Fantasy in Death (16 page)

He unwrapped it, popped it in his mouth.

“I’ve got a couple new angles I want to try,” she began. “I want another look at the vic’s house droid.”

“She’s clean.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, but two possibles. One, the killer programmed and used her for the kill, then set her back to normal. Two, he shut her down and brought in a dupe for the kill.”

“You’re looking at a droid whacking the guy’s head off?”

“I’m looking at the possibility. We’ve got two divergent styles—and Mira agrees.”

While he sucked on the candy, she ran him through the high points of the consult.

“How’d he switch the droids?”

“One step at a time, Feeney. Plus I don’t know they were switched.

It’s a possibility. If you could run a second, deeper diagnostic on it, with those two possibilities in mind, we might be able to confirm or eliminate.”

“Somebody’s going to fuck around with a droid’s programming, bypass the safeguards, they need time and privacy. And equipment.”

“They have equipment at U-Play. Plenty of them work late, stay after hours. That’s time and privacy.”

He scratched his cheek. “Maybe.”

“The second thing is going over the game logs, finding a pattern to the vic’s play. What version did he favor, who’d he play with. I want to see who he beat routinely, and what he beat them playing.”

“Now you figure somebody cut off his head because he beat them gaming?”

“It’s a factor. It plays. Why kill him during a game unless playing the game mattered? It’s showing off, isn’t it? All of this is a kind of showing off. Look how good I am. I made it real. I won.”

“Can’t tell anybody though. That takes some shine off it. You don’t play enough,” Feeney decided. “A serious gamer? He wants his name on the board. He wants the cheers and applause. He wants the glory.”

“Okay, okay, I get that.” She paced the office. “So maybe he gets that applause, that glory another way. Like... people who steal art or have it stolen then stick it in a vault where nobody can see it. It’s all theirs. It’s a kind of glory, too. The big secret, the ownership. That takes control, willpower and a hell of an ego. It took all of that to set up this kill. It took precision, brutality, and cold violence to execute the kill. So, it takes me back to maybe we’ve got two involved. Maybe two people, maybe one and a droid. Or maybe a multiple personality type, but that’s low on the list for now.”

He sucked on the candy, scratched his cheek again. “The model’s copyrighted on account it’s a replica of a vid character and there’s merchandising rights and all that. Then you gotta register a droid. There’s some getting around all of that if you buy it black or gray market, but this one’s the real deal. She’s got her registration chip and the proper model number. We got the vic’s registration and his authentication certificate. If she was messed with, she passed the standard diagnostic. We can run deeper. As for copies, well, it’s a popular model. It’s a classic for a reason. You can run a search for ownership on that, and maybe you’ll get a pop.”

“Unless it’s black or gray market.”

“If you were to run a probability, I’d bet it’s going to be high the vic would spot a knockoff. Even a dupe would have to be the real deal to get by him, if you’re asking me. Not to say they don’t have the reals off the grid, but what’s the point of going that way when it’s no crime to buy the real through proper sources? Less risky that way. We’ll go take a look at her.”

He led the way out and through to Evidence. He coded in, pressed his thumb to the plate.

Feeney, Captain Ryan, is cleared.

He opened the door to an organized pirate’s cave of electronics. Comps, ’links, screens, com and surveillance devices, all labeled, stood and sat on towering shelves. The droids were well represented as well—mechanical-looking household and yard droids, cheap mini-droids, and a number of the human replicas lined up like suspects.

Eve studied the victim’s choice of house droid. “That outfit wasn’t designed for fighting.”

“Slave-girl version, episode six. But she handles herself. Girl’s a rebel and holds her own. Helped kick the Empire’s ass.”

“Jesus, Feeney. It’s a droid—a replication of a
fictional
character from a space opera.”

“I’m just saying,” he muttered. “This model’s top of the line. She’s designed to exactly replicate the character physically, and she has top flight programming capabilities.”

“Did he play with it?”

“Now it’s my turn. Jesus, Dallas.”

“Not that way. Ick. Gaming. Did he use it in the games?”

“She’s programmed to participate. She’d interface with the game program, upload the scenario, the rules. She’d be a tough opponent.”

Didn’t look so tough in that outfit, Eve thought, but she’d take Feeney’s word.

“It could handle a sword?” Eve asked.

“Damn right.”

But Eve shook her head. “The vic was taller, considerably. Blow came from an upward angle, slicing down. It could’ve been standing on something, or it took the higher ground.”

“If she or one like her was programmed to do this, they’ll end up scrapping her. Damn shame. She’s a real beauty.”

She started to point out, again, it was a machine, but remembered who she was talking to. “Run it, and I’ll do the search on the model.”

“I’ll run her myself. I’ll put Callendar on analysis for the repeat scenarios and players.”

“Appreciate it. I’ll be in the field, at U-Play.”

“Hell of a place,” Feeney commented. “Too bad about the boy. He had a good thing going there.”

It didn’t surprise Eve to find the U-Play offices more subdued. The noise level remained high, but the bright, or slightly wild-eyed look of those who manned systems, cubes, offices, labs had been replaced by the solemn.

A great many wore black armbands along with their colorful attire, and she noted a great many who’d rushed around the day before weren’t in attendance today.

“Lieutenant.” Var came down the stairs from one of the upper levels. His shadowed eyes and unhealthy color showed signs of a hard, restless night. “Have you got any news?”

“We’re working some angles. You seem to be understaffed today.”

“After we... made the announcement, we gave everybody the option of staying home today. We talked about closing up, out of respect, for a couple days. But... we decided we’d all handle it better if we had the work. It’s not helping much.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Maybe it’s worse, I don’t know. Everything around here’s Bart. It’s like I’ll be working on something, and I’ll think of something I want to ask him or tell him. Then I remember I can’t. We talked to his parents. God. God. That was hard. That was horrible. We’re going to have a memorial here tomorrow afternoon, because... This is where he liked to be best. Do you think that’s right? I mean, it’s not a church or a bereavement center, but—”

“I think it’s right.”

“Okay. Well, we thought so, so... Okay.”

“Are Cill and Benny in today?”

“Yeah. Do you need to talk to them? I can—”

“I’ll get to that. Since you’re here, why don’t we talk first? How about your office?”

“I... sure.” He looked flustered at the idea of going solo, but led the way upstairs to one of the glass-walled rooms.

“Don’t you ever want some privacy?” she asked him.

“Um.” He glanced around, as if surprised.

“Never mind.” She scanned his office. Cluttered workstation, multiple comps and systems, plenty of toys, a barstool in the shape of a tentacled alien. “I’m not altogether clear on who does what around here. The four of you were partners, but you must have each had specific functions, duties, responsibilities.”

“Well, we all worked on development. Depending on who came up with the concept, we each took different stages.”

He took a seat, turned off his headset. “Benny’s primarily research, Cill’s the organizer and I guess you’d say the mom when it comes to the staff. I target the marketing. But we all overlap. It’s loose. We like it loose.”

“And Bart?”

“Development, sure. He could always take a concept and make it better. I guess you could say he had a better head for the business of the business. Accounts and clients and the money details. The profit margins, development costs, that kind of thing. We all got into it, but he could keep a lot of it up here.” He tapped his forehead. “And he was sort of the public face of U-Play.”

“He got most of the media attention.”

“He liked to get out there, mix and mingle, talk it up.” He let out a sigh, rubbed a hand over his short hair. “Benny, he gets jittery with that kind of attention. Cill gets self-conscious and uncomfortable.”

“And you?”

“I like the quiet.” He smiled. “You know, the behind-the-scenes stuff, the figuring out, the in-house stuff. Most people who do what we do aren’t so good with outside. Bart was better at it. Do you want, like, a soda or something?”

“No, I’m good. Who’ll be the public face now?”

“I... I don’t know. We haven’t talked about it. I guess we haven’t really thought about it.” He lowered his head, stared at his knees. “We have to get through today, and tomorrow, and the next.”

“Maybe you’ll bring in another partner.”

“No.” He said it quickly, firmly as his head jerked up again. “No, it’s ours. We’ll figure it out.”

“And your plans to launch Fantastical?”

“We’ll stick to the schedule. It was Bart’s baby.”

“I need that disc copy, Var.”

“We’re going to have it hand-delivered to Captain Feeney at EDD. It’s nearly ready. Um. We have papers that need to be signed. Confidentiality and all that.”

“Okay. Bart worked on the program quite a bit then. Testing it, playing various scenarios and levels.”

“Sure. We all did. It’s part of it.” His pleasant face turned earnest. “If we don’t have fun with it, why would anybody else? You really can’t market what you don’t believe in. Or you can’t do it really well.”

“Good point. So, did he have a favorite fantasy game, a scenario he liked to repeat?”

“He liked to mix it up. That’s the beauty of the game, or one of them. You can do whatever you want, depending on your mood.”

“Which ones did the two of you tend to play out?”

“Jeez, we’ve been at this for months now. A lot of them. Old West, Ancient Rome, Alternate Universe, Quests, Rescues, Gangsters, Wars. Name it, we probably played it at some point.”

“Who won?”

He laughed. “It was hard to beat Bart, but I got my share of points.” The laughter died. “It’s going to be weird, not having him in the holo. Not having him when we launch Fantastical.”

“I’m sure it will. Do you ever play with droids?”

“Droids?” Var blinked himself back. “Sure. We use them for testing, at different stages of development. Nobody keeps a secret like a droid. But in the final stages, it’s got to be human competition. We’re not selling to droids.”

“Sorry.” Cill stood in the doorway. “I saw you in here, Lieutenant. Is there anything... Is there news?”

“No, I’m sorry. Just a routine follow-up. It helps me get a clearer sense. I appreciate the time,” she said to Var, then turned back to Cill. “Why don’t we go to your office? I’ll try not to take up too much of your time.”

“That’s okay. You can take as much as you need. Var, when the lieutenant’s finished with me, I think I’m going home. I’m useless here today. I’ve screwed up everything I’ve worked on, and had to back out. I’m just making a mess of things.”

“Do you want one of us to go with you?”

“No. No. I think I just need to be alone. I just need more time. You can let Benny know if you see him before I do. I’ll come in tomorrow. I’ll be better tomorrow.”

“I’ll tag you later and make sure you’re okay.” He went to her, gave her a hug that seemed both sincere and awkward to Eve. “Try to get some rest, okay?”

“Yeah. You, too.” Her bold, bright eyes watered up before she turned away. “My space is down this way, Lieutenant.”

Along the way, Eve glanced back to see Var standing behind the glass, watching them go, looking miserable.

“Do you want something?” Cill asked. “I’ve got power drinks, soft drinks, fizzies, diet and regular.”

“No, but go ahead.”

“I haven’t got a taste for anything.” Cill shoved her hands in her pockets, pulled them out again, twisted her fingers together. “You do this all the time. I mean, you talk to people who lost somebody. I was wondering if you know how long it takes before you stop forgetting you lost somebody, stop expecting to see them.”

“It’s hard,” was all Eve said.

“I don’t know if it’s going to be worse to stop forgetting, stop expecting. If it’s going to be worse when I remember all the time. It’s like... You look down at your hand, you don’t really think about it being there. It just is. And if you lost it, wouldn’t you keep expecting to see it there?”

“I guess you would. Grief counseling can help. I can give you a couple of names of people you could talk to, who might be able to help.”

“Maybe.” She shoved her mass of dark hair behind her shoulders. “I’ve never done therapy or counseling or any of that. But maybe.”

“You knew Bart a long time. The two of you must’ve worked on a lot of programming, a lot of games together.”

“Tons. We brainstorm. Sit around, get some pizza or whatever and just make stuff up. Then we get down to it. How do we translate that into a program? Benny’s point man on research. You dupe somebody’s game, you’ve wasted time and money and resources.”

“So you pitched ideas.”

“I guess you could say. We knock them off each other, spring-board them.”

“Who came up with Fantastical?”

“Ah... gosh.” She sat, brow knitted. “I’m not really sure. A lot of the concepts evolve through the brainstorming. I think... maybe Var had this idea for a fantasy game that offered user-controlled scenarios. Then I think... yeah, I think I said something about there being plenty of those already. What’s the next level? How about we take it holo, refine,
seriously
refine the imagery, the lag time.”

She looked away from Eve, stared through the glass wall of the office, where people zipped by. “Then, if I’ve got it right, Benny piped up with there were holo-games and programs along the lines already, and how Roarke’s company had the juiciest imagery out there. So what’s the next, next level?”