Abigail tapped away at the keyboard with practice and speed. Colorful masses of text appeared on the screen, which she scanned with a focused gaze for useful information. The Teletext Internet was based on the transmission of television signals and could generally be used via an additional socket in combination with a normal cable connection. An extremely impressive invention, it pumped a massive amount of data into her 8-bit home computer, where it was absorbed by a mighty 64 kilobytes of RAM. She had been saving up for this device for a long time, and now it was finally paying off in earnest.
"I found something," she announced, pointing to the screen. The others stood around the table, seemingly waiting for that sentence. They all gathered in front of the screen and stared at the colorful text. "Taiyō Electrics has two different locations in the Industrial Quarter. However, they seem to have administrative offices and workshops at both locations. So it's not clear to me which of the two locations they could have taken the prototype to," Abigail said.
"Let's see... can you hack directly into the company's servers? Maybe we'll find out more there," Harry guessed, running his hand over his chin thoughtfully.
"I'll try," Abigail nodded. Then she rummaged through a pile of disks on the table until she found the one she wanted. Clearly a pirated copy, labeled in red marker. Then she slid the disk into the floppy drive, flipped down the lock, started the program with a strange-looking string of characters, and waited for the loading process to complete.
"Fortunately not Datassette. Worst, those things," Yuri remarked, staring intently at the screen.
"Yeah, we'd still be sitting here tomorrow," Abigail grinned. After only five minutes, the program *Lioncrack* loaded, and a lion's head, stylized with ASCII art, appeared on the screen, biting into a cable from which lightning was shooting. She started typing again.
"Hmm... Actually, I'm in... Personnel lists, vehicle fleet, insurance... none of this is getting us anywhere," she muttered.
"Take a look at the purchase orders," Harry said. "I think I have an idea. When you buy new technology, there's always some extra equipment missing. Always. It won't be any different on a large scale than it is on a small scale." Abigail licked her lips, lost in thought, and continued to scroll through the data lists.
"Here... Here's something. Branch 2 took delivery of a $45,000 laser the day before yesterday, an investment that stands out from the rest of the purchases they've made in the last few months," she said.
"What they do with laser?" asked Yuri.
"I don't know. Maybe they're using it to measure parts of the prototype?" pondered Harry.
"With a laser? What? A folding rule would have only cost two dollars," laughed Ralph, tapping his forehead with his index finger.
"At least that's something. We don't have much more than that, and we can't take too much time. So we'll break into Branch 2 and have a look around before they take the thing apart. That is, if it's even there," Harry explained. Abigail paused for a moment.
"Do we actually know what the prototype looks like and how big it is?" she asked the group. The others looked at each other quizzically.
"No," Yuri finally grunted. "Better we come with bigger car. Thing won't fit on back seat if we all sit in it. Must be huge."
"Yeah, he's right," Ralph thought after a moment's hesitation, scratching his butt. "Where are we going to get a bigger car on short notice?"
"Pull up the supply lists again, please, Aby," Harry asked, leaning back in front of the screen. As she slowly scrolled through list after list, he followed each item with his index finger. "Look there... There's a supplier for the cafeteria. There are no cooks listed in the personnel lists, they have the prepared food delivered by.... here: *Wiener Productions*."
"That's about the stupidest company name I've ever heard," Abigail remarked, shaking her head in disbelief.
"Yeah, but it seems like a pretty big company," Harry replied. "I've also seen that name at the airport and various train stations. My suggestion would be that we hijack one of their vans and drive it to the branch at lunchtime. Ralph will hand out the food and the rest of us will go in and get the prototype.
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"Great idea, dude," Ralph said, snapping his fingers. "I've handed out food in prison before, so it's no problem."
"Good, then we have plan," Yuri nodded. "Now we need some equipment. Where to find it?"
"Here in Downtown, it's best to go to Bonzo for equipment," Ralph explained, fishing a chocolate from an open package sitting on the small living room table. Then he put it in his mouth with relish and began to smack his lips.
"Bonzo? Who's Bonzo?" asked Yuri.
"Harris D. Bonzo is the place to go for guns without serial numbers and all that other stuff that's hard to get, if you know what I mean. Can take you to him. He greases the cops' palms so he doesn't have to keep changing his location," Ralph explained. It had gotten dark outside, which was not a bad thing for such purchases, considering the opening hours of the shops.
"Then we'll visit this Bonzo and see what he has to offer. If we can do that today, we'll be ready for the run tomorrow," Harry said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. Abigail jumped out of her chair with a squeal of excitement and ran to the coat hooks in the foyer, grabbing her jacket as she realized it was finally time to go shopping. Yuri and Harry looked after her in amazement, her anticipation for this shopping trip obviously having grown immeasurably.
"What are you standing there gaping at? Swing your lazy legs, you don't keep a lady waiting!" Ralph crowed cheerfully to the two of them, then marched right after Abigail, tossing the next chocolate into his open mouth.
"Quite an excellent choice, if I do say so myself," the forty-something man behind the counter quipped, pursing his chapped lips. He had long, oily black hair that hung down over his stubbled, three-day beard. He wore an olive green muscle shirt, a chain with two military badges around his neck. Apparently, he had served in the armed forces a long time ago. The most striking thing about him, however, was the mechanical prosthesis he wore in place of his own left forearm. He was holding a thick, steaming cigar in it. He could move the fingers and hand of this artificial limb easily, but only comparatively slowly. Abigail turned the cylinder of the small silver revolver and aimed it into the air over the sights. The weapon was perfect for her slender hands, light, comfortable to hold, quick to reload, effortless to conceal.
"I really want this one," she said enthusiastically. "How much is it?" Bonzo, the man behind the counter, grinned broadly, revealing a row of unkempt black stubby teeth. Then he leaned forward, far toward her, his forearms braced to get as close as possible.
"Darling, I'm always happy to make a friendship deal for a pretty thing like you." Then he winked at her and licked his lips suggestively. Abigail smiled narrowly and leaned toward him, leaving only a hand's width of space between their noses. Her green eyes flashed at him.
"You disgusting, stinking slime bag, I just want to buy this gun, not fuck you. So, how much?" she said, keeping her cool smile. Bonzo bristled at this statement for a moment, but then burst out laughing.
"Very good, I like you!" he barked, slapping the counter with his artificial hand, causing the register to rattle to his left. "Take it for $50 and shoot the damn mayor with it for me," he roared, still laughing, holding his stomach. Then he pulled a box of shells from the shelf behind him and tossed them to her. "These are on the house, sweetheart." Abigail caught the box and shrugged.
"Thanks..." she said, then turned to her companions. "Got everything?" Yuri placed a pump shotgun, another pistol, a large military knife and several packs of ammunition on the counter. Harry, on the other hand, had only opted for several throwing knives. He had also found a cell phone and three walkie-talkies.
"This all looks very good," Harry said as he surveyed the pile of merchandise. "What does all this add up to...?" Before he could finish his sentence, Ralph stumbled out of one of the side rooms, carefully carrying a small package in front of him.
"This too," he said, placing it on the counter.
"What's that?" asked Abigail curiously, taking a step closer to better read the small writing on the surface of the package.
"It's a mini laptop. It's a little 16-bit C64, the latest shit, girl. It's so small it would fit in your purse if you had one," Ralph laughed, running a hand through his hair. Abigail's shock at this device was obvious. She had never expected to see such an advanced model of a mini-computer in a place like this. New technology like this could cost a good $5,000. The package had most likely fallen off a van and landed here by accident.
"That... We'll never be able to afford it. Far too expensive," she breathed in a resigned voice and waved it away.
"Bonzo, you old whoremonger, I never asked you for anything back at Brickstone Bay..." Ralph remarked to the merchant, who then went wide-eyed. "But you know damn well you'd have a chrome butt and not just one hand if I hadn't..."
"All right!" grunted Bonzo dully, indicating with a quick, throwaway hand gesture that Ralph should stop talking. Then he pressed his cracked lips together, and you could see him begin to calculate feverishly in his head. After a few moments, he squeezed out a "...three hundred dollars and no less, you rat". Visibly upset, he pulled a dirty cloth handkerchief from his pants pocket and used it to wipe the sweat from his brow. "Really squeezing my balls there, man. And you call yourself an old friend," he grunted. Abigail beamed happily and Ralph turned and walked slowly towards the exit door.
"I'll start the car, don't be long," he muttered.