single friend to his
name."
"You've hit it exactly." Easing around him, Gomez
continued on his way.
Out in the rutted street to his left a bearded air artist
was creating an abstract picture of the afternoon with
colored streamers of light, a lady magician was jug-
gling a half dozen glittering silver balls and two deeply
tanned men in their seventies were wrestling over the
ownership of a plasliter of Sonoma Winepop.
Most of the buildings down here near the sea were
constructed of realwood and true glass, materials that
had long ago been salvaged and scrounged from other
parts of the sector. On the slanting shingle roof of the
Oceanfront People's Clinic three gulls were perched.
Someone had dyed the one in the middle blue and
gold.
In the reception room a motherly robot in a flowered
apron was sitting in a rocker, knitting. "Things aren't as
bad as they seem," she assured him as he entered.
'That's good to know. However, my purpose—"
"Even folks as obviously troubled as you, young fel-
low, can be helped."
"I'm not troubled," Gomez assured her. "Nor am I,
alas, a young fellow."
"I'm Moms 1-A." She stood, placing her knitting on
the crosshatched seat of her rocker. "There's no need
to deny your troubles, dear. Why, I can tell just by
looking you over that you're carrying around a load
of problems and concerns. Those shadows under your
54

Tek Secret
lackluster eyes, for example, and those care wrinkles
etched on your sallow forehead—"
"If there's one thing I am not, mamacita, it's sallow.
Now then—"
"Moms, back off." A large, wide man with a full, griz-
zled beard had come shuffling into the small reception
room by way of a side door. "Are you Gomez?"
"Si, famous for my drooping morale."
"Well, young fellow, you look mighty hangdog to
me."
"Moms was designed to be motherly, obviously,"
explained Dr. Moreno. "At times she overdoes it."
Moms 1-A returned to her knitting. "Don't mind
me."
Moreno invited, "Come along to my office."
"Gracias."
"If you fellows want a cup of tea or some cookies, do
give a yell, Doc."
Moreno led the detective along a narrow wooden
hallway and into a small office that gave a view of the
bleak afternoon beach.
Gomez dropped into the fat armchair the doctor had
nodded at. "I appreciate your taking the time to talk
to me."
"I'm very concerned about Alicia." The bearded
therapist settled in behind his desk. "Your agency has
a good reputation, and I'm hoping you can find her.
That's Why, frankly, I agreed to this get-together."
"Do you think she's still alive?"
After rubbing at his whiskered chin, Moreno said, "I
hope she is."
55

William Shatner
"Any notion where she might be?"
"What have you found out thus far?"
"The law as well as the crowd at Mechanix appear
to share the theory that she's done nothing more than
skip off with some lusty gent."
"You don't accept that."
"If she's merely shacked up, why'd anybody bother
to hire louts to beat up Barry Zangerly?" said Gomez,
noticing a naked young woman outside, who went run-
ning along the beach and into the chill surf.
"I wasn't aware they had."
"Last night, concluded the exercise with a warning
to cease hunting for her," said the detective. 'This
morning somebody attempted to kill my partner, which
seems excessive if you merely want to keep us from
finding the senorita s lovenest."
Moreno rubbed again at his beard. "No, there's more
to this than a furtive romance."
"Before we leave the topic of romance—do you know
Barry?"
"I met him once." The doctor smiled. "A very intense
guy. He wasn't all that charmed by the idea that Alicia
was coming here."
"Would he harm her?"
"I doubt it. I don't think he's the sort who would
murder her, hide the body and then come to your
detective agency for help in finding her."
"How about other romantic figures in her life, past
or present?"
"So far as I know, Barry's the only one in her life
right now. As for the past—" He executed a massive
56

Tek Secret
shrug. "There's someone back there in Alicia's past
that she's afraid of. But we haven't found out who
that is."
"Could it be an old beau, an hombre who's come back
to do her harm?"
"At one time she was fairly promiscuous," Moreno
said. "There is, certainly, a possibility that one of the
men she used to be intimate with has. . . but this is all
speculation, Gomez. Nothing like that came out in any
of our group sessions."
"What did come out? In particular—what about Tin
Lizzie?"
The therapist shrugged once more. "As of now, only
Alicia might know what Tin Lizzie means to her," he
answered. "And she doesn't seem able to remember.
It's somebody—something, perhaps—that she's afraid
of, though."
"Did the name come up first in one of your sessions
here or in her private nightmares?"
Moreno leaned back in his desk chair. "It took place
here," he said, scratching at his beard. "Moms had
popped into one of our group gatherings to pass around
cookies. Alicia had been sitting with her eyes shut and,
when she opened them, she saw Moms coming toward
her. She sat up, put both hands up in front of her and
cried out, 'Tin Lizzie! Stay away from me.' "
Gomez frowned. "But that wasn't the first time she's
seen your robot, was it?"
"No, Moms is the one who had Alicia fill out the
forms when she first came to us. And she's always under-
foot."
57

William Shatner
'You've asked Alicia what Tin Lizzie means, of
course?"
"Oh, yes, but she hasn't as yet come up with an
answer."
"What's your opinion?"
"Only that it's connected with something important
that she can't or won't remember."
The detective asked, "Did anything else come up in
any of the sessions—even some small thing—that might
give a hint as to what's become of her?"
'Tell you what, Gomez." He stood up. Til let you
look at the three vidcaz recordings we have of sessions
that Alicia attended. Because of our budget, I'm afraid
we don't keep a visual record of all of them." He inched
around his desk, moving to a small, jampacked book-
case. "I haven't had a chance to review any of this
material since she disappeared, but you're welcome
to." He picked up the three cassettes and handed them
to Gomez. "I know I can trust you not to give away any
of the other members' secrets."
"I won't give anything away, no."
Dr. Moreno shuffled to the door. "Come along, I'll
install you in our viewroom and then get back to my
work."
The room was small, wooden and poorly ventilated.
Whistling quietly, Gomez popped the first of the trio
of cassettes into the wallslot and then went back to his
chair and sat.
On the three-foot screen in front of him appeared a
longshot of the therapy session room.
58

Tek Secret
Seated in individual chairs were Moreno, Alicia and
three others. There was a lean, greyhaired man in his
middle seventies, an extremely thin black young woman
of about seventeen and a tanned blond man in his
thirties.
Brow wrinkling, Gomez hunched in his rickety chair
and leaned closer to the wallscreen.
"For the record, since we're cazing this," began Dr.
Moreno, "let's intro ourselves. I'm Harry Moreno."
"Alicia Bower," she said, looking away from the
vidcam. Her voice was soft, quiet.
"Ford Jaspers." That was the greyhaired man. He had
the deep, trained voice of an actor.
"Everybody just calls me Slimjim," said the black girl,
folding her arms.
"You don't have to call yourself that, Jimalla," the
doctor told her.
She lifted her narrow shoulders. "It's okay, Doc."
The tan young man said, "Guy Woodruff." Smiling
across at Slimjim, he added, "Hey, I like Jimalla bet-
ter."
"I don't like Guy Woodruff as a name for this hom-
bre, "said Gomez, his frown deepening. "He looks famil-
iar—who the heck is he?"
Behind the frowning detective the floor creaked
once.
He started to rise, to turn.
But the crackling beam of a stungun hit him high
in the side. Gomez gasped, made a dry, gagging sound
and then fell over.

Jake walked confidently across the Service Landing
field, which was at the rear of the multilevel metal and
plastiglass Salkin Private Hospital.
Stationed on a stool near a door marked nutrition-
al supplies was a gunmetal robot. He wore a white
smock, and built into the left hand that rested in his
lap was a stungun. "Who're you?" he inquired of Jake.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"Soyteen Food Products." Jake passed the guardbot
a coded ID card.
"New?"
"Tc\this marketing area, yeah."
The robot inserted the card into a slot in his metal
forehead. His right eye flashed briefly green, the card
slid out. "You'll find Mr. Maxwell Arnold on Level 2.
He's the one handling the Soyteen account today."
61
8

William Shatner
'That's right next to the Control Center, isn't it?"
"Two doors down," answered the robot, returning
the card Jake had paid one of his contacts $100 for a
little less than an hour ago.
He entered the hospital where Alicia Bower's father
was staying, walked along a blank, grey corridor to an
upramp.
He got off at Level 2, went striding right on by the
office of Maxwell Arnold, and entered the Control Cen-
ter. The vast room was rich with rows of computer ter-
minals, banks of monitor screens and at least a dozen
servobots manning various control stations.
At a silvery metal desk near the doorway sat a human
young woman. "Who're you?" she asked, eyeing him.
"What do you want?"
Grinning amiably, Jake handed her a different ID
card. This one had cost him $250. "I'm with Security
Teletronics."
"What happened to Arnie?"
"Ailing. I'm filling in for him."
"Arnie's sick? What's wrong?"
Jake tapped his chest with his thumb. "Something
internal."
"Poor guy." She pushed the card into a desktop slot.
The desk produced a pleased ping. "What is it you
came to do? Arnie just did the annual checkup last
month."
Taking back the card, Jake explained, "A complaint
came in to some of your people from Mechanix Inter-
national. They're having trouble receiving the monitor
pictures from Owen Bower's room."
62

Tek Secret
The young woman furrowed her brow, wrinkled her
nose. "That room's blanked."
"They just now told me from my office that the black-
out order was rescinded," he said, pounding plausible.
"Trouble is, the pictures still aren't coming through.
Before I go up to the room, I thought I better check
in with you."
'This is typical." She rose up, smoothing at her short
crimson plastiskirt. "They never keep me up with what's
going on. Let's take a look."
He followed her over to a bank of six-inch-square
monitor screens. Each showed the interior of a differ-
ent hospital room and a variety of patients. The screen
with Bower's name displayed beneath it was dark.
The young woman touched a series of keys at the end
of the row.
The blank screen came to life, glowing faintly green
for a few seconds and then providing a shot of a room
interior. The room, however, was completely empty,
lacking even a bed.
"You sure," Jake asked her, "this is where they have
Bower stuck?"
"Yes, I am." She walked over to a row of terminals,
halting at the fifth in line. She bent, tapped out a
sequence of numbers on the keypad. "Now we'll— Why
the dickens don't they share any of this with me?"
"What is it?"
"Mr. Bower was signed out nearly two hours ago."
"That means he's better?"
"It doesn't say, merely that he's no longer a patient
at Salkin."
63

William Shatner
"Odd that his own company doesn't know that," said
Jake, feigning concern. "Where was Bower taken?"
"It doesn't say."
'That's the kind of jobs I've been handed lately. They
provide me insufficient data." He gave a disgruntled
shrug. "Well, thanks for your help."
'Tell Arnie to take care of himself."
"Very next time I see him," promised Jake.
He left the room, made his way back along the blank
grey corridor. "It's going to be tougher than I thought,"
he said to himself, "to ask Bower about his daugh-
ter."
Gomez became aware, very gradually, of the scent of
apple pie. He noticed, too, his skeleton. Every single
bone in it, from the largest down to the smallest, ached
and throbbed.
Eyes still shut tight, the detective attempted to speak.
All that came across his stiff, dry lips was a groan.
"Don't go fretting yourself, young fellow," cautioned
a maternal voice.
Reluctantly, Gomez allowed his eyes to open. He
noticed flowers first. They were printed all over Moms'
1-A's apron.
Gomez realized he was lying on the wooden floor
with his head in the robot's lap.
"How often do you have these spells?"
"This was no fit, mamacita, "he informed the robot in
a voice that sounded rusty to him. "I was stungunned."
"Oh, goodness. Who would've done an awful thing
like that?"
64

Tek Secret
After running his tongue over his dry lips, he said, "I
was hoping you could tell me. Didn't you see anyone
pop in here?"
"My sakes, no."
'Then what made you look in?"
"That's simple enough, my goodness. I just now baked
up an apple pie and I got to thinking, since you've been
tucked away in here for over three solid hours that, why,
you might be ready for a wedge."
"Caramba." He made an effort to sit up. "I've been
out cold for three hours."
Moms helped him to his feet. "Take it real easy now,
sonny. You still look mighty woozy to me."
"I am woozy," he confirmed. "That's one of the
wellknown aftereffects of being shot down by a stun-
gun."
"You're still sticking to that yarn, are you?"
"I was sitting here," said Gomez. "I'd just slipped the
first vidcaz into—"
"What vidcaz is that, young fellow?"
Although it was painful to turn his head, Gomez
managed it. He even accomplished a few stumbling
steps. There was no sign of the three cassettes of Alicia's
group therapy sessions.
"Okay, I know why I was knocked out," he said rue-
fully. "Next I have to find out who."
65

the vidphone buzzed. Jake was about fifteen minutes
from the agency towers, guiding his skycar through the
deepening twilight. "Yeah?"
The phonescreen remained blank. 'Jake Cardigan?"
"Right."
An image blossomed. A glistening, chromeplated
robot in a white smock was smiling at him. "Are you
available to take a call from Mr. Owen Bower?"
Jake grinned. "Definitely available, yep."
The robot smiled once more and then was gone from
the screen. Next appeared a white-enameled nursebot.
"Mr.^Bower has been extremely eager to contact you,
sir," she said. "I'm glad we've been able to—"
"Enough bullshit, Bertha," cut in a gruff, raspy voice.
"Roll the god damn phone over here so I can talk
to him."
67
9

William Shatner
"You're not supposed to shout, Mr. Bower."
"I'm not shouting, Bertha. When I shout, the walls will
rattle."
"Also, sir, my name is Babs/CGL-W75. Not Bertha."
"Babs is a candyass name. Who stuck that on you?"
"I've been led to believe, sir, that I was designed and
christened by you."
"Hey, Cardigan, are you still there?" Alicia's father
was propped up in bed, a large, big-boned man of
sixty who'd lost a great deal of weight. His cheeks were
hollow, his eyes sunken. "I look like shit, I know. Some
kind of maverick virus—wouldn't be surprised if those
sneaky bastards at Robotics, Inc. didn't cook up some-
thing and slip it to me somehow."
"Mr. Bower, you know very well that isn't—"
"Scram, Bertha."
"Where are you?" Jake asked him.
"I had myself moved to my beach house in the Pali-
sades Sector." A wheeze sounded in his chest. "Couldn't
tolerate those halfwits at Salkin."
"I'd like to talk to you—about your daughter."
"Why the hell do you think I've been trying to get
hold of you for most of the afternoon?" he asked. "I
want to see you, Cardigan. I'll tell you—most of the
people involved in searching for her, and that includes
the god damn cops, are idiots. They couldn't find their
own backsides without outside help. Can you hop over
here right now?"
"Sure."
"Give me the ID number of your skycar and I'll
clear it with my security setup so you can land on the
68

Tek Secret
grounds. You know where this place is?"
"Most everybody does. The skycar number is
HF/5532/HJM."
"I've got a hunch, Cardigan," said Bower, "that the
two of us are going to succeed in finding my little
girl."
'You're okay." Dr. Moreno moved away from the seated
Gomez. "It would be a good idea, though, if you rested
here for another hour or so."
"I've already lost three hours," he said, trying to find
a comfortable sitting position.
"I didn't notice anyone sneak in to that room either,"
said the doctor. "I was in a therapy room with a patient
for most of the time and maybe I missed seeing the
intruder. Why do you think they wanted those cas-
settes?"
Gomez sat up straighter, remembering something.
"That hombre in the cassette."
"Did you get to view one of the vidcazes?"
Holding his thumb and forefinger about two inches
apart, he answered, "A poco portion of the first one only.
However, the gent who calls himself Guy Woodruff
caught my attention."
"That's not his true name?"
"His true name, far as I know, is Sheldon Gates,"
answered the detective. "I ran into him briefly on one
of the first jobs I handled for Cosmos. He makes his
living, usually, as a sort of freelance industrial spy."
Moreno scratched at his bearded chin. "Why would
an industrial spy be hanging around my clinic?"
69

William Shatner
"Most likely he was keeping an eye on Alicia Bower.
Mechanix International is a large, successful operation
with a whole stewpot of rivals."
"You mean a rival of Alicia's father in the robotics
business planted a spy here?"
Smiling, Gomez said, 'That's only one of the possibil-
ities! I can explore that and a multitude of others when
I have a chat with Shel."
Moreno shook his head sadly. "He fooled me."
"Most spies are good at that. Got an address on
him?"
After one more sad shake of his head, the therapist
told him, "Woodruff/Gates lives less than a mile from
here. It's a dilapidated houseboat docked at the old
defunct yacht club. Hard to miss, since it's trimmed in
neon."
Even though all his teeth still ached as an aftereffect of
the stungunning, Gomez went ahead and ate the slice
of apple pie that Moms 1-A had insisted on slipping him
as he took his leave of the clinic. He hadn't eaten much
at the Mexican cafe.
Most of the buildings he passed were starting to light
up. The bistros, shops and art galleries, decorated with
intricate twists of neon tubing and long tangles of
lightstrips, were flashing multicolored messages into
the oncoming darkness. At the corner a phosphorescent
robot was doing a mime act, even though he hadn't as
yet attracted an audience.
Gomez finished the pie just as he spotted the remains
of the Venice Sector Community Yacht Club. A skinny
70

Tek Secret
man in the tattered uniform of a Brazil War sol-
dier was squatting near the entryway out to the
pier.
"How about some money?" he asked.
Gomez located a dollar chit in a pants pocket and
dropped it into the man's hand. "Here you go, amigo."
"God bless you, buddy."
"That may come in handy."
The houseboat was the only thing lit up along the
swayback pier. Several other craft bobbed there, dark
and silent. Sheldon Gates's place of residence was glow-
ing, its outlines trimmed in long tubes of red, green
and yellow neon. From inside the brightlit living room
came the sound of music. A Mozart quartet, guessed
Gomez.
He hurried up the gangway, which was trimmed in
orange and green strips of light. The door to the living
room was wide open.
Pausing on the illuminated welcome mat, he called
out, "Is Mr. Woodruff at home?"
There was no response.
The music, it was definitely Mozart, continued.
"Guy Woodruff? We have an important message for
you."
After another thirty seconds, Gomez entered. There
was a lifesize holographic quartet at the far end of the
room.
In the middle of the oval illuminated rug was sprawled
the body of a man. A good part of the back of his skull
was missing.
71

Night had arrived and the hillside Bower estate was
surrounded by deepening darkness. Lights ringed the
landing area, which was a white circle in an acre that
blended transplanted and simulated jungle foliage.
Jake circled the area once, but received no challenge
from the security system. Shrugging, he settled down to
a landing.
The house consisted of a linking of fifteen plastiglass
cubes of varying size. The walls had all been blanked
and there wasn't any light showing.
Jake eased out of his skycar. A fog was drifting in from
the sea and it swirled around him as he crossed the lot.
The path through the brush and palm trees wasn't illu-
minated. The foggy night soon closed in around him.
A rustling started up ahead. Three figures, one car-
rying a lightrod, came pushing out of the dark jungle
73
10

William Shatner
and onto the path. They were about a hundred feet
from Jake, two husky men and a coppery robot in a
dark overcoat.
Halting, Jake said, "Evening, fellas."
"Who the hell are you?" The man with the light
played the beam across Jake.
"I've got an appointment with Owen Bower."
"The old bastard's in the hospital, hasn't been here
for weeks."
"My mistake," said Jake. "I'll drop in again when he's
feeling better."
The other man shouted, "We caught us a trespass-
er."
All three came charging at Jake.
The corpse wasn't Sheldon Gates, alias Guy Woodruff.
Judging by what was left of his face, the dead man on
the living room floor of the houseboat was Ford Jaspers.
Gomez had his stungun firmly gripped in his right
hand and he'd already taken a thorough look around
this room and then the rest of the floating residence
before returning to scrutinize the body.
There was no one else aboard. In the bedroom there
were signs that someone had hastily gathered up clothes,
packed them and taken his leave.
The living room itself, except for the body, contained
nothing unusual. It didn't appear as though there'd
been any sort of struggle, and the weapon used to end
the older man's life hadn't been left behind.
"But what's this elderly member of Alicia's thera-
py group doing here?" Gomez asked himself as he
74

Tek Secret
knelt beside him. "And here's another perplexing ques-
tion—who killed him?"
Jaspers was still in possession of his wallet, which con-
tained nothing but an ID packet, a Banx card and $90
in money chits. The only other thing in his pockets was
a small tri-op photo of the Oceanfront People's Clinic
group, complete with Moms. Gomez borrowed that.
A trumpet sounded suddenly behind him. Gomez
jerked up and around, gunhand swinging upwards.
Louis Armstrong and his Hot Five had replaced the
Mozart group.
He put his gun back in its holster. Halfway to
the doorway he realized he was moving in time to the
music.
Out on the deck he stood still for a moment and
scanned the surrounding night. There seemed to be
no one else in the vicinity.
"Perhaps the hombre I made a contribution to saw who
paid a call here before I arrived."
He moved cautiously, but swiftly, down the gangway.
When he reached the gate, the ragged vet was gone.
The largest of the two men tackled Jake before he could
yank out his stungun from his shoulder holster.
Jake fell backwards, sitting down hard on the path.
As the lout stretched to grab hold of him, Jake twisted
to his left and avoided the clutching hands.
He then kicked out, his booted foot connecting with
the lunging man's prominent jaw.
The thug said, "Unk." His head went jerking back,
his eyelids fluttered, snapped shut.
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William Shatner
For good measure, Jake booted him a second time.
Before the man was even stretched out flat on the
shadowy path, Jake was on his feet and tugging at his
holstered stungun.
But powerful metal arms grabbed him from behind,
circling his torso and pinning his arms.
Chuckling, the second man stepped in close. Saying
nothing, he slammed his fist into Jake's stomach.
Jake gagged, staggering in the metallic grip of the
coppery bot.
"Pay attention," suggested the coppery robot.
The thug hit Jake again, even harder.
From the jungle to the right the beam of a stungun
came crackling. It touched the thug's head and he
made a strange choking sound, as though he'd been
going to chuckle again and then changed his mind.
He swayed, fell to one knee. Sighing out breath, he
went falling over sideways. He hit a holographic bush
and dropped down through the foliage. He lay there
unconscious with large green leaves seemingly growing
out of him.
"Holy shit," commented the overcoated robot.
The beam of the unseen stungun found the robot
next.
76

The teddybear grabbed Gomez's trouser leg with a
fuzzy paw. "Why don't ya buy me, ya simp?"
"Begone, osito, "he advised, detaching the toybotfrom
his leg and replacing it on the low pedestal it had hopped
off of at his advent.
"He's not for you," lisped the goldenhaired babydoll
on the next display pedestal. "You want somebody like
me, who's cute as a bug's rear."
"Actually, chiquita," he said, squatting and holding
out his palm to prevent the little blonde toyboat from
leaping at him, "I dropped in here at Wondersmith's
for th^ purpose of—"
"Gomez, honey!" A large, round woman with daz-
zling silver hair had stepped out of the back room of
the toyshop. "Leave the guy alone, Lisa."
"I only just wanna hug him, Corky."
77
11

William Shatner
"Knock it off," advised Corky Keepnews.
"You're a brave woman," observed Gomez, "to put up
with all this cuteness."
"It's nowhere near as bad as the bordello I used to
manage over in the Pasadena Sector." Corky took hold
of his arm. "C'mon into my office, honey."
"Want to play checkers?" invited a toybot clown as
Gomez passed his pedestal.
"At some future date, perhaps."
"I'm on sale all this week."
As he settled into an armchair in the toyshop office,
Gomez remarked, "These toys share some of the attrib-
utes of your former employees, Cork."
"Business is business, no matter what you're selling."
Wondersmith's was on the seventeenth level of the
Westwood Sector supermall. The office's one narrow
viewindow looked down on the brightlit University of
SoCal Campus #26.
When Corky dropped into an armchair facing the
detective, it made a surprised whooshing sound. "I've
been doing some discreet electronic nosing around
since you phoned, Gomez."
"You remain one of my best freelance sources of
information."
She smiled broadly. "It was fees from clients like you,
honey, that helped me set up my own toy business."
"So what about Sheldon Gates?"
"According to my sources, Sheldon's been doing a
very lucrative job for Mechanix International."
"Caramba. " Gomez sat up. "That's a very interesting
bit of news."
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Tek Secret
"One that's going to cost you 500 bucks."
"Give me some specifics as to what Shel was hired
to do."
"I'm still gathering background on that," she said. "It
has, though, something to do with old Bower himself
and his screwball daughter."
"What about Harry Moreno?"
"Clean."
"No indication he and Shel are in cahoots?"
"None."
Nodding, Gomez asked her, "How about Ford
Jaspers's murder?"
"I'm still working on that angle, honey. Nothing has
come in yet," answered Corky. "He and Sheldon were in
that loon group at Moreno's clinic, but that's the only
thing so far that they seem to have in common."
Gomez rubbed at his moustache with his thumb
knuckle. "As to Shel's current whereabouts?"
"Nothing on that, not yet. However, I can make a
pretty good guess for you. And I'll toss that in for
free."
"Go ahead, cara."
"If Sheldon was involved in the knocking off of the
Jaspers coot, he'll want to do some hiding out for
awhile," she said. "Most folks don't know this, but his
mom, who's a con artist of long standing, has been
operating a beauty spa up in the New Hollywood satel-
lite. Sfte calls herself Madame Sonja at the moment."
"New Hollywood's that combo movie-making colony
and tourist trap, isn't it?"
'The same. Madame Sonja's been bilking the rubes
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William Shatner
up there for the past three months."
"Maybe," speculated Gomez, "I ought to call on the
dear lady."
The slim blonde woman stepped onto the path from
behind a transplanted palm tree. She was wearing a
dark pullover and dark slax, carrying a stungun in her
left hand. "Good thing I happened to be passing by,
Jake." She smiled faintly.
"Evening, Bev." He rubbed at the spot on his arm
where the toppled robot had been gripping him. "I
didn't notice your tailing me."
"Because I'm good at it," replied Bev Kendricks as
she approached.
"Picked me up at the Salkin Hospital, huh?"
"I was there and happened to notice you sneaking
out," said the blonde private investigator. "I got curious
and decided to follow you for awhile."
"So your agency is the one that's been hired by Bower
and Mechanix to look for his daughter?"
"That's me." Kneeling beside the thug she'd stunned,
she commenced frisking him. "Any notion who these
boys are?"
"Hired goons. You don't know them?"
"Not even an ID packet on him." She stood up and
back. "Seems likely, don't you think, that they're prob-
ably the same ones who roughed up your client last
night? They're new to me, though, and I have no idea
who hired them."
Jake jerked a thumb in the direction of the mansion.
"Bower's not really up there, is he?"
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Tek Secret
"No, nobody's here. Bower was moved to his Bel Air
mansion from Salkin this afternoon."
"Does that mean he's doing better?"
"I don't know what it means," she admitted, bending
to search the other unconscious thug. "I only learned
about the move when I dropped in at the hospital."
"Have you actually talked to Bower?"
"Only on the phone and briefly. I was supposed to
meet with him face to face at the hospital today."
"No ID?" Jake nudged the man in the side with his
foot.
"Not a thing on him either." Rising up, Bev brushed
her hands together twice. "We better turn these hooli-
gans over to the local police. And then ..."
"Then what?"
"Does Cosmos object to your having conversations
with rival agencies?"
"No, not at all. Especially if those agencies are run
by former police coworkers of mine who are dear old
friends."
"We were never close," said Bev, "but I was a friend
of yours back then."
"So you didn't cheer when I got sent up to do time
in the Freezer?"
Taking a step back, she looked him up and down.
"You didn't used to indulge in self-pity."
"Let's go somewhere and have our talk," he sug-
gested.
81

pop's Fly/In Fountain was perched atop a hill in the
Beverly Glen Sector. The landing area covered nearly
an acre, and the restaurant itself was a large plastiglass
dome trimmed with neon tubing that sat at the center
of the white-paved field. The silverplated, light-trimmed
carhop robots moved from the building to the sur-
rounding circles of cars on jetskates.
Jake and Bev were sitting in her car near the edge
of the field.
Stirring her second cup of nearcaf, Bev said, "My
agency is a whole lot smaller than Cosmos, but we're
just as efficient. I'm going to win this one."
"Is that what you wanted to talk about? A contest
betweeii our detective agencies?"
"It isn't a contest, Jake, that's what I'm trying to get
across to you." She sipped at her nearcaf. "I've got
83
12

William Shatner
a substantial headstart on this Bower case. You and
Gomez are never going to catch up."
Jake grinned. "I guess we better return Barry Zan-
gerly's fee and head for the showers."
"Well, that isn't too bad an idea. I know you probably
won't quit—but I still wanted to warn you not to be
disappointed when I wrap this up before you guys can
even get going."
"I'll alert Sid."
"How is he, by the way?"
"He was okay when I saw him this morning. After he
hears you're going to trounce us, though, he may break
down and sob."
"I like Gomez."
"Almost all women do, he has universal appeal."
Jake tapped his forefinger against the side of his cup.
"Where's Alicia Bower?"
Bev laughed. "That's one piece of information I'm
not going to share."
"Do you know?"
"I have a pretty fair idea."
"You don't think she's dead?"
"No, not at all."
"Or that she's been abducted?"
"I've been on this a few days longer than you. I know
a lot more about her background and character."
"Is Myra Ettinger your main source of facts?"
"She's one of them, obviously. Since, because of Bow-
er's illness, she's the person who actually hired me."
"Is her version of Alicia's character backed up by
what you've dug up so far?"
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Tek Secret
"Pretty much so, Jake." Bev drank some more of the
nearcaf. "Alicia is a disturbed young woman. She has
a long history of mental problems—and this wouldn't
be the first time she's disappeared. Almost always with
a man."
"Do you have proof that's what she's done this time?"
Bev looked out into the night. "That I can't dis-
cuss."
"Okay, let's say she simply decided to spend a few
days with somebody. Why did that trio of goons rough
up Barry?"
"To discourage him from looking for her, bothering
her."
"And who hired them?"
"It could be the man she's with, who doesn't want
his romantic idyll busted in on by a disgruntled suitor,"
suggested the private investigator. "Alicia herself might
have sent them to keep Barry from annoying her."
Jake grinned again. "Has she hired thugs before?"
"Not exactly, though she is supposed to have a nas-
ty side."
"After trying to scare Barry off—then she sent the
same gang to work me over, huh? Not wanting me to
interrupt her romance either."
"That sounds perfectly plausible to me, Jake."
"Has anyone threatened you or tried to hurt you?"
Her forehead wrinkled. "Not yet, but that doesn't
mean—"
"Youlve been working on this a hell of a lot longer
than we have, but nobody seems upset by your activi-
ties," he told her. "Even before I knew myself that I was
85

William Shatner
going to work on this mess, somebody came after me."
"What are you talking about?"
He told her about the robot priest at the Glendale
Sector cemetery. He concluded, "Tonight, to lure me
into walking into this latest trap, they used either the
real Bower or a simulacrum."
"Owen Bower would never be a party to any—"
"Okay, then it was an android dupe or a very convinc-
ing hologram," he said. "The point, Bev, is that none of
this sounds to me like something a lovecrazed runaway
is likely to do."
"Why not? Alicia has a great deal of money of her
own, so financing it wouldn't be very difficult for her.
And she's often run off with older men, richer older
men."
"Do you have any evidence that she tapped her Banx
accounts since she vanished?"
'That's something else I'm not sharing."
"Actually, you're not sharing much of anything," he
said. "Frankly, Bev, I think you're being conned on
this one."
"Why would my own client want to lead me astray?"
she asked.
He said, That's one of the things I'm going to find
out."
Dan was in the living room with a laptop bookreader
when Jake got home.
"No date tonight?" he asked his son.
"Homework. How about you?"
Grinning, Jake sat on the arm of the low sofa. "Mostly
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Tek Secret
business," he answered as he tugged off one of his
boots. "Though I did run into Bev Kendricks."
Dan clicked off the reader. "I told you that you ought
to look her up."
"She looked me up actually."
"Hey, that's even better. It shows that she's interested
in—"
"It shows, Daniel, that she happens to be working on
the same case that Sid and I are working on."
"You haven't told me about this new one yet."
After getting his other boot pulled off, Jake settled
down on the sofa. He filled Dan in on the Alicia Bower
disappearance and what had happened to him today.
When he finished, his son said, "You know, Molly
knows somebody who's going to that Oceanfront Peo-
ple's Clinic. I bet we could—"
"Homework," cut in Jake. "You concentrate on that.
You and Molly are, I admit, crackerjack investigators,
but you're not to—"
"Dad, in one day ..." He held up a forefinger. "In
one single damn day they tried to kill you twice. I don't
like the idea of some unknown hoods trying—"
"I'm not especially fond of the notion myself. But I
don't want you getting tangled up in this,"Jake warned.
"And possibly that second attack was only going to be a
beating and not a murder attempt."
"Oh, okay, great. Then I'll quit worrying about that
one." He tossed the reader on the floor. "Have they
identified those three?"
"Not yet, but we'll know by morning," answered his
father. 'They'll just turn out to be heavies for hire."
87

William Shatner
"I agree with you about Bev Kendricks's view of things.
She's either letting them sidetrack her or . . . well, you
know her better than I do. Could she be lying to you,
trying to put you on the wrong trail?"
Standing, Jake walked barefoot over to the balcony
window. "She was an honest cop," he said, looking out
into the night. 'That was some years ago."
"Then you suspect she—"
"It doesn't matter what she's up to, Dan. Gomez and
I will keep working on this our way."
"Seems to me that you're dealing with a group here,
some sort of organization." Getting up, he went over
to stand near his father. "They can hire thugs, robots,
androids. They knew you were going to be assigned to
this case just about from the minute Barry Zangerly's
brother talked to Gomez last night."
"Yep, I've thought about that."
Dan put his hand on his father's shoulder. "Are you
going to the cemetery again tomorrow?"
"Not tomorrow."
It was long after midnight when Jake's bedside vidphone
buzzed. He sat up, wide awake. "Yeah?"
The screen showed him a painting of a bowl of red
flowers. "It's me, Jake—Rozko—coming to you direct
from the Info Center at Cosmos," said the voice of the
computer. "I hope I didn't wake you out of a sound
sleep."
"Not a sound one, nope. What's happening?"
Rozko replied, "Oh, I had a little time on my hands
and—yeah, yeah, I know Doc Olan is going over the
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Tek Secret
security system tapes I swiped from the hospital—but I
decided to take a more leisurely gander myself."
"Found out something, huh?"
A cartoon drawing of a smiling mouth flashed onto
the phonescreen. "Not about whether the tapes have
been futzed with," said the computer. 'That's Olan's
department. I did, however, notice something interest-
ing. Give a looksee."
A shot of the main lobby of the Salkin Private Hos-
pital appeared. More than twenty figures were moving
about—visitors, doctors, nursebots.
"I'll freeze it," said Rozko, "and zero in on the galoot
over by the upramp. I almost didn't notice him and
then his red hair caught my eye."
The redhaired man was short, not more than five
six, broad-shouldered and about forty. He was wearing
a pale-blue medical jacket.
Jake sat up in bed and leaned closer to the screen.
"That's Sam Trinity."
"Exactly what I exclaimed when first he came into
my ken," said Rozko. "Next I asked myself why Sam
Trinity would be playing doctor at 2 P.M. on the very
afternoon Alicia Bower allegedly never arrived at this
selfsame medical facility."
Frownlines deepened across Jake's forehead. "Sam
used to be a field agent for the Office of Clandestine
Operations, based back in DC," he said. That was four
years ago, before I went up to the Freezer."
"He's still with them. These days Sam is OCO's top
West Coast troubleshooter. A very valuable gent in the
view of many tricky Washington types."
89

William Shatner
"How the hell does he tie in?" Jake shook his head.
"Is there much footage with Sam visible in it?"
'Just this one snippet. All in all, Sammy is only on
screen for a tad less than three minutes, Jake."
"Unfreeze it, roll back to the first frame he's in and
let me see it all."
"You got it."
The redheaded Sam Trinity came out of an office door
marked hospital staff only and into the large, oval
lobby. He went walking briskly across the plastifloor and
over to the upramp labeled Level 5. The ramp carried
him up and out of the picture.
"Want to scan it again?"
"Nope," said Jake. "Level 5 is where they had Owen
Bower. You sure there's nothing showing Sam up on
that level?"
"Nada, as Gomez would say. I've finetoothed all the
stuff I snatched from the hospital."
"What has the OCO got to do with this?" Jake rubbed
his thumb slowly across his cheek. "Is there any way I
can find out what Sam's current assignment is?"
"I've already tried that. The OCO's assignment roster
has proved, thus far, impossible to access."
"Is he still here in Greater LA?"
Another smile flashed on the screen. "I had a bit
more luck there," the computer informed him. "I was
able to find out when Sam left our area—and where he
went."
"So tell me."
"Samuel Trinity departed Greater LA the morning
after Alicia Bower vanished," answered Rozko. "He flew
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Tek Secret
out on a special US Military Forces skyvan. The van
took off from a Maximum Security Section of the GLA
Skyport."
"Bound for where?"
"His destination was Farmland, the Topeka Complex
of Kansas."
Jake said slowly, "Which is where the Mentor Foun-
dation Psych Centre happens to be located."
"Significant, do you think?"
"Significant enough to inspire me with the urge to
travel," said Jake.
91

Bascom walked directly from his desk to the nearest
projection platform. "Did you notice I've been tidying
up my surroundings?"
"You cleared a narrow path amidst the clutter,"
observed Gomez, who was slouched in an armchair.
"You're a long way from tidy, jefe. "
"But it is a positive step," added Jake.
'Took me darn near two hours." The chief of the
detective agency turned on the holographic projector.
"The identification of the goons who tried to stomp
Jake came in about an hour ago, around 9 a.m." A large,
widechested man appeared, life size. "You're seeing the
ID footage of Leonard Rodney, last known address the
Topanga Sector. He has a long, colorful record as a
strong-arm man, sometime extortionist. He tells the law
he has no idea at all who hired him to attack you, Jake.
93
13

William Shatner
It was all arranged by way of blanked vidphones."
Jake asked, "Does he admit also working over our
client?"
"No, but Barry tentatively identified all three of these
yahoos as the bunch that attacked him at the Arcade."
"Barry's identification won't hold up," said Gomez.
"He's too fuzzy."
"I'm not fuzzy," reminded Jake. "We can still try to
put them away for assaulting me."
"Next on stage we have Henry Weiner, age thirty-
six, formerly of Berkeley in NorCal." An image of the
other lout had replaced that of the first. "He, too, is a
mercenary lunk and hasn't the faintest notion who hired
him." Next the coppery robot, stripped of his overcoat,
took his place on the platform. "This is Alex/762-AT.
Manufactured by Mechanix International and sold, to
the tune of400,000 copies to date, for security and guard
duty. Our particular Alex has been privately modified
to convert him into a slugger. He belongs to Weiner,
and somebody, Hank claims not to know who, erased
all the robot's memories relating to any time prior to
the evening Jake bumped into them."
Gomez inquired, "Did Weiner do the actual mod-
ifying and enhancing of the bot?"
"He claims he did."
"Then he's also capable of giving Alex amnesia."
Gomez sank lower into his chair. "Of course, so is just
about anyone employed by Mechanix."
"You trying to tie Bower's outfit into this?"
'They're already tied in," he said. "For one thing,
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Tek Secret
they hired Sheldon Gates to do some dirty work for
them."
Jake requested, "Fill me in on this Gates."
His partner obliged. Finishing up .with, 'That's why I
want to make a jaunt to the New Hollywood satellite."
"Do that, yes," agreed the chief. "But keep expenses
down."
"I'll fast the whole time I'm up there."
Bascom walked directly back to his desk. He picked
up a sheaf of pale-blue pages. "Doc Olan has turned in
his report on the hospital security tapes."
"Were they fiddled with?" asked Jake.
Nodding, Bascom said, "Doc thinks so. It was an
extremely slick job, but it's his opinion that about
eleven minutes of footage has been snipped from
various tapes. That stuff was then deftly replaced with
simulated material."
"Of course, that still doesn't prove," said Jake, stand-
ing up, "that Alicia ever reached the hospital."
"No, only that some event occurred there that day
that they want to cover up."
Walking over to the viewindow, Jake stood watching
the morning city. "I found out that Sam Trinity was also
there at the hospital that same day," he said, going on
to tell them what he'd learned from Rozko.
"Sam is a ruthless hombre," commented Gomez. "If
they handed out an annual award for the nastiest gov-
ernment agent going, I'd bet on old Sam to take it in
a landslide."
"He headed for Topeka Complex the next day," said
95

William Shatner
Jake. "When Alicia had her breakdown, that's where she
was taken."
Picking up his saxophone, Bascom started absently
fingering the keys. "Are you suggesting that the Unit-
ed States government itself sent an agent to grab this
young woman and haul her back to the Mentor facil-
ity?"
"I'm only suggesting that something important is
going on, something bigger than a girl wandering off."
Jake turned to face his boss. "And I have a feeling I can
learn more about it if I determine exactly what Sam
Trinity is up to back there in Farmland."
Gomez said, "Jake's hunches are usually to be relied
on."
Dropping his sax atop the clutter on his desk, Bascom
moved over to the vidwall. "Okay, Jake, we'll book you
on a flight out late this afternoon," he said. "Take
a look at this now, fellows. A police connection of
mine arranged for me to have a copy." He activated
the vidcaz player.
Alicia Bower appeared on the screen. She was using
her Banx card in a sidewalk kiosk. Glancing around
somewhat nervously, the auburnhaired young woman
thrust her card into the chest of the ball-headed robot
teller.
The bot made a metallic clucking sound and handed
her several fat packets of money chits.
Then the screen went blank.
"That was shot by the kiosk secam at 3 P.M. on the
afternoon she vanished." Bascom turned his back to
the wall.
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Tek Secret
Gomez asked him, "How much did the senorita with-
draw?"
"$100,000."
"Caramba, that's not petty cash, even for an heiress."
Gomez straightened up.
Jake said, "And this is supposed to bolster the theory
that she's off with a boyfriend—that she was taking out
a lot of money to finance a romantic vacation."
"It establishes that she was up and around after she
was supposed to have visited the hospital," said the
agency head. "And it does suggest that she may've taken
off, wherever the hell she did go to, willingly."
"Is that Alicia, though?" said Jake.
Bascom blinked. "Eh?"
"Yesterday I had a conversation over the vidphone
with Owen Bower," he reminded him. "Only it apparent-
ly wasn't Bower at all. Mechanix manufactures, among
other things, androids. So—was that really Alicia we
just saw?"
Bascom said, "Okay, I'll have Doc Olan go over this
footage."
"I still," said Jake, "want to head for Kansas."
97

the vidphone buzzed again. Myra Ettinger lit a fresh
cigarette from the butt of the previous one, inhaled
smoke, sighed it out.
She let the phone buzz twice more before bending
to pick it up. "Allright, what?"
A small, slight man in his fifties, pale and wearing a
grey suit he'd bought when he weighed considerably
more, was glowering at her from the screen. "I don't
understand, Myra, why you never answer promptly," he
told the acting head of Mechanix International. "It's
very near to being insulting."
"It might actually cross the line and fo insulting, Jiri,"
she suggested, exhaling smoke.
"Must you continually puff on those things. Disgust-
ing."
"Can you ,smell the smoke all the way back there
in DC?"
99
14

William Shatner
Jiri Treska assumed a more rigid position at his wide
metal desk. His office had no windows. "Do I have to
keep reminding you that I hold a fairly high position in
the Office of Clandestine Operations? You act as—"
"If you had a truly high position, dear, you'd be able
to have a flunky do your phoning."
Treska clasped his hands tightly together. "I'm not
going to allow you to distract me with insults this time."
"I'm, truly, not trying to."
"A lot of people back here—in the OCO and else-
where, Myra—are very upset with the way things have
been going," he informed her. "Keep in mind that
there are still four names left on that list."
"I'm aware of how many names are left."
"Yet you've allowed not one but two damned detec-
tive agencies to become involved."
"One of those agencies," she reminded the govern-
ment agent, "is employed by me. The dear lady who
runs it hasn't an inkling of what's really going on."
"What about the other one, Myra? We've had run-ins
with the Cosmos outfit before," the frail man told her.
"Walt Bascom is a scoundrel, but unfortunately he's
not our kind of scoundrel. The man can't be bribed
or scared off."
"But his operatives can certainly be killed."
"Really now? From what I hear, you've failed twice
to get rid of Jake Cardigan." He unlocked his hands
and flexed his knobby fingers. "In fact, one of the ops
working for you actually stepped in to save—"
'Jiri, my sweet, I'm awfully busy just now," she cut
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Tek Secret
in. "I'll make a note that you're pissed off and get
back to—"
"This is more important than anything else you're
working on."
"Oh, it is," she agreed, blowing out smoke. "But, real-
ly, Jiri, everything is going along smoothly and there
isn't any need for you to keep calling me."
"If you damn people out there weren't so sentimen-
tal, none of this would be necessary."
Myra said evenly, "It's her father who's the sentimen-
tal one. And he, poor man, is not going to be with us
much longer."
"I told him at the time, it would have been much
simpler just to kill her."
"Despite having sold out to you people, Owen still
loves little Alicia."
"If she had been properly taken care of back then—"
"She's being taken care of now," reminded Myra.
"Please, let me handle this my way." She hung up and
returned the phone to the floor.
Gomez stepped up into the Info Pavilion in the center
of the main concourse of the Greater LA Spaceport.
"I'm Gomez," he informed the pretty blonde female
android behind the counter.
"And?"
He pointed at the nearest floating loudspeaker. "A
voice from above indicated that a message awaited me
here."
"Oh, you must be Sid Gomez."
"I am."
f
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William Shatner
'Just hop into Alcove 3 on the other side of the
pavilion, Mr. Gomez."
"Gracias. " Shifting his grip on his single piece of lug-
gage, a small battered tan suitcase, Gomez went over to
the indicated alcove. After making certain that it didn't
contain any sort of trap, snare or threat, he entered and
activated the vidphone. "Sid Gomez here."
"One second, please."
"Hi, Sid." It was the hefty Corky Keepnews.
"What prompts this urgent communication, chiquita ?"
"Can you spring for another 300 bucks, honey?"
"What kind of crass farewell message is this?"
The informant told him, "I got some stuff on the late
Ford Jaspers."
"$200 tops."
"$250."
"Sold. Fill me in."
'The cops found the body this morning."
"Continue, por favor."
"They don't know you visited the houseboat."
"What do they know?"
"They don't know who killed Jaspers," continued
Corky, brushing at her silvery hair. "They don't know
where Sheldon Gates, alias Guy Woodruff, is. They
don't know yet that Woodruff and Gates are one and
the same."
"Is any of this babble what I'm paying you the outra-
geous fee of $200 for, cara ? My shuttle is about to depart
and unless—"
"You're paying me the outrageous fee of $250," she
corrected.
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Tek Secret
"Okay, but get to the nub."
"Turns out the cops have quite a bit of background
material on Ford Jaspers," she informed him. "He used
to be a vidactor, but he hasn't worked at that for over
five years. He's been using a little dodge, which is what
got the law interested in him in the first place—al-
though so far they haven't been able to nail him. What
Ford would do is join assorted therapy groups and
play at being a very attentive and sympathetic listen-
er. Then, after a few sessions, somebody was sure to
blurt out some confidence they should've kept mum
about. These nuggets of embarrassing info Ford then
used to blackmail his erstwhile therapy buddies. It was
a small-time dodge, but it kept the old boy going."
"Who'd have thought Ford would ever have sunk so
low," said Gomez with a sigh. "Okay, he must have had
something on Shel and tried to blackmail him."
"That's what the cops think. And it does sound likely,
doesn't it?"
"It does, si "
"Okay, bon voyage. And don't forget it's $250 that
you owe me, honey."
103

Bev Kendricks glanced around his living room. "This
is smaller than your old place."
"I had a wife then."
She nodded at the suitcase near the door. "I hope I'm
in time to save you from going off on a useless trip," she
said. "That's why I stopped by."
"This spirit of co-operation between our detective
agencies is heartwarming," said Jake.
She came up to him, tapped him on the chest with
two of her fingers. "Damn it, this is between you and
me," she told him, anger in her voice. "If my partners
found out that I—"
"I realize, Bev, that I'm getting along in years." He
took a step back from her. "But, honestly, I don't need
any further help and guidance from you on this par-
ticular case."
*
105
15

William Shatner
Out of her jacket pocket she yanked a vidcaz. "I'm
not supposed to show you this."
"Don't then."
Shaking her head impatiently, she said, "I want you
to look at it." She extended the cassette toward him.
"Okay, all right." He accepted it, crossed to the vidwall
and popped it into the slot.
Alicia Bower appeared on the wall. She was smiling,
holding on to the arm of a black man roughly fifteen
years older than she was.
Each of them was carrying a large suitcase and they
were being transported upwards on a rampway.
"That's the Burbank Sector Skyport," said Bev.
"Recognized it."
The ramp carried the couple to an entry gate marked
mexflites. The screen blanked.
Bev said, "I'd heard a rumor about the existence
of this yesterday. It comes from a random sweep by
one of the port secams. I didn't get a copy until this
morning."
"You've followed up on this?"
"Yes, and I'll be leaving for Mexico in an hour," she
answered. "I know I can trust you not to try to beat me
to her."
"I won't be going to Mexico," he promised. "But I
would like a copy of this."
"Keep it, I made an extra. Show it to Bascom, but
don't mention me."
Jake asked her, "You know who the guy is?"
"The name he used on the passenger list is Rob
Stinson," she said. "There's a Rob Stinson who works
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Tek Secret
for Mechanix at their Oxnard Sector facility. One of
my operatives is checking on him."
"I appreciate your showing me this."
She held out her hand. "I told you that you were
wasting your time, you and Gomez 'both," she said.
"There's no need to keep wasting it."
"Nope." He shook hands, then escorted her to the
door.
He popped the cassette, carried it over to his phone
alcove. Calling the agency, he asked for Doc Olan.
Olan, a long, thin man with a minimum of hair, was
wearing a white labcoat. "I was going to call you, Jake,"
he said. "About that bank-withdrawal footage of Alicia
Bower."
"Was it Alicia?"
Olan gave a negative shake of his head. "I got some vid
footage of the real Alicia out of our files," he explained.
"From a society function she attended last year. Com-
paring the body movements of that Alicia with this one
established—to my satisfaction anyway—that the lady
seen in the Banx footage is not Alicia. In fact, Jake,
she isn't a lady at all."
"Android sim, huh?"
"Exactly, yes. A hell of a sophisticated one, yet an
andy all the same." A satisfied smile showed on Olan's
long, lean face. "If you study the body movements care-
fully—well, nobody's yet come up with an android that
can move exactly like a real human."
Nodding, Jake said, "I'm going to send you another
bit of footage over the phone now. Can you do a rush
job on it?"
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William Shatner
"Is this yet another glimpse of the elusive Alicia?"
"Yep, in the company of an alleged gentleman friend.
I want to know if this is a dupe or the real Alicia," he
told the Cosmos expert. "And, if you're able, tell me
whether or not the guy's mechanical."
"When you say rush, what—"
"An hour?"
"It won't be my usual thorough job, but I can get you
a prelim report. Will you still be at—"
"I'm heading for the skyport," said Jake. "I'll contact
you from there, Doc."
One booted foot resting on his suitcase, Jake was using
a skyport vidphone. "Is there any way to find out?" he
was asking Barry Zangerly.
Their client was sitting in a wicker chair beside his
hospital bed today, looking somewhat better. "Alicia
never mentioned anything like that," he said. "Why
would they have built an android dupe of her?"
"Number of reasons—security, publicity," said Jake,
"chicanery."
"You're implying that Mechanix is involved—her
father, probably."
"Yeah, but it's possible Alicia never knew about the
sim. Her father and other Mechanix execs sure must,
though."
"This android—what makes you think one exists?"
"I've been through two separate bits of video foot-
age of the thing," he answered. "Can you determine
if—"
"What sort of footage do you mean? Are you sure it
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Tek Secret
wasn't actually Alicia herself you saw?"
Tm sure."
"What's going on? You seem to be calling from a
skyport. Do you know where she is, Cardigan?"
Jake suggested, "Let me ask the* questions for a
spell. Can you find out if Mechanix did build such a
simulacrum? And if they did, what uses it's been put to
of late?"
"I suppose Roger can help on that. Could you, though,
please, tell me what exactly—"
"Not just yet." Jake hung up and grabbed his suit-
case.
The Topeka Complex flight was boarding in seven
minutes.
Roger Zangerly was sitting at his desk in his office at
Mechanix International. "Yes, yes, trust me," he said to
the vidphone. "I am calling you back on my tap-proof
phone. Now suppose you tell me why I'm going through
all this rigamarole?"
On the phonescreen Barry said, "I want to ask you
something."
"If it's about your girlfriend, I have already told you
every single damn thing that I—"
"Is there an android simulacrum of Alicia?"
His brother cocked his head to the left, then started
laughing. "Don't tell me you suspect that you've been
living with an andy all these months?"
"I'm serious, Rog. And, whatever you may think, I'm
not loony."
"An android dupe?"
109

William Shatner
"That's right. Was one ever built at Mechanix?"
"Hell, I don't think so," said Roger. "Mechanix has,
now and then, built special androids, sure. For, you
know, celebrities, politicians and the like. As I recall,
there's even one of Owen Bower that they used to
send out to make speeches at sales meetings in the
hinterlands. But it's been in mothballs for years."
"What about Alicia?"
"Tell me what exactly put this notion in your head?"
"Cardigan wanted to know if there is such a thing."
"Why? What the hell does he suspect?"
"He didn't tell me this, but I think—"
'You're awfully excited, even though you don't know
for certain what the hell is supposed to be going on."
"I've done a little thinking since I talked to Cardi-
gan," he said. "If they wanted to give the impression
that Alicia has simply run off, they could use an android
for that. It would be a damn good way to spread a
false trail."
"Unlikely. Because why would anyone want to—"
"Listen, Rog, can you, as a favor, look into this?
I'd ask Dad, but he's considerably more devoted to
Mechanix. He'd figure this to be a betrayal of his loyalty
to the firm."
"Whereas I, sneak and cheat that I am—"
"You're not as narrow as Dad can be at times."
Roger sat back. "Why, that's almost a compliment."
'This is important."
"Okay, you sound delirious to me," Roger told him.
"But I'll do some sly snooping around for you."
110

Tek Secret
"As fast as you can."
"As fast as I can without putting my backside on
the line."
"I appreciate this, Rog."
"What are brothers for?"
Ill

Redhaired Sam Trinity, clad only in his underwear,
hefted the second metal case up onto the wide oval
bed and smiled a thin smile. "You look bored, sweet.
Are you bored? You sure look it."
The naked girl sitting on the opposite side of the
wide oval bed shook her head.
"You can talk, can't you?" asked Trinity as he opened
the second case with his chromeplated right hand. "Hell,
I know you can talk. So when I ask you a question, I want
you to respond. Are you bored? I wanted to know if you
were bored, sweet."
"No, sir."
"No, sir, what?"
"I'm not bored."
He smiled again. "Don't you remember my name? I
told you my name, sweet. Don't you remember it?"
113
16

William Shatner
"Sam," she answered very softly.
"Sam. That's right. My name is Sam." Reaching into
the open case, he selected another artificial hand and
held it up for her to see. "Do you like this one?"
"Yes, Sam."
"Give me an opinion."
"It's nice."
"It is nice," agreed the OCO agent, touching the
hand with the forefinger of his real hand, stroking it
briefly. "This particular prosthetic device is the one I
attach when I'm doing an interrogation. Do you know
what an interrogation is?"
The naked girl nodded. "Yes, Sam."
"Tell me then, sweet, make conversation. What is an
interrogation?"
"When you ask somebody questions."
"That's right, good," he said. "This particular hand
can administer fairly persuasive electric shocks. So that
if I were to replace my present hand with this one and
then touch you in certain places, you'd find it extremely
painful. So painful, sweet, that you'd scream and cry
and then you'd beg me to let you tell me every single
damn thing you knew. Would you like me to give you
a demonstration of how it works?"
"No, Sam."
"No?" He carefully arranged the hand on the bed,
in line with the eight other electronic hands that were
already on display there. "What sort of whore are you?
They told me you were the sort of whore who'd do
anything. Isn't that true, sweet? If I wanted to caress
you with this particular hand of mine, wouldn't you go
114

Tek Secret
along? Would you make me call up your pimp and ask
for my money back?"
"I'd go along, Sam."
"That's better." He reached into the second case for
another of his hands to show her. "Actually, sweet, all I
want to do right now is give you a look. You are enjoying
this display, aren't you?"
"Yes, Sam."
"Yes, Sam, what?"
"Yes, Sam, I'm enjoying it."
'Very much?"
"Yes, very much."
"Good, because it isn't enough that I have a good
time with the whore I hire for the night. No, I want
my whore for the night to have a good time, too."
"I am."
"You're what?"
"I'm having a good time."
"Why are you shivering then?"
"Well, it's a little chilly here in your bedroom."
"Is it? I happen to like it this way. Don't you?"
'Yes, Sam."
"Now this hand here has a lazgun built in," he
explained, holding it up. "It looks, however, like just
a regular everyday hand. It resembles, in fact, the hand
I lost in the line of duty seven years ago. But there's
a lazgun built into this finger. I can use this hand to
kill anyone I want. It always surprises them, they never
expect it. Because it looks so much like a real hand. It
would surprise you, wouldn't it?"
"No, Sam."
115

William Shatner
"It wouldn't surprise you, sweet? Why wouldn't it
surprise you?"
"Because you just showed it to me and I'd be expect-
ing it," the naked girl answered.
"You're absolutely right. I did spoil the surprise by—"
The vidphone over in the alcove buzzed.
"That's my emergency line," said Trinity, placing the
hand on the bed. "Will you excuse me?"
"Yes, I'll excuse you."
"That's very thoughtful and I appreciate it." He hur-
ried barefooted over to the phone. "Yes?"
"Lord, Sam, put something on," suggested Myra
Ettinger. "Seeing that wealth of red fuzz that covers
your squatty body makes one—"
"You're no pastoral sunset yourself, sweet, even when
fully clothed. Why are you bothering me?"
"I have something to tell you."
The redheaded government agent said, "You happen
to be intruding on my recreation time."
"Nevertheless, pay attention," said the Mechanix
executive. "Jake Cardigan left Greater Los Angeles an
hour ago and, according to my sources, he's headed
for Topeka Complex."
"Coming here, huh?" Trinity made a faint whistling
sound. "That son of a bitch is smarter than I thought."
"Or you're dumber."
Trinity said, "Thanks for alerting me, sweet."
"It might be a good idea to meet him when he lands
and—"
"Naw, I don't operate that obviously. You should
know by now that I'm inclined toward subtlety."
116

Tek Secret
"Seeing you standing there in your undies misled
»
me.
Trinity smiled. "Cardigan will be checking in with
contacts in Farmland. He'll be checking in with people
who can provide information and assistance. What I
have to do is arrange some surprises for Cardigan,
possibly making use of one of his cronies or infor-
mants."
"Why not simply grab him and—"
"Good bye, Myra." The agent hung up and walked,
slowly, back toward the bed. "Go home, sweet."
"Okay, Sam."
"This ought to make you sad. Does it make you sad
that you won't be spending the night with me?"
"Yes, Sam," answered the naked girl, getting up from
the bed, "it makes me sad."
Shifting in the chair in the vidphone alcove of his
hotel suite, Jake made another call on the tap-proof
phone. It was a little after 11 P.M. and he'd been in
Topeka Complex for over an hour. This was his fifth
call.
"Hello?" The screen remained blank.
"I'm trying to reach Joe Chatman."
"Jake! What the hell are you doing in Farmland?" A
heavyset black man showed on the screen. He didn't
have any legs and was seated in a chromeplated wheel-
chair.
Jake let out a breath. "Joe, I hadn't heard that—"
"Happened while you were away."
"How?"
117

William Shatner
"I still, you know, got my vidwall show on the Under-
ground Network," Chatman said. "Year ago—thirteen
months actually—I was doing another of my muck-
raking series. This one was about some possible links
between local Tek cartels and our major business giant
in these parts, the revered Farmboy Industries. The
bastards used one of those kamikaze androids on me,
a simulacrum of my sister. I was really stupid and— Oh,
shit, Jake, I'm sorry."
"That's okay." He turned away from the screen for a
few seconds. "In a way, Beth was stupid, too. To have
fallen in love with me in the first place and then to have
accepted that android dupe of me as—"
"No, I don't think she was," said Chatman. "They
can really catch you off guard. My sister, you know,
had been real sick and when I saw her coming toward
me in that supermall and looking so poorly, you know,
I rushed up and put my arms around her."
"You survived, though."
"Part of me survived anyway. That was only because
that particular kamikaze didn't work quite right and
only part of the explosive charge went off."
"I was going to ask for some help on a case, but
maybe you—"
"There's still enough of me left to do you some
favors," Chatman assured him. "You helped me lots of
times back when I was doing my show out in Greater
LA. I hear you're working for Bascom at Cosmos now.
Is this a job for them?"
"Yeah, we've been hired to find Alicia Bower. She's
the Mechanix heiress and has been missing for—"
118

Tek Secret
"I already heard a rumor about that," cut in his
friend. "You think she's around here someplace?"
"Supposedly she had a breakdown a year or so back.
She did some time in the Mentor Psych Centre," said
Jake. "I don't know if she was taken there again, but I
do know that Sam Trinity of the OCO was in Greater
Los Angeles the day she disappeared and at the same
place she was supposed to be. It's possible, for some
reason I don't yet know, that he brought her here."
"Trinity is a true-blue bastard," warned Chatman. "If
you're planning to go up against him, you know, you'll
have to be damn careful."
"Right now, Joe, I'm looking for a way to find out
what's going on inside the Centre."
Leaning back, Chatman closed his eyes for sever-
al seconds, fingertips drumming on the arms of his
wheelchair. "I been thinking about doing a series on
that place."
"Is something wrong going on there?"
'That could be, you know," answered Chatman. "I
do have a contact. Maybe, I'm not absolutely sure, you
know, but possibly I can arrange for you two to get
together. That might help you find out some of what
you want—with some scuttlebutt left over for me to use
on a broadcast."
"Can you set up a meeting?"
'This person has to be, you know, extremely careful,"
his friend said. "Still, Jake, I can probably arrange some-
thing for tomorrow. You stand by and I'll get back in
touch."
Jake grinned. "I appreciate this."
119

William Shatner
"I'll be talking to you tomorrow then. And, you know,
I surely didn't mean to imply that your ladyfriend
was—"
"I know. Good night, Joe."
Jake made three more calls before turning in.
120

The phone awakened Jake at a few minutes before 6
a.m. He rolled out of his bed, grabbed up his trousers
and hurried over to answer it. "Yeah?"
"Is Jake Cardigan there?" inquired the blonde, freck-
led woman on the phonescreen.
"I'm Cardigan."
"Unblank, so I can get a look at you."
"Soon as I get my pants on."
"I was told your phone is tap-proof."
"Yep, it is."
"So is mine. I'm Dr. Sharon Harker," she told him.
"Are you interested in information about the Mentor
setup?"
He had his pants tugged all the way on. He touched
the key that allowed her to see him. "I am, yes."
"You look pretty much like the pictures I was shown,"
121
17

William Shatner
decided Dr. Harker after a few seconds. "Older, of
course."
He grinned. "When you get through reflecting on
the ravages of time," he suggested, "tell me who's been
talking to you about me."
She shook her head. "Somebody who . . . No, Sean,
Mama's on the phone now. Play with your skycar."
A yellowhaired boy of about three showed up beside
her. He was clad in crimson pajamas, carrying a toy
skycar and frowning deeply. "Want breakfast," he told
his mother.
"In just a very few minutes, dear," she promised. "As
soon as I finish my call."
"Is that Beepaw?" he asked, staring directly at Jake.
"No, it's only a friend of mine."
"Can I talk to Beepaw?"
<4We'll call Grandpa later. You go play in your room."
"Bye, Beepaw." The little boy wandered out of range.
"Excuse me," she said, smiling at Jake. "Listen, I have
some information that'll be helpful to you."
"You selling?"
"No." An angry expression touched her freckled face.
"No, I'm simply interested in seeing that—well, I'm sor-
ry if this sounds youthful and naive. I believe, though,
that something wrong is going on there and that action
should be taken. Maybe you're the one who can fix
things."
"Do you work at Mentor?"
"Don't pick that up, Sean," she called. "No, I'm an
executive with Sunnyland Medical Equipment. I make
frequent visits to Mentor, however, in the line of work.
122

Tek Secret
Could you possibly meet me this morning? I'd like to
talk to you where nobody can interrupt or disturb us."
"This has to do with Alicia Bower?"
"Yes, obviously, or otherwise, Mr. Cardigan, I wouldn't
be bothering you," said Dr. Harker. "Do you know where
the Prairie is?"
"That's Farmboy Industries' biggest facility in these
parts, isn't it?"
"Right, two hundred acres of buildings devoted to the
manufacture of synthetic food." Her nose wrinkled. "I
have to do business with them, too, and I'll be calling
there this morning. A block south of the Prairie you'll
find a nice little place called the Grange Cafe. If you
can meet me there in an hour, I can tell you things that
should help you with the case you're working on."
"Is Alicia at Mentor?"
"One hour." The screen went blank.
"Okay, one hour." Jake put on the rest of his clothes.
The Grange Cafe was wedged midblock in a row of
narrow shops. The chill, grey block was empty of people
as Jake approached the meeting place on foot.
He found the plastiglass front wall of the little res-
taurant blanked. A signscreen on the door told him:
temporarily closed. will reopen soon.
Frowning, Jake glanced around the early morning
street. Sharon Harker was nowhere in sight.
From where he stood he could see the tops of the
Prairie's towers and domes. This agricultural complex
turned out nearly half of Farmboy's synthetic wheat
and oats. Thin wisps of pale blue smoke were snaking
123

William Shatner
up from its many filtered smokestacks.
Jake, thrusting his fists into his jacket pockets, walked
toward the nearest corner. All the shops had blanked
walls and many of them displayed signs announcing
they weren't opening today.
"You there, sir."
Coming at him from around the corner was a large
gunmetal robot with Street Patrol lettered large across
the front of him.
"Yeah?"
"ID packet, please."
"Why?"
"Routine, sir."
"You'll need a better reason than that."
The big bot said, "We'd like to know what you're
doing in this area."
Nodding back in the direction of the restaurant, he
said, "I was planning to have breakfast at the Grange,
but it appears to be shut tight. Can you suggest another
spot where—"
"The best thing for you to do, sir, is hightail it clean
out of this . . . Hold on. Looks like it's too late."
A distant rumbling had become audible. It sounded
as though quite a few heavy vehicles were roaring this
way.
Over at the Prairie, huge panels began sliding open
in the nearest domes. Rising up out of the complex
came silvery skyvans, each with the familiar Farmboy
logo—a farmer's strawhat with a crossed knife and fork
beneath it—emblazoned on its underside. By the time
a full two dozen of the flying vans had taken to the
124

Tek Secret
air, heavy landtrucks were growling into view along the
street.
There were at least ten of the big trucks, and march-
ing alongside, between and in front of them were hun-
dreds of men and women. All of them were clad in
tan coveralls. Considerable flashing lightsigns were to
be seen, held aloft by the marchers—Farmboy UNFAIR!
Work HAZARDS Must Stop! A Harvest of Shame!
"It's the strike, sir," warned the robot. "You'd better
get on out of their way before—"
"C'mon, join us." A large black man grabbed Jake by
the arm as he came tramping by.
"It's no doubt a good cause," said Jake as he was
dragged into and became part of the marching crowd.
"But it's not my cause."
"Here, carry this." A heavyset blonde woman thrust
the staff of a lightsign into his hands.
The sign was blinking the message—INHUMAN Work-
ing Conditions! Were NOT Bots!
The skyvans from the Prairie were hovering over-
head. From loudspeakers mounted near the logo came
a booming metallic voice. It echoed and bounced all
around the strikers. "This is a wildcat strike. The Board
of Directors of your Farmhands Union, Local #1343,
does not sanction your actions. Disperse at once or
face the consequences."
"We're coming in!" shouted the marching strikers.
"Discontinue and scatter. At once."
Thirty seconds later the barrels of stuncannons started
protruding from the bellies of the hovering vans. The
guns fired down randomly. A lean, bearded man in
125

William Shatner
front of Jake was struck by one of the sizzling beams.
He took two jerking steps ahead, clenched his fists, went
slamming down on his knees. He started to topple to
the left, right into the path of a rolling truck.
Dropping his sign, Jake leaped and caught the man
by the collar of his coveralls. He yanked him clear of
of the big truck.
Hefting the unconscious worker over his shoulder,
Jake started to push his way through the moving crowd.
"Hey, let me get him over to the sidewalk."
Another random beam struck a girl a few feet from
Jake. Gagging, she tried to reach for her throat. Then
she collapsed, falling right into Jake.
There was no room to dodge and he tripped over
her. He fell, dropping the man he was trying to carry
to safety.
He landed on elbows and knees, smacking the street
hard. Someone stepped on his back, someone else
kicked his shoulder.
Jake, a little groggy, was pushing himself up when
someone yelled, "Gas!"
Jake never saw the stuff, but for about the next thirty
seconds he was aware of a harsh, insinuating peppery
scent.
Then he went suddenly and completely to sleep.
126

IT WAS ALWAYS sunny noontime on New Hollywood. The
streets on the orbiting satellite were wide and lined with
tall, simulated palm trees, the buildings were mostly
white with bright red tile roofs. There seemed to be
low green hills beyond the city, and off to the west was
a glimpse of placid blue ocean.
The robot driver of the landbus was wearing a yel-
low and green checkered sportcoat. "And on our left,
ladies and gentlemen, is the Holographic Hollywood
Star Museum, containing lifelike images of over one
hundred movie and vidwall stars from the past three
centuries."
"We have to see that, too, Inez," said the excited fat
man seated just behind Gomez.
"I was afraid we would, Lloyd."
The robot driver continued, "Coming up on our
127
18

William Shatner
right, ladies and gentlemen, you'll note the Stunt Pal-
ace with its FX Annex. Every hour of the day you
can witness and enjoy pulsepounding, nervewracking
stunts and special effects being re-created before your
very eyes."
"Not before my eyes," stated Inez.
"C'mon, we came here to enjoy it all, "pleaded Lloyd.
"Next, ladies and gentlemen, is the Cowboy Heaven
Museum. Then, for the more mature visitor to New
Hollywood, you'll find Sunset Strippers. It is, as most
of you no doubt know, one of the most popular bro-
thels on or off the Earth. Here you'll encounter for
your pleasure android replicas of all your favorite actors
and actresses of today and, for a surprisingly nominal
fee, you may do with them as you will."
"We'll skip that one, Lloyd."
The bus halted in front of a five-story stucco and red
tile structure. "Here's the New Hollywood Hotel, ladies
and gentlemen," announced the driver. "To all who are
getting off here, have a great vacation and thanks for
traveling with the Tinsel Town Bus Co."
Tugging his lone suitcase from under his seat, Gomez
made his way along the aisle. Five other passengers were
getting off at this stop.
The eternal midday was pleasantly warm. Gomez whis-
tled as he crossed the pictorial paving and entered the
lobby.
It was cool and shadowy and appeared to have an
intricately patterned mosaic tile floor, a splashing mar-
ble fountain and ceiling beams of sturdy redwood.
"Gomez," he informed the polished silvery robot desk
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Tek Secret
clerk. "I have a reservation."
The clerkbot was wearing a shirt decorated with ani-
mated jungle landscapes. "I noticed you admiring our
lobby, sir," he said as he consulted his computer ter-
minal. "You'll be interested to know that it's all an
illusion, created by the clever use of holograms and spe-
cial effects. It's just about nearly one hundred percent
fake."
"Bueno," said the detective, smiling, "this sounds like
my sort of place."
Wolfe Bosco gestured expansively, waving a hand at the
immense swimming pool. "My star has risen, Gomez. I
am no longer the pathetic schlep that you encountered
a few weeks ago down in the other Hollywood."
"Why, gee, you even have new hair."
The small talent scout stroked the hair at his temple.
"I look terrific as a blond," he explained. "When you
lunch at an exclusive place like the Poolside Lounge,
you're obliged to appear at your best."
Gomez observed, "You also have far fewer wrinkles
than when last we met."
"Exactly. The larger the salary, the fewer the wrin-
kles." He rested an elbow on the small white tabletop.
"So, Gomez, how can I be of service to you?"
Gomez was scanning the forty-some tables that cir-
cled the sunlit outdoor pool. Every one was occupied,
and behind the rows of tables were a dozen small wood-
en cabanas for those who favored some privacy for their
dining. "I hear, from the first chap I contacted after
arriving at this sundrenched paradise, that you're still
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William Shatner
not above peddling information, Wolfe."
The diminutive agent rested his other elbow on the
table. "Since I landed my top client, Jacko Fuller, a
fat picture deal, I've cut back on some of my other
activities," he confided. "Still, for old time's sake and
a nice big fee, I'll be happy to lend a hand." He paused
to wave at a passing blonde. "Hiya, Linda. That's Linda
Turner, Jacko's costar in Love Me Forever. It's lensing
right now over at Galactic Studios."
"I'm truly impressed, Wolfe, at the way you've been
able to sell that rundown android replica of a washed-
up second-rate singer to these—"
"Shush! Ixnay, Gomez." He slapped his palm over
Gomez's hand, shook his blond head warningly and
then took a very careful look around at the adjoining
tables. "Don't go spreading nasty rumors like that about
my number-one client." His voice had dropped to a
near whisper.
Gomez laughed. "Ah," he said, "you haven't in-
formed any of these moguls that your Jacko isn't
actually a human being."
"Everybody who runs the movie business is young,
extremely youthful, Gomez," Wolfe quietly informed
him. "They, not a one of them, don't remember the
original Jacko Fuller. They think my boy's the real
thing. Hell, I could never get the kind of money they're
paying for him if they were wise he's an andy sim. So
let them, callow schmucks that they are, go on thinking
he's the genuine article."
"Serves 'em right," agreed Gomez. "Now about our
negotiations?"
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Tek Secret
"I was a schmuck to admit my little con," sighed the
agent ruefully. 'You're probably going to hold that over
me as we talk fees."
"Nope, Wolfe, I'm going to be extremely gener-
ous—in spite of the fact that I cafi screw up your
present and future career. $200."
"$200? Am I hearing correctly? No, I can't be." He
patted his wrinkle-free cheeks with his palms. "That's
an insulting sort of. . . And yet, it's not all that bad. I'll
take it, especially, Gomez, since you happen to have me
by the goonies."
"You know Sheldon Gates, don't you?"
"A goniff, but, yeah, I do, alas," said the agent. "Ran
into him a few times down on Earth."
"Is he here?"
"You mean at the Poolside Lounge? Naw, this is too
high class a hangout for the—"
"Here on New Hollywood."
Wolfe twisted in his seat to watch a slim, tanned
blonde young woman make a perfect dive into the pool
off the high board. 'Too bad her tits are too small for
longterm stardom," he commented. "Yeah, Gomez, I
seem to have heard that Sheldon made a rather hurried
departure from Greater LA and is currently holed up
on this satellite."
"Is he residing with his dear old mom?"
"I believe he is indeed in residence with that old
yenta."
"Would that be at her place of business—Madame
Sonja's Longevity Lodge?"
'That's the place, sure. A very successful scam, so I
131

William Shatner
hear," answered the agent. "It's over on Rodeo Drive
in a building that's shaped pretty much like my Aunt
Dorothy's backside."
Gomez told him, "What I need, Wolfe, is a safe and
successful means of getting in and out of there. Further,
I want to know exactly where Shel is located within the
establishment."
'That'll cost you $400 extra."
"$200."
"$350."
"$300."
"Okay. It's robbery, but what can I do?" He raised his
eyes to the clear sunlit midday sky above. "I'll get you
everything you need to know by not later than supper
time."
In order to take his leave from the Poolside Lounge,
Gomez had to walk by a row of the private dining
cabanas.
He was wending his way over the mosaic tiles, circling
squat potted palms, when he became aware of some
kind of fracas taking place in one of the small wooden
buildings. Crockery smashed within, then something
hard slammed against one of the opaque windows.
Slowing, Gomez eyed the cabana as he passed it.
Another piece of dishware smashed within. Then a
young woman cried out, "This, and I'm really very
ashamed of you, isn't what I came here for!"
A man chuckled in a nasty way. A table fell over with
a rattling thunk.
Gomez stopped, looking at the red door.
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Tek Secret
None of the diners at the nearby tables were paying
a bit of attention to the noisy conflict.
Inside the cabana the woman screamed.
Sighing, Gomez sprinted to the door and caught the
handle. He turned it, yanked the door open and went
diving inside.
133

The day had barely begun, the morning light was thin
and tinged with grey. Roger Zangerly yawned twice as
he hurried along the plastiglass connecting tube that
linked the Mechanix International storehouses in the
Oxnard Sector of Greater LA.
Outside, across a stretch of fenced beach, the dawn
Pacific was choppy and topped with grey froth. A few
gulls were skimming low over the water, the sound of
their cries was kept out by the tube walls.
Roger yawned again, saying to himself, Tm a damn
idiot to risk nosing around here."
At the entry portal to Storehouse 3, a gunmetal robot
in a khaki suit stood, arms folded across his chest.
When Roger was still ten feet from him, the guardbot
made a loud clicking sound. His ball-head swiveled, he
gazed directly at the approaching man. His eyes glowed,
135
19

William Shatner
momentarily, green. "Good morning, Mr. Zangerly,"
the robot said. "Up early, I note. What brings you to
our sector of Greater LA?"
"Just routine." Roger handed the robot a blue
plasticard. "I need to check on some mothballed
andies in Compartment 22. Here's my authorization."
The robot accepted the card, inserting it into the slot
in his forehead. After nine seconds, he said, "Okay, you
can go in, sir. By the way, the canteen will commence
serving breakfast at 6:30 A.M., in case you find yourself
feeling hungry after your chores are completed."
"Thanks, that's a good idea." He smiled at the
guardbot as he walked by him and into the vast,
multiroomed Storehouse 3.
Roger had, very slyly, gone rummaging through the
Mechanix files after his brother had phoned him yes-
terday. He had a fairly high security clearance and,
over the years, he'd learned several ways to outfox
the company computers. As a consequence, he'd man-
aged to access some information that he wasn't actually
supposed to access. He found out that Mechanix had
put something called Project Doppelganger in motion
nearly two years ago. There weren't too many details
in what he'd dug up thus far, yet sufficient to convince
Roger that some android dupes had been built and kept
secret.
Some of them, and this involved guesswork as well as
facts unearthed, were quite probably being kept here
in Storehouse 3 in Compartment 26. Roger decided he
wanted a firsthand look.
The air in the metal corridors was chill and didn't
136

Tek Secret
feel like real air when you breathed it. Roger coughed
into his hand as he turned a corner.
He ignored Compartment 22 and kept on to 26. The
electrokey he'd borrowed last night should open all the
doors in this section of the storehouse.
He stuck the key in the slot of the door and it slid
silently aside. As Roger crossed the threshold, harsh,
yellow light filled the big, metal-walled room.
"Damn," he exclaimed.
Sitting in an armchair on his left was Alicia Bower.
Although Gomez had recognized the young woman's
voice, he went shoving on into the dining cabana any-
way. If you were dedicated to practicing chivalry, he
figured, you couldn't be selective about it.
The slim, redheaded young woman was standing,
widelegged, next to the toppled lunch table. She held
a wine flask by its neck and was glowering at the hand-
some, tanned man, who was sitting cautiously on the
floor and rubbing at a fresh bruise on his handsome
forehead.
She said, "I assumed, Mr. Meech, that I'd made it
perfectly clear that despite the unfortunate fact that I
have been temporarily forced to work in, as it were,
the salt mines of broadcast journalism, I'm not at all
interested in any sort of cheap romantic— Oh, hello
there, Gomez."
He gave her a lazy salute. "Greetings, Natalie."
Natalie Dent looked down at the flask in her hand,
then let it drop to the dish-strewn floor. "I don't imag-
ine I'll have to bop Mr. Meech again to calm him down,
137

William Shatner
Gomez, but it's nice to have you standing by, even
though you're looking a lot older and flabbier than
when I saw you last, since you are very good at knocking
bullies and lechers on their respective keesters."
"I am good at that, si."
From the floor Desmond Meech asked him, "Do you
know this hellcat?"
"I must admit that I do," answered the detective.
"We're long-time chums."
"She's verbose," remarked the actor.
'That doesn't justify your attacking her."
'This feisty young lady simply doesn't understand
the basic ground rules of the show business interview,
Mr. . . . Gomez, was it?"
'This is Sid Gomez." Natalie brushed at the skirt of
her suitdress. "He happens to be, unless they've finally
come to their senses and bounced him, an operative
with the prestigious Cosmos Detective Agency."
"Wait now, we don't need any detectives on the scene,"
said Meech. "I was merely, as I've been attempting to
explain since you overturned the damn table on me,
being friendly in the venerable show business interview
tradition. I assure you, Gomez, that putting my hand
on Miss Dent's knee was purely a gesture of avuncular
friendship."
"For an actor who's portrayed a doctor on a vidwall
show for the past three seasons," remarked Natalie
disdainfully, "you certainly have a lousy knowledge of
anatomy. That most certainly wasn't my knee that you
were attempting to fondle."
138

Tek Secret
Gomez inquired, "Is that your vidcam lying on the
floor yonder, Nat?"
"Yes, I dropped it when Meech made his second
lunge."
"Interviews are supposed to be like that," persisted
the fallen actor. "Some questions, some lunging."
"Gather up your effects, querida," suggested Gomez,
"and I'll escort you to safety."
"Any lady is perfectly safe with me," assured Meech.
"Have you ever watched my 'Surgeon Stone' show,
Gomez?"
"Once."
Natalie retrieved the camera. "I appreciate your
barging in, Gomez," she said. "It's nice to have some
backup in situations such as this, even though I feel per-
fectly capable of defending myself against this aging phi-
landerer. Afterall, a man who's pushing fifty isn't that—"
"I'm forty-three," corrected Meech, who was remain-
ing on the floor. "Didn't you read the bio the studio
sent you?"
"You couldn't possibly, if you'll pardon my pointing
it out, have done that much damage to yourself in a
mere forty-three years, Meech." She stepped out into
the perennial sunlight.
"By the way," called the actor, "when's the interview
going to air?"
"Adios. " Gomez followed the redhaired reporter out-
side.
She was walking slowly, camera pressed to her chest,
toward an exit from the Poolside Lounge. "This is very
disheartening."
139

William Shatner
"You have to accept the fact that some hombres, espe-
cially those with low standards, are going to find you
attractive," he consoled her. "In your line of work that
means that—"
"Oh, quit acting like a bigger dimwit than you are,"
she said, sniffling. "I'm not at all upset over that oafish
vidactor. I'm chagrined at your having come across me
in this sorry, shabby state."
'You don't look any sorrier or shabbier than usual,
Nat."
She sobbed once as they reached the street. "Where
are we?"
"Is this a geographical or a metaphysical query?"
She pointed forlornly at the nearest palm tree. "New
Hollywood! Good gravy, if you'll excuse my slang, here
I am, once one of the biggest and brightest investigative
reporters that Newz ever had. My reports brought a new
dimension to vidwall muckraking. I've been presented
the Lemac Award twice thus far, which isn't bad for a
newswoman of twenty-seven."
"Aren't you with Newz anymore?"
"Oh, yes, I'm still working for them," she said, sniffling
and sobbing. "But I'm on their black list just at the
moment, I'm in the dog house, I'm pounding a beat
in the sticks, relegated to sweeping out the stables. It's
really—"
"I'm sure your fall from grace makes for a fascinating
tale, Nat," he cut in. "But I have a busy agenda ahead
of me and—"
"Then you didn't know about my disgrace?"
"Hadn't heard, nope."
140

Tek Secret
"I'm now the host, and it pains me to reveal this
to you, Gomez, on 'Show Biz Today.' " She paused,
wiped tears from her eyes. "And do you know why this
awful fate befell me? Well, I'll tell you exactly how I
came to—"
"Better not if it's going to cause you any further
stress, cara. No, we'll just end this sad conversation right
here and now and I'll get on about my business."
"Your business?" She sniffled once more, straight-
ened up, looked him directly in the eye. "That's it!
Yes, you, Gomez, flawed vessel that you are, will be my
salvation."
"Not if it's going to take more than another five
minutes."
"I got shipped up here, four and a half long, dread-
ful months ago, because one of my hardhitting reports
stepped on the toes of a powerful crony of a big-shot
Newz exec," the reporter explained. "Ah, but if I could
bring in a really terrific scoop, why then—"
"Natalie, my pet, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm
here on New Hollywood to look into a very ordinary,
very routine matter. It involves just a minor actor whose
wife wonders what he's actually—"
'Which actor?"
"Elmo Hess."
"He's not even here. He left for the Moon Colony two
weeks ago to start shooting 'Space Devils Fly High.' "
"Oops, then I better rush off and book passage for
the Moon. So long."
She caught his arm and held tight. "Please, Gomez,
you know full well that I'm not the sort of person who
141

William Shatner
enjoys pleading for a favor, but, please, help me out,"
she said. "If I can turn in a big story, then I can go
over the head of that nitwit exec who exiled me to this
limbo and insist that the other Newz bosses reinstate
me if they want the rights to the scoop."
"I'm late for an appointment." Smiling guilelessly, he
pulled free of her clutch. "But, I swear on my honor,
we'll meet for dinner at my hotel tonight at eight.
Then I'll give you all the exciting details of the case
I'm actually at work upon."
"What hotel are you staying at?"
'The LaBrea Arms," he lied and, turning on his heel,
made his getaway.
142

When Jake awakened two hours earlier, he'd found
himself occupying a small rectangular room. Three of
the walls were grey and blank, the fourth contained
an animated mural depicting a vast field of rippling
wheat. Every ten minutes a speaker imbedded in the
wall announced: "This detention cell is made possible
by a grant from Farmboy Industries—Feeding America
from the heart of Farmland."
There was a cot, a chair and a toilet in the detention
cell. Jake was pacing now, eyeing the wall where he
suspected the door must be.
Three crows, black spots in the sky, flew over the sea
of ripe wheat.
"This detention cell is made possible in part by a
grant from Farmboy Industries—Feeding America from
the heart of Farmland."
143
20

William Shatner
"So I've heard," muttered Jake.
The wall he'd been watching produced a sudden
purring sound. A panel slid aside, admitting a tall,
black-enameled robot and then closing again.
The robot had Jail Staff stenciled in white across
his polished ebony chest. "Good afternoon, Mr. Car-
digan."
"It's afternoon, huh? Same day?"
"The gas used to calm rioters usually pacifies crimi-
nals for from five to six hours. It's perfectly harmless,
causing no serious side effects in most—"
"Whoa," suggested Jake. "I'm neither a rioter nor a
criminal. If you'd allow me to fetch a lawyer, we can—"
"There's no need for that, Mr. Cardigan." Seating
himself on the cot, the robot opened a panel in his side.
From it he withdrew a sheaf of faxpages. "Although you
do have a criminal record, we—"
"Wrong again," interrupted Jake. "I was in prison, but
I later received a full pardon."
"I can see you're something of a jailhouse lawyer, Mr.
Cardigan." The big black bot produced a hollow chuck-
ling noise deep inside. "I'll have to watch my words
more carefully than I do with our average criminal."
Jake grinned thinly. "Exactly what charges am I being
held on?"
"You're not being held, Mr. Cardigan."
"Detained then."
"Technically you're not being detained."
Jake pointed a thumb at the mural. "Wall's been
telling me for the past two hours that I'm in a deten-
tion cell."
144

Tek Secret
'That's simply because our infirmary is full up,"
explained the staff robot. "This was the only space in
the jail complex for you to sleep off the aftereffects."
"Now that I'm wide awake, can I go?"
The robot made the chuckling nois'e again. "Just as
soon as we take care of some necessary red tape," he
said. "You're required to answer a few simple—"
"Who requires that?"
"The law in Farmland isn't as loose and sloppy as
it is out in Greater Los Angeles, Mr. Cardigan," the
robot informed him. "Well, let's get rolling, shall we?
What is the true purpose of your visiting Topeka Com-
plex?"
"Vacation," answered Jake.
"And why would a private investigator with one of
the nation's leading detective agencies want to vacation
here?"
"I've been asking myself the same darn thing," admit-
ted Jake. "But before Farmboy Industries gassed me,
I had the notion I could spend a quiet, restful time
hereabouts."
"You refuse to state your real reason for being in the
area?"
"I just stated it. Pay attention."
"Refuses to answer." The robot checked a box on the
top sheet with the electropen built into his forefinger.
"The next question has to do with how long you intend
to remain in the Topeka Complex."
"Not long."
"Can you be more specific?"
"No more than another week."
145

William Shatner
"I'm afraid, Mr. Cardigan, that a stay of such duration
isn't possible for you."
"Why is that?"
"It's the policy of the Topeka Complex Local Police
to move out all undesirables and agitators within forty-
eight hours from the time of—"
"Which am I?"
"Neither, yet you do happen to fall under the provi-
sions of the statute." The robot rested the pages on his
ebony knee. "I feel that I ought to warn you that if you
continue to respond in this negative manner, you may
cause your jail release to be delayed."
"Then I'm not really free to go?"
'You are, certainly, provided you first fill out these
simple forms in a manner that satisfies—"
Something started banging on the hidden door. After
a half dozen thunks, it slid open again. A black young
woman came striding in. "Don't say anything else to this
junkheap, Cardigan," she advised. "I'm your attorney."
The robot popped to his feet with a clang. "Miss
Petway, you happen to be intruding on an official—"
"Scan this, pinhead." She shoved a crinkly sheet of
real paper at him.
"An Unconditional Release Order?"
"Very good, you got it right on the first try." She nod-
ded at Jake. "My name's Georgia Petway. We can go."
"Who hired you?"
'Joe Chatman, of course. Most of your other buddies
in Farmland are much too chicken to go up against
Farmboy." She stepped over to the open doorway.
"We'll gather up your belongings, see how many
146

Tek Secret
they've tried to swipe, and then shake off the dust
of this shithole."
He followed her into the grey corridor.
The wall said, 'This detention cell is made possible
in part by a grant from Farmboy Industries—Feeding
America from the heart of Farmland."
147

"You aware of those assholes?"
"The ones tailing us in the grey skycar?"
"That's the very assholes I mean."
Jake nodded. "They picked us up as soon as we
departed the hoosegow."
Georgia said, "I suppose I could do some fancy
skywork, ditch them."
"You know who they are?"
"They're cops." She was sitting slightly hunched in
the driveseat of her crimson skycar. "They're still inter-
ested in you—are anxious for you to leave Topeka soon
as possible."
"They must know Joe Chatman's the one who brought
you into this."
"You mean that even if I cleverly elude these
motherhumpers, they'll just hop over to Joe's and
wait for us there?"
149
21

William Shatner
"Seems logical, yeah."
"You really would have been impressed by my tricky
flying, but, okay, let's save everybody's time and fly
direct to Joe's."
Jake grinned. "I'm already sufficiently impressed by
you," he assured the attorney. "You sprung me out of
that detention cell very smoothly."
"That was easy. I've been outfoxing the local cops for
years."
Jake observed, "This smells like a company town."
"Sure, but it's more complicated than that." They
were flying over the twilight city and she was guiding the
skycar deftly through the heavy air traffic at their des-
ignated level. "Farmboy Industries is owned—though
nobody's been able to prove it, not even Joe—by the
biggest Tek cartel in Farmland. Until a few months
ago that cartel was, I'm near certain, controlled by a
supposedly legit business mogul named Bennett Sands.
Then he up and—"
"Got killed," supplied Jake. "I know, yeah. Who runs
the cartel now?"
Georgia snapped her fingers, glancing over at him.
"Hey, that's right. You're the guy who killed Sands,
aren't you? It was on the news."
"Whoa," cautioned Jake. "I was there when Sands got
knocked off. As a witness, however, not as the perpe-
trator."
"But he and your wife were fooling around? I got that
part right, don't I?"
"Ex-wife," he said. "Now can we get back to local
color?"
150

Tek Secret
"I'm not trying to piss you off, Jake, but Joe gave me
the impression you didn't go in for too much bullshit
in conversation. So I figured—"
"Okay, sorry. I'm probably still touchy about the sub-
ject of my onetime wife and Bennett Sands," he admit-
ted. "Who runs his cartel now?"
'That's uncertain, since a couple of different factions
are still contending for control."
Leaning back in the passenger seat, he watched the
dozens of skycars rushing through the fading day.
"What about the Mentor Psych Centre? Are they tied
in with—"
"You really are an outlander." She punched out a
landing pattern on the dashpanel. "Around here, most
everybody knows that the money that set up Mentor
some twenty years ago came from Farmboy. The joint's
been extremely profitable, especially because of some
of the dubious services it offers its customers."
"For instance?"
'Joe can tell you a lot more than I can, because he's
been doing research on the life and times of Dr. Isaac
Spearman."
"Spearman runs Mentor, doesn't he?"
"Runs Mentor, sits on the board of Farmboy, is a
wonderful person and a real asset to Topeka Complex.
Or so one frequently hears on the Farmboy-controlled
local media," she said. "Here we are."
Her skycar was settling down on the rutted rooftop
landing area of a six-story apartment building in the
middle of a block of similar buildings. The streets
151

William Shatner
below had a neglected, rundown appearance. Lights
were showing at only a scatter of windows.
"Thanks for springing me." Jake stepped clear of the
landed car.
"You ain't absolutely free and clear yet, but I'm work-
ing on it," Georgia said. "Our tail's landing over there
on the roof of that gutted hotel. Want to wave to them?"
"Nope, that would spoil their fun. I appreciate the
lift."
"You'll find Joe down in 4C," she told him. "His
guardbots are expecting you, so it's not likely either
one'll shoot you." Smiling, she shut the door and then
took her skycar up into the gathering dusk.
A wide, white-enameled nursebot was helping Barry
Zangerly back into bed when his brother came pushing
into his room.
"Take a hike," Roger advised the robot.
"Sir, there are certain rules of behavior that should
be adhered—"
'That's okay." Barry disentangled himself from the
nurse and sat on the edge of his bed. "He's my broth-
er."
"Kinship certainly doesn't excuse—"
"Out with you," urged Roger, making a shooing
motion. "We're going to have a private conversation."
"I'll be within hailing distance, Mr, Barry, in case he
gets violent." Sniffing twice, the robot nurse left the
large offwhite room.
"Well?" Barry asked as his brother sat down in the
wicker chair. "Did you find out something about Alicia?
152

Tek Secret
You must have or you wouldn't be—"
"Hold it." Rising up again, Roger glanced toward
the door. From his pocket he drew out a small bug-
detector. "Let me sweep this place first."
"C'mon, Rog, nobody is listening in on us." He
watched his hefty brother check out the room for
eavesdropping gear. "Don't be idiotic."
'Just shut up for another minute or two, huh?"
"Do you know where she is?"
Instead of replying, Roger eased over to the door.
The nursebot had stationed herself just outside. "Am
I wanted?"
"Not by us, sweetheart. Move along now." Shutting
the door, he returned to the chair.
"Are you satisfied that—"
"Yep, the room isn't bugged," he said. "But there sure
is something odd going on. Thing is, brother dear, I'm
damned if I can figure out exactly what it is."
"Tell me about Alicia. Do you know where they've
got her?"
"Nope." He shook his head, causing the wicker chair
to creak. "Haven't the faintest idea. But I can sure tell
you where the android dupe is."
Leaning, Barry took hold of his brother's arm. "Then
Cardigan was right," he said, inhaling sharply. "What
did they use it for?"
"Keep calm," advised Roger. "Far as I can tell, this
dupe—which looks exactly like her, down to the last
freckle—was built approximately fifteen months ago."
"That's about the same time she was away at the
Mentor Foundation."
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William Shatner
"Yeah, just about, Barry. The andy is kept in one of
our warehouses in the Oxnard Sector. But twice in the
past week it was activated and checked out."
"Who? Who used it?"
"Fellow named Rob Stinson, who works for Mechanix
as a Vice President in the Oxnard facility."
"What's this Stinson say about why he—"
"Stinson, as of yesterday, is on an extended vaca-
tion leave," answered Roger. "And, strangely enough,
I haven't located anybody who knows where he's got-
ten to."
Barry frowned. "They must've used that damned
android dupe to plant a false trail, Rog," he said.
"Which has to mean that—"
"I agree, something very unusual is happening." Rog-
er coughed into his fist. "Well, I'm going back to my
office to do some further digging. I wanted you to know
what I'd found out so far."
Barry caught his arm again. 'Wait—you sound sort
of funny. Is there something else you know that you're
keeping back?"
"Well, yes, in a way." Slowly, he stood up. "I was
able to poke into the wandering Stinson's message rec-
ords. In the past week or so he had five vidphone calls
from Dad."
"No, Dad can't be involved in any plan to hurt Alicia,"
Barry insisted, shaking his head.
"Maybe not." Roger shrugged. "I'll find out."
"Then I better tag along." He started to get up.
Roger pushed him, gently, back to a sitting position.
"You're not ready to leave here yet," he warned. "Stay
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Tek Secret
in bed and recuperate. I can handle things."
"Don't go barging in, the way you usually tend to do,
and accuse our father of kidnapping Alicia."
"All I intend to do, in my best executive manner, is
find out what the bloody hell has been going on," he
promised. 'Trust me."
155

Joe Chatman asked, "Well?"
After a few seconds Jake answered, Tm not the best
one to give advice on how to lead an exemplary life."
The black man said, "Georgia says it's because I'm
still looking for pity."
"She's a very direct person."
They were sitting in the newsman's small, uncluttered
parlor, Jake in the windowless room's only armchair,
Chatman in his silvery wheelchair.
"Has been awhile," admitted Chatman. "I could be,
you know, fitted for legs."
"Do it when you feel ready."
"I might never feel ready."
Jake said, "Suppose we switch back to my problems
for awhile?"
"Sure, sorry." He touched a button on the arm of his
chair and came rolling nearer to Jake. "First off, Sharon
157
22

William Shatner
Harker's legit. I did suggest that she contact you."
"So you don't think she set me up, huh?"
"No, I don't, but there's no way to be sure right now,"
he said. "She and her kid don't seem to be around
anyplace. I got some people hunting, though."
"Someone grab her, or is she hiding out?"
"I'm afraid, Jake, it's the former."
"Who else knew she was going to get in touch with
me?"
"I did, she did," answered Chatman. "I didn't confide
in anybody."
"Did she give you details about what she knew?"
"Only that there was something going on wrong at
the Mentor setup, something that bothered her," he
said. "When you showed up, I suggested that Sharon
talk to you. She'd heard of you and was impressed by—"
"Hell of a lot of good it did her."
'Jake, hey. Every time a lady gets in trouble, it ain't
your fault."
"How long ago was it she told you she was uneasy
about something at the center?"
"Few days."
"That's since Alicia Bower disappeared, so this could
tie in with her."
"Sharon didn't come right out and say so, but I'm
near sure that it must."
Jake leaned forward. "I'm going to have to get inside
that place, Joe."
"A very tough thing to accomplish. Dr. Isaac Spear-
man runs a very secure—"
"Damn it, I'm going to see Chatman!"
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Tek Secret
Someone had started yelling out in the hallway.
A robot guard warned, "Buddy, stand back or we'll
use force to—"
"Chatman! You son of a bitch, where is she?"
"Watch it now, buddy."
"Where's Sharon Harker?" A fist hit the door. "Where
is she, damn you!"
Chatman nodded at the door. "Maybe this is some-
body we ought to meet."
Getting up, Jake moved to the door. "Yeah, sounds
like," he said.
The frail, greyhaired woman reached out, very careful-
ly, to touch the edge of the doctor's huge offwhite desk.
"No one has been able to help him," she confessed in a
faint, faraway voice.
Dr. Spearman smiled. "That's because no one has
truly tried, Mrs. Emers." He was a plump, pink man
of fifty and his curly hair and crinkly beard were a
golden blond. "But here at the Mentor Psych Centre
we're most certainly going to try." He left his offwhite
chair, walked around his large desk and stood beside
the pale young man who was seated, hunched in on
himself, next to Mrs. Emers. "And I can assure you
that your son is going to want to help, too. Aren't you,
Norby?"
The pale young man glanced up, smiling wanly.
"Screw you, Doctor."
"Norby, please," cautioned his mother, reaching out
and, carefully, putting her hand on his sleeve.
"That's all right," Spearman assured her. "We under-
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William Shatner
stand Norby here and he'll find that he can't annoy us
or make us angry by—"
"Screw you, Doctor." Lifting the silver ballclock off
the desk, Norby tossed it to the floor.
"Or make us angry by his behavior." Ignoring the
clock, the doctor returned to his chair.
Mrs. Emers, very softly, began to cry.
Norby stomped on the fallen clock with his foot, five
times.
Dr. Spearman smiled. "You've made the wisest deci-
sion for your son in bringing him to us."
"It's quite expensive, but we—"
"Time for a little chat, Isaac." Sam Trinity, dressed in
a loose-fitting blue suit and wearing a goldplated hand,
had come pushing into the office and was approach-
ing the offwhite desk, shoulders up and head thrust
forward.
'Just as soon as I've completed this indoctrination
conversation with Mrs. Emers and her son, I'll be more
than happy to—"
"Ditch them right now, Isaac."
Norby looked at the redheaded government agent.
"Screw you, too," he said quietly.
Trinity laughed and took hold of Norby's ear with
his metal fingers. "Kid, it's not really very polite to talk
nasty to your elders," he advised him.
His golden fingers crackled. The young man
screamed in pain.
Norby brought his hand up to his ear as soon as
Trinity let go. The flesh was a blistered red all across
the lobe. "You hurt me, asshole."
Mrs. Emers put an arm around him. "Dr. Spearman,
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Tek Secret
who is this man? Why did you allow him to—"
"Lady, unless you want me to fix that scrawny neck of
yours the same way," warned Trinity, "you better drag
your halfwit son out of here. Quick pronto."
Spearman was on his feet. "I'm terribly sorry, Mrs.
Emers," he said. "This is one of our patients—and I'm
at a loss as to how he got loose. If you'll take your son
into the foyer, I'll have Dr. Weber attend to him."
"His poor ear's burned like a—"
"Get the hell out," urged Trinity.
"I'm having second thoughts about this place, Doc-
tor."
After escorting the woman and her son out of his
office, Spearman said, "I won't have you behaving like
that and endangering the business end of—"
"Shut up and listen, Isaac," cut in the OCO agent.
"You promised me that you'd have Jake Cardigan tak-
en care of. Since you claim to have such enormous
influence in these parts, I assumed you were capable
of handling the keeping of him quiet and out of my
way for at least a—"
"I got him out of the way, Trinity. He was tossed into
our local—"
"But he's out now, Isaac. That jig got him sprung
within a few hours. Didn't you anticipate something
like that?"
'Joe Chatman turned out to have more connections
than I expected," admitted the plump doctor. "But let
me remind you that you were always free to handle this
yourself. I don't quite understand why you didn't just
kill Cardigan as soon as he hit the area."
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William Shatner
"That wouldn't be a smart move, not yet," said Trini-
ty. "I just want the bastard sidelined for a few days.
Killing him might cause too much trouble."
"Don't tell me the Office of Clandestine Operations
is afraid of a smalltime private eye?"
"The Cosmos Detective Agency isn't smalltime," he
pointed out. "And just at the moment I'd prefer not to
annoy them by killing one of their better ops. Further
along, maybe we'll have to risk it." He sank down into
the chair that Norby had occupied. "How much more
time do you need on Alicia?"
"I've already told you, at least three more days. Four
would be even better."
Trinity scratched at his red hair with his golden fin-
gers. "Okay," he said. "Meantime, I'll have to come up
with another way to distract Cardigan."
The lean, bald man kept on pacing.
Jake took the chair again. "How much did she tell
you, Hershberg?" he asked.
Randy Hershberg turned away from him, concen-
trating on Chatman. "Why did you ever let Sharon get
involved with a Tek dealer like Cardigan? She isn't the
sort of person who ought—"
"Whoa now." Jake rose. "I'm not a Tek dealer, never
have been."
"Oh, spare me the bullshit, Cardigan." He scowled at
him. "I've heard all about you—hell, you did time up
in the Freezer."
"Jake was framed," Chatman reminded him. "And he
got a complete pardon—eventually."
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Tek Secret
Jake took hold of the man's shoulder. "Let's," he
suggested, "concentrate on Sharon."
"Where do you get off calling her by her first name?
You don't even—"
"Listen to me," said Jake evenly. "We all want to find
her, but accusing Joe and me of—"
"Chatman convinced her she was some kind of god
damn crusader. She'd helped him out before, raising
funds, getting petitions signed. Then this mess at Men-
tor came up and instead of minding her own damn
business, she let him convince—"
"Do you work at Mentor?"
"No, at the Prairie. That's how we met and, after her
divorce, we—"
"How much did she tell you about what was happen-
ing at Mentor?" Jake asked him.
Hershberg shook free of Jake's grip. He circled the
wheelchair, stopping behind Chatman. "You know,
there's somebody else who should've minded his own
business, too."
The newsman frowned up at him. 4tWho you talking
about?"
"Her other great friend—Mel Winter. Doctor Mel
Winter."
Left eyebrow rising, Chatman told Jake, "Winter works
at the Centre."
"And how does he figure in this?"
Hershberg gave an impatient grunt. "He's the one
who got Sharon interested in this mess, told her about
what was worrying him," he said. "I think—I think Win-
ter even must've showed her some things while she was
there. That's what got her so upset, made her come
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William Shatner
running to Chatman here. A really dumb thing for her
to do."
Jake said, "You and the lady don't seem to share an
outlook on life."
"I've stuck with her through a lot of rough times," the
lean man assured him. "And while I'm not a trouble-
maker like your pal Chatman, I do hold decent, liberal
opinions. The thing is, the thing I kept trying to explain
to Sharon—you can believe in something but not get
yourself killed over it."
'Yeah, that's safer," said Chatman.
"Shit, c'mon. You know just about this whole state
is controlled by Farmboy," said the angry Hershberg.
"Sharon was dependent on them, same as I am. So it
just wasn't smart to—"
"Do you think your bosses are the ones who caused
her and her son to disappear?" Jake asked him.
Hershberg made an angry, spitting sound. "Hell, no,"
he said. "I'm not a hypocrite, Cardigan. If I thought that
they had anything to do with what's happened to her,
I'd go right straight to—"
"But you think it has something to do with Mentor?"
"Yes, even though she never gave me any details."
Chatman inquired, "What do the police have to say?"
"I didn't go to the police, I can't risk that," he
answered. "But when I heard the report that she was
missing, I decided to come here. Since you—"
"The best thing for you to do is go home and wait."
"That's very tough, just sitting around and—"
"Do it all the same," seconded Jake. "And don't men-
tion to anyone that you told us a damn thing."
164

"Buenos dias, Pop." Gomez went breezing by the robot
doorman, giving him a lazy salute, and headed for the
backstage area of Ferman's Cinema Palace.
"Just a darn minute, sonny," the chromeplated robot
called after him.
"Si?" He halted, shrugged his shoulders slightly and
turned to face the movie palace doorman.
"Where the dickens you think you're heading in such
an allfired hurry, young fella?"
"Oh, sorry, I should've introduced myself." The
curlyhaired detective knuckled his moustache and
smiled. "I'm part of Jacko Fuller's entourage."
"Well, then, why didn't you up and say so?" The robot
produced a tsking noise as he shook his silvery head.
"You people in the show business think you can come
waltzing into any old place you please and—"
165
23

William Shatner
"My apologies, Pop." Gomez continued on his way.
He located Dressing Room 3A, knocked and entered.
Bosco the agent was kneeling on the floor, both
tanned hands massaging the knee of the blond,
wavyhaired android. "C'mon, kid, give it another try."
"You're making too much of this, Wolfe," the hand-
some simulacrum told him. "Here's Gomez—let him be
the judge."
"Gomez doesn't know his fanny from a barn door."
"Sure, I do. Try me."
The agent urged the android, "Bend your damn leg
again, Jacko."
Jacko obliged. "Now ask Gomez for his honest opin-
ion."
"Gomez, meaning no slight, isn't savvy to this sort
of nuance." Wheezing slightly, Bosco made it to an
upright position. "You did hear it, didn't you, Gomez?"
"Give me some sort of clue."
"The creak," said the agent.
"Beg pardon?"
"The damn creaking his mechanical knee makes."
"Didn't notice it." Gomez shook his head.
"Now—about the material you said you'd collected
for me."
"See?" Jacko chuckled, pleased. "You're making too
much out of this, Wolfe."
Rotating to his right, the agent placed his hands on
Gomez's shoulders. "You just wandered in from the
outside, right?"
"That I did, si."
"And what did you notice out there?"
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Tek Secret
"Several hundred tourists waiting behind a rope."
"Exactly. All of them fans of Jacko's," explained the
unhappy Bosco. "Did you also perhaps happen to notice
a small rectangle of wet cement?"
"Nope, missed that. Let's get on to what you've gath-
ered for me, Wolfe."
"In a minute." Letting go of the detective, he eased
closer to his android client. 'Just a few moments from
now Jacko will be obliged to go out there and face that
clamorous crowd. He must not only put his famous
footprints but his handprints as well into that selfsame
wet cement."
"This is a real honor for me," put in Jacko, "since the
courtyard of Ferman's Cinema Palace is justly famous
for its collection of entertainment-world footprints,
handprints and—"
"Save the speech," his agent warned him. "The point,
Gomez, is that my boy creaks—his damn knee joint
makes a loud and distinct metallic creaking sound.
When his fans hear that, some of them, as nitwitted
as they are, will likely exclaim—'Holy Hannah, this
guy's not a human actor, he's nothing more than an
old brokedown andy.' Soon as that news gets around,
we're finished, washed up."
Gomez told him, "You're making a big fuss over a
small noise."
"Ah, then you did hear it?"
"No," lied Gomez. "Shall we get to the information
that I came here to pick up from you?"
Shrugging, gazing sadly down at his client's knee,
Bosco sighed. From an inner pocket of his flamboyant
167

William Shatner
plaid sportscoat he withdrew a packet. "Sheldon Gates
is indeed residing at his dear mother's spa." He handed
over the materials. "I got you, among other things, a
floorplan of the whole dump, with an X marking the
exact suite where Shel is lying low. I'll have to charge
you an extra $100 for the map."
"$50." Gomez unfurled the floorplan and slowly eyed
it. "And, by the way, what do all these cute little green
Xs you've drawn on this represent?"
"Oh, yeah, that's something else I better mention."
"I'd appreciate it."
"By the merest chance, there's a famous actor staying
there, too. Incog, doesn't want a soul to tumble to the
fact that, at the early age of twenty-two, he's already in
need of some serious rejuvenation," the agent explained.
"You—"
"Some of them live at such a fast pace." Jacko pursed
his lips in sympathy.
"Shut up and limber your knee."
"A little more narration, por favor, about these squig-
gles, Wolfe?"
"Well, those circles, Gomez, represent the extra
guards who are stationed at Madame Sonja's Longevity
Lodge. They're to keep out the press, fans and similar
scum."
Rolling up the plan, Gomez stroked his moustache
with it. "Who's the youthful star in question?"
"Carlos Taffy."
'Who's he?"
Jacko chuckled. "Only the hottest teensoap star
going," he supplied. "Haven't you ever viewed 'Hot-
spur Hi'?"
168

Tek Secret
"I keep meaning to, Jacko, but it's always on during
the hour I do my homework." Gomez put the papers
away, then scanned the ceiling for a few seconds. "A
means of access occurs to me—but it's going to call for
something drastic."
The agent squatted to tap his client's knee. "You
mean violence, Gomez?"
"Only violence to my sensibilities," he answered and
took his leave.
Dan Cardigan twisted again in his booth chair. He
glanced once more in the direction of the wide doorway
to the student lounge. For the fifth time there was no
sign of Molly Fine.
She was ten, make that eleven, minutes late so far.
Dan picked up his cup of citriblend, took an
absentminded sip, set the cup down again. The lounge,
which was called the Squad Room, was located atop the
central building of the SoCal State Police Academy.
The plastiglass ceiling was tinted a pale blue, and a
hard afternoon rain was hitting down on it.
"I'm sorry. Forgive me and so on. Don't take time
now to bitch and moan and otherwise complain, because
we have something important to discuss." Molly, a slim,
darkhaired girl of sixteen, slid into the booth across
from him. "I'm here—you can brighten up now,
Dan."
"Occupying myself for eleven, make that twelve, min-
utes with nothing but my thoughts and a cup of fruit
punch isn't my idea of—"
"I know how you hate to be separated from me for
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William Shatner
even a few minutes, but quit sulking," she advised. "Sit
up and pay attention."
"How come you were—"
"I'm late because I was talking on the vidphone."
"That doesn't cheer me up much."
"This was Norm Porter I was talking with."
"The large, handsome suntanned guy you used to
date?"
"We've stayed friends," Molly answered, nodding.
"What's important for you to grasp is that Norm is
presently in the Social Corps. He's stationed down in
the Venice Sector."
"That's where Gomez got roughed up."
"You're commencing to comprehend." Molly smiled,
reached across the table to pat his hand.
"If you'd come to the point right off, instead of dwell-
ing on the details of your old beau, I'd—"
"My old beau happens to know a girl named Jimalla
Keefer," continued Molly. "May I have part of your soy
danish?"
"Sure, take what's left."
"Thanks. I don't recall having lunch."
"Damn it, Molly, I keep telling you that you have to
eat at regular intervals or—"
"I'm always getting distracted is the problem." She
took a bite of the pastry. 'Jimalla is a member of the
therapy group down there that included Alicia Bow-
er."
'The woman my dad and Gomez are hunting for."
"You told me about the case this morning, so when
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Tek Secret
Norm—who isn't all that handsome, as a matter of fact,
though he's certainly tanned—when he mentioned he
knew somebody who knew something about a missing
woman named Alicia Bower and was wondering if he
ought to tell anyone, I told him to tell me."
"What does he know exactly?"
"Only that Jimalla knows something and is scared,"
she replied. "Now what we have to do is go talk to—"
"Wait. The last time, Molly, that we teamed up, we
came damn close to getting killed."
"You simply aren't taking statistics into consideration,
Dan. If you did, you'd realize that the odds are very
much against our nearly getting killed every time we
investigate something together."
"On top of which, I don't know if my dad would want
us to—"
"Didn't he say we made a great team? I heard him
myself."
"Maybe I'd better explain irony to you. What he was
really—"
"We have a date tonight, don't we?"
"Sure, yeah."
"Okay, since we don't have anything special
planned—well, we can go to Venice."
"And see Jimalla Keefer?"
"Norm says he can probably arrange a meeting.
Jimalla is scared, but apparently she's also eager to
confide in somebody official—and we come close to
being official."
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William Shatner
"Not that close," he said. "Do we have to see Norm,
too?"
Smiling, she held her thumb and forefinger about
an inch apart. "Only for a very short span of time," she
promised.
"Okay," Dan decided, "we'll go."
172

pausing to catch his breath, Gomez scanned the broad
lobby of the LaBrea Arms Hotel. Then he muttered,
"Esta bien," and went trotting across the flowered car-
peting toward the robot-staffed desk.
Natalie Dent, a flush commencing to touch her face,
was just turning away from one of the white-suited
clerkbots. "Suppose, you weasel," said the redhaired
reporter on sighting Gomez, "you explain why you're
not registered at this hotel?"
Before he responded, the detective struggled a bit
more with the contrite expression he was trying to
affect. "Ah, I thought perhaps you were confused." He
took hold of her arm.
"When people lie to me, even lowlifes as habitually
unreliable as you, Gomez, it has a tendency to confuse
me, yes," she told him as she retrieved her arm.
173
24

William Shatner
"I admit, chica, that this misunderstanding was maybe
my fault. Afterall, running into you again by chance was
such a stimulating surprise that I haven't been thinking
as clearly as—"
"Malarkey. You wanted to ditch me, as is often your
habit, so you handed me a fake—"
"Were I so eager to ditch you, cara, why then am I
here dancing attendance on you?"
Natalie halted, placed her hands on her hips and
studied him. "It's probable that, after lying to me and
sending me on a wild-goose chase, you must've decided
that there was some further way you could still exploit
my pathetic, naive and illplaced fondness for you."
He denied her accusation with a shake of his head
and an injured smile. "Let me be honest with you."
"Ha! That'd be a first."
"I truly, es verdad, intended to have dinner with you,"
he insisted. "But, rattled as I was, I gave you not the name
of the hotel I was residing at but rather the name of the
hotel where I wanted to take you dining."
"The LaBrea doesn't happen to have a dining
room."
"Well, then I was even more rattled than I thought."
He caught her arm again, guided her in the direction
of a doorway. "The important thing is that I realized
my error and rushed over here in time to catch you,
Nat. We're together and we'll be able to spend a few
precious moments with each other."
"A few moments? Dinner, at least the way I dine,
usually takes more than a—"
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Tek Secret
"I myself was looking ahead to a tete-a-tete of several
long, pleasant hours," he assured her as they left the
lobby and hit the sunbright street. "I'm assuming, how-
ever, that you'll want to go rushing off."
"Why, in heaven's name, would I rush off? Unless,
which is, I'm afraid, highly unlikely, I suddenly came to
my senses and realized that I was wasting my time and
damaging my reputation by being in your disreputable
company?"
"Oh, I figured because of the scoop."
"What scoop?"
"The one growing out of the major news tip I'm about
to pass on to you," he explained.
The late-afternoon rain was pelting the plazdome that
sheltered the wide oval landing area next to Bernard
Zangerly's mansion in the Redondo Sector of Great-
er LA. Roger sat for a moment in his just-landed
skycar, gazing absently downhill toward the choppy
grey ocean.
Sighing, the husky man eased out of his car. Left eye
narrowing, he stood watching his father's house. The
low, sprawling home looked especially dark and gloomy
this afternoon.
The neowood front door swung open before his foot
even hit the first red plaztile step.
"Good afternoon, Master Roger," came a metallic
voice from within the shadowy foyer.
Climbing the seven red steps and crossing the thresh-
old, Roger said, "You need a tuneup, Lofting. Anyone
over thirty isn't Master anymore."
175

William Shatner
"You'll always be a lad to me, sir." The butler was
an early Mechanix model, nearly twenty-five years old,
silverplated and dressed in a crisp black suit. "If I may say
so, Master Roger, we don't see you at all often enough
these days."
"I wouldn't even be here now, except that Dad appar-
ently left the office early today. Is he all right?"
The old robot tapped his metal chest. "Bit of a cold,
sir."
"I have to talk to him."
'You'll find him in his den. I was unable to persuade
him to go to bed."
Patting the robot on the shoulder, Roger moved along
the hallway to the second door on his left. He halted,
knocking.
"Yes, come on in, Rog."
His father didn't look especially well. His thin face had
an odd bluish tinge to it and the shadows beneath the
eyes seemed deeper than usual. He was sitting behind
his desk, stiffly upright in the metal chair.
To the left of the desk was a small bank of monitor
screens, one of which offered a view of the front steps.
"You look rotten," observed Roger as he sat in a chair
facing the desk.
"Thanks, son."
"Okay, I need to talk to you." He nodded at the bank
of small screens. "Turn all that stuff off so—"
"What exactly is bothering you?"
"I'd like privacy before I go on, Dad." From a coat
pocket he took the small bug-detector. "If you don't
mind, I'll—"
176

Tek Secret
'Well, certainly I mind, Roger." Bernard flicked off
the monitors and the screens died. "This room isn't
otherwise bugged. Trust me."
Roger hesitated, then allowed the gadget to drop back
away into a pocket. "I'd hoped to have a chance to catch
you at work," he said. "But maybe this is better."
"Is it Barry? Is your brother—"
"He's fine—fine considering all that's happened to
me. But in a way this does have to do with him."
Bernard leaned back in his chair. "I'm actually," he
confided, "not feeling all that well."
"Sorry to hear that, but there are some important
questions that I absolutely have to ask."
"If this is another quarrel between you and poor Barry
concerning Alicia, then perhaps—"
"Actually, Dad, it's about the Alicia android," his son
cut in. "See, I've been doing some checking in the
Mechanix files and it turns out you're the one who
authorized Rob Stinson to activate the Alicia Bower
simulacrum that's kept stored at—"
"You don't have access to any of those files."
"Sure, I do." Roger smiled thinly. "Give me credit for
knowing a few tricks, huh?"
"But you're absolutely not supposed to go poking
into—"
"Let's stick to the point, Dad. Just why did you order
this guy to activate that andy? Was it used in some kind
of scheme to—"
"Are you saying that your father is involved in—"
"I'm saying that I want to know, have to know, what
the hell has been going on," he told him. "Alicia, I realize
177

William Shatner
now, is in some sort of serious trouble. Trouble that has
spilled over and already hurt Barry." He rose up out of
his chair, jabbed a finger in his father's direction. "Me,
I'm aware, you've never much given a shit about. But,
hey, I thought you liked Barry. How could you let those
bastards work him over?"
"Ah, that's what's really annoying you, isn't it, Roger?
Your half-assed notion that I favor him over—"
"Forget that—just tell me about Rob Stinson."
Bernard shut his eyes for a few seconds. "All right, this
is the truth," he said, opening them. "Stinson, who has,
I might add, now taken off for lord knows where, forged
all those authorizations, every damn one of them. He
must have had some kind of crooked scheme in mind,
possibly to take advantage of Alicia's disappearance, but
I have absolutely—"
"Bullshit. You phoned the guy at least a half dozen
times."
"Yes, but that was after I suspected that he was up to
something."
Roger backed away from the desk, eyes on his father.
"You're in on this, aren't you?" he said in a low, rasping
voice. 'Jesus, I'm not even sure what the hell is in the
works, but you know the whole fucking deal."
"I'm not in on a damn thing," insisted Bernard. "You
have no right to come here and accuse me, curse me
and—"
"Sorry, Dad, but I just don't trust you." He made his
way to the door. "But—listen, I'm warning you. I mean
to find out what is going on and just what you have to
178

Tek Secret
do with it." He turned, left the room and slammed
the door.
Bernard shook his head sadly, then nodded up at a
spot on the righthand wall. "Did you hear all that?" he
asked.
179

Sam Trinity stepped through the bright blue wall.
As the panel slid quietly shut behind him, he smoothed
the jacket of his creamcolored suit with the fingers of
the gunmetal hand he was wearing. The realeather
case he was carrying in his other hand rattled slightly
as he set it down on the white chair next to the bright
orange cot.
Sharon Harker gave a gasping moan, sitting up on
the cot. Turning slowly away from the wall, she saw the
redhaired OCO agent standing before her. "I'm not,"
she said in a weak, worndown voice, "going to tell you
anything else."
"Sure you are, sweet." Reaching out with his metal
fingers, he brushed a curl of blonde hair back from her
pale forehead. "Sure you are, so there's no use acting
like you aren't."
181
25

William Shatner
She tucked her bare legs up under her, pressing her
slim back to the bright blue wall. She was wearing only
a wrinkled medical gown, bright yellow in color, and it
had several stains spread across the front.
Trinity held up his gunmetal hand toward her. "I
didn't use this one on you before, hon," he pointed
out to her. 'This is a brand-new one, far as you're
concerned. How are you feeling this afternoon?"
Sharon didn't answer.
Trinity said, "You're an intelligent woman, Dr.
Harker. I don't especially like intelligent women myself,
even pretty ones like you. But it's my conclusion, based
on a hell of a lot of experience, that intelligent women
are capable, much more capable than the dumb broads
I usually socialize with, of learning from their experi-
ences." Leaning, he spread out the dark fingers of his
metallic hand about six inches from her bare knee.
"When I ask you a direct question, sweet, I require
an answer. Do you remember my telling you that this
morning? About how when I asked you something, I
expected an answer each time?"
Not looking up at him, she said, "Yes."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, sir."
"Yes, sir, what?"
"Yes, sir, Mr. Trinity."
"See? That's not too difficult." He lifted his hand from
the cot and reached for the realeather case. "I brought
you something to look at."
"More hands?"
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Tek Secret
Trinity smiled. "You also seem to have forgotten that
I don't like smartass replies. Did you forget that, Dr.
Harker? Did you forget that I don't like smartass
replies?"
"I must have."
"Must have, what?"
"Mr. Trinity, sir."
The case gave a harsh, rattling snap as he popped it
open. "I brought you a nice picture to look at," said the
government agent. "Here, take it."
Very slowly she held out her left hand.
"I didn't know you were lefthanded, Dr. Harker. Are
you lefthanded?"
"No."
"No, what?"
"I'm not lefthanded, Mr. Trinity."
"Then why not use your right hand?"
"It's hurt."
"Oh, yeah, I remember now." He gave her the
photo.
After she'd looked at it for a half a minute or so,
Sharon let it drop to the bright orange fabric of the
cot. "You son of a bitch."
"I know, hon, I also warned you about calling me
names," he said quietly. "But, hell, we'll let that pass
for now. Let it pass because you seem to be upset for
some reason."
"What. . . what's wrong with Sean?"
"Is that your son's name? Is his name Sean?"
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
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William Shatner
"Yes, sir, Mr. Trinity, my son's name is Sean. What
have you done to him?"
"I haven't done a damn thing to the little darling."
He scooped up the picture with his metal fingers.
"He's unconscious in that photo."
"You sure? I think he's maybe only sleeping. Taking,
you know, a nap. Kids, little kids, are always snoozing,
all the time taking naps." Trinity returned the picture
to his case and flipped the lid shut. "I'll tell you where he
is, though. Would you like to know where Sean is?"
"Yes, sir, I would."
"He's right here in this very same building. Yeah, little
Sean is right here in the Mentor Psych Centre. He's right
inside the place you've been so damn curious about, Dr.
Harker." Trinity smiled at her. "He's up in the Surgical
Wing."
"Surgical? What—"
"They're going to operate on the little guy," he
explained. "They're going to try some of what they
call exploratory surgery. First on his stomach, then on
his chest. Then maybe—"
"What's wrong with him?"
"Nothing at all." Leaning closer, he laughed. "Did
you happen to notice that I'm wearing a light suit for
this visit?"
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, I saw that you have on a light-colored suit. What
does that—"
"If you thought about that for a minute, you'd figure
it out," he suggested to her. "You'd probably conclude
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Tek Secret
that I don't do much direct inquiring when I'm dressed
like this. The reason for that being that I don't want to
get my suit dirty. So I have no intention of doing you
any physical harm, sweet."
"It's Sean. You're going to—"
"No, I'm not. But some of Dr. Spearman's people are
eager to get to work on little Sean. They want to take a
look at some of your kid's insides, see how various new
surgical gear will work out. One of these sawbones, not
a guy I much care for, has been after me to let him do
a side study on how kids can stand pain. I told him I
probably wouldn't let him go that far."
"You can't—"
"I can okay anything I want, Dr. Harker. Do you
understand the situation you're in?"
"What do you want?"
"I just have some questions, a few more questions."
Her breath exhaled out in a low, sad sigh. "Ask
them."
Trinity lifted the case off the chair and sat down. "You
told me about Cardigan this morning, about how you
intended to meet him," he said. "Now I have to know
who your source of information inside Mentor is."
She looked directly at the government agent. "And
you won't hurt Sean?"
Trinity's smiled widened. "I'll be much less likely to,"
he said.
185

A robot fell over out in the hall. It made a loud, rattling,
thunking sound and the wall of Chatman's parlor gave a
sympathetic shudder.
Jake jumped to his feet, snapping his stungun out of
its holster.
The door clicked several times, then came flapping
open.
"Surrender your weapon, please, Mr. Cardigan." The
lean black man in the doorway wore a conservative
grey suit. In his left hand he held a lazgun, in his
right he clutched a sheaf of official-looking papers.
"I'm Quincy McCanyon of the Federal Oversight
Bureau."
Jake eyed him for a few seconds, then let his stungun
fall to the floor. "Why the hell are you busting in
on a—"
187
26

William Shatner
"If you'll just scan these various forms, Mr. Cardigan,
you'll find that I have complete authorization for all my
actions."
"McCanyon," mused Chatman from his wheelchair.
"Yeah, I heard of this guy. Putz was the term came up
most often."
The FOB agent glanced, very briefly, at the newsman.
"I've heard a good deal about you, too, Mr. Chatman,"
he informed him. "Dangerous radical is the phrase most
often used to describe you."
Jake had been looking over the assortment of forms.
"You intend to take me into custody, McCanyon?"
'There's simply been a request from Washington
to question you, Mr. Cardigan," explained the agent,
reclaiming the handful of papers. "This, as Order 203/X
clearly states, is most certainly not an arrest. We're only
escorting you to—"
"Trinity," muttered Chatman, rolling himself over to
the doorway to take a look out into the hall. "I'll bet
you that redheaded motherhumper is behind this."
"You'd be absolutely wrong there, Mr. Chatman."
"Shit, one of my guardbots is all bunged up, lying
there on his tin ass."
"Perhaps you ought to instruct them to respond more
quickly to an official entry order," suggested the govern-
ment agent. "Now then, Mr. Cardigan, if you'll prepare
yourself to accompany me."
Chatman shut the door. "You don't have to go
with him," he told Jake. "We'll get Georgia Petway
over here to throw a spanner in this putz's plans
and—"
188

Tek Secret
"My orders can't be set aside," said McCanyon impa-
tiently as he tucked the papers away inside his grey
jacket. "Now, Mr. Cardigan, if you'd be good enough
to come away with me. Our regional office is—"
All at once his elbows snapped against his sides and
his fingers spread wide, his lazgun flipped free and
plummeted to the floor.
A beam had come sizzling from the stungun built into
the right arm of Chatman's chair and hit the government
agent square in the midsection.
As the unconscious McCanyon dropped to the floor,
Jake dived and grabbed up the lazgun. 'That, Joe, is an
extremely efficient chair," he observed, retrieving his
stungun and tucking it away.
"Friend of mine helped me modify it some." He
touched a spot on the left arm of the chair and a
panel in the far wall slid quietly open. "You best get
your butt on out of here, Jake. Go down that staircase
yonder and you'll come out at street level about a half
block from here. Then you—"
"What about him?" He nudged the collapsed FOB
agent in the side with his boot toe.
"I got a friend who'll help me get this putz transported
elsewhere and kept out of action for awhile," Chatman
assured him. "You got Georgia's address, don't you? Get
over there and see can she help you to run down Dr.
Mel Winter."
"I want to talk to him, yeah. But are you sure
you—"
"Age has really slowed you down. Used to be you did
more moving and less talking."
189

William Shatner
While crossing to the opening in the parlor wall, Jake
paused to set the lazgun carefully in his friend's lap.
"Thanks, Joe. I really—"
"Get going, get going," urged Chatman. "Before more
assholes come here looking for you."
190

the small maglev truck floated smoothly and swiftly
through the dimlit tunnel. Natalie and Gomez were
sharing the cab with a copperplated robot driver. The
bot wore a coverall with Hedley's Youth Rejuvenator Beam
stenciled across the chest; the redhaired reporter held
her vidcam across her knees.
"Explain to me again, since I still fail to comprehend
your motives," she was saying.
The detective, who was jammed between her and the
bulky truckdriver, replied, "I am merely tagging along
to keep you company, chiquita."
"The way you rushed through dinner, I got the impres-
sion you couldn't bear to spend much—"
"That's just it. I realized I'd given you a false impres-
sion, simply because I was anxious that you be the
first show-business reporter to interview the illustrious
191
27

William Shatner
Carlos Taffy," he explained. "Therefore, to prove my
continuing interest in you, I decided to accompany
you. And it'll be educational to watch a crackerjack
investigative journalist go after a—"
"Oh, hogwash. Interviewing this vapid adolescent
ninny is important to me solely because it'll impress
my thickheaded bosses, but it's certainly no great intel-
lectual or reportorial feat."
"The way you quickly arranged to get us into the
bowels of this satellite, then rigged a ride in this
delivery vehicle bound for the very heart of Madame
Sonja's—that impressed me, Nat."
The big coppery robot observed, "I think this doof is
handing you a line, sister."
"Concentrate on your driving," advised Gomez.
'The truck takes care of that, bud. I'm mostly along
for show."
"It's starting to dawn on me," said Natalie. "What a
dolt I am, Gomez, for not seeing to the core of your
feeble little ruse before this."
"Eh?"
"Certainly, you have to get inside the spa on the sly
and you, knowing that I can be manipulated for your
selfish ends, concocted a yarn that would—"
"Momentito, Nat," he broke in. "Carlos Taffy Presiding
at the lodge under an assumed name. You established
that before you used your connections to arrange our
sneaky entry. Therefore, you can't accuse—"
"Oh, yes, that simp is here and I'll do my interview. But
you, cunning scoundrel that you are, you have an alto-
gether different motive for accompanying me here."
192

Tek Secret
"Want I should put the slug on him for you, lady?"
"No, it makes me queasy whenever somebody gives
him a beating he usually richly deserves."
Gomez assumed a contrite expression. "Well, okay,
Natalie," he said in an apologetic tone, "I'll admit that
I do have another small reason for wanting to slip inside
Madame Sonja's establishment unnoticed."
"Exactly as I suspected. It has, I've no doubt, to do with
the case that brought you up here to New Hollywood
in the first place. The case that you've been thus far so
secretive about."
"It is that very case, si," he confessed. "You see, cara,
there's a wellknown civic official from Greater Los
Angeles who took off with a satchel full of important
infodiscs. They contain information that certain of his
colleagues back home don't want to have to buy back
from him. I only hours ago learned that he was lying
low at the lodge."
"And that's why you wanted me to help you sneak
around the guards and security people?"
Gomez nodded. "I didn't tell you earlier, because I
feared you'd ferret the lad out on your own and break
the story to the world. That would've screwed up me
and the Cosmos agency and—"
"Why, Gomez, dear, all you had to do, and I'm really
surprised that you haven't realized that about me in all
the many years that we've known each other—all you
had to do was ask me to lay off the story until you had
your man."
"Really? Well, how did I get such a wrong impression
of you?"
193

William Shatner
"While I'm interviewing Carlos Taffy, you go right
ahead and apprehend your blackmailer," she told him.
"We'll meet back here in this tunnel afterwards. If you're
ready to share any details, why that'll be plenty of time
for me to file a story and impress Newz, Inc. with the
fact that I'm still an ace reporter."
"Terrific, Nat, I'll do just that."
Smiling, she turned on the seat and slipped an arm
around his neck. She pulled herself, gently, nearer and
kissed Gomez on the cheek. "No hard feelings," she
assured him.
"You're making a mistake, sis," said the robot.
The dusty white dog, a small scruffy mutt, was standing
wide-legged on a weedy patch of dry lawn at the center
of the dimlit courtyard. He was barking enthusiastically
at the dented, rattling robot who was attempting to mow
the grass.
"Leave me be," complained the battered bot.
On the red plaztile porch of Cottage 3 of the Venice
Vista Apartment Court sat a plump young woman in
her early twenties. She had a woebegone set of Tek
gear, including a dirty Brainbox and a bent headset,
arranged on the top step beside her. There was an old
unplugged guitar spread across her wide lap and she
was laughing at the unhappy robot gardener.
"Norm thinks it's important to live among the people
he's working with," explained Molly as she and Dan
made their way along the white gravel path that circled
the courtyard.
194

Tek Secret
"Beat it, darn you," the robot warned the yapping
little mutt.
When the plump woman laughed again, her guitar
went falling off her lap.
"Norm's back in Cottage 8."
"I'm wondering," said Dan, tightening his grip on her
hand, "how smart it was to come down here."
"This is good practice," she said.
All at once up ahead in Cottage 8 someone cried out
in pain.
"Tell us! C'mon, you putz!" shouted someone else.
Letting go of Molly's hand, Dan started running for
Norm Porter's cottage.
"Wait now." She ran, too, catching up with him and
then reaching under her skirt. "We can use this." Her
right hand reappeared holding a small stungun.
"Where'd you get—"
"Watch him, look out!" came another voice from
within the cottage.
The door of the place came flapping open. A tall
suntanned young man, his face battered and bloody,
dived out into the night.
"Norm," gasped Molly.
Another young man, thickset and shaggy, appeared
in the open doorway.
"Leave him alone," warned Molly, clutching her
stungun in both hands and aiming it up at him.
"Hell with you, bitch." The shaggy young man started
to come down the steps.
Then a large hand grabbed him from behind and
yanked him back into the house. "Time to go, asshole!"
195

William Shatner
Norm had managed to come stumbling down the
stairs. "They wanted . . . wanted to know where ..."
"Easy, take it easy." Dan lunged, caught the bloody
social worker before he toppled over.
'They want Jimalla," Norm was able to get out before
he dropped into unconsciousness.
Roger Zangerly was in an office where he wasn't sup-
posed to be. It was long after closing time and this wing
of the Mechanix International complex was quiet and
deserted. The night lights made everything seem pale
green.
Roger was sitting at a desk he wasn't supposed to
be sitting at, using a computer terminal he wasn't
authorized to use. He also wasn't supposed to have
knowledge of the access procedures he'd used to get
at the Security Division files.
"Okay," he was requesting, "give me the current
whereabouts of Alicia Bower."
The computer remained silent for nearly ten sec-
onds. Then it said, "May we have your ID code again,
please?"
"Sure, it's 1343K-JSG-94702."
"Thank you." Another ten seconds of silence followed.
"We have no information on Alicia Bower, sorry."
"Shit." Roger drummed his fingers on the desk top.
"Okay, then how about Rob Stinson—where can he be
found?"
"Forgive us, but can you repeat your ID code
again?"
"I just did that. Why don't you—"
196

Tek Secret
"Once more, if you would, please."
"1343K-JSG-94702. Make a note this time, huh?"
"That's fine," said the metallic voice of the computer.
"We'll have your information for you very soon. If you'll
just remain right there until—"
"I think not, no." Feeling suddenly uneasy, Roger
popped free of the chair and went sprinting for the
doorway.
He made it out into the greenlit night corridor beyond
and stood listening for a moment. Everything was as
quiet as it had been earlier.
But he decided it was time to get the hell out of the
building. There had been something slightly offkilter
about his encounter with the security computer.
Walking rapidly along the curving corridor, he came
to the doorway that led over to his wing of the complex.
The thick metal door would no longer open to his
touch.
Roger punched out an emergency code on the con-
trol panel next to the reluctant door. It still would not
slide aside.
He turned, started back the way he'd come. He was
running now.
There was another corridor that branched off this
one, and the door leading to it opened with no
trouble.
He still ought to be able to get himself clear of this
damn wing.
But the door at the end of this corridor refused
to open.
Roger backtracked.
197

William Shatner
He found another exit, headed along another shad-
owy passage.
Another frozen door, another sidetrack.
He stopped finally, leaned back against a pale-green
wall. "I'm starting," he admitted to himself, "to get
somewhat confused."
He was no longer certain in which direction his part
of the Mechanix complex lay.
The corridor he was now in didn't look at all familiar.
And there were no signs or direction lights anywhere.
Taking a deep breath, he started moving again.
He located a new doorway on his right. It opened
for him.
This was a large, dimlit display room. There were
thirteen low pedestals circling the room and on each
stood, silent and unmoving, a Mechanix medical robot
or android.
"This must be the Medix Wing," he told himself. "So I
ought to be able to get back to my office from here."
He started across the room.
"Poor Mr. Zangerly."
He stopped, looking around.
A husky nursebot had stepped off a pedestal and was
hurrying toward him. "You don't look at all well."
"Actually I'm fine. All you have to do is point me in
the direction of my—"
"You're all feverish."
"That's just from running. It's—"
"What a pity." The big robot caught hold of him.
"You'll feel a whole lot better after this shot."
198

you could see the place glowing, a harsh, throbbing
red, from blocks away. It covered over two full acres of
ground, was built of great panes of flashing plastiglass
and resembled a gigantic barn. Floating above it was a
huge lightsign that flashed its name—the barn—into
the surrounding night. At least a dozen skycars were
approaching the acre of landing area and land vehi-
cles were rolling into the equally large parking area
beyond that.
"Impressive, huh?" inquired Georgia, punching out
a landing pattern on her skycar's dash. "Subtle, too."
"Explain this setup a little more," requested Jake.
"The Barn is a sort of entertainment mall for the local
sodkickers and faux sodkickers," she answered. "But
underneath you'll find a warren of assorted criminal
enterprises. Many of them are known to the law, but
199
28

William Shatner
ignored because of a flourishing system of bribes and
kickbacks."
The skycar set down, shimmying slightly, next to
a skyvan that had been redesigned to resemble an
immense ear of corn.
"And you're sure Dr. Mel Winter is going to be under
here someplace?"
"Damn near sure." She climbed free of the car.
'When you asked me to get a lead as to his current
whereabouts, I asked around. Supposedly the good
doctor is here, waiting to get himself shipped out of
the country. Apparently he's got a bug up his rear and
wants to get clear of Farmland before he disappears like
Sharon Harker."
There was noise and music pouring out of The Barn.
The entire landing area and the walkways leading to the
arched entrances were bathed with a pulsing red by the
blazing lights of the walls.
"It's going to be fifty bucks a head," Georgia told him.
"You got that much?"
He grinned. "The agency is generous with expense
money."
A tall, automated scarecrow stood at the doorway.
"Fifty smackers each," it demanded of each customer.
When Jake placed $100 in Banx chits in the
scarecrow's gloved hand, it said, "Much obliged,
stranger. You and the little lady make yourselves to
home."
"Shucks," said Jake.
"We got to head over this way." Georgia took his arm
and guided him to the left.
200

Tek Secret
They passed an enormous woodplank dance floor
that held several hundred squaredancers. Up on a plat-
form, electrified downhome music was being played by
a quintet of big copperplated robots dressed in overalls
and straw hats. Painted on the face of the bass drum was
Granpappy Gitfiddle & His Hired Hands.
As they passed the floor, a heavyset young man took
a stumble, fell off onto the walkway in their path. He
had Farmboy Industries—Feeding America from the Heart
of Farmland inscribed across the back of his jacket in
globolts.
Bending, Jake helped him to his feet. "That's one of
my favorite slogans."
"Huh?" The heavyset youth blinked. "You looking for
trouble, outlander?"
"Heck no."
"C'mon." Georgia hurried Jake along. "Don't get into
no ruckuses with the yokels."
"Shucks, I was just trying to be neighborly, ma'am."
Great smashing noises were coming from up ahead
on their right, along with booming explosions and huge
swirls of sooty smoke. The walkway ^ound by a large,
open arena where a sizeable crowd was watching a demo-
lition derby involving a score of antique pickup trucks.
Georgia remarked, "We got quite a night life in these
parts."
"So I'm experiencing."
She guided him down a side passway. "We got to go
in here first off."
There was a barn within The Barn, a big red
structure made of neowood. Over the wide entrance
201

William Shatner
hung a wooden sign announcing hayloft whore-
house.
"Howdy, folks," greeted the barefooted robot sitting
on a bale of straw just to the right of the door. "What
can I do ya for this evenin'? We got three under-age
virgins—humans I mean to say—along with our usu-
al exceptional run of accommidatin' andies of every
gender."
Georgia leaned close to him. "We come on busi-
ness, Zeke," she told the robot. "The frost is on the
pumpkin."
"Ah, I got ya." He tapped the side of his metal nose
with his silvery forefinger. "Go right on in, missy, and
take the door to the Feed Room. This here young feller
with you?"
"Yep."
"Okay, get on in with ya. Too bad, mister, you're
on business. We don't get virgins every night, I can
tell ya."
Beyond the Feed Room door a dimlit ramp led them
down beneath the barn. At the end of that was another
door. Passing through that doorway brought them into
a long, curving metal corridor.
When they reached the heavy door at the corridor's
end, a portion of the wall on their right turned trans-
parent and revealed a small, brightlit room.
A blond young man was sitting in a rocker with
a lazrifle resting across his knees. "Yeah?" came his
amplified voice.
"The frost is on the pumpkin," called out Georgia in
his direction.
202

Tek Secret
"Oaky doaks."
The wall blanked and the door slid open.
The next corridor was longer, narrower and better
illuminated. At its end stood a small, pale man in a
baggy green suit.
He was shifting nervously from foot to foot. "Evening
to you, Georgia dear."
"Hi, Ryder," she said. "So can we talk to Dr. Winter
now?"
Ryder shifted from foot to foot a few more times and
made a disgruntled noise. "Afraid you're going to have
a wait, hon," he told her. 'The crazy fool just tried to
do the dutch."
'Tried to kill himself?"
"Damned if he didn't. Soon as we finish pumping him
out and shooting him up with antidotes, you can give it
a try," he said forlornly. "But I can't promise he'll ever
be in any shape to talk to you folks."
"Shit," observed Jake.
203

GOMEZ THRUST HIS stungun back away into his shoulder
holster. Squatting, he took hold of the disabled grey
guardbot by its metallic armpits and dragged it away
from the spot behind the high holographic hedge where
it had been on duty and into the narrow, quirky alley
between the two modest villas.
Approaching the bright green simulated hedge again,
he scanned the artificial turf. "Sin falta. . . here's the
secsystem control panel."
He knelt, took a small tool kit out of his pocket.
Deftly he removed the small panel that covered the
alarm system controls. In a little less than six minutes
he had shut down the whole setup that protected the
villa where Sheldon Gates was hiding out.
Pocketing the kit, Gomez eased through the simulated
hedge and approached the blank yellow wall of the villa.
205
29

William Shatner
As he'd anticipated, the opaque plastiglass door
marked service entry didn't make any warning noises
when he jobbed the lock mechanism.
Slowly and carefully he shoved the door open. The
aircirc system was pumping a mixture strongly tinged
with the scent of wild flowers into the long blank corridor
that Gomez stepped into.
He stopped still, stood listening.
". . . an International Drug Control Agency spokes-
man reports a successful raid on a Tek chip processing
plant in the TriState complex earlier today . . ."A deep,
slick voice was intoning the news in a nearby room.
Going by the floorplan he'd memorized, the newscast
was coming from the lower recroom.
And it seemed likely that the fugitive Shel was in there
now, filling himself in on the events of the day.
Gomez remained where he was, bringing his stungun
out into the open once again.
. . the President today signed into law the final
Brazil War veterans benefits package ..."
Nodding, the detective started along the hallway.
He walked silently to the door of the lower recroom.
Reaching out with his free hand, he took hold of the
handle.
He shoved the panel open and ducked across the
threshold, gun ready.
"Greetings from the folks back home, Shel," he said,
pointing his stungun at the blond, sunbrown fugitive.
Sheldon Gates had been sprawled in an armchair,
watching the vidwall. He was some five feet from the
detective.
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Tek Secret
"Yow!" he exclaimed. Then, somewhat to Gomez's
surprise, Gates leaped from his chair, came charging
straight at him and butted him hard in the stomach
with his closecropped head.
A chill night wind was blowing in across the dark Pacif-
ic. The realwood sign dangling from the slanting shin-
gle roof of the Oceanfront People's Clinic was rattling
and creaking.
On the cracked sidewalk near the doorway a neon-
trimmed robot was hawking soydogs and lentilburgers.
"You are what you eat," he croaked, his body flashing
crimson, golden, then sea blue.
Skirting him, Dan and Molly entered the clinic.
In the reception room a motherly robot in a flowered
apron was sitting in a rocker, embroidering a hand
towel. "My gracious, you two lambs are all splattered
with blood." The robot jumped to her feet. "Whatever
on earth has—"
"It's not our blood," explained Dan. "A friend of ours
was beaten up."
"We just came from dropping him at the Emergency
Wing," added Molly.
"I think maybe Dr. Moreno can help us," said Dan.
"Well, now, I just bet he can. You poor things wait
right here while I fetch the—"
"What's the row about, Moms?" Dr. Harry Moreno
came lumbering into the room, a mug of steaming herb
tea clutched in his hand.
"Dr. Moreno?" said Dan, stepping toward him. "I'm
Dan Cardigan and this is Molly Fine. My father is
207

William Shatner
Jake Cardigan and he's an operative with the Cosmos
Detective—"
"Yeah, I've heard of him. Matter of fact, I was chatting
with his partner, Sid Gomez, only—"
"I know. My dad told me quite a lot about this case
they're working on."
"Does this mess you seem to be in have something to
do with Alicia Bower, too?"
4<We think so," answered Molly. "And maybe with
Jimalla Keefer."
'Jim? How does she—"
"Here's what's been going on," said Dan and told
the bearded therapist why he and Molly had come to
the Venice Sector and some of what had happened to
Norm Porter.
Molly added, "Norm told us that those goons wanted
to know where they could find Jimalla. And they didn't
want him or anybody else to talk to her before they
found her."
"Damn, sounds like Jim's in trouble again." Moreno
scratched at his grey-tinged beard.
"I was hoping, since you know her pretty well, that
you might have some idea where Jimalla'd be likely to
hide out," said Dan hopefully. "It's important to find
her before those guys do."
Nodding, Moreno set the mug down on the reception
desk. "I know a couple of places we can look," he told
them.
"You shouldn't have bopped me so hard," complained
Gates, who was back sprawled in his chair and rubbing
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Tek Secret
at the side of his head. "I was simply manifesting what's
known as the Trapped Rat Syndrome. That involves
unreasoning panic and an irrational attempt at flight
even though the odds are—"
"What say we get down to specifics, lest you next
experience the wellknown Boot in the Ass Syndrome?"
Gomez, stungun in hand, was perched on the arm of
the bright orange plastiglass sofa.
Gates rubbed at his head again, wincing. "The brain,
you know, is a delicate—"
"I'm deeply interested in your brain," the detective
assured him. "Especially in what it can recall about the
events leading up to your rather hasty departure from
Greater LA."
"I didn't kill Ford Jaspers."
"Oh, so?"
Shifting in his chair, Gates said, "You're looking at me
as though you don't accept my innocence, Sid. That's
because, unfortunately, I tend to give off an aura of
culpability even when I'm perfectly—"
"So who did knock off the old ham?"
Gates glanced up at the ceiling. "Despite my career,
I have a very difficult time snitching on others," he
confided. "It goes back, I believe, to an incident in
my childhood when my dear mom, through no fault
of her own—"
"Who did it, Shel?"
"Well," said Gates quietly, "it was Myra Ettinger."
'The acting CEO of Mechanix International—how
did that come about?"
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William Shatner
Gates took a deep breath and held it for a few sec-
onds. Sighing out air, he said, "Let me backtrack a bit
so that—"
"Not all the way to your childhood again, por favor."
"No, this is about why I joined Dr. Moreno's therapy
group," he explained. 'You know, it's sad that I didn't
get into something like that long ago. I got some real
insights into my own tangled—"
"Somebody hired you to sit in, didn't they?"
"Right, yes. That was Myra. She knew . . . well, it
shames me some to admit this, Sid, but I have a
reputation as an undercover operative and—"
"A spy and a sneak."
"A harsh term, yet apt. Anyway, Myra approached me
and arranged for me to get into the same sessions that
Alicia Bower was attending."
"And why was that?"
"They wanted to know what was troubling her, what
she was talking about in front of the others." He rubbed
at his head yet again. "They were afraid she was going
to remember something."
"Who's they?"
"Well, it's Myra for certain and a fellow I saw a couple
times named Bernard Zangerly. I'm not sure, but I firmly
believe it's also her father, Alicia's father. All of them
Mechanix people, of course."
"What exactly were they afraid she was on the brink
of remembering?"
"I don't know that, Sid. I mean, if they told me what
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Tek Secret
it was, then I'd know, too, and be as dangerous to them
as Alicia was. Right?"
"If she was so dangerous, why not just kill her instead
of spying on her?"
"I think Myra would've, but her father wouldn't allow
anything like that, you see. He loved her I guess,
although parental love, as I know well, can sometimes
take strange and quirky turnings as it—"
"What was wrong with the lady's memory—amne-
sia?"
Gates shook his head. "Well, amnesia in a way, except
it had been induced," he said. "At least that was my
impression from hints that Myra let drop. Then it
started to look, which truly upset them, as though it
hadn't taken and she was starting to remember."
"Is that how Tin Lizzie ties in?"
Gates became interested in the ceiling again. "I imag-
ine so, Sid, but I still don't actually know who Tin Lizzie
is or what that means."
"Don't you?"
"No, honestly, even though I look to you right at the
moment as though I'm lying in my teeth."
"What part does Ford Jaspers play in this mess?"
"It turns out, you know, you can't trust anybody.
I should've learned early on, because of things that
occurred in my youth, through no fault of my dear
mom's, that most people can't be relied on or trusted
much. Even so, I accept Ford as a pathetic old hasbeen.
Turns out, you know, that he was a longtime blackmailer
and—"
211

William Shatner
"I know about that part. Why did Myra kill him
off?"
'That night that he came calling on me, she hap-
pened to be visiting me," said Gates, shifting in his seat.
"Besides getting regular reports from me about Alicia,
Myra . . . Well, sometimes, through no fault of my own,
older women seem to become extremely fond of me.
Anyway, she was in the bedroom when Ford came to
the door. Turns out he'd tumbled to me and had been
tailing me. Once Alicia vanished, he figured it was time
to try to collect some dough. He knew I'd been filing
reports to the Mechanix people and he knew they were
worried about something she knew. It was his notion
that I was to persuade Mechanix to pay him a hefty
sum—the old fool actually wanted $1,000,000—or he'd
give what he knew to connections of his in the media.
Well, at that point Myra pops out of the bedroom, still
jaybird naked, and kills him with her lazgun. Right on
my damn floor, if you please."
"Do you know where Alicia Bower is?"
"I don't, Sid, honestly. All I know is that after I report-
ed to Myra that Alicia seemed close to remembering
whatever it was that bothered her, they arranged for
her to vanish." He touched at the sore spot at the side
of his head. "I don't know who grabbed her, how it was
done or where she is now."
"Is she still alive?"
"I sure hope so. She was a very nice young woman
and some of the things that had happened to her struck
a familiar—"
"You, greaseball, drop the gun and quit annoying
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Tek Secret
my Shelly." A hefty, silverhaired woman of about fifty
had appeared suddenly in the doorway. In each plump,
beringed hand she held a lazgun.
"Mom," said Gates, "I keep telling you not to call me
Shelly anymore."
213

there was a holographic fireplace in one corner with a
heap of blazing logs within it, but the small under-
ground room was damp and chill. Ryder stood at the
foot of the brass bed, shifting from foot to foot and
now and then glancing back at the doorway Georgia
had left by a few minutes earlier.
A fat greyhaired man was standing next to the bed,
watching the lean, bald man lying atop the rumpled
multicolored quilt. "You'll make it," he said.
"I didn't especially wish to make it," Dr. Winter
told him in a quiet voice. "Those capsules I bor-
rowed from the Centre were supposed to—"
"When you're through bitching," said Jake from
where he was standing at the other side of the bed,
"I want to talk to you."
"Who the devil might you be?" Winter propped him-
215
30

William Shatner
self up on his elbows. "Why have you been allowed to
intrude—"
'Jake Cardigan," he said evenly.
"Oh, of course. The aggressive private eye."
"Where's Alicia Bower?"
"Go away, Cardigan. Just tonight I finally made up
my mind I can't handle all the stresses and lies of my
life," Winter explained to him. 'When I fully realized
all the harm I've caused, I decided to get myself out of
the whole bloody mess."
"You can, far as I care, give it another try soon as
I'm gone." Leaning, Jake caught hold of the front of
the doctor's shirt and yanked him closer. "Is she inside
that damn Mentor setup?"
"Yes, and, please, let go of me, damn you."
Jake held on. "Why is she there?"
"It really doesn't matter, Cardigan," said the psychia-
trist. "I thought for awhile that, with Sharon Harker's
help, I could finally do something. When that got so
fouled up, I figured I could at least get myself free
and clear. Get to Europe, hide out there for a time,
take on a new identity and possibly work in my field
again eventually. But, I don't know, waiting here in
this dismal hole, it struck me that I really was better
off just—"
"Life's sure sad at times, yeah," cut in Jake, letting
go of his shirt. "Let's get back to why Alicia Bower was
brought here."
"Actually she was returned to the Centre. By that brutal
cyborg, Sam Trinity."
216

Tek Secret
Jake sat on the edge of the bed. "How come a gov-
ernment agent is concerned with this?"
"I still don't have all the details, Cardigan. It's my
understanding, however, that Mechanix International
and the Office of Clandestine Operations have been
working together on something very secret and extreme-
ly nasty."
"And Alicia found out about that?"
"Exactly, but because she's the daughter of Owen
Bower, everyone decided to be gentle with her," he
continued. "So she was put in the hands of Dr. Isaac
Spearman and ..." Winter paused, brought one hand
up to his eyes and began to cry. "Oh, lord, the things I've
been a party to, Cardigan. I went along with it initially,
but, when they brought the poor girl back a second time,
I simply..." He twisted on the bed, tugged a plyochief
out of his trouser pocket and wiped at his eyes.
"Spearman worked on her somehow—made her
forget all about what it was she wasn't supposed to
know?"
"Yes, that was done to her about a year or more
ago," he replied. "The trouble is, and that's one of
the chief problems with many of Spearman's more
experimental electronic therapies, that the cures aren't
always ..." He laughed. "Jesus, I still sound like that
bastard. Calling that awful process a cure. At any
rate, Cardigan, she apparently started to remember
again. That frightened Trinity and certain people at
Mechanix. But since she was still the daughter of the
head man, no one wanted to silence her permanently."
He laughed again. "The humane thing, they decided,
217

William Shatner
was to ship her back to Spearman and let him have
another try."
Jake asked him, "And who's Tin Lizzie?"
Dr. Winter frowned at him. 'That's the nickname of
one of the robot nurses in the Restraint Wing, which
is where Alicia is. How did you—"
"We got trouble, folks," announced Georgia, popping
into the chill room.
Jake stood clear of the bed. "What's wrong?"
"Some OCO agents have been spotted upstairs,"
she answered. "It's likely they'll head down here
eventually."
"We'll have to move Winter," said Ryder. "And get
ourselves the hell out of here, too."
"Not before," said Jake, "I ask him a few more
questions."
Madame Sonja, both lazguns still trained on Gomez,
had moved over beside her son's chair. "That bump
looks awful," she was saying. "Are you absolutely sure,
Shelly, that he didn't hurt you seriously?"
"Mom, he just bopped me on the coco with his fist.
I'm okay, truly."
"In your offspring's line of work, senora, " mentioned
Gomez, who had dropped his stungun and raised his
hands, "physical harm is one of the occupational
hazards."
"You've got a hell of a nerve, greaseball," the spa
owner told him. "You break in here, hurt my Sonny
Boy and then—"
218

Tek Secret
"Mom, hey, what did I tell you about using Sonny Boy
in front of visitors?"
"This shlunk isn't a visitor, he's an intruder—one step
away from a burglar."
"Line of duty," suggested Gomez. 'Your Sonny Boy
here happens to be a fugitive from the law, ma'am.
Which means that private detectives, police officers,
bounty hunters and the like are going to feel free to
drop by and—"
"I'm going to have to move on, Mom." Wobbling
moderately, Gates got to his feet. "My hideout here
isn't safe any longer."
"Sit." She nudged him back down with a plump elbow.
"Nobody else knows you're here except this housebreak-
er. So all we have to do, Shelly, is work out a foolproof
way to silence him."
"No, that's not a good idea at all," argued her son.
"Killing people isn't part of my—"
"We don't kill him," she told him. "We just toss him
in a storeroom for a while. We'll feed him now and then
and make sure that—"
"The Cosmos Detective Agency, a large and powerful,
not to mention easy to get ticked off, organization, knows
I'm up here in New Hollywood, folks," Gomez pointed
out. "They know for whom I was hunting and they, in
turn, will come hunting for me before I've spent very
long starving in your storerooms."
"Mom, it'll be a lot simpler if I simply pack up and
go someplace else to—"
"Oof," said Madame Sonja. She suddenly rose up on
tiptoe, let go of her left hand lazgun and then the
219

William Shatner
right Dropping to her knees with an echoing thunk,
she teetered and then fell forward onto the carpeting.
"Mom!" Gates knelt beside her.
Gomez was gazing toward the open doorway. He'd
been the only one who'd noticed the hand with the
stungun that had appeared there to fire at Madame
Sonja while she was preoccupied in arguing with her
suntanned son.
"Honestly, Gomez, it's an absolute wonder to me that
you've survived in this world anywhere near as long
as you have. I know you got me out of a jam earlier, but
you most times, honestly, seem incapable of taking care
of yourself or—"
"How did you happen to drop by here, Nat?"
The redhaired reporter came into the room. "Know-
ing you for an ingrate, I wasn't exactly expecting a hug
and a heartfelt thank-you for saving your miserable neck,
yet I—"
"Thanks. Now how did you find me?"
"By following the signal being given off by that tiny
mike I planted on your coat when we parted," Natalie
explained. "You're really, you know, so transparent when
you attempt to be cunning. I sensed at once, and I would
have even were I not the crackerjack reporter that I am,
since you're that obvious when you attempt to be sneaky,
that you were onto something big. I realized that this
could well be the important yarn I need to save my
own stymied career and get it out of the doldrums of
show-business reportage so that—"
"An interview with Carlos Taffy, chiquita, would serve
the same purpose."
220

Tek Secret
'That doink? A conversation with him is just more pap
for the halfwits who follow the dreadful tripe I've been
forced to purvey." She shook her head, then laughed.
"But this, Gomez—inside info on the Alicia Bower van-
ishment, this is a real story."
"I'm not too pleased," mentioned Gates as he rose up
and glared over at her, "to witness you standing around
smirking moments after felling my poor dear mother. It
smacks of the kind of callous behavior that the media
these days is all too—"
"Oh, stop your jabbering." She swung the stungun
toward him and fired.
"Oof." The stunned fugitive stiffened, flapped his arms
once and then fell over atop his sprawled mother.
Nodding with satisfaction, Natalie said, "Look around
for something to carry him off in—a sack hopefully."
"Why do we want to pack Shelly, cara?"
"Because we're taking him back to Greater LA in my
Newz shuttle," she answered. "He's, which should be
obvious even to you, essential to my story. If I don't miss
my guess this'll win me back my former high position
in the broadcast sphere. 'Daredevil reporter captures
fugitive. Comes close to solving heiress mystery.' " She
smiled, nodding positively. "Oh, and if it's not impos-
ing on you, and keep in mind I just now pretty much
saved your worthless life, Gomez, I'd appreciate it if
you'd shoot a couple of minutes of vidfootage of my
standing over this fellow. I've found that this sort of
obvious shot, involving the commentator in the action
as it were, impresses the rubes and adds a whole heck
of a lot to the impact of a news story. I left my vidcam
221

William Shatner
hidden out in the hedge. Wait here while I fetch it,
will you?"
"We don't really have time for a photo session. We
ought to be—"
"Of course we do," she told him.
222

The Pirate Museum was housed in an imitation galleon
that was anchored in one of the Venice Sector's old
canals. The museum had suspended operations nearly
a year ago, and the canal had been dry quite a bit
longer than that. The night wind was worrying dry
leaves along the cracked canal bottom as Dr. Harry
Moreno led Molly and Dan up the rickety gangplank
toward the museum deck.
Watching them from the railing was a thickbearded
pirate, who had a faded bandana over his shaggy head
and a black patch masking one eye. 'Welcome aboard,
mates," he called.
The psychiatrist nodded at the android pirate when
he reached the deck. "Salinas around?"
"Aye, you can bet your barnacles he is, Doc." The
mechanical man jerked a thumb in the direction of a
nearby lighted cabin.
223
31

William Shatner
"Salinas has been watchman here," explained Mo-
reno, "ever since the place shut down."
The cabin door swung open with a creak. A lanky,
weathered man of about thirty-five emerged. He had
a scruffy beard and wore a battered Brazil War army
jacket. He spoke out of a small black voxbox planted
in his throat. "Dr. Moreno, hey, it's good to see you."
"Same here, Salinas."The men exchanged hugs. "This
is Molly Fine and Dan Cardigan, friends of mine."
Salinas hugged each of them in turn. "Welcome
aboard," he said.
Dan told him, "We're looking for Jimalla Keefer."
Taking a slow step back, Salinas eyed the doctor. "I
take it you vouch for them?"
"Sure, and it's very important that we find Jimalla,"
he answered. "Is she here?"
Salinas nodded. "Down in the Pirates' Den," he said.
"Pretty damn scared she is, too, but I can't get her to
tell me what exactly's wrong."
"Somebody's hunting for her," said Molly. "Somebody
who probably wants to keep her quiet about something
she seems to know."
"I figured that," said the watchman. 'Jim usually only
drops in on me when she's in one kind of trouble or
another—but I guess you know that, Doc."
"Yeah, this is the third of her haunts we've come
looking for her at. Nobody's hurt her so far?"
"No, she's in okay shape, no bumps or bruises," said
Salinas. "C'mon, I'll take you to her."
The Pirates' Den resembled a cave. Piled up against
224

Tek Secret
one wall were treasure chests spilling over with glittering
loot, golden coins, strings of fat pearls, silver brooches
encrusted with rubies and emeralds. At a thick oaken
table at the cavern's center five husky pirates sat stiffly
and silently, their gruff bewhiskered faces illuminated
by a flickering candle thrust in a dusty rum bottle.
The sixth chair was occupied by a thin black girl.
She jumped to her feet as Salinas crossed the simulat-
ed stone threshold. "What's wrong?" she asked, backing
in the direction of the treasure chests.
"Nothing, Jim, everything's fine," he assured her. "Doc
Moreno's looking for you, is all."
She saw Moreno and came hurrying over to him.
She caught hold of both his hands. "Harry," she said
very softly, "I think I'm in some new, really serious
trouble."
"I think so, too, Jimalla." He put a big arm around
her narrow shoulders and, gently, turned her to face
Dan and Molly. "But these two, I'm pretty sure, are
going to be able to help you."	,
"Well, if you'll allow me to give you my honest opin-
ion," said Natalie, "he certainly doesn't look especially
comfortable."
"Nat, the pendejo is still unconscious. Comfort isn't a
concern."
'Well, I happen to feel that there's a code of
conduct concerning these things, similar, I imagine,
to how you're supposed to treat prisoners of war.
What I mean is, you shouldn't throw them on
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William Shatner
the floor of your shuttle cabin like a sack of old
potatoes."
"You're the one, chica, who suggested stuffing Shel in
that plastisack in the first place."
"It would be much better, and more humane as well,
it seems to me, if you'd at least put a pillow under his
head."
"Carumba," observed Gomez, unbuckling himself
from the passenger seat.
The official Newz, Inc. shuttle had departed the
New Hollywood satellite nine minutes earlier and, with
Natalie at the controls, was now en route for the Greater
Los Angeles Spaceport.
Muttering, Gomez skirted the sack on the floor and
took a cushion off one of the other passenger seats.
He genuflected and arranged it under one end of the
green sack that held the stungunned Sheldon Gates.
"That ought to make him sufficiently comfy."
"Wrong end."
-Que?*
"You stuck the cushion under his feet."
"No, that's his head."
"Don't think I'm being critical of your judgment,
though it's not all that good under the best of circum-
stances, but you can see his ears poking at the sacking
down there at the opposite end."
Grunting, Gomez squatted and poked at the sacked
fugitive. "Seems you're right, Nat. His nose does seem
to be down here." Shifting the cushion, he plumped it
and returned to his chair.
226

Tek Secret
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll contact the head office
of Newz and tell those dimwits about this enormous
scoop that I've come up with. They're going to—"
"Momentito, Nat," put in the detective. "The fact that
Alicia Bower is missing hasn't been m&de public yet."
"That's precisely why it makes such a terrific—"
"If you reveal that fact, along with the news that Jake
and I are involved, it could screw up our chances of
finding her."
"How?"
"In numerous ways."
"That is, which even you ought to be able to see, not
a very persuasive—"
"It's standard procedure in a kidnapping, chica, to
keep the news quiet for as long as possible."
"Is that what this is? Do you guys have evidence that
she was abducted?"
"Not solid evidence, no. But we're convinced the lady
didn't disappear of her own free will."
"Do you have any idea who snatched her then?"
"There are a lot of angles to this. Right now it's just
not a good idea to broadcast the—"
"Hey, of course!" She snapped her fingers. "I've been
hearing rumors for over a year about a possible link
between Mechanix International and some sneaky gov-
ernment intelligence agencies." She watched Gomez's
face as she continued. "Obviously those rumors are true,
of course, and this hapless heiress somehow got caught
up in some dangerous spillover from that. You may as
well, you know, provide me with all the details, since
I'm bound to—"
227

William Shatner
"Attend to me, amiguita," he said. "There are several
possible governmental trickeries tied in with this one.
And, if you'll play along with me, I will, you have my
solemn word, tell you everything just as soon as—"
"Your word, solemn or otherwise, usually isn't worth,
if you'll pardon the vulgarism, diddly, Gomez."
"Cross my heart," he vowed, crossing his heart. "Give
us a couple days before you break the Alicia angle. If
we haven't found her by then, you—"
"And what am I supposed to do with Sheldon Gates
in the meantime? Leave him in the sack?"
"You can turn him over to the SoCal cops," he told
her. "Shel's wanted in connection with the murder of
Ford Jaspers. The law doesn't know that has anything
to do with Alicia."
"But, based on what I was able to overhear of your
conversation with him, the acting CEO of Mechanix is
the actual killer. Once Sheldon talks and links her to
the killing, everything is likely to come out."
"Shel is a very evasive lad. It'll take a couple days at
least for the cops to persuade him to tell them much
of anything at all."
Natalie was thoughtful for a moment. "Okay, I guess
apprehending a murder suspect is a big enough story to
impress my tyrannical bosses," she decided. "Then, when
I spring the Alicia Bower angle on them, it'll knock them
on their collective fannies."
"Without a doubt," he agreed.
"If only," she said, glancing at him once again, "I
could get over the idea that you're still conning me."
228

IT was nearly midnight and there was relatively little
traffic to be seen outside the windows of Walt Bascom's
tower office at the Cosmos building, mostly cruising
brightlit skycabs. The agency chief was sitting on the
edge of the desk, one leg slowly^winging, idly fingering
the keys of his saxophone and watching Jimalla.
She sat, very straight, hands folded in her narrow lap,
in a red plastiglass chair a few feet from him. "I'm still,"
she was telling him, "sort of afraid."
"We can put you up someplace safe for awhile,"
Bascom assured her. 'We'll let your parents know that
we'll—"
"I don't have much in the way of parents," she said,
glancing toward Dr. Moreno, who was gazing out a
window across the office. "Just my dad and he doesn't
much give a darn where I am."
229
32

William Shatner
"We'll notify him anyway. But he won't know exactly
where you are. Okay?"
"Yeah, that'd be fine, sure."
"Soon as she told us what she knew, I figured you
ought to know," said Dan. "Well, no, actually, I thought I
should tell my dad, but I don't know how to contact him,
so I settled for you, Mr. Bascom. He's okay, isn't he?"
"At last report."
"But he hasn't found Alicia Bower yet?"
"No, not so far as we know."
Molly leaned over in her chair to tap Jimalla on the
arm. "You can tell him what you told us."
"Guess I might as well." She lifted her hands off her
lap, rubbed at her knees, refolded her hands. "I got to
know most of the people in our therapy group. Not
exactly as friends, but I know them."
Dr. Moreno turned his back to the window and gave
the girl an encouraging nod.
Jimalla continued, "I never much liked Guy Woodruff,
but—"
"Guy Woodruff, huh?" Bascom tapped the side of
his saxophone with his forefinger. "We know him by
another name, but go ahead."
"Well, I used to run into him around Venice pretty
often. This one night I was at Kaminsky's Kafe—you
know the place, Harry."
"A dump," supplied Moreno.
"Yeah, it is, sort of. I was in a booth with a friend and
I heard somebody talking in the next booth to ours.
Couldn't see them, but I recognized Guy's voice. He was
talking with an old man, somebody sixty or so. Except
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Tek Secret
this man kept calling him Sheldon and not Guy—well,
that fits in with what you just said, doesn't it? Anyway, this
old man was saying that somebody named Myra wasn't
pleased with Sheldon's reports. Did he think they were
paying him for a lot of drivel and no facts? He said that
Sheldon had to put down every damn word that Alicia
said in the sessions. 'You put it down word for word,
Sheldon, and let us do the editing.' Something like
that, is what the old man told him." Jimalla unfolded
her hands, flexed her thin fingers and rubbed at her
knees again. "I got, you know, curious. So I took a careful
walk to the bathroom. They didn't get a look at me, but I
saw them both. It was Guy for certain, sitting there with
a thin, welldressed man who didn't look too healthy."
"You didn't hear the other man's name?" asked
Bascom.
She gave a negative shake of her head. "And I just
forgot all about it for awhile. But then Alicia disappeared
and I got to wondering," she told him. "When Guy, or
whoever he is, went missing, too, I knew something
was going on wrong. Then I. . . well, I guess this was
stupid, considering. I told a few people what I knew,
even though I'm not exactly sur-e what it is I really do
know. Next day, when I was about to go into the place I
was staying, a couple of guys tried to grab me and drag
nie into their landcar. I kneed one and got away from
them both, but I was really scared. I told my friend,
Norm Porter, about all of it." She glanced at Molly.
'Molly told me that some guys worked Norm over to
get him to tell them where they could find me. That's
even scarier."
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William Shatner
Dan said, "I figured you could use the ID Simulator,
Mr. Bascom. Then you could use Jimalla's description of
that older man to maybe get an identification of him."
"Yep, we ought to be able to do that." The agency
head moved closer to her and held out his hand. "Come
on over to the gadget, child, and we'll give it a try."
232

The Mentor Psych Centre loomed up across the Staff
Landing Area, a multistoried, blankfaced building stand-
ing grey in the grey morning.
"His electropass got us onto the lot," observed Georgia
as her skycar set down on the grey surface of the lot.
"So the other stuff Dr. Winter lent you ought to
work, too."
Unbuckling, Jake said, "Getting inside is not going to
be our major problem."
"No guards outside the Staff Entrance, just like Win-
ter said." She left the car.
"But considerable awaiting inside."
They walked confidently across the early morning
ground level landing area. At the opaque plastiglass
door to the Staff Wing, Jake inserted the electrokey that
the psychiatrist had given him.
233
33

William Shatner
Fifteen seconds passed.
Then, with a faint hissing sound, the door slid aside.
The initial length of grey corridor was blank, without
a single door or window. Just before they reached its
end, they halted.
Jake picked up Georgia and carried her in his arms.
After one small laugh, she shut her eyes and feigned
unconsciousness.
Around the bend in the corridor was a wide door
labeled CONTROL/MONITORING #1. Stationed directly in
front of it, arms folded across his massive chest, stood
a large grey guardbot.
He turned his head toward the pair, asking, "What
are you doing in this area, please?"
"Look—where's Dr. Cohen's office?" asked Jake in a
very agitated voice.
"This section of the Centre is restricted to staff only,
sir."
"I know, but Cohen's on staff, isn't he?" Jake moved
up closer to the robot.
"If you wish to see Dr. Cohen—which Dr. Cohen is
that, by the way? We have two on staff and—"
"Stanley," said Jake. "Listen, the medication he gave
my wife—some kind of new stuff and if you ask me
he shouldn't be handing out anything that danger-
ous to people— Well, I found her on the bathroom
floor this morning. It's Dr. Cohen's—that's Dr. Stanley
Cohen's—fault and we—"
"Sir, you should have called MedAlert and not—
awk."
Georgia had swung up her left hand and slapped a
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Tek Secret
tiny parasite control-disc to the preoccupied guardbot's
side. "Okay, you can put me on my feet now, Jake."
He did that, telling the controlled robot, "You'll let
us into the Control Room. Understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Far as you're concerned, everything is just fine. Noth-
ing out of the ordinary is going on."
"Yes, sir."
The door slid open.
She had, she was fairly certain, lost some weight lately.
It was hard to be sure because the plain grey dress they
had given her to wear was several sizes too large anyway.
She was still, too, having problems with her memory
and she found she couldn't always keep track, when
she tried to think back, of what she'd done during
the day. Probably she'd missed some meals. Actually,
she was nearly certain, she'd been losing weight even
before she came here.
She wasn't even exactly sure how long she'd been
here. A week probably, something around a week. Sev-
eral days anyway. She knew where she was, though, she
knew that much.
"And I know my name—it's Alicia Bower."
When she said her name, sitting there in the grey
armchair, she felt a sharp pain in her side. That was
something that had happened before and she had bet-
ter ask Dr. Spearman about it.
Except, and she had no precise notion as to why,
she didn't especially trust him. Didn't particularly like
the man, even though he treated her cordially. When-
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William Shatner
ever the treatments that she needed were painful, he
apologized and then explained that she'd had a seri-
ous breakdown. One that, unfortunately, sometimes
required painful remedies. She'd be as good as new
soon, that he guaranteed her.
The trouble was, Alicia wasn't at all sure how she'd
felt when she was new or completely healthy.
She got up, very slowly and carefully, from the chair
and took a few steps across the grey carpet. The grey
slippers they'd given her didn't fit especially well either.
Yes, definitely she was thinner. She felt different
when she walked, lighter and, somehow, much more
vulnerable.
"I'll be like Slimjim soon," she said to herself.
That was odd, wasn't it?
She didn't actually know anyone by that name. Yet
when she said that name to herself, very briefly, just for
a few seconds, she had an image of a very thin black
teenage girl.
If she trusted Dr. Spearman a little more than she
did, maybe she'd ask him about things like that. Names
and images that popped into her head. Names and
images that, so far as she could tell, had no connec-
tion with anyone she knew or anything that had ever
happened to her.
"Slimjim," she said again. "Jimalla."
Another image of the same girl and, for some reason,
the ocean.
Yes, the Pacific at twilight. She was walking along-
side Jimalla and they stopped to watch a robot, all
trimmed in bright neon, juggling, his metal body framed
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Tek Secret
by the glare of the setting sun.
Maybe when she was better, she'd be clearer about
things.
The grey door in the grey wall slid open with that
whispering sound it always made.
"Having a little exercise, Alicia?" It was Dr. Spearman,
smiling in that way that was supposed to be friendly.
He had the dark, thin medical kit tucked up under
his arm.
"I want to ask you something."
The psychiatrist seated himself in one of the chairs
at the round grey table near the center of the room.
"Why, of course."
"How much did I weigh when I arrived here?"
"Are you worrying about that?"
"Not exactly worrying, but curious."
Spearman, smiling, stroked his blond beard with
plump fingers. After placing the kit on the table, he
took his phone out of a pocket of his medical jacket. He
placed it a few inches from the kit, reached into another
pocket. "We can certainly tell you that," he told her. He
produced his handheld computer terminal. "According
to our charts on you—119 pounds."
"And what do I weigh now?"
"Let's see—yesterday it was 115." He made a clucking
noise, shaking his head. "I'm glad you pointed this out,
Alicia. We'll, yes, have to do something about this."
"Not tubes," she said softly. "Please, I don't want to
be fed with tubes again."
"We haven't done that, my dear."
"Not this time."
237

William Shatner
He set the computer aside, rested an elbow on the
table. "You remember your earlier stay with us?"
"Some of it, yes. That was early last year."
Dr. Spearman nodded. "Well, I don't believe you'll
have to do anything more than eat a little more at each
meal," he said. "The nurse tells me that—"
'Was she my nurse when I had to stay at the Centre
before?"
"She's a robot, my dear. They all look very much—"
"It's only that I have the feeling that there's some-
thing familiar about—"
"What have I been telling you about your habit of
interrupting, Alicia? It's not an admirable habit."
She returned to the grey armchair and sat down. "I'm
sorry."
"Come, sit over here at the table."
Sighing, the young woman got up again. She crossed
to the table and took the chair the farthest from Dr.
Spearman.
He said, "You also have to work at masking your
negative feelings somewhat better. I know you don't
like some of our therapy techniques, but there's no
need to scowl and make faces. Those are a little girl's
way of—"
"Was I here before?"
"You're interrupting again."
"I'm sorry."
"We were just now discussing your last visit. Don't you
remember that we were doing that, Alicia?"
"Of course, yes," she said. "I mean before that time.
Years ago."
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Tek Secret
"No." He shook his head. "No, you've only been here
twice."
"Don't you have to doublecheck that on your com-
puter gadget?"
"I have an excellent memory, my dear," Dr. Spear-
man assured her. "Plus a deep interest in your case."
He rubbed his fingertips across his bearded chin. "What
gave you the idea that you'd been—"
"I don't know. It simply flashed into my mind."
He moved his kit an inch or so to the left. 'When do
you think that other visit might have been?"
"It was ..." She spread her hands wide, looked up
at the grey ceiling. "I don't know. I... I was much
younger."
"You had a very happy childhood and adolescence,
Alicia. We've talked about that a good deal," he
reminded her. "There would have been no reason
for your coming here when you were—"
"My mother died when I was fourteen. That wasn't a
very happy event."
"No, certainly not, my dear. But, really, it didn't have
any harmful—"
"That's not what other people think."
"What do other people think?"
"That I'm promiscuous, indiscriminate about men.
That I sleep with anybody and everybody."
"Do you?"
"No, not exactly. Not anymore, but. . . I'm not sure
about how I used to be."
Spearman lifted the lid of the black kit box. "I'd like
to begin our session this morning with—"
239

William Shatner
"It's morning, is it?"
"Don't you know?"
"I'm sort of losing track of time somewhat," she admit-
ted. "I'm not even really certain exactly how long I've
been here at the Centre. How long has it been?"
"Not that very long, my dear." Smiling, he cleared
his throat. "Right now another injection is called for,
I'm afraid."
Moving her right hand to her upper left arm, she
rubbed at it. "Isn't there some other—"
"We've gone over all this before, Alicia, and I've tak-
en you into my confidence as to our methods here," he
said, very patiently. "In order to get the best results, the
most beneficial results for you, we have to use means
that are sometimes—"
"If the results are so darn beneficial, why am I back
here?"
"You suffered a relapse."
"I'm still fuzzy on the details of that."
"Yes, that's to be expected in cases such as yours," he
assured her. "There are, no matter how hard we work at
it nor how much hope we put into it, people who have
setbacks now and then. Now I'll get this injection ready
for you, my dear, and we'll—"
"Jesus, are you still sitting here on your fat ass spouting
the usual bullshit?" The door had whispered open and
Sam Trinity, wearing a copperplated hand this morning,
had come striding in. "I told you last night that this has
dragged on far too—"
"And I told you, expressly, never to come here."
Shrugging, the OCO agent settled into the chair next
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Tek Secret
to the young woman. 'You're not looking too great,
kid," he mentioned.
Alicia moved herself and the chair back from him.
"Dr. Spearman, who is—"
"A colleague of mine," answered the doctor. "And
one who is not, I assure you, authorized to sit in on
our sessions together."
"I'm staying," said Trinity. "I want to see why it's
taking you so frigging long to take care of a simple—"
"I can't allow that, Trinity."
"Hey, you got this all ass backwards, Isaac. It's m^who
tells you what goes on around this dump." He reached
out with his metal hand, caught a leg of Alicia's chair
and pulled it back to where it had been. "You're giving
me the idea that you don't much like me, sweet," he
said. "You do like me, don't you?"
"You'll have to leave us now," insisted Spearman,
standing up. "I cannot continue this therapy if—"
"You want me to continue it for you, Isaac? Because,
you know, I think I can sure as hell do a better job
than you."
Dr. Spearman rubbed his hand over his whiskered
cheek a few times, looking from Trinity to the young
woman. "Very well," he said finally. "You can sit in, but
you have to keep quiet and not interfere in any way."
"I'm just an interested observer. Okay, Isaac?"
Alicia slid her chair back again. "Dr. Spearman, I'd
prefer, really, not to have anyone else here while we—"
"It doesn't matter a rat's ass what you prefer, sweet,"
Trinity told her. He took hold of her arm this time and
pulled her and the chair closer to him.
241

William Shatner
"Trinity, if you don't—"
All at once a loud hooting began in the corridor
outside. Up above the door a band of scarlet light
blossomed and began to throb.
From a voxbox beneath the flashing stripe of red
light a message came booming. "Attention all secu-
rity staff! Attention all security staff! Serious Rioting
in Violent Wing! Serious Rioting in Violent Wing! Fire
Raging! Fire Raging!"
Spearman took a step in the direction of the door.
"I'll have to—"
The door slid open again. Jake, his stungun in his
hand, came into the room. "Really isn't a riot, Dr.
Spearman," he announced. "Just a little diversion I
arranged when I was down in your Control Room."
'Who the devil are—"
"It's Cardigan, you asshole," exclaimed Trinity, pop-
ping to his feet. "And he's come to spring the damn
girl."
242

"Miss Bower, I'm Jake Cardigan—with the Cosmos
Detective Agency in Greater LA," Jake said as the door
shut behind him. "You're going to have to trust me.
Barry Zangerly hired us to find—"
"You'll never pull this off, Cardigan," warned Trini-
ty-
"Keep that hand in your lap, Sam," suggested Jake.
"You, Spearman, don't go for your phone."
"This intrusion is absolutely—"
"Wait," said Alicia. "Why did Barry hire you?"
"Because you'd disappeared."
'That's absolute nonsense," said Dr. Spearman.
'This young woman, Cardigan or whoever you are—this
poor young woman suffered a serious relapse. To
intrude here now and try to poison her mind with auda-
cious and extremely harmful lies will only cause—"
243
34

William Shatner
"How'd I end up here then," she asked Jake, "if I
didn't have another breakdown?"
"That was Sam's work. He's an agent with a govern-
ment intelligence agency called the Office of Clan-
destine Operations," he told her. "Abduction is one
of his specialties. I imagine he stungunned you when
you went to visit your father in the hospital."
"You must, I insist, stop this," said Spearman, voice
rising. "This girl's mental stability is not such that she
can be subjected to—"
"If you'll just get up, Miss Bower, and come with me,"
Jake said. "We're on a pretty tight schedule."
She hesitated a few seconds, then rose to her feet. "Is
Barry all right?"
"Relatively so. Some goons, probably in the employ
of Sam here, worked him over."
"This man is lying," Spearman told her. "I don't
know what his objective is, but if you go with him,
you'll be doing yourself great harm. And you'll erase
all the valuable work we—"
"This is no time for bullshit, Isaac." As Alicia passed
in front of Trinity, he gave her a powerful shove with
his metal hand.
That sent her stumbling across the room and smack
into Jake.
Jake fell back, landing on one knee and dropping his
stungun onto the grey carpeting.
Trinity lunged, shoving the fallen Alicia out of his
way. He dived, landing on top of Jake and sending him
over on his back.
"Now I'll take care of you," promised Trinity, his
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Tek Secret
metal fingers reaching for Jake's throat, "the way you
should've been taken care of right off."
Georgia had headed for another part of the facility.
Wearing a medical jacket and carrying a notebook, she
went walking rapidly along a lemon-yellow corridor.
She looked efficient, purposeful and as though she
actually belonged there.
When the corridor forked, she headed down the
sea-blue branch. Up ahead a few paces was a young
human nurse, who was walking slowly alongside a robot
breakfast cart.
"Damn," muttered Georgia, "witnesses." She in-
creased her pace.
"No," the small, freckled nurse was telling the slowly
rolling cart, "it's supposed to be six orders of imitation
hashbrowns and seven of imitation homefries."
"On the contrary," said the cart out of its chromed
voxbox, "it's seven hashbrowns and six homefries."
"That's absolutely and completely cockeyed, Oscar,"
said the nurse, her hands turning to fists. "I really don't
understand why we have to go through this every single
goshdarn—"
"Nurse, excuse me." Georgia had caught up with her
and was tapping on her freckled arm.
"Oh, yes, Dr. . . . I'm afraid, since I'm new here, I
don't know your name." She and the cart came to
a stop.
"McClennan," said Georgia, smiling cordially. "Dr.
Mary Lou McClennan."
'Well, what can I do for you, Dr. McClennan?"
245

William Shatner
"Nothing actually," answered Georgia, continuing to
smile. "It's simply that I've been assigned to the Sharon
Harker case and I'm going to her room now, which is
just a few doors away. I didn't want you, or your cart,
to become overly concerned if you saw me going in
there."
The nurse blinked at her. "But we have strict orders
that no one is to enter Room 314, Dr. McClennan," she
said, frowning. "In fact, only. . . um . . . one person is
allowed access."
"Yes, I know, Agent Trinity." She tried another smile.
"I'm assisting as of this morning."
"I hope you won't think I'm being a stickler, Doctor,"
said the freckled nurse, "but I honestly think I should
see some sort of identification or authorization before
I just go on about the business of serving breakfast in
this area. Because of the nature of this facility, as it was
very carefully explained to me when I began work here
two weeks ago, our security measures have to—"
"Shit, I would have to bump into a beancounter."
Still smiling, she reached inside her medical jacket.
"Okay, this should satisfy you, nurse." She snapped out
a stungun. "Okay, please, go on into Room 314. You
and Oscar both."
"Hey, I'm not allowed to violate our security rules,"
protested the robot cart.
"God damn, everybody got scruples hereabouts." She
slapped a parasite disc on his polished chrome side.
"Okay, Oscar, you roll your ass on down to the end of
the corridor and wait."
"Yes, miss." The breakfast cart moved away.
246

Tek Secret
"You won't get away with this," the nurse told
Georgia.
"You got any notion what the hell I'm trying to get
away with?"
"Well, no."
"Then quit being so critical," she suggested, reaching
for the door handle.
Trinity got his coppery hand on Jake's throat and started
to squeeze.
Jake swung up both his hands, gripping the agent's
metal wrist. At the same time he brought up his knee and
drove it into Trinity's groin with considerable force.
The redhaired man yelled with pain and his clutching
copper fingers loosened their hold.
Jake pushed himself to his knees, still holding tight
to the wrist.
Using Trinity's arm as a lever, he swung him to the
right and hard into a grey wall.
The OCO agent hollered as he went slamming
against the wall and there was a ratcheting, ripping
sound.
He fell back and away from Jake.
But Jake was still holding the coppery hand. Its fin-
gers were twitching and flexing.
Trinity went slumping to his knees. Shoulders
hunched, he pressed his real hand to his empty sleeve.
A wet red stain was swiftly growing on the cloth.
"I must get help." Dr. Spearman reached for the
phone he'd set on the grey table.
"You'd better not." Alicia dived, grey skirt billowing,
for the fallen stungun.
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William Shatner
She snatched it up, sprang to her feet and turned
the weapon on the psychiatrist.
"Now now, my dear, you're really not capable of
doing me any harm." Spearman smiled at her and
picked up his phone.
"Don't," she warned him.
"We'll talk about your feelings after I—" That was all
he managed to say before the stunbeam from the gun
hit him low in the ribs.
The phone spun up out of his hand, hit the table,
bounced twice and then skidded over and fell to the
grey floor.
Spearman's plump hands fluttered and he seemed to
be trying to smile once more.
He tottered, sighed, fell over unconscious.
Jake, meantime, had slugged Trinity and laid him out
near the doorway.
Alicia glanced over at Jake. "It would've been nicer,"
she remarked, "if you'd knocked him cold with his
own fist."
"Poetic justice, but a mite too obvious." The alarms
were still hooting out in the hallways. "We've got to
leave."
She slipped the gun into the dress's only pocket.
"I'm still not completely clear as to who you are," she
admitted. "But I'd rather leave with you than stick here.
So let's go."
248

they heard the sound of running feet, a lot of them,
both human and robot, over in one of the corridors
that branched off the one they were hurrying along.
The security people and other staffers were running
toward the fake riot that Jake had created with the help
of the Control Room.
"We only have a few more minutes before everybody
realizes they've been flimflammed," said Jake as he and
the young woman ran toward the Staff Landing Area.
"Did Barry really hire you?" she asked.
"He hired the agency I work for."
'What did you say its name was?"
"Cosmos Detective Agency."
"Oh, yes, I've heard of them." She was breathing hard
from the running. "How badly is Barry hurt?"
"They beat him up, couple of thugs and a bot," said
249
35

William Shatner
Jake. "There was no serious damage, though, and he's
recuperating well."
"In a hospital?"
"Last time I talked to him, yeah."
She said, "It's comforting to know he's still interested
in me."
"Lots of people are interested in you, Miss Bower."
"Look, if we're going to be on the run together for
awhile—-just call me Alicia, will you?" she requested.
"And your name was?"
"Jake Cardigan."
"That's right, you already told me that," she said. "I've
been having all sorts of trouble remembering things."
"Understandable."
Stopping, she caught hold of his arm. "What do you
mean? Do you know something about why—"
"We can discuss what I know after we get ourselves
clear of this—"
"Oh, dear god," exclaimed Alicia. She was staring
down the corridor.
A large matronly robot, gunmetal in color, was com-
ing toward them.
"It's her," whispered the young woman, her grip on
Jake's arm tightening. "It's Tin Lizzie."
The ball-headed robot on the small screen of the bed-
side phone said, "I'm sorry, sir, we're still not getting
an answer."
"But there's nothing wrong with his phone?"
"Not a thing, from what the company computer tells
us," replied the hospital switchboard robot.
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Tek Secret
"Okay, I'll try again later."
"Perhaps, Mr. Zangerly, you ought just to rest," sug-
gested the roundheaded mechanism. "You tried your
brother's home phone until our outgoing switchboard
shut down at midnight, and then this morning, as soon
as we were back on—"
"I'm anxious to talk to him."
"That's obvious, sir. Yet, since you're here to mend
and get better, it—"
"Try his work number again," said Barry, who was
propped up in bed and twisted toward the bedside
vidphone.
"We did that very thing only—"
"Try it again."
"Very well, sir." The small rectangular phonescreen
went blank.
<fWhere the hell is Rog?" Barry asked himself aloud.
The robot's image returned. "Roger Zangerly is not
at Mechanix International," it announced. "As before,
they have no idea where he is."
"Okay, thanks." He sighed out a breath, leaning back.
"I'm concerned about you, Mr. Zangerly." A hand-
some, blondhaired android physician had stepped into
his room. He had his name tag, which identified him
as an android, fastened to the pocket of his pale-blue
medcoat.
"Who are you?"
"Dr. Malloy." He came over to the bed. "I'm filling
in for Dr. Steinberg."
"What's wrong with him?"
Malloy chuckled. "Not a blessed thing," he answered.
251

William Shatner
"This is simply his day off." He seated himself on the
edge of the bed. "I understand you're extremely upset
about something and haven't been sleeping."
"I'm just trying to get in touch with my brother."
"It must be something extremely serious to cause
you to—"
"Doctor, I appreciate your concern," Barry told the
android. "This really, though, isn't any of your damn
business, not at all. In fact, since I'm really feeling a lot
better, I want to check out of your little establishment.
Today—right now, this morning."
Malloy shook his blond head. "That's not possible."
"Sure, it is. I have the right to—"
"Not in your present condition," the doctor informed
him. "You aren't well enough to—"
'What do you intend to do? Keep me from—"
"I hate to think that would be necessary," said Dr.
Malloy. "But if you attempt to take a course of action
that we feel is dangerous to your wellbeing, then we
have a perfect right to restrain you in order to keep
you from leaving the protection of the hospital."
"How—you going to tie me down?"
"Nothing that drastic, though you might be moved
to a more secure portion of our hospital. It might
even become necessary to administer drugs to calm
you down, Mr. Zangerly."
After a few seconds, Barry nodded. "All right, okay,"
he said to the android physician. "That won't be nec-
essary."
"For the present," said the android, "I'm also going
to have your phone shut off."
252

Tek Secret
* * *
The gunmetal robot was walking closer, staring directly
at Alicia. 'Just where do you think you're going, young
lady?" she asked.
Alicia was still holding tightly to Jake*s arm. "I haven't
seen you this time," she said quietly, looking sideways
at her. "And they've been trying to make me think you
never existed."
"You're so addled, you poor thing, that you have no
idea what's real and what isn't."
"No, I was right about you, dead right," insisted the
young woman. "I remember you and— Yes, I remember
what you helped them do to me the last times. . . the
last time I was here."
"Well then, yes, we'll have to get you right back to
Dr. Spearman again," said Tin Lizzie in her hollow,
rumbling voice. "Stand aside, young man."
"Your perceptors need tuning." Jake grinned. "I'm
not exactly a young man. Doesn't matter, since I'm not
going to stand aside."
'Then I'll have to summon assistance to handle this
situation." She raised a hand toward the panel built into
her side.
"No!" Fumbling the stungun out of the pocket of her
shapeless dress, Alicia clutched it with both hands and
fired right at the approaching robot.
The beam struck Tin Lizzie square in the chest. She
fought to get her metal fingers to the panel, but failed.
Her arm swung down to her side.
When she hit the floor, facedown, there was a large
rattling thud.
253

William Shatner
"Oh, dear Jesus," said Alicia, pain sounding in her
voice, "I'm starting to remember things all over again."
He put an arm around her waist. "C'mon, or we'll
miss our ride," he said as they started running again.
254

The little blond boy continued to cry. Sharon Harker
was holding him on her lap, hugging him, rocking gen-
tly in the fat, padded rocker. "It's okay, Sean, it's okay,"
she was saying. "We're safe."
'Want to go home."
"Soon," his mother promised him, "in a while."
"Want to see Pompom."
Sharon glanced over at Jake, who was standing near
Alicia's chair. "I think he means you."
Grinning, Jake crossed the shadowy, windowless little
room. "What's bothering you, Sean?"
The boy studied Jake's face, then scowled. "Not him.
He's not Beepaw." He commenced crying again, louder
now, eyes shut and mouth open. "I want Beepaw."
'We'll see Grandpa soon," she told him.
"Now. See him now!"
255
36

William Shatner
"Hush, Sean."
The door swung open and Georgia entered. "Jake,
we got a skycar for you," she announced. "Be ready in
about half hour."
"Maybe once we get home to Greater LA, things
will—"
"There's something I want to talk about," Alicia said
to him.
"Sure." He crouched beside her chair.
Georgia went over to Sharon and the boy. "He's still
pissed off, huh?"
"They must have given him some shots at the Centre.
Painful injections, some of them, and that's ..."
"I've been thinking." Alicia took Jake's hand. "As best
I can think with my addled brain."
"Don't let Tin Lizzie's judgment of you—"
"No, she's right." She rubbed, slowly, at her temple
as she spoke. "I really haven't been thinking too clearly
for quite awhile now."
"Spearman is noted for his ability to tamper with
people's brains," he said. "One of the guy's specialties
is erasing or altering memories."
"I'm sure, as sure as I can be of anything at the
moment, that they did something like that to me," she
continued. "When I was there last year, I mean. Then,
after I started to remember again, somebody. . . Who
was it who arranged this, do you know?"
"Sam Trinity and the OCO are involved. We aren't
yet sure who else."
"The thing is, Jake, if I go home now I'm still going
to have all sorts of problems," Alicia said. "I still don't
256

Tek Secret
know what exactly it is that people don't want me to
know. Nor do I have the remotest idea who it is who
wants me to forget. So I won't have any guarantee that
they or somebody else won't just grab me and try all
over again." She paused, running her tongue across her
upper lip. "And there are much simpler and surer ways
to keep people quiet. You can, for one thing, just kill
them."
"All of that's true," he agreed.
"Suppose you don't deliver me home right away,
Jake?"
"And instead?"
"Is there anywhere, anyplace you know of—a place
where they can help me to remember?"
He thought for a few seconds before nodding. "I
know of at least one, yeah," he answered. "It's not
completely legit and doesn't exactly do business out
in the open. It's hidden away up in New England and
they specialize in what you need."
"Will you take me there?"
'You've been, it's obvious, handled very roughly by
Trinity, Spearman and that gang," he said. "Revers-
ing the process, correcting what was done to you
and retrieving your memory—that can't help but be
damned painful."
"Not as painful as being dragged back into Mentor,
and nowhere near as bad as being silenced for good."
Jake said, "Okay, I'll make a call."
"Do you have to get permission from your agency
before you can—"
"No, I'll handle this on my own," he said.
257

William Shatner
* * *
The twilight followed them as they flew eastward
through the declining day. Five thousand feet below their
skycar the lights of cities and towns were coming on.
Alicia, dressed now in the pullover and jeans that
Georgia had dug up for her, was in the passenger seat,
knees up and her arms locked around her legs. "You
specialize in this sort of thing, don't you?"
Jake was in the pilot seat. "What sort of thing?"
"Finding lost and strayed women," she said. "Seems
to me I saw something about you on the vidnews a
few months back. You located somebody who'd disap-
peared. She was hiding out up on the Moon Colony and
you brought her safely home. That was you, wasn't it?"
"Yeah, it was."
"What happened to her?"
"She's dead."
Alicia nodded her head slowly. 'That may happen
to me."
"Eventually it happens to everybody."
"You were in love with her," she stated.
"I was, yes."
"Does that happen much, your falling in love with
the women you meet on cases?"
"You're safe."
"But are you? They must've told you about me," she
said. "About my bad habits and all the many men I've
slept with. If you marched them all by a single point,
the parade would last for several—"
"Tell me, if you feel up to it, some more about Spear-
man and what went on."
258

Tek Secret
"Do I make you feel uneasy, talking about my per-
sonal life?"
"Is that the effect you're trying for?"
She shrugged one shoulder. "This place you're deliv-
ering me to, these people—can they accomplish other
things besides putting my memory back together?"
"Such as?"
"Oh, there are a few other problems I have," she told
him. "After I met Barry, I changed some. I don't wander
off much anymore. And I am, surprisingly, capable of
being loyal."
Jake asked her, "When you found yourself at Men-
tor—did you know how you got there?"
"No, but Dr. Spearman explained that I'd suffered
another breakdown. Apparently I'd started behaving
very oddly and it was decided to send me there again."
'Was that why you went there before, a breakdown?"
She didn't reply for quite awhile. "That's the official
explanation," she said slowly. 'What Spearman and my
father ..." She planted her feet flat on the cabin floor,
straightening up in the seat. "This is very rough to
talk about. Because—because of the possibility that my
father has been lying to me all along, too."
"You suspect that you didn't have a breakdown the
other time either."
She gave a small, agreeing nod. "That's what I'm
starting to think," Alicia admitted. "In some ways I want
to be a good girl, to go along with the whole program
and help Dr. Spearman cure me, rehabilitate me and
all. Another part of me, though, held out. They really
want me to forget something. Spearman, I'm certain,
259

William Shatner
was using techniques on me that were supposed to
wipe out parts of my memory." She paused, shaking
her head. "It's so—if they succeed, damn it, then you
even forget that they did something to you to make
you forget. You can go around with a bunch of false
memories of what your life has been."
Jake suggested, "That's probably enough about this
for now."
"I remembered Tin Lizzie," she said. "I remembered
that dreadful robot whom I wasn't supposed to remem-
ber. Something inside me, because I'm stubborn at
heart, Jake, something fought not to forget. It's as
though I were drowning and kept struggling back
up to the surface. The trouble is, I can't seem to get
completely out of the damn water and back on the
shore." She glanced over at him. "How did she die?"
'They killed her," he answered quietly, "the Tek-
lords."
"And you still feel, don't you, that you should've been
able to stop them and save her life?"
"I feel that, sure, because I think I could've."
She said, "That's the same way I feel about prevent-
ing ..." Her voice trailed off and a deep frown touched
her forehead.
"Preventing what?"
"I can't remember," she said.
260

They caught up with the storm while flying over the
New York Sector of Tristate. Heavy rain started hitting
at the skycar and crackles of brilliant lightning came
slanting down across the dark sky.
Alicia, legs tucked under her, sat quietly in her seat,
watching the storm deepen around them. Finally she
asked him, "What's the name of this place you're tak-
ing me?"
"Doesn't have one," answered Jake.
"It's not called the National Screwball Foundation or
the Home for Wayward Girls?"
"They prefer to do business very discreetly."
"Who runs it?"
"Lady named Maggie Pennoyer."
"A friend of yours?"
The skycar took a sudden bounce and lightning
turned the wet darkness outside an intense pale blue.
261
37

William Shatner
Jake said, "A longtime friend."
"You really believe she can help me?"
"She's very good, especially with people whose minds
have been tampered with in one way or another."
'What about the staff? Do I have to talk to another
bunch of robots?"
"Last time I heard, Maggie had two humans and
three androids working with her," he said. "Of course,
that was about five years ago."
"Oh, that's something else I remember hearing about
you. You were in prison—for a long time, wasn't it?"
"Four years."
"That's not so awfully long."
"Depends."
"It was the Freezer." She hugged herself, shivering.
"That must be awful, being in suspended animation.
Did you dream?"
"They tell you that you don't."
"But you did?"
"Some." They were over the Connecticut Sector of
Tristate now and the storm wasn't yet as bad as it had
been over New York. After scanning the dashpanel, Jake
punched out a landing pattern. "We're going to a town
called Bridgefield."
"I've been there. It was pretty dull."
Very gradually the skycar began its descent.
The lightsign hanging from the pole next to the
rainswept landing area read NUTMEG NATURE PRE-
SERVE.
"So it does have a name," observed Alicia.
262

Tek Secret
"Camouflage."
The landing lights of their skycar swept across a stand
of white maples while settling down to a landing on the
nearly empty lot.
Jake got out, made his way around the car in the
hardfalling rain and helped the young woman out. "We
have to go up along that path yonder."
"How many acres does this cover?" She hunched her
narrow shoulders as the rain hit her, moving close
to him.
"About twenty."
The gravel pathway curved through woods. All at
once on their right a sturdy oak quivered, then van-
ished with a faint sizzling pop.
"Oops," said Alicia, glancing around at the rainy night
woods. "Is all this a projection?"
"Only about half," answered Jake. "It's a blend of real
trees and holograms."
From up ahead came the sound of booted feet
crunching on the wet gravel. A tall, lanky man, wrapped
up in a plasticoat and carrying both a lantern and a tool
kit, was coming down toward them.
Halting a few feet away, he held up the lantern and
looked them over. "Howdy," he said at last.
"Evening," said Jake. "You must be Jason McNaugh-
ton."
"That I am. Maggie warned me to expect you folks."
Jake grinned.
Jason said, "Got some trees on the fritz. Want to fix
them tonight, even though the weather is foul." He nod-
ded curtly at Alicia, eased around her and continued on
down the dark path.
263

William Shatner
"Caretaker," explained Jake.
At the path end was a clearing with a rustic cabin
at its center. Yellow light showed at most of its leaded
windows.
The realwood door came creaking open as Jake's foot
touched the top porch step.
A small woman, not more than four feet high, was
framed in the rectangle of light. 'Jake, it's wonderful
to see you again," she said, laughing.
"Same here, Maggie." He crouched on the welcome
mat, put both arms around her.
Maggie Pennoyer hugged him, then kissed him on
the cheek. "C'mon in and bring the injured dove," she
invited. Her left leg was several inches shorter than her
right and on her left foot she wore a built-up shoe.
"Maggie has the notion that I specialize in rescuing
waifs and strays," explained Jake.
The stone fireplace and the logs burning in it were
real.
Alicia held out her hand. "I'm Alicia Bower."
Shaking hands, Maggie told her, "You'll have noticed
that I didn't turn out quite symmetrical. Some sort of
manufacturing flaw. If I was one of those slick andies
your pop turns out, they could have sent me back. Sit
down, why don't you? Looks like they've been starv-
ing you."
Alicia took the indicated wood-and-leather chair near
the fire. "I did that to myself, I think," she said. "Being
in that place pretty much took away my appetite."
"Spearman." Maggie spit the name out. "Did you
manage to coldcock that sadistic son of a bitch while
264

Tek Secret
you were extricating her, Jake?"
"Alicia took care of that."
Maggie slapped her right hand against her thigh.
"Did you inflict considerable pain and suffering on
him?"
'Just stungunned him."
'That's nowhere near what he deserves, the bastard,
but it's, hell, a start."
'Jake tells me," began the young woman, "that you
can maybe—"
"Got her calling you by your first name already, huh?"
She smiled over at Jake. "What is it about you that bowls
most women over? It can't be the fact that you're so
battered and weatherbeaten, can't be the mean look in
your eyes or the fact that you're almost always glowering.
And that alleged grin of yours is so evil that it curdles
the blood of infants and—"
"What say you concentrate on Alicia." Jake settled
onto a raw wood bench.
"You're absolutely right, Jake. Besides, there's not
enough time to fix all that ails you." She, limping
slightly, walked over to the young woman and stood
scrutinizing her.
"Can you—get rid of whatever damage Dr. Spearman
did?"
"That's one of my specialties."
"How exactly did you get into this kind of—"
"Jake didn't fill you in, huh?" Maggie laughed once
again. 'Well, I used to be on their side. Yep, I worked for
our enlightened United States Government for almost
five years. During that time I came up with new and
265

William Shatner
more efficient ways to erase harmful information from
people's brains. I applied my system and, hell, there
must still be several hundred poor doinks wandering
around this country who can't think straight because of
what I did to them back then. Then, about seven years
ago, I suddenly came to my senses. Somewhat similar
to a religious conversion, except I stayed a foulmouthed
heathen. What I think I acquired, damn late in life, was
a conscience. But, hell, most people never do manage
to grow one. From that point, I've been devoting my
efforts to reversing the sort of stuff I'd been doing."
"Doesn't that annoy your former bosses?"
She laughed. "Hell, it makes them chew nails and shit
ingots," Maggie said. "I move around a lot, and so far
they haven't caught up with me or been able to stop
me. Do you like this latest setup, Jake?"
"Cozy."
"Jason comes with it—and he's about as much fun as
my Uncle Si's pickled cadaver. But it's a nice quiet loca-
tion and I've done some of my best work hereabouts."
Jake asked her, "How many other clients do you have
in residence right now?"
She held up three fingers of her right hand. "Just
three, times are a little tough," she said. "And the paltry
fee I'm charging you, for old time's sake, isn't going to
make me that much richer."
"But think of the satisfaction you'll get."
She nodded at Alicia. "C'mon, I'll show you down to
your quarters," she invited. "After dinner, I want you to
turn in. We'll start in the morning—early."
266

BASCOM WAS PLAYING his saxophone when Gomez came
into his office. Hazy morning sunshine was filling the
big office and giving a fuzzy glow to all the clutter.
"How come you never play 'Cielito Lindo' on that
dornick?" inquired Gomez.
"I've never found an acceptable bebop arrange-
ment."
"My next question is—why'd you summon me here
in the wee hours of the morn or thereabouts?"
"I heard from Jake."
"Muy bueno." Gomez started to smile, thought better
of it and asked another question. "Is he alive and well?"
"His message was delivered by somebody else and I
didn't speak to him directly," continued the agency
head. "I talked with a very feisty attorney from Farm-
land. Georgia Petway by name."
267
38

William Shatner
"What'd she have to pass on?"
'Jake's found Alicia Bower."
"Chihuahua!" he exclaimed. "I assume she's okay?"
"Yes, and with Jake."
"And where the devil is Jake?"
Bascom rested his sax atop his desk. "Miss Petway
doesn't know, mainly because he didn't tell her exactly
where he was heading."
"But it's not our way?"
"Not yet, he told her that much."
Slumping into a canvas chair, Gomez put his booted
feet up on a box of infodiscs. "Was Alicia actually within
the confines of the Mentor joint?"
Bascom nodded. "Jake, with the capable assistance of
Miss Petway, got her out of there yesterday," answered
Bascom. "Dr. Spearman and our old chum, Sam Trini-
ty, were temporarily incapacitated in the process."
"That's not good," observed Gomez. "Unless Trinity
is under the sod, he'll be champing to get even with
Jake for taking her away from him."
"No doubt," agreed the chief.
Gomez asked, "Does this legal senorita have any notion
what this is all about?"
"Only that it looks like Spearman was trying to
mindwipe Alicia. No word as yet on what it is everybody
is so anxious to have her forget all about."
Steepling his fingers, Gomez rested his chin on them.
"Possibly Jake transported her someplace where they
can help her remember."
'That occurred to me."
"Could be it's Maggie Pennoyer's brain workshop."
268

Tek Secret
'That, too, occurred to me," said Bascom. "And if we
don't hear directiy from Jake by nightfall, I may try to
contact the lady."
"It might occur to that cabron Trinity to check with
her, too."
"If he has any idea where she's hiding out these
days."
Standing up, Gomez stretched and yawned. "We can't
quite call this case closed, can we?"
'Too many loose ends," said Bascom, shaking his
head. "Speaking of which, Sheldon Gates remains in
police custody in connection with the murder of Ford
Jaspers and he still hasn't said a darn thing. Meantime,
I've got people monitoring the activities of both Myra
Ettinger and Bernard Zangerly."
"Our client's padre is tangled up in this mess, huh?"
"According to the identification Jimalla Keefer
helped us with, it's Dad who was one of the Mechanix
gang in cahoots with Shel."
"I'm going to be checking with an informant later
in the day, jefe." Gomez wandered in the direction of
the door. "Digging into Myra's links with government
agents."
"Are you sharing anything with that redhaired report-
er?"
"As little as possible," said Gomez.
The rain was still there in the morning, thinner and qui-
eter now. After his solitary breakfast, Jake went out onto
the cabin porch and sat in one of the raw wood chairs.
Gripping his mug of nearcaf in both hands, he watched
269

William Shatner
the rain falling down through the forest. Twice in the
first fifteen minutes a tree shimmered and disappeared.
A little after ten Maggie came out onto the porch.
"Good morning," she said as she pulled herself up into
the chair next to him.
"How's it progressing down below?" he inquired.
"Moderately well." She rested her left hand on her
left knee and swung her built-up shoe, slowly, back
and forth.
"But?"
"I'd like you to come down and take a look at what
we've got so far."
Jake studied her face. "Have you found out what it
is she knows?"
"Yes, most of it," answered Maggie quietly.
"That's good, isn't it?"
"This young woman likes you, lord knows why," she
told him. "More importantly, she trusts you."
"Maggie, what in the hell is bothering you?"
"Nothing, Jake my dear. Not a damn thing, not a
single god damn thing," she said, gazing out at the
woods. "I have an MD, don't I? That means I'm tough
and I've cut up corpses that once were living, breathing
human beings and I've watched cute little kids die. Hell,
I'm a tough old broad."
"That's what all the polls show." Leaving his chair,
he crouched beside hers. "You found out more than
you expected."
"I found a hint of something."
"And you don't know whether you should tell her
about it."
270

Tek Secret
"Oh, hell, she'll have to know." Putting her hands on
his shoulders, she got herself down out of the chair.
"Have you wondered why I don't have any chairs built
to my size around here?"
"I know the answer, Maggie. That would be too easy
on you."
She nodded, laughing briefly and quietly. "Come
along underground with me," she invited. "Alicia wants
you to watch this, too."
271

THE FIRST UNDERGROUND room Maggie led him to con-
tained two low white cots and an elaborate array of
electronic equipment. Spread on a small metal table
between the cots was what looked to be a collection of
Tek gear.
"How do you use that junk in your work?" asked Jake
when he noticed it.
"That's an adaptation of my own, not meant for
Tekheads." Pulling herself up, she perched on the
edge of a cot. She gestured with her right hand at
the complex of equipment that filled the entire wall
behind her. "By rigging a subject to all this formidable
hardware—most of which is of my own design—I can
get a pretty good idea of what's been done to their
heads."
"And what have you found out about Alicia?"
273
39

William Shatner
"That clumsy bastard Spearman definitely tried to set
up blocks to her remembering certain things," answered
Maggie. "He's not especially deft, the damn butcher.
On top of that, Alicia's pretty stubborn. The blockages
didn't completely take, memories started spilling out
and back into her consciousness. When people realized
that, they got upset and decided on a return trip to that
crackpot's facility."
Jake asked, "You know what they wanted to erase?"
"Not erase, Spearman's processes don't work that
way," she corrected him. "Tried to block, hide, keep
pushed down below the surface of recollection."
"But you know?"
"Yes, I unblocked it." She pointed at the scatter of
Tek paraphernalia. "Now, by hooking a subject up to
that and feeding the impulses into my own variation
of an ID Simulator, I can produce what amounts to a
holographic vidtape of what's being recalled inside the
brain. These little peepshows aren't completely accu-
rate, obviously. Since there's always a certain amount of
subjective distortion and a loss of definition caused by
the limitations of my equipment. But the results, Jake,
ain't bad." In attempting to get herself to the floor,
Maggie stumbled and fell to her knees.
Jake made no move to help her. "And that's what
we're going to take a look at—the footage you got from
Alicia?"
"Thanks." She got herself back to her feet by grab-
bing the frame of the cot and pulling. "Most folks
would've rushed over and fussed over me. You know
better."
274

Tek Secret
"Could be I'm just heartless."
"Nope," she said, walking toward the door. "I've nev-
er had the opportunity of taking a close look inside
your skull, but I've got a pretty good idea of what's in
there."
Near the center of the large circular room four chairs
were arranged on a low, narrow platform. Alicia, knees
together and arms folded, was sitting in the leftmost
chair. When Jake entered, she smiled fleetingly at him
and nodded at the chair next to hers. "Sit by me during
the show," she invited.
He took the indicated chair, touching her shoulder
reassuringly as he settled down. "How you doing?"
"As well as can be expected," she answered quietly.
"Did Maggie tell you what we dug up?"
"Nope."
Unfolding her arms, she reached out and took hold
of his hand. "It's not very nice," she told him. "In
fact. . . well, you'll see."
"You sure you want me to sit in on this?"
"Yes, I am. I'm going to need your help afterwards,
Jake, because . . . well, you'll see."
Maggie had taken the rightmost chair and was hold-
ing a control pad in her right hand. "Shall we get
rolling, kids?"
Alicia didn't immediately respond. Finally, very softly,
she said, "Yes, fine."
The room lighting grew gradually dimmer and then
darkness closed in all around them. Alicia pressed his
hand tighter. Her fingers were chill.
275

William Shatner
A few feet in front of them blossomed a dimlit hall-
way. A pretty auburnhaired young woman, wearing a
party gown, came in through the front doorway. It was
late night outside this house.
'That's me," Alicia whispered close to his ear. "I
apparently see myself as a lot cuter than I actually am."
All at once a door in the hallway was yanked full open.
Standing in the rectangle of harsh, bright light was a
younger, healthier Owen Bower. The wideshouldered
man was wearing a short bathrobe and clutching a drink
in his large hand. "Come here, damn it," he shouted
in a gruff, drunken voice. "Come here when I call you
or . . ."
Suddenly he was gone, the door was only open a few
inches now.
"I don't know where that came from," Alicia whis-
pered. "It's .. . out of context."
The other Alicia paused at the thin line of light,
frowning, listening.
From out of the room drifted arguing voices.
"Don't try any patriotic shit on me, Treska," shouted
Bower. "The price has already been settled."
'This has nothing to do with flagwaving, Owen. What
I'm trying to tell you is that the Office of Clandestine
Operations can't be bullied, certainly not by you or
Myra, into—"
"Go to somebody else then."
"You know we can't possibly do that," said Treska.
"Mechanix has a virtual monopoly on the sale of
servomechs, androids and robots in Central and South
America."
276

Tek Secret
Bower gave a harsh chuckle. "You bet your skinny ass,
Treska," he said. "And every name on this list of yours,
from Antonio Corte on down, happens to be a custom-
er of ours. If you want the people on this shitlist to have
fatal accidents, then you'll have to work with me. And
you'll pay the god damn price we agreed on."
'The price, Owen, was agreed on. But now you're
attempting—"
"That was a tentative price. But the technical difficul-
ties and the various arrangements have caused us to be
more realistic," Bower told him. "To rig those robots
and androids so that they'll arrange fatal accidents—be-
lievable fatalities that don't look anything alike—that
takes time and skill."
"We won't advance you any further funds unless—"
"Quit screwing around with me. You know damn well
you're going to pay exactly what I'm asking."
The projected Alicia walked slowly away from the
door, disappearing into darkness.
"That was a year and a half ago, when I'd just come
home from a date," she explained to Jake. "The door
to his den wasn't quite shut and I heard them talking
in there."
Another image grew out of the darkness. Alicia in
jeans and a striped shirt, hair tied back, was standing
next to a heavy wooden desk. In her hand she was
holding a sheet of pale-blue paper.
"Darling, that's the list, isn't it?" Bower had come
walking quietly into his den. He was older than he'd
been in the earlier glimpse of him, wearing a grey
business suit and not yet showing any signs of illness.
277

William Shatner
"You . . . you're going to kill these people." The paper
was shaking slightly in her hand. "Every one of them, ten
people."
"Ten unimportant people," said her father. "Oh,
important to the OCO and to the Tek cartels they're
in on this with, but not people who have much real
value to the world at all."
"You can actually modify our robots and androids to
kill people?"
"Easiest thing in the world, darling." Very gently, he
took the list from between her fingers.
"And they'll fix it to look like an accident, a series of
accidents?"
"We don't want anyone to get caught or arrested.
We're not talking about kamikaze assassins here."
"I just don't understand how you—"
"Alicia, I'm really afraid you're going to have to go
away for a rest."
The images were replaced by darkness.
Slowly the circular room grew light again.
"I can remember all the names on the list," said Alicia
quietly. "Three of them are still alive."
278

alone in his room, shoulders slightly hunched, Jake
sat facing the tap-proof vidphone. On the small screen
showed the face of his partner.
Gomez and Jake had just finished filling each other
in on what they knew about the case.
"The problem is," Jake was saying, "that we can't
prove much of this."
"There are still some hombres scheduled to get
knocked off in the next few weeks unless this informa-
tion gets spread around hither and yon," said Gomez
out in Greater LA. "As I told you, I'm on the brink
of being able to establish that Myra's in cahoots with
some OCO boys. And, if and when Sheldon Gates tells
all, that'll link her with a murder."
"That's only part of the mess." Then, grinning, Jake
sat up in his chair. "Whoa now. Here's our answer,
Sid—Natalie Dent."
279
40

William Shatner
Gomez tugged at his moustache. "I'm afraid, amigo,
to ask you what the question is."
"This is the big story she's been waiting for," explained
Jake. "She's not bound by the same rules that we are and,
if I know Newz, Inc., they'll be overjoyed to have her go
on the air right away and allege this whole damn con-
spiracy. She can give out the list, those that have already
been assassinated and those that are about to be. She can
even hint that Mechanix International is strongly in-
volved."
Gomez said, "That would mean I'll actually be giving
the senorita the sensational scoop I've been promising
her."
"Once this is out, they won't go ahead with the kill-
ings."
"Si, and Shel may be persuaded to break his vow of
silence," he said, brightening. "And Bascom'll be in
a better position to spread the word to some of his
highplaced government cronies."
"I'll be staying here one more day, so don't give out
anything on where Alicia is," Jake told him. "But go
ahead with the rest."
"Bueno, "said Gomez, "it's as good as done."
The pretty blonde android private secretary rose up
from behind her desk, placed both hands palms down
on her desk top and glared reprovingly at him. "You've
caused your poor father considerable anguish and wor-
ry, Mr. Zangerly."
"Yes, I imagine so," said Barry. "And it's not, I'm
afraid, over yet."
280

Tek Secret
The door of his father's office slid open. "You
shouldn't have come here," Bernard told him from
the doorway.
"Do we talk out here or in your office?"
"Allright, since you're here—come in. No calls,
Irene."
"I'd give him a good talking to, Mr. Zangerly," said
the pretty android. "Disappearing from the hospital,
getting in a fight with an intern and then—"
"Yes, yes, Irene." The door slid shut as soon as Barry
was inside the large, stark office with him. "Everyone
knows you're here, our security system being what it
is. That could be . . ." He sighed and went over to
his desk.
"Dangerous?"
"I was going to say embarrassing." The gaunt man
sank down into his chair.
"Where's Rog?"
"I don't know." He concentrated on arranging a stack
of infodiscs that sat next to his voxclock.
Leaning, Barry swept the discs to the floor with the
side of his hand. "Look at me. Look right at me, damn
it, and tell me you don't know what's happened to
him."
His father raised his head. "You and Roger have
never been, not for years anyway, especially close," he
said. 'Why this sudden—"
"He was looking into what happened to Alicia," said
Barry. "Mechanix is involved in her disappearance, and
a guy named Rob Stinson and—and you, Dad. You're
tied in with it, too."
281

William Shatner
"That's ridiculous. And, Barry, I won't continue this
conversation if you keep yelling at me the way you—"
"Alicia is missing. Now Roger, too. I intend to keep
yelling until—"
"Please, Barry, don't." He left his chair, knelt and
started to gather up the scattered infodiscs. "What makes
you think something's happened to your brother?"
"Because I can't locate him. I haven't been able to
for two days."
"That's not unusual, he—"
"Roger's been checking in with me regularly. Then
he stopped," his son told him. "Stopped in the middle
of trying to find out what you did to Alicia. Have you
had Roger killed?"
Bernard left the discs on the carpeting and got back
into his chair. "He hasn't been hurt, son," he said in a
faint, tired voice. "Neither has she."
Barry walked around the desk to stand over his father.
'Jesus Christ, you've known all along where she is?"
"Please, don't shout at me," he said. 'There's no
reason why we can't—"
"Where is she? Just tell me where the hell she is."
The older man reached out, trying to take hold of
his son's hand. "There are some things you have to
under	"
"Tell me, you son of a bitch!" He yanked his hand
out of his grasp.
"Over the years, Barry, you've never once wanted
to listen to me when I tried to explain the financial
reasons for my staying on here with—"
"Yeah, I know. It was your Mechanix earnings, your
282

Tek Secret
huge impressive take, that put me through school and
made me the respected academic I am today."
"It's only that... I got afraid that the money would
stop. So I did certain things—"
"Don't! Don't try to blame your dishonesty on me,"
shouted his son. "I never asked you to finance me,
you wanted to do it. I could've earned my tuition on
my own."
"How?"
"You never quit, do you, even now? Maybe you
thought I was lazy back then and couldn't have worked
to . . . That's not important. What's important is you
have to tell me where she is."
Leaning back in his chair, his father took a slow,
wheezing breath. 'We entered into an arrangement
with a government intelligence agency," he began, his
weary voice taking on a droning quality. "Owen set it
up initially, suggested the whole idea to a friend of his
in the Office of Clandestine Operations. It's possible,
you see, to rig our more sophisticated mechanisms,
program them to . . ." He paused, concentrating on
breathing carefully in and out. "I didn't approve of it,
but I found I wasn't up to going against Owen or Myra
Ettinger."
"Program them how—to do what?"
His father's voice grew fainter. "In South America
and Central America, you see, there were—"
"I can't catch what you're saying."
"The deaths in South America—I never quite got
used to that," Bernard went on. "The OCO has rela-
tionships with certain Tek cartels down there and some
283

William Shatner
of the profits are channeled into providing weapons for
factions across Latin America, factions that the OCO
approves of but can't openly support."
"Where do you and Mechanix fit in?"
"Owen and Myra and I, along with some OCO agents,
worked out a way to modify certain of our robots and
androids," the older man said, his voice still weak. 'They
could be used then to . . . well, you might say they served
as assassins."
"Assassins—you mean you rigged them to explode
like those kamikaze androids the Teklords use to kill
each other?"
"No, nothing that crude, nothing so obvious and
traceable," said Bernard. "But a robot butler, for exam-
ple, could be rigged so that he would see to it that his
master fell over a railing or drowned in the tub. A robot
nurse might arrange things so that her patient seemed
to have died during the night of natural—"
"What the hell does this have to do with Alicia?"
Bernard rested both his thin hands on his desk, link-
ing the fingers. "She happened—it was purely by
chance—to overhear her father talking to an OCO
agent named Juri Treska. That was at their home.
There was also a list of the proposed targets for—"
"That's what you call them? They're people."
"Alicia saw the list."
"It was just before she was sent to Mentor, wasn't it?"
His father nodded slowly. "Yes. There was no break-
down."
"And what did they do to her there—a mindwipe or
some kind of surgery?"
284

Tek Secret
'The OCO and Myra wanted simply to kill her. Owen
and I—"
"Oh, yes, of course, yes. You're such a humane guy
and her god damn father—sure, he loves her," said
Barry loudly. "No, Owen Bower wouldn^t let them hurt
her. He'd just ship her off to that electronic bedlam and
let them poke—"
"You have to understand, son, that Owen had to do
something."
"No, I don't understand. He never had to let his
mechanisms be used to kill people, he never had to
let his own daughter—"
"Owen felt otherwise."
Barry asked evenly, "Is that where she is again—back
at the Mentor Centre?"
"She was there."
"What do you mean?"
"It's confusing," said his father. "One of the OCO
agents who was there was injured and . . . Myra suspects
something has happened, though nobody at Mentor
will admit it. She thinks Alicia escaped somehow."
"Then where is she?"
'We're not certain. There is the possibility she's still
there."
Barry asked him, "What about Roger? Did they haul
him off to—"
"No, he's here." He, very slowly, got to his feet. 'We'll
go find him."
285

MYRA ETTINGER WAS not pleased. "Bernard, you know
how I feel about your barging into my office without—"
"It's too late," he told her.
She looked from him to his son. "You're not looking
all that well, Barry," she said, lighting a fresh cigarette
and exhaling smoke. "I'd say you left that hospital too
soon and—"
"Where's Roger?"
"What makes you think that I—"
"Myra, drop it," said Bernard. "I told him."
She took another long, slow drag on the tobacco
cigarette. "Told him what, dear heart?"
'Just about everything. I know you've got Roger held
here in the Medical Wing, waiting until—"
"You damn idiot, there was no need to blurt out every
god damned—" The vidphone beside her chair buzzed.
287
41

William Shatner
"Hold on, Bernard." She snatched up the instrument.
"Yes—what?"
"Turn on the Newz channel," Juri Treska told her.
"Darling, I'm in the middle of an important confer-
ence and I really don't have time—"
'Just turn it on, you bitch." The phonescreen went
blank.
Frowning, Myra poked a button on the arm of her
chair.
The vidwall screen across the room came to life. There
was Natalie Dent, sitting behind a realwood desk and
looking directly at them. "These assassinations," she was
saying, "the ones that have already taken place and those
that are set for the upcoming weeks, were planned by the
Office of Clandestine Operations and, we have strong
reason to believe, also involved the active participation
of several key executives of the powerful Mechanix
International organization. Before I give you further
details, let me repeat the list of victims and intended
victims. They are Antonio Corte—"
"Well," said Myra after clicking off the wall. "This
changes the situation, doesn't it?" Snuffing out her
cigarette, she got up.
"It doesn't change a damn thing," said Barry. 'You're
still going to take us to Roger."
"No, not really," she said, laughing. 'What I'm really
going to do is get home as quickly as I can, pack a
bag and head for a remote spot in Mexico. The bank
accounts I've been building up across the border will—"
"Myra, you're going to do what we tell you." Bernard
fumbled in his jacket pocket and got out a lazgun. "I
288

Tek Secret
don't need you to get Roger out, but I'll feel a lot safer
if you come along with us."
She laughed again, shook her head, and started for
the door. "I don't think, dear heart, that you have the
balls to shoot me."
But he did.
Alicia caught up with Jake in the forest. He was sitting
on a real log beside a simulated pond that was circled
by projected pines.
Stopping a few feet from him, the young woman said,
"We dredged up some more memories."
"So I heard."
The simulated leaves crackled realistically as she
walked over to sit beside him. "Earlier stuff," she
explained, "also obligingly blocked off by Dr. Spear-
man."
"You don't," he told her, "have to tell me about
any—"
"But I want to—if you don't mind."
"Go ahead, sure."
After nearly a minute, Alicia continued. "I don't
think I want to invite you to a screening of these new
memories," she said. "I'm pretty quick, too much so
maybe, at judging people. So I've already decided I can
trust you."
"Trustworthy Jake Cardigan they call me."
Reaching over, she took hold of his hand. "After my
mother died ... my father started drinking a lot." She
looked away from Jake toward the believable pond.
'That turned him . . . well, nasty. He ... um ... hit me
289

William Shatner
a couple times. But that's not what bothered me the
most. It was . . . what he said to me." Her hand gripped
his tighter. "What people say to you, people you love,
that can hurt you a hell of a lot more than ..." Pausing,
she shook her head and started, quietly, to cry. "Jesus,
I'm just sitting here babbling cliches. Sorry."
A real raccoon came waddling, very cautiously, out
of the holographic woods. He halted on the far side of
the pond, watching them with his bandit eyes.
Jake asked her, "What'd he say?"
"I was a wild kid," Alicia said. "Always getting in
trouble at school. . . and a lot of other places. He told
me, over and over, that. . . that I'd broken my mother's
heart and made her so sick of me that. . . that she
died."
"That's not what kills people."
"He said... he said that if they'd given him a
choice ... he'd sure as hell have been happier if I'd
died and my mother had gone on living." Alicia bowed
her head for a few seconds, sniffling. "After awhile, I
guess I started agreeing with him. Eventually he quit the
heavy drinking, but he never apologized. I... as I got
older I must've figured if I couldn't please him . . . well,
there were a lot of other men, especially older men, that I
could please." She shook her head again, laughing brief-
ly in a thin, sad way. "You're lucky, Jake, that you didn't
know me back then. I'd probably have gone after you."
Jake said nothing.
"The first time he sent me to Spearman—I can
remember now what he told me to justify that. He
said it was because it was dangerous for me to know
290

Tek Secret
what they were planning. He, of course, trusted me,
but the government people he was dealing with—he
was afraid they'd kill me or lock me away somewhere.
Because if I told what I knew, it would wreck their whole
plan. So, because he loved me so deeply, he was sending
me to Mentor to have them get rid of ail the dangerous
knowledge I'd accidentally picked up. Really, he swore
to me, it was for my own good."
Jake said, "That was one of my father's favorite
phrases."
She said, "My visit with Spearman convinced my
father that Mentor was handy for potentially danger-
ous situations. That's why, when I started to remember
again, he arranged for Sam Trinity to collect me for a
return trip."
Jake asked, "Are you ready to go home?"
"Probably by tomorrow," she answered. "Now that,
thanks to you and your friends at Newz, most of the
story is out in the open— Nobody has any reason to try
to keep me quiet."
"They'll be too busy covering their backsides."
She took his hand again. "I know I'm not your client
officially," she said, "but can you do something, one
more favor for me, Jake?"
"Probably. What do you need?"
"I'd like to go see my father, one last time this'11 be.
As soon as he's better, that is. Then I want to tell him,
face to face, that I know what he did to me," she said.
"That, I really think, ought to do me a lot of good."
"I can escort you to wherever he is, sure. But maybe
Barry's the one who—"
291

William Shatner
"No, not him," she said. "This is a tough thing to say,
since if it weren't for Barry, I'd still be locked away in
Mentor and I wouldn't know any of what I know now.
The thing is, well..." She shook her head. "I have
to do some thinking about Barry and me and whether
we're going to continue together. I'm not exactly, am
I, the same person I was the last time he saw me?"
"Not exactly, no."
'That's why I'd like you to accompany me to this
showdown and—"
Off in the woods hurrying footsteps sounded, leaves
crackled and a twig snapped.
Jake jumped to his feet, yanking out his stungun.
"Take it easy, Jake," called Maggie. "Don't mow me
down." She came limping into the clearing.
"Anything wrong?" he asked.
"In a way." She made her way up to them.
Across the simulated pond the raccoon turned away
and went hurrying off.
Alicia slowly stood. "What is it, Maggie?"
"I thought I'd best come tell you," she said. "This
just came over the vidnews. Your father died early this
morning, Alicia. Natural causes."
Alicia lowered her head for a few seconds, then looked
up at Jake. "He cheated me," she said to him. "Now I
can't ever tell him that I knew."
He said, "What's important is that you know."
"And I'll have to go into mourning," she said. "Not
for him, but for the man I thought he was."
292

Jake Cardigan's back, this time to stop a
planned android switch reaching the highest
level of government
WILLIAM
5HATNER
author of TekWar
As the President of the United States prepares to leave
Washington for a much-needed vacation, powerful forces
plot to see that he returns unusually rested and healthy-
and with a whole new set of policies.
„Tek
Power
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What began as a routine missing-persons case gives Jake Cardigan
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	TEKWAR 0-441-80208-7/$5.99
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	TEKLORD5 0-441-80010-6/$5.99
A synthetic plague is sweeping the city and a top drug-control
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	TEKLAB 0-441 -80011 -4/$5.99
Jake is ecstatic when his ex-wife's lover, TekLord Bennett Sands, is
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	TEK VENGEANCE 0-441-80012-2/$5.50
Jake is lured away from his girlfriend before she testifies against the
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