Beck frowned at his reflection in the mirror as he got ready to leave. This job was almost... embarrassing. Not only was it actually legit, it required him to forgo the flashy clothing that was more his style. Still, it paid very well, and was almost as entertaining as his work on Dorothy. Thursdays were especially interesting because old man Tate got most of his deliveries on Thursdays, and it wasn't all that hard to get the crusty old bastard to start talking about his purchases. Jason ran water over the comb and coaxed his hair into a more conservative arrangement. He frowned again. It would do. He almost didn't recognize himself. Of course, that was a good thing--it wouldn't do for any of the alarm company's employees to figure out who he was. Satisfied, he left for the gallery.

Sam Tate had approached Jason two months ago. He'd arranged to have an alarm system installed in his art gallery, and a few overheard remarks had caused him to suspect that not only was he being cheated, but that he was also being set up. "I don't care about your past, Mister Beck", Tate told him.. "I've always thought that the best way to stop a thief was to hire a better one, and I hear you're one of the best at this kind of thing."

The combination of Tate's no-nonsense attitude and his flattering knowledge of some of Beck's lesser-known exploits had been enough to pique his interest, and when the old man said a certain phrase, spat on his palm and extended his hand to seal the bargain, Jason took it without hesitation. The gesture told him that Dan Tate had also been raised in the Paradigm City Home for Orphans, and only death would break a deal sealed in spit.

The geezer had been right about the alarm company, too. It was a sweet scheme, so sweet that Beck was half-envious he hadn't thought of it himself. A tiny device embedded in the control panel allowed anyone with a hand-held unit to override all the system's normal functions. It only took a few hours to adjust the frequency the device accepted and prep a controller unit with a panic button that Tate could keep in his jacket pocket, completely bypassing the non-working panic button installed under the counter. Any attempt to use a device on the original frequency triggered the alarm immediately.

Jason would have thought his job was done, but Tate wanted to get a little of his pride back, and the two of them had hatched up a plan. Since then, they'd had the service crew out at least once a week to fix one problem or another.

The old man was on the phone when he arrived. Jason occupied himself with admiring some of the paintings on the wall. "I don't care that you were just out here last week for the same problem!" Tate snarled into the receiver. Jason grinned, enjoying the show. "I paid good money for this system, and obviously you used shoddy parts," Tate said. "Either that or your electrician didn't know what he was doing! All I know is that the alarm went off for no reason last night, and it wouldn't shut off until I pulled the fuse. That's right. Just like last week! I expect someone out here immediately or I'll hire some security guards and send you the bill!" He slammed down the phone and smiled broadly at Jason. "I figure at this rate that they'll have paid out ten times in labor what they collected in profit," he said. "I think we should leave them alone for a couple of weeks after this, let them think that maybe things are finally working properly."

Beck could admit to himself that he'd benefited from the canny old man's sense of timing. If he'd been in charge, he probably would have gone overboard. Tate had a way of finding the best parts of Beck's little schemes and implementing them in way that left his hands and conscience clean. Beck's uncharacteristic patience with the timing of Dorothy's alterations had been due in large part to what he had learned from old man Tate. "Knew you'd be here this afternoon," Tate said. "I've got some nice pieces in today. Let's have a look at them."

There were several attractive paintings from local artists and a small abstract sculpture made out of steel that had been burnished until it glowed. The sinuous curves of the piece made him think of Dorothy for some reason, and he almost asked the old man what he wanted for it. "I've saved the best for last," Tate said, going into the back room and bringing out a large painting that had been carefully wrapped in paper.

"Oh. My." Jason breathed when the wrapping was removed. The painting was clearly pre-Event, and it was done in a style Jason had never seen before. The colors were so rich they almost glowed. "It was found in one of the half-ruined buildings at the ocean," Tate said. "Like it?"

"It's... amazing," Jason said, stepping back to get a better look at it. "I'm surprised it wasn't damaged."

"It was in a sealed room, according to the gentleman that arranged to have me look at it," Tate told him. "I've worked with him before and he's very reliable. If I wanted to see the place he found it, he would bring me there without hesitation. He thought it might be important because of the way the place was set up, and he knew I'd know how to handle it." Tate left the room briefly and returned with several large books. "I haven't made a firm offer on this one yet," he said. "The style looks familiar, and I wanted to see if I could find any information about it." He passed one of the books over to Jason. "Look under Impressionist," he said.

Jason was almost afraid to touch the book, it was so old. It proved to be quite sturdy, and he quickly found the section Tate wanted him to look at. "Found it!" Jason said at almost the same instant as Tate's triumphant "Here it is!".

"The biggest problem with old paintings is verifying their authenticity," Tate told him. "Famous paintings are even harder to verify because they were often copied, and when you only have a photograph in a book to go on... hmmm...." his voice trailed off as he skimmed over the text. "This one is supposed to have been repaired," he said after reading the page more carefully. "Unfortunately, it doesn't seem to say where the repair was located."

They both studied the painting closely. "I wonder if there's a way of taking that back off of it," Jason said thoughtfully.

"That's a good idea, but I'm not sure we should chance it," Tate said. "With some of these old paintings, the backing has fused with the canvas and removing it will destroy the painting. I'd hate to find out the hard way that this was one of them."

Jason nodded. "What we need is a little more light," he said. Tate nodded and went into the back room, returning with a spotlight of the same type as the ones that were currently illuminating the paintings hung on the walls of the gallery. "Will this do?" he asked.

"I don't know," Jason said. "Let's give it a try."

It took them nearly an hour, and it was Jason who finally found the spot. "I think it's there," he said, tracing the track of the original tear a few inches above the canvas. "It's shaped almost like a T."

Tate took out his jeweler's loupe and examined the section Jason had indicated very closely. "I think you're right," he said. "It looks like they didn't try to paint it over to fix it, it seems as though they just brought the edges together. That makes it more likely that it's authentic, but there's another small problem."

"What's that?" Jason asked.

"It was supposedly in a museum in France," Tate answered. "What's it doing here?" He chuckled at Jason's dejected look. "Don't look so downcast, son, you've got a good eye," he said. "What we need to do now is look through some more reference materials and see if there's any mention of the painting being on loan or stolen."

When Beck finally left the gallery, he had a small stack of old books under his arm. Tate had gotten to talking about famous art heists, and it was well after midnight. Who would have known that art could be so interesting?


Maybe the change of focus was what he'd needed all along.

It had been nearly two weeks since he'd last studied Dorothy's programs, although he didn't feel his time had been wasted. There was a satisfyingly thick wad of cash in his pocket, and more stashed away for lean times, and he'd learned a thing or two not only about art but about research.

It seemed the painting was authentic. He hadn't turned up anything in the books that Tate had sent home with him, but it had occurred to him that there might be other books. He'd checked out several junk shops, and while he hadn't found any art books, he did find a tattered pre-Event pamphlet that claimed to be a guide to the city. It had a whole list of museums, ones he'd never heard of, and while most of them had been looted or destroyed, it seemed that the thieves hadn't been terribly interested in the gift shops. Time had of course taken a toll, but he'd found something Tate called a "coffee table book" on the life and times of the artist Monet.

It was more recent than Tate's reference works, and to Jason's satisfaction, the painting in question was listed as missing. After the successful repair, it had apparently it had been loaned to the museum for an exhibition. Just before the exhibition closed, the painting had been stolen, and at the time of the book's publication, it hadn't been recovered.

The other verification had been Jason's own idea. Tate had asked his source to show Jason the building where he'd found the painting. After some careful digging, Jason had been able to provide Tate with evidence that the apartment where the painting had been found had been owned by a rich man who was known as a collector of fine art. He was even mentioned in several of Tate's references.

It was strange. Jason had always disdained research as being too tedious for his liking, but being interested in the subject you were researching made a world of difference. It also didn't hurt that Tate had been so pleased with his work that he'd not only paid Jason for his time, he'd thrown in a nice bonus. Flushed with success, it had suddenly occurred to Jason that perhaps a little research on robotics would be in order.

He hadn't found much, but there had been a gee-whiz-isn't-the-future-cool book, clearly aimed at young people, that had made everything click in his mind. Apparently, just prior to the Event, there had been some exciting breakthroughs in the field of Artificial Intelligence. According to the book, one day everyone would have a faithful robotic companion.

It was the word "faithful" that had made it click. There could be only one reason for the code that he had been puzzling over.

It did explain why she hadn't acted on her obvious feelings for Roger. Still, the arrangement made no sense. If the old pervert had arranged for it to be impossible for her to be unfaithful, why not set things up so she was also madly in love with him? Unless...

Jason was suddenly aware of a tight, nauseous knot in his gut. Pervert was right--Timothy Wayneright had wanted Dorothy to hate him.

The thought crossed his mind briefly that removing the block meant Dorothy might choose somebody else. He quickly dismissed it as not worth worrying about. Her choosing someone else would be just as much of a humiliation to Crow-Boy as his original plan, although he doubted she would.

He made careful notes in the margin of the printout. After he finished this code, he'd incorporate the block into a new routine, and rectify Wayneright's omission. He could take his time to do the job right, he wouldn't miss this little drama playing itself out for the world. Wayneright's nasty little power games had just made it possible for his revenge to be even more complete. After Smith's reputation lay in tatters at his feet, he'd make sure Dorothy Wayneright was publically seen to be very much in love... with Jason Beck!