From: magsrose@comcast.net   
      
   by MagsRose   
   See Chapter 1 for headers   
      
      
   Chapter 6 - 9   
      
   The Gunmen spent most of the day reviewing the videotapes from   
   Saturday night. Byers was suspicious of the two drunks that were   
   thrown off the grounds in the middle of the night. Everyone searched   
   for images of the men on all of the tapes. There were hours of tape to   
   go through so for once Emma got to help out. They worked in pairs for   
   something like this and Frohike was busy taking apart one of the   
   devices he found with the surveillance cameras. Byers and Jimmy worked   
   together and Langly paired up with Emma. She took it very seriously   
   and was even able to identify a couple of segments that showed the men.   
      
   In her excitement at being allowed to help she forgot about her   
   argument with Langly from the previous day. While she was intently   
   studying the video monitor, Langly exacted his revenge. She jumped and   
   squealed when she felt his finger in her ear. This earned them an   
   angry scowl from Frohike. "What are you two doing?"   
      
   "Nothing," they swore in unison.   
      
   "It doesn't sound like nothing. Knock it off."   
      
   Emma rubbed her ear and told Langly, "You're right. It is worse when   
   you don't expect it."   
      
   "See, I told you. So, don't do it any more."   
      
   "Okay, I won't. But how can I get your attention if I really need it?"   
      
   "Oh, that's easy. Just call me by my first name. Then I'll know you're   
   serious."   
      
   "You're sure that'll work?"   
      
   "Try it next time and find out."   
      
   "It's Richard, right?"   
      
   "Yup."   
      
   Emma started giggling.   
      
   "What's so funny?"   
      
   "You just don't look like a 'Richard'!"   
      
   Langly gave her a crooked smile. "Yeah, I know. That's why I used to   
   tell people to call me 'Ringo'."   
      
   "You don't look like a 'Ringo' either."   
      
   "What do I look like?"   
      
   "You look like a…" Emma searched for a name. "You look like a 'Langly'."   
      
   "Well, I guess I was born into the right family then."   
      
   "Are you two going to sit there and chatter all day or do you plan on   
   getting any work done?" Frohike asked.   
      
   Before Langly could come up with an angry retort, Emma assured her   
   father, "We're going back to it right now." She didn't want to get   
   fired from her new job. Langly hit the rewind button to catch   
   everything they had missed while they were talking.   
      
   Yves came by in the early afternoon with copies of the security logs   
   that noted the rousting of the two drunks, which included the names   
   and identification that had been shown to security. She had checked   
   and the identification they used was bogus. By running back the tapes   
   and carefully observing their behavior, it soon became obvious that   
   the men were not as drunk as they had seemed at first, if at all.   
      
   Frohike carefully studied the dismantled electronics he had found. It   
   did appear to do what he first surmised. It not only blocked the   
   signal from a video camera, it transmitted a looped image so that it   
   wouldn't be obvious that the signal had been disrupted. He hooked up   
   the undamaged device and tested it. He was impressed. It was an   
   amazing piece of counter intelligence equipment. And it wouldn't be   
   all that difficult to copy. This would come in handy but right now was   
   not the time to extol its virtues.   
      
   He explained to the others how they had been fooled.   
      
   "But how did Harris know about our cameras?" Byers asked. "I can see   
   him disrupting the ones security put up but ours were well hidden."   
      
   Yves was studying the one that Frohike had taken apart. "I told you he   
   was good."   
      
   Langly took the piece of equipment from Yves. "This may explain how he   
   switched the painting but how did he get it off the grounds? Nothing   
   was removed during the night, security made sure of that." He looked   
   at Yves, "You're positive he didn't take it out of the frame."   
      
   "I'm quite certain the frame was switched, too. Tiny flecks of chipped   
   paint that probably flaked off when it was moved are now restored.   
   That didn't happen by magic. They took the whole thing, frame and all."   
      
   Frohike offered his theory. "They used that," he pointed to the thing   
   in Langly's hand, "to keep us complacent, moved the painting to a   
   preselected spot during the early morning hours, then hauled it off in   
   broad daylight probably safely crated and stashed under a pile of   
   trash or something else that security would have taken no notice of."   
      
   Byers thought of something he had seen the previous day. "Langly, do   
   you remember yesterday morning as we were entering the grounds, we had   
   to wait for that truck, the one carrying the port-a-potties?"   
      
   "Yeah, I remember." He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Man, did those   
   things stink!"   
      
   "I thought it was odd at the time. Why would they be taking any of   
   them away when the Games were still going on?"   
      
   "Maybe because they were too gross to use! I know they got my gag   
   reflex working overtime."   
      
   "It doesn't take much to do that," Frohike said.   
      
   Byers continued, "But they usually pump them out and refill the blue   
   chemicals for the new day. There would be no reason to take them away,   
   unless there was something in one of them that they didn't want anyone   
   to see."   
      
   Langly slammed his fist onto the tabletop making the coffee cups jump.   
   "Oh, man, do you mean to tell me they drove off the grounds with the   
   painting right in front of us?"   
      
   Yves looked thoughtful. "Byers is probably right. Security wouldn't   
   think twice about the sanitation crew coming onto the grounds,   
   refilling the portable toilets, and leaving again. If we had   
   discovered earlier that the painting had been stolen, the guards would   
   have searched anything that size. The painting would fit nicely into   
   one of the larger units."   
      
   "This does give us a place to start, though." Yves continued, "The   
   truck must still be around somewhere. It might give us vital clues, if   
   we can track it down."   
      
   Emma had been very quiet during this whole discussion. She figured   
   they had forgotten that she was right there but she knew there was   
   something they were overlooking. "What about the port-a-potties? They   
   may not be with the truck any more."   
      
   From the surprised reactions her statement elicited she knew she was   
   right: they had forgotten about her.   
      
   She hurried on to make her point. "If they're not with the truck, if   
   they dumped them somewhere, someone will complain."   
      
      
   Frohike frowned at her. "Why are you still here?"   
      
   "I was helping."   
      
   "You need to go up stairs."   
      
   "But I already know everything, why can't I stay? I might be able to   
   help some more."   
      
   "I could use some assistance looking through the videos for shots of   
   the truck," Langly said as he sorted through the tapes to find the   
   ones of the gate where he and Byers had waited for the truck to pass.   
      
   "And she has a point about the portable toilets," Yves added. "No one   
   else thought of that."   
      
   Frohike scowled at Yves then at Emma. Eventually he gave in and let   
   Emma stay. "Go help Langly," he told her.   
      
   "Thank you, Dad," she said giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.   
      
   "Go on before I change my mind."   
      
   Langly moved to a computer and Byers, Jimmy and Emma watched the   
   videos to find footage of the sanitation truck leaving the grounds.   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)