The Man of Maybe Half-a-Dozen Faces Read Free Page A

the Internet. They claimed they would never ever reveal the identity or location of any client. They didn’t come right out and say it, but the implication was that the Russian government supported and protected the enterprise. This looked like yet another creative answer to ham-handed attempts to restrict freedom of expression in cyberspace, but I had to wonder what the Russian Mob thought about it.
    â€œCan you give me an example?” Roger asked.
    â€œWell, I have the feeling I may have been a cop once,” I said. “On the other hand maybe I just read a lot about it. Or maybe I played one on TV.”
    â€œGo on.”
    â€œLately, I’ve begun to suspect that the Sky disguise is the real me.”
    â€œTell me more about being Sky.”
    â€œAt first it was another level of misdirection,” I said. “Peel away the disguise and you find another disguise. A matter of protection. A tool.”
    A call came in, and I flipped on the speakerphone. “Skylight Howells,” I said.
    â€œThis is Ms. Divey. Please hold for Lucas Betty.” I suppose it could have been Ms. “Davie” with an accent.
    â€œMy other case,” I told Roger. “The embarrassing one.”
    â€œWhat’s the story on Dennis?” Lucas asked as soon as he came on the line.
    â€œI’m closing in,” I told him. I always told him I was closing in. Lucas Betty, who called himself BOUNCING_BETTY on-line, wanted to hook up with Dennis and start a software consulting firm. Dennis figured we could make a lot of money, and money was always nice, but that kind of business would cramp our style.
    â€œTell me why you say your other case is the embarrassing one,” Roger said.
    And over on alt.dead.gerald, some guy called SOAPY told me to check out www.deadguys.com if I wanted to see a picture of Gerald’s dead body.
    â€œWe’re not really cheating him,” I told Roger. “Sooner or later Sky will put Dennis in touch with him.”
    â€œGo on.”
    â€œYou’re always closing in,” Lucas said. “Look, I need him. I’m up to my eyeballs. You’ve got to be more than one person to make it these days. If I could clone myself, I would. Come on, Howells, get with it. Maybe I should just put an ad in the paper telling Dennis he could make a lot of money. Maybe I don’t need you.”
    â€œWe need the money,” I told Roger.
    â€œI’m getting close, Mr. Betty,” I said. “Real close. Any day now, I promise.”
    â€œGo on,” Roger said.
    â€œThat’s about it,” I told Roger. Lucas Betty hung up.
    â€œWhy do you say that’s about it?”
    â€œMaybe I should just put my hat back on.”
    â€œWhat would it mean if you put your hat back on?”
    I suddenly saw what Roger was getting at. “You’re right, Roger, as usual. I’ve got to quit feeling sorry for myself and get back to work.”
    â€œHow would getting back to work make you feel?”
    â€œBetter. In fact I feel all pumped up and ready to go right now. You’re a lifesaver, Roger. I’ll just sign off for now.” I closed Roger’s window and popped over to www.deadguys.com to see if there was really a picture of Gerald Moffitt. There wasn’t. I didn’t know what that meant. Had I expected SOAPY to be the killer and to have posted the evidence on a Web page?
    And the others hiding behind 4e4.com? You might expect that kind of secrecy on alt.sex.barnyard.animals or even alt.noises.sucking but why here? I scanned down the list of postings for other people with 4e4.com addresses. There were quite a few.
    I decided it was time to do some legwork.
    There was almost certainly something going on at GP Ink. Prudence Deerfield had as much as told me there was something to find there.
    I got out my cheap scotch and dirty glass from the bottom left desk drawer and poured myself a couple of fingers and leaned back in my