Nancy saw Vlad’s face change. It seemed he had just realized what he was being accused of.
“To deliberately destroy someone’s records?” he said. “Sheer vandalism! That would be as bad as burning their books. No, no. It is not possible you think I would do such a thing. Dina . . . ?”
Dina looked at him. She seemed torn. “No, I don’t believe—” she began. “But politics makes people do terrible things for what seem like good reasons. I don’t know. I don’t know.”
The door banged open. Lance stood there, out of breath. His madras plaid shirt had been buttoned crooked and was only partly tucked in.
“The virus hit me, too!” he announced. “All my files, trashed!”
“Lucky you keep backup copies of everything,” Cyril observed. “You did tell me that’s what you do, didn’t you?”
“Er . . . no,” Lance said, suddenly sheepish. “What I told you was how important it is to keep backups. The fact is, I’ve been so busy the last few weeks that I didn’t get around to it.”
“Oh, Lance,” Penny said. “You mean, all the records for the bike trip this summer?”
“Gone-zo,” Lance said. “I guess I can reconstruct them from the forms people filled out, but it’ll be a major pain.”
“You’d better get right on it,” Penny said. “Don’t you have to give the travel agency a big payment next week?”
“Never mind that,” Lance said brusquely. “I’ll take care of it.”
“How do you suppose the virus got to your computer?” Ned asked. “You didn’t get an e-mail from Vlad yesterday, did you?”
“I resent that!” Vlad proclaimed.
Lance looked puzzled. “Vlad? No, why?”
“Any e-mail with an attachment that you opened?” Nancy asked.
“No, only . . . . ” Lance looked at Dina. “I meant to ask you. What was so urgent about that message yesterday? When I tried to open the file you attached to it, it was blank.”
Dina’s face was blank, too. “I sent you no message yesterday,” she said.
“Your name was on it,” Lance said.
“I didn’t send anyone anything yesterday,” Dina insisted. “Not you, not anyone!”
“That’s the way some viruses work,” Nancy explained. “Once it’s on your computer, it hunts up your e-mail address book and sends itself to some or all the names it finds. Dina, Lance—you’d better alert everyone you know. They shouldn’t open any e-mail attachments that claim they’re from you.”
“Good point,” Lance said. “That didn’t occur to me.”
“Please excuse me,” Joann said shyly. “The bazaar will open soon. I must get my booth ready.”
“And we’d better get some lunch before we have to set up for the concert,” Cyril pointed out. “Do I hear a motion to adjourn?”
Everyone followed him out. Nancy paused to get a scarf from her knapsack. As she left the room, she glanced back. Dina was still sitting at her desk. She was hunched over her corrupted computer with her face buried in her hands.
Outside, Nancy rejoined the little clump of IFC members, just as Lance said, “Penny and I had better run. We have a brunch reservation at the Old Drovers Inn. I still have to dress.”
Penny glanced down at her faded jeans and running shoes. “Me, too,” she said with a grin.
“You’ll be back in time for the concert, won’t you?” Cyril asked in a worried voice.
“No problem,” Lance assured him. “But please, don’t ask me to collect admissions. I don’t want the responsibility. Maybe lightning doesn’t strike twice, but the thieves might.”
After Lance and Penny had left, J. P. remarked, “Brunch at the Old Drovers? Sounds nice.”
“Too right it does,” Cyril said. “I mean to try it myself one day . . . after I win the lottery.”
“Meanwhile,” Ned said with a glance at Nancy, “how about the salad bar at Commons? We can grab a couple of tables on the terrace.”
“Sounds good,” Nancy said.
• • •
After lunch Cyril, Ned, and J. P. went to check out the preparations for the concert. Nancy, Bess, and George promised to meet them at the quad later. They left campus and asked directions to the grocery store where somebody had bought salt and artificial sweetener on Friday.
The place turned out to be a busy convenience store and gas station. The woman behind the counter listened to their question in between ringing up other customers. She turned and shouted toward the rear of the store, “Jerry? C’mere a minute?”
A guy of about twenty came out of a back room and ambled over to them. He had a rose tattooed on his wrist and a pack of cigarettes tucked into the pocket of his T-shirt.
“Yeah?” he said. “What is it?”
Nancy showed him the register receipt. “Do you happen to remember who bought this?” she asked. “It was on Friday, the day before yesterday, in the middle of the afternoon.”
Jerry stared at her. “You’re kidding, right?” he said. “Sister, do you have any idea how many people we get in here every hour?”
Nancy felt a spurt of irritation at being called Sister by this guy. She pushed it back and said, “Just two items, salt and sweetener. That’s a little odd. Maybe it rings a bell?”
