Net Bandits (Internet Detectives) - Softcover

Advance praise from England for Internet Detectives!

"If you are into the Internet then you'll definitely identify with Net Bandits and love it."<--The Times (London)

"Get set for some information superhighway sleuthing with this fab new series."--Dillons' Young Telegraph

"Net Bandits and Escape Key [are] the first two books in a new series--and very promising they are too...I was hooked." --School Library Association

"Let me go!" shouted Rob.  Once more he broke away, moving swiftly toward his father's study door.

It opened just before he reached it.

"Okay, kid.  That's far enough."

A short, stocky man stepped out of the room.  He had a smile on his lips, but his gray eyes were cold.

Rob felt a sudden spasm of terror.  "Who are you?" he shouted.

The man's smile stayed in place.  "Why, don't you recognize me?  Tut-tut.  And me your daddy's favorite, too."

Staring up, Rob searched the man's face for clues.  He looked like he was in his mid-twenties.  Above the gray eyes, his hair was parted in the center and slicked back with gel.  That was when it hit Rob.

He'd seen this man at Gamezone about six months ago, when he'd gone in to see the new development computer they'd just bought.  The man now standing in Mr.  Zanelli's study doorway had been one of those who'd helped show him around.

"Brett Hicks," Rob said quietly.

"Well done.  Got it in one try."

"You work for my parents."

"Worked," said Hicks, his smile fading.  "Past tense.  Your old man fired me three months ago."

"Fired you?" echoed Rob.  Now he understood.  "You were the one caught trying to hack into the development computer, weren't you?"

Hicks nodded.  "I'd done it once before.  But this time the thing was too well protected.  Anyway, I'd have been too early.  What I was after wasn't ready yet.  Now it is."

Rob looked at him.  "What do you mean?"

"Lure of the Labyrinth," Hicks replied.  "My contacts tell me they cut the gold diskette yesterday."  Hicks's smile was back.  "And everybody at Gamezone knows that the big boss has a superstition.  He always takes the diskette home with him for a few days to try it out."

He looked behind him, into Mr. Zanelli's study.  "So that's why I'm here, Rob.  You don't mind my calling you Rob?  You see, Rob, before your folks get back home I'm going to find that diskette and take it."

"W-Why?" stammered Rob, although he knew the reason already.

"Come on, Rob.  Elaine says you're smart.  You know what that disk's worth.  I can have a hundred thousand pirated copies of that game on the black market instantly.  A hundred thousand copies at nine dollars."

"A cool nine thousand dollars," said Elaine Kirk.  "With both of us out of the country and out of reach."

As his tutor spoke for the first time since Hicks had shown himself, Rob swung around.  "You--you're in with him, aren't you?" he said simply.  "Why?"

She shrugged.  "Money.  As simple as that.  I love spending money."

Rob looked again at her new outfit and he thought of all the other new clothes and jewelry she'd turned up wearing ever since she'd started tutoring him.

"I'd been looking for a way of getting back at your old man ever since he fired me," said Brett Hicks.  "So when I met Elaine a few weeks ago . . . well, it all kind of slipped into place.  It was just a matter of waiting for the right moment."

He came around beside Rob and knelt down.

"And this is the moment."  Hicks's voice was cool and calm.  "I'm going to turn this place inside out until I find that disk."  He stood up again, and now his voice was harsher.  "Take him away somewhere, Elaine."

"Where?"

"Anywhere.  Who cares?"  Hicks looked down at Rob.  "I mean, he's not likely to run for help, is he?"

He gave a sharp laugh as Elaine took Rob by the shoulders and spun him around.  "Good one, huh?  Run for help!"  Still smirking, Hicks went back into Mr. Zanelli's study.

Rob didn't bother to struggle.  What could he do?  Nothing.  Hot tears stung his eyes as Elaine pushed him quickly back toward his room.  Opening the door, she shoved him inside.  The key turned in the lock of the solid door.

He's not likely to run for help, is he?

Hicks's cruel words echoed in Rob's mind.  Of course he couldn't run for help.  He hadn't been able to run since he was eight . . . since the accident.

In his anger and frustration, Rob slammed both hands down on the arms of his wheelchair.  How often he had wished that he could run!  How often he had wished he wasn't stuck in this room with just his computer for company.

His computer . . .

Rob looked at the blank e-mail page, still waiting patiently for him to type his message to Tamsyn.

That was it!  He might not be able to run for help--but then perhaps he didn't need to.  Perhaps he could call for help another way.

Quickly he flicked on the caps lock key and began to type.

TAMSYN, GET HELP

But no sooner had he started than he heard Brett Hicks shouting outside, "Elaine, has the kid got a computer?  With e-mail on it?"

"Yes!"

"Then shut it down!  I don't want him sending messages . . ."

Rob didn't catch the rest.  All he heard were Elaine Kirk's high heels as she started clattenng back toward his room.

Rob's mind was in a whirl.  What was he going to do?  He didn't have time to spell out what had happened.  The most he could do was . . . yes, it could work.  If Tamsyn was smart.

Rob's fingers hammered repeatedly at the Return key until the three words he'd typed scrolled off the screen.  Then, as he heard the scrape of the key turning in his door lock, he frantically typed some more characters.

Desperately he flicked the mouse onto the Send icon and clicked once.

He was just in time.
To find out what happens, read Internet Detectives #1: Net Bandits.