Olympus: It's Not Just a Game

Chapter 42

Mr. Huber, Wheeler, and Mrs. Morrison didn't say much as they drove over the Tobin Bridge away from Cambridge. They struggled through the notorious Massachusetts traffic and up Route 1 toward the New Hampshire seacoast. They crossed the bridge over Great Bay about an hour later, and reached the Salmon Falls police station by early afternoon.

It was an old brick building, and the Officer of the Day lounged behind an ancient wooden counter that had booked thousands of offenders. Mrs. Morrison's stepped right up to it, and said, "We want to swear out a search warrant."

"Ayuh," the officer grunted, not looking out from the form he was reading. "Search warrant, eh?" Slowly and deliberately, he put down the form, and peered at them over the top of his spectacles. "Well, in this town we like to have a crime before we go issuing warrants."

"We got the crime," burst in Mr. Huber. "Kidnapping!"

The officer looked up. "Kidnapping? Well, now that's a crime." Then he looked skeptical. "Course, we get a lot of folks who think they're Chicken Little, screaming the sky is falling every time an acorn hits their heads. Tell me about your kidnapping."

"It's my son, Karl," explained Mr. Huber. "He's run away."

"Run away?" the officer interrupted. "I thought she said kidnapping."

"He started by running away, but now he's being unlawfully held," explained Mrs. Morrison. "That's kidnapping."

"Or false imprisonment, maybe," mused the officer. "Still, it sounds like a crime to me. Who's holding him against his will?"

"CyberCamp," Mr. Huber answered, pulling out a folded-up piece of computer paper from his pocket. He placed it on the stained wooden counter and pointed out the word. "See?"

The officer adjusted his spectacles and studied the writing. "CyberCamp," he repeated, slowly. "It appears I heard a big todo about this CyberCamp a while ago, back when it first opened. Nice enough folks, I always thought. Haven't had any complaints."

"You got one now!" Mrs. Morrison insisted. "Karl Huber is being held captive there!"

"Now, don't get hasty," the officer protested. "How do you know he's being held there?"

"The computer says so," Wheeler answered. The officer peered down over-the-counter to look at the boy in the wheelchair. Wheeler pointed at the sheet of paper.

"Now what's all this?" the officer puzzled, scratching his head.

"It's a technical readout of the sending location of a cybercubicle," Wheeler explained matter-of-factly.

Mrs. Morrison was quick to pick up on the blind expression on the officer's face. "It's a computer," she explained. "The computer located him precisely."

The officer hesitated. Mr. Huber pressed forward. "It's all there," he insisted, nailing the paper to the countertop with one massive finger. "Right there!"

"Well, it's too newfangled for me," the officer mumbled. "I'll let the magistrate figure it out." He led them back through the building. Salmon Falls was so small a town that the magistrate who swore out search and arrest warrants also carried on a private law practice out of the same office.

The magistrate was even more skeptical than the Officer of the Day, but Mrs. Morrison knew her criminal procedure, and Wheeler was very persuasive on the subject of computers.

"If you're telling me this is a business document," the magistrate concluded, "and you're all willing to testify on oath that this boy is at this location, I guess I can issue the warrant." He looked unhappy. "Officer McGill, do you have a man who can execute this?" The officer of the day nodded. "Tell them not to push it," the magistrate continued, unhappily. "These CyberCamp people keep to themselves, but they pay their share of taxes. Let's not get them upset."

The officer led them back to the dayroom. "Hey, Reilly," he called out. "We got a warrant here to search CyberCamp for one Karl Huber, a youth under the age of eighteen. Think you can find a teenaged boy?"

An officer shuffled out of the background. "High priority, is it?" He hitched up his belt and stood up a little straighter. "Yes, I think I can handle one teenager."

"You're looking for a particular boy, so you'll probably need to take these folks along to identify him," the Officer of the Day continued.

Reilly looked over Mrs. Morrison appreciatively. "Fine with me," he agreed. "Squad car's out this way, ma'am."

A few minutes later, they pulled up to the glass and chrome doors of CyberCamp. The receptionist met them frostily. "You'll have to wait here," she squeaked. "I have to get this cleared."

"Get whatever you want," responded the officer. "Just don't nobody leave the premises."

Ms. Sparrow came bustling in moments later. Her dark eyes glittered fiercely, but she wore a careful smile on her face. "Now, officer, what's all this?"

"Search warrant," he answered stolidly. "We're looking for a boy named Karl Huber."

"A boy?" she answered, brightly. "Well, we do have several boys here, but they are all are paying guests. But I don't know any named Huber." She took the warrant and looked over it carefully. "This looks valid," she conceded. "I'll show you around. But I'm afraid you'll be disappointed!"

"It's just my job, ma'am," the officer replied. "I'm just here to serve the warrant."

Ms. Sparrow led them around the premises. There were two halls leading to the left and right from the lobby, and there were eight rooms containing cybersuits. They checked each suit. The officer looked to Mr. Huber. "Any of them him?" he asked.

"No!" Mr. Huber replied, anxiously. He turned on Ms. Sparrow. "Does this place have a basement?" She shook her head. "Well, let's check upstairs," he demanded.

Sparrows looked at him nastily. "This is a single story building, sir."

Mrs. Morrison laid her hand on Mr. Huber's arm. "She's right," she whispered.

"Of course I'm right," Ms. Sparrow snapped. "I don't know who you are, sir, and I will presume that you have simply been terribly mistaken. Nevertheless, you have disrupted my whole afternoon and I'll have to stay here late tonight to finish the very important work I have been doing. If you have nothing further to do here, could you kindly look somewhere else for your runaway son?"

Mr. Huber was useless. Mrs. Morrison gently took his arm. "We better go," she said. They walked slowly back to the squad car. Officer Reilly drove them silently back to the police station.

"Any luck?" the Officer of the Day asked as they walked in. One look at their faces gave him the answer.

"It had to be the right place," Mr. Huber insisted. "We came all this way, and there were the cybersuits!"

"She said 'your runaway son'," Wheeler added. "How would she know that?"

"A lucky guess, maybe," Officer Reilly suggested. "After all, who else goes around looking for teenage boys?"

The telephone rang. Officer McGill answered it. "Salmon Falls Police," he said mechanically. He listened. "Got a what? For who? Okay, OK, I'll check it out." He tapped the computer keyboard and scrutinized the screen. "You said your name was Huber, didn't you?" he asked.

"That's me," Mr. Huber answered, hopefully. "Dan Huber."

"Then you'll be real interested in the phone call I just got."

"Really?" Mr. Huber answered, excitedly. "Why?"

"Because you're under arrest!"