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Then Payne felt another vibration in his pocket.

Sonofabitch! Now what does Amy want?

Harris and Byrth saw that, too.

He made another face and said, “Sorry. I should just turn the damn thing off.”

He glanced down at the color LCD screen: unknown number OK… I gave it some thought.

Even consulted with my favorite shrink.

I?m game, Matt.

See, I promised myself… well, I?ll explain later. -A Payne thought his heart was going to burst though his chest.

Amanda!

Unknown number? Shit!

Wait! Amy has to have it!

His thumbs flew as he replied to his sister’s text.

He put down the phone and looked between Harris and Byrth.

“What?” Payne said innocently.

“Should we wait?” Harris said, sounding a little exasperated.

“No, go ahead,” Payne said.

Just then, the phone vibrated with her reply.

“Sorry,” Payne said, and glanced at the screen:

Amy Payne I was going to ignore you but knew you?d get her number somehow amp; then hold it against me that I withheld it… 609-555-6221.

Great!

Then he stuck the phone back in his pocket.

“What I was going to say,” Harris then said, his tone still suggesting mild annoyance, “was that I agree with Matt. That we could get our people to see if they can trace these to an IP address.”

Payne and Byrth nodded.

Every device connected to the Internet had to have a unique Internet Protocol numerical address, and, at least in theory, every IP address of every router had to have a legitimate physical address associated with it as well. So they could track backward and find the IP address… and find their doer.

“Failing that,” Harris went on, “we can get the Bulletin to seed an article that might incite the Death.Before. Dishonor person to reveal more about him- or herself. One of those phones to my ear when you came in was with Lee Br

yan”-he looked to Byrth to clarify-“Bryan is the editor at the Bulletin. He agreed. With conditions, of course.”

“Of course,” Payne said dryly. “Damn sure worth a try.”

Payne gestured toward Harris’s desk telephone. Harris pushed it across the desk toward him. Payne picked up the receiver, thought for a second, then punched in a short string of numbers.

“Corporal Rapier,” Payne said into the phone. “Is the ECC free? Anyone in there?” He listened a moment and then grinned. “ ‘ Just Sweet Dee on the big screen.’ I see. Then that means you’ll be available in the next ten or so minutes. And we’ll need someone from Information Systems Division.”

Payne hung up the phone.