"He's got an account on NetCom . His address is rtango@netcom.com. He'll get back to you promptly. At least he always has with me. Use me as a reference and tell him I've agreed to bankroll his effort up to $10,000."

"Wow! Thanks Tom, I forgot about that part," said Nancy. "We'll call again as soon as anything develops. Keep those reporters tied down for the time being."

"All right, but hurry up with something. I've got to explain things to people too, you know."

As they hungup Nancy asked, "So that's why you wanted to be on the call, to get a reference to someone else to help. I hope you don't think you can call up Roger Tango and leave me out of this."

"Nancy, we need help. With Ranger 6 now off-line, I'm talking about a potential physical infiltration. They may have some paper files that we need to get to and you're not going to be doing any of that, now are you?"

"No, I guess not. All right getting help is a good idea. I'll send Tango a plain vanilla e-mail so we can talk to him."

Nancy put together a standard availability inquiry mentioning the $10,000 sum but making no reference to the project. She requested a face to face meeting for that night at the Icon Byte Bar and Grill on Folsom and 9th in San Francisco. An hour later Roger Tango's confirmation reply came back with the meeting time set for ten o'clock.

The Icon is a great meeting place for any occasion: central location, good food, and a perfect Martini recipe. The location would be especially useful for tonight's meeting since the Icon offers Internet connection capability to its customers, Spike would be able to make an appearance if things were going well enough between Nancy and Tango.

Nancy dressed herself in the requisite black and white colors of the SOMA district. When she arrived a few minutes before ten o'clock, she looked around the room and took up position in one of the only two remaining booths with a workstation available. She got the device's session started and signaled Spike her position. He blinked a confirmation back to her. Nancy ordered one of those Martinis. She felt like she needed it. The mystery was exciting her and making her nervous. She hated being nervous.

At exactly ten o'clock on Tuesday evening, Roger Tango walked in the front door of the bar. He walked immediately over to Nancy's table and sat down. "Hello, Ms. McGill. I'm Roger Tango."



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