chapter thirty-seven

Given Mercedes’ new information on Lee’s true connection to Britney Devonshire, access to his research files had inched up even higher on my list of priorities. So twenty minutes later, I eased the nose of my Porsche into a spot opposite the café two doors down from the Bradley Building on Broadway and West Third.

The Scratching Post was one of those downtown pet cafés where people who live in animal-free zones come to get their fix. People like Denver Lakshmi. From the door, I saw felines sitting on the shoulders of the red leather booths and winding their way through the forest of human legs under tables.

Denver was seated in a booth on the right. Her black hair had cobalt blue streaks today. They matched her iridescent nails and the fitted dress that looked like something from a digital ad for some new flavored vodka. Somehow the look suited her.

“It’s a good thing I’m not allergic,” I said, gesturing to the fat orange tomcat sprawled on her lap.

“You’re the one wanted to meet on my therapy night,” she replied. “Besides, they’re mostly animatronic. Or bred allergen free like Tomaso here. So stop your bitching. We have to make this quick. Diamond Dog is meeting my parents at Vegan Heaven tonight at eight.” She petted the cat. He purred on cue.

“Your show.” I pulled out a chair from the neighboring table and straddled it. “Just give me the update on Lee’s files. You able to salvage anything?”

“Most is damaged and almost all is encrypted.”

“Tell me something I don’t know. Did you break the encryption?”

“Don’t tell them, but I networked our computers in with UCLA’s for a brute force assault. It should have been enough to break through.”

“But it didn’t?” I didn’t hide my disappointment.

“I don’t think Lee used any typical encryption program,” she replied, pushing the cat off her lap and straightening her dress. Then her hair. “He may have gone old school, used a key.”

“One of those words I gave you before?” I thought back to the cryptic names and numbers Lee had blurted out before death: Father, Fuentes, 333-1110.

She pulled a long face and shook her head.

“You said almost all is encrypted,” I said. “What’s not?

“His vid-diary.” She grinned. “Something he did for rehab—one of his twelve steps. I tried to watch, but it’s boring as hell. Depressing too. Lee was such a lonely old guy.”

“I’ll watch it later. Did anything connect with—”

“—3331110?” Denver’s broad smile lit her face. “Watch this. File menu,” she said, loading the memory dot. A list of files popped up, floating in the air before us. “This encrypted stuff over here—” She pointed to a column of symbols and numbers, pulling them over with her fingers so the electric green digits swam closer. “—has been damaged.” She touched one of the encrypted files with her right index finger.“But take a look at the file save option.” As I followed the dance of her fingers in air, the name of the file to be saved came up, clearly legible.

3331110 wasn’t a phone or serial number, but part of the name on Lee’s encrypted file—AI3331110.doc.

“Awesome,” I said as we knuckle-bumped. “What’s the AI for, artificial intelligence?”

“Like I know. That’s your department.”

Grinning at Denver, I didn’t stop her going on about the vocal command software connection being damaged and defaulting to the original keystrokes. All I cared about was that the name of the file we were staring at matched the number Lee had muttered at his death.

“Great. Now all we have to do is break the encryption on the file itself to find out what’s in there.”

“We?” Denver said in a tone dripping derision.

“I provide the pertinent questions, necessary incentive and moral support. Copy me on the vidlog.”

“You’re too predictable,” she said, holding out a flash-dot, the fingernail-sized memory stick with the vidlog already loaded. “Don’t ever try to hack. You’d be toast.”

“Reliable,” I countered, pulling her into my arms for a quick hug. “Not predictable.”

“Hottie that you are, you’re too late, Piedmont.” She waved her left hand, engagement ring flashing at me. “I’m already taken. Remember?”

“Diamond Dog’s a lucky guy.” I winked and released her. “Let me know as soon as you break that encryption.” I started to head out.

“Yeah,” she said, yelling at my retreating back. “I got a life now you know, Piedmont. You should get one yourself.”

I smiled all the way to the car and headed home, eager to pop Lee’s vlog into the computer and see what answers it held in its digital keep.