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kind."
    "Observant," Amélie said, frankly
meeting Chastity's gaze. "You garnered several glances as you
walked through the café and, up close, your eyes are truly
extraordinary. I don't believe I have even seen another pair of
that color. Would you call them gold?"
    "Amber," Chastity shrugged, feeling
unaccustomedly embarrassed under Amélie's scrutiny. "Is the meeting
we'll be joining nearby?"
    Amélie nodded, allowing the subject to
be changed. "Yes, just a few blocks away. I have badges for us both
that will get us in. It's an informal meeting, but the security is
very tight to keep out corporate types."
    "All hackers?"
    Amélie shrugged. "Primarily, plus a
few other fringers and pranksters, but some are simply
wannabes."
    "I don't know that I'll be able to put
on much of a front. I'm not really all that computer-savvy. I don't
know much more than the basics." Chastity shrugged.
    "Not a problem," Amélie said
triumphantly. She reached into the bag next to her and fished out a
laminated pass. " Voilá ! You are a journalist from an alternative publication in
America. You will probably want to flatter the contact. He's
apparently a big Americophile."
    "Excellent," Chastity said, looking at
the pass hanging from the blue lanyard. "No picture? Will that be a
problem?"
    "Actually no," Amélie shook her head.
"Turn it over. See? There's a chip in it. Pictures are easy to
fake. The chip was created by the organizers."
    Chastity chuckled. "They seem to be
well organized for outlaws."
    "They certainly are—which is what
makes them a challenge to deal with, of course. Ah, here are the
omelets. Wonderful!"
    They were indeed. Chastity enjoyed the
fresh flavors of the savory delight, just as she enjoyed the lively
wit of Amélie, who bounced from topic to topic with ease and
enjoyment, moving with easy grace through the wandering topics. She
spoke with great fervor for her homeland and an almost embarrassed
pride for her hometown, Leuven. "It's a medieval city, so you can
feel the dreams of years gone by in every street. Yet we are
completely modern in our outlook, like the rest of Belgium. We have
the best of old and new."
    Presently it was time to make their
appearance. Just as they got up, Chastity's phone rang in her bag
and she picked it up. "Yes?"
    It was Monitor, of course. "Don't
worry if you don't connect with the hacker tonight. This may be
only an opportunity to get a foot in the door.
Understood?"
    "Yes."
    "We have to be circumspect with this
one. He can be skittish. We need to know who he's working for—and
we have to be willing to take the time to find out."
    "Understood," Chastity repeated. This
was payback for correcting the other client too soon. She swallowed
her irritation.
    "Is the contact proving helpful?"
Monitor quizzed.
    Chastity looked at Amélie and smiled.
"Most helpful. A delight, in fact."
    "Excellent. Check in after the
rendezvous. I want an update even if it means no real news other
than initial contact made."
    "Yes, of course." Chastity hit the end
call button and dropped the phone back in her back. She looked over
at Amélie. "Shall we?"
    "The adventure begins."
     
     

Chapter Four
     
    "Passes, s'il vous plaît ! No one enters without
a pass," said a tall man stood at the door to the ballroom.
" Je moet een pass. Sie müssen einen Pass
haben ."
    Chastity and Amélie showed their
passes, had them scanned, and were waved inside with the admonition
that they wear the lanyards around their necks. Once in the
ballroom, they found the room pullulating with a strange assortment
of mostly darkly-clad young people. Looking around at the various
knots of people, Chastity began to feel quite old. Some of them
looked far too young to be out on a school night, but appearances
could be deceptive. Most had some kind of handheld device, busy
texting someone or other, or perhaps live blogging about the event,
as Amélie said she would be doing.
    "I regularly write on these topics and
they track people who track