Chapter 1

Chris sat at his bench when a man in a white shirt and tie approached him. “Roger,” he said, “my favorite marketing guy.”

“That’s a pretty low bar, isn’t it?”

Chris shrugged. “We all gotta pay the rent, and your efforts pay my salary.” He picked up a device sitting on the bench. “Your new iPad is almost ready if that’s the reason for your visit to the dungeons.”

“Actually ... I was wondering -- do you do government projects?”

“For you, Roger ... anything. What do you have in mind?”

“My kid sister’s laptop caught a virus. I was hoping you could go over to her place and disinfect it.”

“What kind of a laptop is it?”

“It’s a Dell, several years old. She uses it in her work. She writes travel columns.”

“Travel columns?” Chris leaned back. “Do you mean like the Smart Traveler in the newspapers?”

“Exactly -- that’s my sister.”

“Your sister is the Smart Traveler?”

“That’s right. She has a deadline coming up and she’s worried all her stuff will be gone. She somehow caught one of those virus that holds your computer hostage.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. One of the V.P’s machines caught one of those, once. It was a nuisance to straighten out. Sure, Roger -- I’ll help you out.”

“Thanks, Chris.” Roger handed Chris a slip of paper. “Here’s the address.”

Chris regarded it. “Carmen?”

“That’s her name.”

“I could go over Saturday morning.”

“We were hoping,” Roger replied, “that you could go over there tonight.”

“Tonight? I guess I don’t have anything else to do.”

“Thanks, Chris.”

“I’ll swing by my place and pick up some stuff.”

“By the way. I should warn you -- my sister is a little peculiar.”

“Peculiar? How?”

“You’ll find out.”

Chris found the address in an older, residential section of town dominated by small houses built in the early 1900s on small lots. He pulled into a gravel driveway adjacent to a dwelling that showed signs of neglect. The flowerbeds were overgrown with weeds and the lawn was in need of mowing.

He removed a cardboard carton from his trunk, carried it to the front door and pressed the button for the doorbell. He pressed it again; then, hearing nothing, he rapped on the door.

The door opened. “Christian?” asked a voice from behind the door.

“Yes. Roger sent me. Call me Chris.”

“Roger said your name is Christian Grant,” she replied.

“Yes, that’s my given name.”

“Then, that is how I shall call you. Come in.” He stepped into a room with heavy curtains and shades over the windows. An antique tulip lamp glowed dimly in one corner. “I’m Carmen.”

Chris turned to face her. She was about five-foot-nine, wearing a floor-length, heavy skirt and a Victorian style blouse with a tall collar and billowing sleeves. Several chains with beads hung from around her neck. She wore a hat with a wide, droopy brim that kept her face in shadow, except for her jaw, chin, glossy lips and the tip of her nose. Carmen extended her hand and he grasped it.

“Please come this way,” she said and led him into a cluttered office in the back of the house. She gestured to her laptop. “I’m really lost without it. I use it in my work.”

“Roger said you write the Smart Traveler columns,” Chris replied.

“That’s right. I have a deadline coming up and I’m terrified I’ll lose my work.”

“Well ... I’ll do my best to save your data. Do you take regular backups?”

“No. No one has ever shown me how,” she replied.

“I’ll make sure to show you how. Did this laptop come with a Windows restore disc?”

“I don’t recall. I’ve had it for some time.”

“If not, don’t worry. I have a rescue disc I can use.” He removed the power cord, turned the device upside-down and removed the battery. “Can I get a little more light in here?”

Carmen turned on a high-intensity desk lamp and Chris focused it on the laptop. “I’m going to swap out your hard drive,” he explained, “and perform a clean install. Your original drive I’ll install in this...” He held up a small cabinet. “We’ll connect it via USB and copy your data over.”

“Will you swap them back and repeat the process?” she asked.

“No need. You can keep the new hard drive. It’s a little bigger than the one in here now, but it’s no big deal. I’ll just recycle your old one into my stock.”

Carmen sat in a chair in the corner. “Do you mind if I watch you work?” she asked.

“I don’t mind.”

She took a sketchpad and a box of pastels from a shelf. “Would you object if I sketched you?”

“Sketched me?” He shook his head. “Go ahead and sketch away.”

Chris busied himself with her laptop. Once he replaced the drive he powered it up and began the process of reformatting the drive and installing the operating system. He leaned back and stretched. “Well -- there’s a break in the action while Windows does its thing.” Carmen closed her box of pastels. “Done sketching?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you. You made an interesting subject.”

“Can I see?”

“Oh ... My sketches are for my eyes only,” she replied. “I show them to no one.”

“I’m sure you’re a far more accomplished artist than I am. So -- don’t be shy about your artistic abilities.”

“Nonetheless...” She flipped closed the cover to her sketchpad and set it on her shelf. “Christian -- how did you find yourself in this line of work?”

“Oh ... I always liked technology.”

“You’re not like my concept of a technology geek,” she replied. “You’re a people person.”

He snorted. “What gives you that idea?”

“It’s how you seem to be to me. Roger recommended you. He said you’re a good guy.”

“Roger’s a good colleague. I wouldn’t call him a close friend, though.”

“Are you hungry?” she asked. “Have you had dinner?”

“No, I haven’t had dinner.”

“There’s a Chinese place around the corner that delivers.”

“I like Chinese,” Chris replied.

She rummaged through some papers on her desk. “Here’s their menu.”

He scanned it. “I think I’ll have the Sichuan chicken.”

“I’ll place the order.”

Chris watched as the Windows installation crept its way toward completion.

Carmen stepped into her office. “Dinner will be here shortly,” she announced. “I have some nice Chinese oolong tea. Would you like me to brew a pot?”

“Sure,” Chris replied. He plugged her network cable into her laptop. “Let’s see if we can get this copy registered ... Look at that. This is our lucky day.”

“Christian,” Carmen called from the front of the house. “Dinner is ready.”

He sat at a small table in a bay window that was covered with heavy drapes. Two dim lamps and a pillar candle on the table provided the only light. Carmen poured some tea and sat across from him.

Chris scooped some of his dinner. “Tell me,” he asked, “how did you become the Smart Traveler?”

“I was a journalism major in college,” she replied. “Once I graduated I submitted some columns to a webzine ... this all was before Facebook and Twitter and all.”

“Yes...”

“Well -- someone at the syndicate saw my work and asked me to put together a regular column. It took a couple of years before it took off.”

“How long have you been doing this?” he asked.

Carmen bit her lip. “Eight years I think. Yes -- eight years. Two years ago one of the public radio syndicators asked me to develop a five-minute segment. Now, I’m on twenty public radio stations, too.”

“Where do you record those segments?” he asked.

“Right here. I have a little studio in one of the spare rooms, upstairs.”

“That is really cool,” Chris remarked. “I had no idea Roger’s sister was doing that.”

“Do you travel much?” Carmen asked him.

“No. I guess I don’t have the time or resources.”

“You should make the time and find the resources. Is there any place you’d like to see?”

“Hmm ... I’ve always wanted to go somewhere south of the equator. I like stargazing and I’d like to see the southern night sky.”

“Do you mean Australia or New Zealand?”

“Or, South America even.”

“The night sky is lovely from South Africa,” she remarked.

“I want to see the Magellanic clouds.”

“What are they?” she asked.

“Two small satellite galaxies that accompany the Milky Way. I’d even like to go somewhere on this continent where the light pollution isn’t so bad. Even here, you can hardly see any stars at night any more. It’s gotten worse since I was a kid, even.”

“I see ... Maybe I should do a segment on travel for stargazing. It’s a good suggestion, Christian.” She scooped some of her dinner. “What do you do for fun?” she asked.

“I read ... watch films. I don’t do that much.”

“Why not?”

“Unless I’m watching one with someone I end up falling asleep.”

“You’re single, then?”

“Yeah, I’m single.”

“I’m surprised,” she replied.

“Surprised? How?”

She shrugged. “You struck me as the sort of guy who settled down.”

“Well ... I was settled ... for a while. Now, I’m settled and single.”

“Would you like seconds?” she asked. “I think there’s some left.”

“I think I’ll go see how your laptop is doing. Why don’t you keep the leftovers? You paid for them.”

“Sichuan doesn’t agree with me. You can take the leftovers home.”

“Okay ... thanks.” He picked up his empty plate.

“Just leave it,” she said. “I’ll take care of everything.”

“I’m going to install your Office software and see about recovering your data. Thanks for dinner, Carmen.”

“You’re more than welcome. I enjoyed our conversation. I don’t often have company for dinner.”