"I really don't think --"

"Come on, Linda, I know it's nuts, but it's my Gran. She *really* likes you."

Linda sighed. "Let me comm you the address, OK?"

"Thanks, Linda," Art said, watching the address in Van Nuys scroll onto his
comm's screen. "Thanks a bunch. Have a great trip -- don't let your ex get you
down."

Now, armed with Linda's fucking ex's name, Art went to work. He told Gran he had
some administrative chores to catch up on for an hour or two, promised to have
supper with her and Father Ferlenghetti that night, and went out onto the
condo's sundeck with his keyboard velcroed to his thigh.

Trepan: Hey!

Colonelonic: Trepan! Hey, what's up? I hear you're back on the East Coast!

Trepan: True enough. Back in Toronto. How's things with you?

Colonelonic: Same as ever. Trying to quit the dayjob.

Trepan: /private Colonelonic Are you still working at Merril-Lynch?

## Colonelonic (private): Yeah.

Trepan: /private Colonelonic Still got access to Lexus-Nexus?

## Colonelonic (private): Sure -- but they're on our asses about abusing the
accounts. Every search is logged and has to be accounted for.

Trepan: /private Colonelonic Can you get me background on just one guy?

## Colonelonic (private): Who is he? Why?

Trepan: /private Colonelonic It's stupid. I think that someone I know is about
to go into biz with him, and I don't trust him. I'm probably just being
paranoid, but...

## Colonelonic (private): I don't know, man. Is it really important?

Trepan: /private Colonelonic Oh, crap, look. It's my girlfriend. I think she's
screwing this guy. I just wanna get an idea of who he is, what he does, you
know.

## Colonelonic (private): Heh. That sucks. OK -- check back in a couple hours.
There's a guy across the hall who never logs out of his box when he goes to
lunch. I'll sneak in there and look it up on his machine.

Trepan: /private Colonelonic Kick ass. Thanks.

##Transferring addressbook entry "Toby Ginsburg" to Colonelonic. Receipt
confirmed.

Trepan: /private Colonelonic Thanks again!

## Colonelonic (private): Check in with me later -- I'll have something for you
then.

Art logged off, flushed with triumph. Whatever Fede and Linda were cooking up,
he'd get wise to it and then he'd nail 'em. What the hell was it, though?

23.

My cousins visited me a week after I arrived at the nuthouse. I'd never been
very close to them, and certainly our relationship had hardly blossomed durin