"Thank you, Ted."

- - - - - - - GET THE KEY - - - - - - - - - GET THE KEY - - - - - - - GET THE KEY - - - - - -

Trinket looks up from her computer,
"You're good with computers, aren't 

you, Ted?"

Ted can't help but smile, "Some say so."

Trinket scribbles on a note paper. She
gets to her feet, walks over and places the
note on the counter, "I want to trace someone

from an IRC chat.  Doable?"

"For the C.I.A."

Trinket's impatient, "Can you trace it?"

"Maybe."

"Why 'maybe', Ted?"

"It might help my thought process if I
knew your name." He tags on his best
charming smile.

Trinket leans across the counter and
puts her lips to his ear, "Trinket."

Ted's happy, "Okay, Trinket, what is it
that you want to know about this," he
reads the note, "lurker@397.res.rr.com

from the Sammeee IRC chat room?"

"Name, if possible, and or street address."

"I will do my best."

"Thank you, Ted."

"Should I call you --"

Trinket interrupts him, "You can call me
tonight at this number. But don't call until
after 8."

The librarian "Shhh's" them.

Ted apologizes softly, "Sorry, Ma'am."

Trinket writes down her number,
"You're very polite, Ted."

"I try."

She hands the number to him.

He smiles and whispers, "I'll call you tonight,
after eight, or I'll come by here if I find it right
away."

"Thanks, Ted."

He bows, "At your service, Miss Trinket".

Trinket smirks, "Funny. I like funny."
Trinket turns around and heads back to 

her computer.