anuradha_g
The 'DOS' Effect
Three high-profile murders in Berkeley. All at pre-informed times. And all successful. District Commissionaire Mr. Apteck had been given a sleek, perfectionist shot to his appendix, while the only Berkeley MP, Louis de Vert, had adorned his drawing room floor till last night, oesophagus stuffed with crumpets; and the Major's men found neatly sliced fragments of Father Dennis Booth packed into a leather suitcase in his wardrobe.
An hour to go. The only possible targets this time were Miss Elizabeth, Regional Officer, and Mrs. Livon Logan, the Mayor. The Major personally headed their security squad. The rest of the elite crowd were attending a peace meet at the UN. Thank heavens! Sighing, detective Coyle picked himself up, deciding to check on them one last time.
The killer had been as unstoppable as ruthless. "Hype! Stink." Coyle remembered his contemptuous lisp. Each method unique. But where there are humans, there is logic; however perverse it might be.
Inside the RO's farmhouse, he found a frustrated Major standing outside the bath, pulling on his cigar.
"Don't know what the hell's with these women. An hour's that much I can stand pampering myself!"
"An hour?"
"And five minutes."
Without another word, Coyle threw his entire bulk to the door. Elizabeth floated in the tub; her kidneys, intestines, heart, liver and lungs, all surgically gouged out and neatly arrayed beside.
Coyle stopped mid-swear. Reaching into the tub, he retrieved a soggy booklet, just as Cuthbert's cellphone started beeping. The lisp was unmistakable. "15 minutes to the next one." Before Coyle could exhale, the Major was acanter.
At Logan Mansion, after tightly noosing security, Cuthbert climbed the terrace to catch a smoke.
Coyle burst in, five minutes late, eyes dilating inexorably. "Cuthbert?"
"Upstairs, Sir. Said he'd catch some fresh air. What...?"
Coyle thundered upstairs, pulling his Colt .45 as he went. Blasting open the entrance, he emptied his revolver into the masked man, who sat on top of a naked, trembling Cuthbert, strangling him with a brief. The killer fell aside. The Major gurgled.
"He tried to kill me!"
"Relax Major. You were his next target. This beauty gave him away." He held up the tattered book. It was an old computer journal. The only untorn page contained a list of MS-DOS commands. Some marked.
"The killer was a computer-crazed psychic. He victimised, to gruesome effect, each celebrity he so evilly hated by a computer keyword that shared his/her initial alphabet. Thus, Apteck lost his 'append'ix, while Louis was loaded high, or 'loadhigh'ed. Dennis got 'defrag'ged, and Elizabeth had her organs 'extract'ed. No other 'l' keyword, Cuthbert, so you were the only possible target!"
"But what's with strangling me with my own undies! I see he has a gun on him. Or is he a single-witted killer?"
"You forget, Cuthbert. He was a man of rules. And commands. And your command was 'cursor'.'"
"Cursor?"
"Cursor. He'd planned your end in a very 'cursor'y manner, Cuthbert. In a very brief manner.With a brief. " Poll Rate this entry
Three high-profile murders in Berkeley. All at pre-informed times. And all successful. District Commissionaire Mr. Apteck had been given a sleek, perfectionist shot to his appendix, while the only Berkeley MP, Louis de Vert, had adorned his drawing room floor till last night, oesophagus stuffed with crumpets; and the Major's men found neatly sliced fragments of Father Dennis Booth packed into a leather suitcase in his wardrobe.
An hour to go. The only possible targets this time were Miss Elizabeth, Regional Officer, and Mrs. Livon Logan, the Mayor. The Major personally headed their security squad. The rest of the elite crowd were attending a peace meet at the UN. Thank heavens! Sighing, detective Coyle picked himself up, deciding to check on them one last time.
The killer had been as unstoppable as ruthless. "Hype! Stink." Coyle remembered his contemptuous lisp. Each method unique. But where there are humans, there is logic; however perverse it might be.
Inside the RO's farmhouse, he found a frustrated Major standing outside the bath, pulling on his cigar.
"Don't know what the hell's with these women. An hour's that much I can stand pampering myself!"
"An hour?"
"And five minutes."
Without another word, Coyle threw his entire bulk to the door. Elizabeth floated in the tub; her kidneys, intestines, heart, liver and lungs, all surgically gouged out and neatly arrayed beside.
Coyle stopped mid-swear. Reaching into the tub, he retrieved a soggy booklet, just as Cuthbert's cellphone started beeping. The lisp was unmistakable. "15 minutes to the next one." Before Coyle could exhale, the Major was acanter.
At Logan Mansion, after tightly noosing security, Cuthbert climbed the terrace to catch a smoke.
Coyle burst in, five minutes late, eyes dilating inexorably. "Cuthbert?"
"Upstairs, Sir. Said he'd catch some fresh air. What...?"
Coyle thundered upstairs, pulling his Colt .45 as he went. Blasting open the entrance, he emptied his revolver into the masked man, who sat on top of a naked, trembling Cuthbert, strangling him with a brief. The killer fell aside. The Major gurgled.
"He tried to kill me!"
"Relax Major. You were his next target. This beauty gave him away." He held up the tattered book. It was an old computer journal. The only untorn page contained a list of MS-DOS commands. Some marked.
"The killer was a computer-crazed psychic. He victimised, to gruesome effect, each celebrity he so evilly hated by a computer keyword that shared his/her initial alphabet. Thus, Apteck lost his 'append'ix, while Louis was loaded high, or 'loadhigh'ed. Dennis got 'defrag'ged, and Elizabeth had her organs 'extract'ed. No other 'l' keyword, Cuthbert, so you were the only possible target!"
"But what's with strangling me with my own undies! I see he has a gun on him. Or is he a single-witted killer?"
"You forget, Cuthbert. He was a man of rules. And commands. And your command was 'cursor'.'"
"Cursor?"
"Cursor. He'd planned your end in a very 'cursor'y manner, Cuthbert. In a very brief manner.With a brief. " Poll Rate this entry