Read John Golden: Freelance Debugger for Free Online Page A

'line', in this context, is a hair-thin connection over the Wildernet to some particular fairy burrow or domain. It means hosting the tiniest part of that burrow on a piece of my system dedicated to the purpose. I'm well-protected, obviously, but every time I'm reminded the things are there it makes me feel like I need a shower.—
    “Give him a poke and tell him I need his help. Grab a copy of SS AntiFae and send it over to him, tell him I want to know—hypothetically, of course—if he could get through it without leaving any trace.”
    “He's going to want something.”
    “Tell him I'll owe him a favor.”
    “You're not serious,” Sarah said. “I would have thought you learned your lesson about favors after last time.”
    “Just do it, all right? I'll handle Jiiya [44] .”
    — [44] Easy for him to say. He doesn't have to feel the creepy old man's greasy fingers groping his dataports.—
    Sarah muttered something I didn't catch, but made no further protest. I sat down at the desk and inhaled the contents of several of the white containers, washed down with a $10 beer from the minibar. What the hell, I just got paid, right?
    “Ugh,” Sarah said. “He stinks of those pickled plum things.”
    “Is he going to have a look?”
    “Yes. He says you owe him a quote ‘really big favor’ unquote.” Sarah sighed. “You realize, of course, that we already got paid for this job?”
    “ I know, I know.” I hopped onto the bed and fumbled for the remote. “You can start putting up my availability in the usual places, all right? When did Jiiya say he'd have something?”
    “ A few hours.”
    I clicked the TV on and surfed the hotel cable, looking for something mindless and distracting, preferably with explosions. I must not have found it before the jetlag got me, though, because I woke up to Sarah's voice and a documentary about toilet-paper manufacturing.
    “ John!” she said. “Don't make me break out the klaxon.”
    “ I'm up.” I yawned and glanced at the window, surprised to find it was already full dark. Seattle's warm enough that you forget how far north it is; in winter twilight is at around half past three. “What's happening?”
    “ I got the results from Jiiya.” Something in her voice made me sit up and pay attention.
    “ Did he find anything interesting?”
    “ I'm really not sure,” Sarah said. “But you're going to want to have a look at this.”
    ~
    An hour later, I was behind the wheel of a rental car, poking slowly through a Kirkland subdivision, trying to make out the house numbers.
    “ That's it,” Sarah said. “Up ahead, on the left.”
    I flashed the high beams and confirmed that the number on the front door matched the one I'd pulled off a resume-sharing site. That trail was a couple of years old, and I hoped Delphi hadn't moved recently. Tracking down any sort of contact info had been surprisingly difficult.
    “ Are you sure you know what you're doing?” Sarah said.
    “ Nope.” I cut the engine. “But you saw Jiiya's analysis. I don't think we can just leave this alone.”
    “ I mean about her. Are you sure we can trust her?”
    I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. “I think so. I got a good feeling from her.”
    “ Oh, that's a relief,” Sarah drawled. “You don't have anything more concrete to go on than your hunches [45] ?”
    — [45] Or urges.—
    “Not unless you count the fact that without her, we're screwed.”
    She didn't have anything to say to that. I got out of the car and hurried up the walk. It was a small house of the sort you occasionally see blocking traffic on the back of a tractor-trailer, and the small lot showed signs of the classic 'just let everything die' style of geek lawn care; the front door was flanked by an angled window, but curtains blocked any view of the inside.
    I rang the bell and, for good measure, rapped a long tattoo on the wood [46] .
    — [46] I should add that we'd stopped at a Starbucks along the way to top up John's