Their lie detection program must've suggested that we weren't being entirely forthcoming, but they didn't need software to figure that out. And that didn't necessarily mean anything. Everyone's got something they'd rather not discuss with the police. Chumley looked at Vallejo, then at the cat. "Let's hear the story again. From the top."
She said, "With feeling?"
Chumley frowned at her.
I said, "She's told you everything you don't have on video. It's time to charge us or watch us walk."
Vallejo said, "You're free to go anytime."
Chumley said, "If you don't want to help the police."
I said, "The security cam shows Gold being killed by a copbot. Which then attacked my client. What more do you want? She's a victim, not a suspect."
Vallejo said, "We've got the bots that went after her. Someone reprogrammed them."
The cat said, "I didn't think anyone could reprogram copbots."
Vallejo said, "Neither did we."
Chumley said, "But if anyone could, Janna Gold could."
I said, "You're suggesting suicide?"
Chumley said, "I'm not suggesting anything yet. But if Gold could reprogram copbots, maybe kitty learned how, too."
The cat gave him a "what rock did you crawl out from" look. I said, "For the lousy three meg she would inherit?"
Vallejo said, "People kill for less."
Chumley said, "Maybe she wanted the same gadget that Doyle AI wanted. Something that shuts down bots would bring a hell of a price. Enough that some people wouldn't mind killing off an old lady or two. Especially if you could keep your hands clean by having a bot and an AI do it for you."
Before the cat could respond, the door opened. One of the most beautiful women I have ever seen stepped into the room. Her short hair was Scandinavian pale, her skin was Mediterranean dark, her cheekbones were Asian sharp. She was tall, and she moved with an athlete's grace. She wore a tailored black suit and opaque charcoal gray See-All's. If the Greeks had needed a goddess of high fashion, she would've had the job.
The cat sprang up. I saw her reaction and rose, tensing my wrist for a few milliseconds' advantage in case I needed the SIG.
Chapter Four
The newcomer smiled and lifted both hands. "Don't shoot, I'm on your side. Kris Blake, Technology Crimes." If she had been an actress, her agent would've told her to deepen her voice and lose the hint of a coastal Californian accent. I liked it. You can only stand so much perfection in a person. I didn't like it enough to relax, but I held off on opening the Pocket.
The cat stepped back from Blake. "Ditch the shades."
"My eyes are sensitive."
"Ditch the glasses, or you'll be sensitive in lots of places."
Chumley moved toward the cat. "Sit down, critter—"
Before I could decide whether to intercept Chumley—the cat could clearly take care of herself, but that would only make things worse—Blake shook her head at him. "You saw the video, Detective. In her place, I'd suspect anyone hiding their eyes, too."
Blake removed the See-alls. Her sky-blue eyes watered as she blinked, but they were normal human eyes. Or perhaps I should say they were, like the rest of her, perfectly human, but decidedly better than normal. "Okay?"
The cat nodded. "Thanks."
Blake replaced the See-Alls and shook hands with Vallejo. "Sorry I'm late. This isn't my usual shift."
Vallejo said, "Your office called. We appreciate the help. I'm Manny Vallejo."
Chumley took her hand next. "Dick Chumley. You saw the video?"
Blake nodded. "On the ride over. Anything to add?"
Chumley shrugged. "A lot of nothing. She doesn't know what the earring was, why Gold was coming here, or where the earring is now. Says she lost it after she left the station."
Blake held out her hand to me. "Mr. Maxwell." Her grip was firm, warm, businesslike. "Have you been able to offer any insights?"
I smiled. "None that anyone's appreciated."
She smiled back. One of her teeth was a bit crooked, but otherwise, her bright whites and pink gums were a testimonial to South California dentistry. I wondered how many men had suggested she become an actress and decided I wouldn't be one of them.
"I'd like to show you and Zoe something." She glanced at Chumley and Vallejo. "If you boys are done?"
Vallejo nodded. "We've got nothing that can't wait."
Chumley told us, "Keep in touch."
I said, "How could we not?"
Blake opened the door. The cat and I glanced at each other, then headed out. I nearly bumped into her when she paused at the threshhold, looked back at the two detectives, and smiled. "I was never interrogated before. It was fun."
Chumley sighed. "Fun. Don't tell anybody, okay?"
Blake said, "This way," and headed down the hall. She had a walk that I could've followed anywhere, but I had other things to think about.
Blake was far enough ahead to be out of earshot. I stopped the cat with a hand on her arm. A few officers and a copbot passed by, paying us no mind. I whispered, "Interesting video. You were going to tell me about all that, right?"
"In my copious free time."
"What was Gold to you?"
She pulled away from me. "The only human I could trust."
I let her go. If she was telling the truth, I understood why she would do what it took to get Gold's killer. If she was lying, she was a better actor than most.
Blake waited for us at the elevators. As we descended, she said, "What do you know about the bot that was passing as human?"
The cat said, "Doyle? It wasn't a bot. It was an AI."
"Well, what's left is a chassis. Most of the circuitry's fried."
I said, "Any clues where it came from?"
Blake grinned. "You stole my question. It was pretty convincing as a human?"
The elevator stopped, and we got out. The cat said, "As human as any cop. But the eyes are the windows to the soul, right?"
Blake laughed. "Touché."
A short walk brought us to a door labelled "laboratory." Blake looked into the blink box, and the door opened. She led us in.
In a small white room, a short bald Indian man and a lab bot that looked like mobile emergency room machinery were peering into a headless humanform body laid out on a table. Cables had been pulled from the bisected chest like organs in an anatomy exercise.
The body was not meant to survive close inspection. It had nipples and a penis, but they were no more convincing than a department store mannequin's. Its skin was too smooth. It had no hair. Only its hands showed the attention to detail that would make you buy the illusion. They were weathered and chapped, like those of a guy who spent his weekends outdoors.
Judging from the video, the head was as good as the hands or better. Dressed and animated, Doyle had been convincing. Walking quickly through a crowd, he wouldn't inspire a second look. To the untrained eye, he would've been human; obviously, he had fooled the cat. On video, he had fooled me. But as I studied his artificial form, I doubted he would've fooled me in person.
Blake said, "Hey, Prof."
The man grinned. "Kris Blake. We finally meet."
"This is Zoe, the chimera that thing attacked. And Chase Maxwell, who she hired to look into this."
Prof nodded at us. "I won't be saying anything conclusive for a few hours yet, I suspect."
"Mind if we take a look?"
"Just don't forget to tip your tour guide."
"Thanks."
The lab bot wheeled backwards so we could move closer. The cat said, "Where's its head?"
Blake said, "U. N. Security wanted it."
I said, "UNSEC? This is big time."
Blake nodded. "A copbot killed an unarmed human. Big time's an understatement."
"Did you get a look at the head?" I asked.
"Impressive work," Prof said. "Best animatronics I've seen. UNSEC probably can do more with it than we can, especially if it comes out of Japan or Europe."
Blake asked the cat, "Does seeing it remind you of anything you didn't tell Chumley or Vallejo?"
The cat shrugged. "It was more convincing dressed." She stepped closer to Doyle's body for a better look.
The lab bot said, "Electrical activity—"
The body sat up and flung out its arms, knocking Prof and the lab bot across the room. As the body swung its feet to the floor and turned toward the cat, I flexed my hand. The SIG slammed into my palm and fired. I held the trigger down. Slugs tore into the body's chest, stomach, and groin. The body twitched but kept coming.
I stepped between it and the cat. The body snatched the SIG from my hand and threw it across the room.
"Run!" I yelled. That's a thing you do at a time like that, as if you think the idea hasn't occurred to anyone else.
The laboratory door had closed behind us. I don't know whether it would've opened if the cat had tried it. She didn't. As the body reached for her, she kicked it in the chest.
It stumbled back. I shoved it, trying to knock it over. The body slapped the cat aside. One hand pinned me against the wall. The other hand gripped my gun arm as if to snap it off. Maybe it thought I carried a back-up pistol in the Pocket. I did, once, until I hocked it.
All I could do was yelp in pain. Whatever I might've done next was made moot when Blake grabbed the body from behind and spun it away from me. It backhanded her as it fell, knocking her against the lab bot.
The cat and I circled the body. It rose and turned between us. I wanted to make a dash for the SIG, but that would've left the cat with no one to distract it.
Useless clever notions flashed through my mind. Start a fire so water from the sprinkler system would get in the body's damaged casing and short-circuit it—but I didn't see a way to make a fire, and the emergency system probably didn't use water. Trick the body into crashing through a window—but the windows were most likely glasteel. Keep the body moving until its power drained—but there was no sign that its batteries had been damaged. Hope the cavalry arrived soon—but I would've bet that the door was sound-proof and almost no one passed by the lab at night. Pray for a miracle—but God just gets giggle-fits whenever I could use a miracle.
The body headed for the cat. As she jumped back, I started forward—to do what, I don't know; maybe to spit down Doyle's neck. The body whirled toward me.
Blake shouted, "Stand back!"—advice that I was already taking. She'd unreeled a cable from the array of equipment built into the lab bot. As I dodged, she whipped it at Doyle's body.
The head of the cable struck the body's abdomen, slipped down, then stuck magnetically to its thigh. As the body closed a hand on the cable to rip it away, Blake jabbed a button on the lab bot's chest.
The head of the cable sparked. The body spasmed repeatedly, then took two drunken steps toward Blake. She held down one of the lab bot's power buttons, upping the output. The cable sparked more brightly. The body snapped upright, then toppled. It lay as still as it had been before.
The lab bot honked. We all turned toward it, except for Blake, who kept watching Doyle's body. The lab bot's indicator lights went out, and the cable connecting it to the body fell limp.
Blake said, "Prof."
A few tendrils of smoke rose from the open neck and multiple bullet holes in Doyle's body. Prof grabbed an extinguisher from a cabinet and sprayed foam down the body's throat.
I said, "So much for the electronic evidence."
Blake said, "Maybe I should've let it get you."
I glanced at her. "You're bleeding."
She touched a cut on her cheek and winced. "Just a scratch." She smiled. "I always wanted to say that." It was a nice smile.
I rubbed my arm.
She said, "You're hurt."
"Only my pride." I returned her smile with interest. "I always wanted to say that."
The cat, scowling, dusted herself off. "Well, whoopee for the Danger Twins. Is Robbie really dead this time, or should I add him to my Christmas card list?"
Prof said, "Twenty thousand watts to a machine with damaged shielding? I think that's as dead as an AI can get."
I asked Blake, "You were sure the floor was non-conductive, weren't you?"
She shrugged and gave me another smile. "Pretty sure."
The lab bot's indicator lights came back on. Prof, pulling out a medikit from a cabinet, said, "You okay?"
Blake said, "I'm fine."
"Wasn't asking you."
The lab bot said, "I've rebooted. Next time, please turn me off with the shut-down command."
Prof took antiseptic and a swab from the medikit and headed for Blake. She held up a hand in protest. "That's really not necessary."
He nodded. "That's modern medicine for you."
The cat and I kept glancing at Doyle's body, but it never so much as twitched. I told Blake, "So, we've got an AI that could pass as human, and at least three copbots doing its bidding."
"Bidding," the cat said. "That's good."
I ignored her. "One of them definitely had no compunctions about killing people, and it didn't look like the others did, either. Any theories?"
Blake squirmed as Prof cleaned and bandaged her cut. "The neatest one's a Frankenstein scenario. Gold builds Doyle, an AI that can pass as human, but something goes wrong. He escapes and captures copbots that he programs to kill his maker. Gold suspects what he's up to, so she comes after him. Only he gets her first. But Zoe escapes, so the copbot sends a warning to Doyle, who's waiting at the next subway stop in case something goes wrong."
"How'd he get there so fast?"
"He must've had a flyer waiting for him. I doubt he would've hired one, but we'll check the records."
The cat said, "What if there's more than one Doyle? One at Union Station, one at North Hollywood?"
Blake winced more than she had when Prof applied the antiseptic. "Then my theory's not so neat. But the flyer's plausible."
I nodded. "Sure."
"So, under the single Doyle theory, he meets Zoe at the next station with all of his back-up."
I said, "You're working mighty hard for this theory. There could be more altered copbots out there."
Blake shook her head. "Three copbots went missing around five p.m. today. One thing we're sure of is they're all accounted for."