She watched, with the others, while her recording played on-screen, and tried to ignore the fact that on it she fought for her life wearing a black skin-suit and copper breastplate.
If she couldn’t still feel the memory of Roarke’s blood on her hands, and the aches and burns in her own body, it would’ve been ridiculous.
Again, she watched Roarke block her from attack while she fired at holo-images. Why hadn’t she hit the controls sooner, she thought? Why hadn’t she found them sooner? Seconds sooner and he wouldn’t have taken the knife. Only seconds.
She saw it happen again, the pivot and block to save her, the fierceness of his face. And the slide of the knife into his vulnerable side.
Then the scene changed-like a flipped channel-and they stood in a room ruined by her blasts and streams, smoke thick, the controls crackling flame, and Roarke’s blood staining the floor.
“It’s bizarre,” Reo murmured. “I’ve watched it twice now, listened to your report, and I still have a hard time believing it.”
“We’ll need to keep as many of the details as possible out of the media.” Whitney scanned the faces in the room. “As many as possible inside this room. All of his records and equipment were confiscated?”
“Everything in the place,” Eve confirmed. “He may have another hole, but I believe that’s unlikely. He kept it all close to home. We’ll take him into Interview shortly.” She turned to Mira. “Ego, competition, pride of accomplishment?”
“Yes, all those areas are vulnerable points. He’s become not only addicted to the game, but may have lived inside it for some time. It’s a more exciting reality, one where he controls all-but stands aloof. He didn’t engage in play with you.”
“He’s a coward.”
“Yes, but one who believes himself superior. You only won because you cheated. He believes that, too.”
“The game was the weapon, he controlled the game. Can we charge him with First Degree on Minnock?” Eve asked Reo.
“Tricky. It could be argued he only intended Minnock to play, and that the victim could have won. And we have no proof Minnock wasn’t fully aware of the technology when he himself started the game.”
“That’s bullshit.”
“I agree, but I can’t prove it beyond a reasonable doubt in court. We go for Man One-just hear me out,” she said before Eve could object. “Man One on Minnock, Reckless Endangerment on Allen, the same on both you and Roarke, adding Assault on a police officer, and the stack of Cyber Crimes, the unregistered equipment, false statements, and so on. We wrap him up, Dallas, make the deal, avoid the trial that could drag on for months-and sensationalize the technology and the crimes in the media. He’ll do a solid fifty or more in a cage. A cage, due to the cyber-charges, without access to the e-toys he knows and loves. It’s harsh, and it’s apt.”
“I want Attempted Murder on Cill and Roarke. I want him charged, goddamn it.” She pulled herself back, pulled it in. “I’m going in on Murder One on Bart Minnock. If you deal it down later, I’ll accept that, but I want him charged, and I want to start the deal at the high mark.”
Reo studied Eve’s face. Whatever she saw there had her easing back. “Let’s see what happens in Interview, and go from there.”
“Then let’s get started.”
Whitney pulled her aside. “He can sweat until morning. Until you’ve had a little more recovery time.”
“I’m fine, sir.” Going now, she thought, and going hot. “He’s already had a couple hours to regroup. I don’t want to give him any more.”
“Your choice. Dallas? Don’t make it personal.”
“No, sir.”
But it was. It was, she thought as she walked over to Roarke.
He wore a shirt copped from Baxter’s locker, and under it, she knew his wound was still fresh, still raw. His color was back, his eyes clear. Not pale, so pale, as he’d been when his blood had seeped through her fingers.
“I know you want to see this through,” she began. “I get it. But I’ll arrange for you to view the record. You need to go home, take those damn drugs you refused, and let Summerset hover over you.”
“I will if you will.”
“Roarke.”
“Eve. We understand each other, don’t we? Let’s finish this.”
“There’s going to be a chair in Observation. Use it.”
She walked away, found Mira. “I’m going to ask you for a favor. I need you to keep your eye on Roarke. If he looks like he needs it, jab him with a damn pressure syringe full of tranqs. I’ll take the rap.”
“Don’t worry.” Mira slipped her arm around Eve’s waist, just for a moment. “We’ll have him outnumbered.”
She nodded, then ordered herself to shake it off. Just shake it off and do the job. “Peabody.” She paused, pushed a hand through her hair. “You’re sympathetic, even a little impressed. Not too soft, nobody would buy it. But you’re younger than he is, and he’ll read that as naive. If he’s done any digging, and he would have, he knows you’re cohabbed with an e-man.”
“Got it. Suggestion? I’d lose the jacket you got out of your locker. Go in bare-armed so he can see the hits you took. It’ll give him a little rush.”
“That’s good.” She tugged it off, setting her teeth when her arm twinged. She tossed the jacket to McNab. “Hang onto it.”
Then she nodded to Peabody and opened the door of Interview A.
He sat at the table, hands folded, head down. He lifted it as they entered, gave Eve a sorrowful look. “I don’t know what hap pened. I-”
“Quiet,” she snapped. “Record on. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, and Peabody, Detective Delia, entering Interview with Hoyt, Levar. Mr. Hoyt, have you been read your rights?”
“Yeah, when they-”
“Do you understand your rights and obligations?”
“Okay, yeah, but the thing is-”
“Look, asshole, I’m not wasting time on your lame explanations and bullshit. I was there, remember? Had a ringside seat to your sick game.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” His shackles clattered when he lifted his hands. “The whole thing got away from me. Some sort of glitch, and I was trying to fix it when-”
She slammed both hands on the table, made him jump. But she saw his gaze slide over, and up to the wound on her arm. “You stood there, you bastard, watching that vicious world you created go for us. You stood there.”
“I was trying to make it stop, but-”
“Stood there, observing. Too much of a coward to actually play.” She reached out, grabbed his shirtfront. “Too weak to take me on?”
“Easy, Dallas. Easy.” Peabody laid a hand on Eve’s shoulder in warning. “The guy created something pretty amazing. He’s a scientist. He probably doesn’t do much combat.”
“I can hold my own.”
Eve snorted in disgust, paced away.
“Well, sure.” Peabody sat now. “But I’m just saying, up against somebody trained like Dallas, or in the shape Roarke’s in, you’d be at a disadvantage. Physically. When it comes to e? You’re off the scale.”
“Maybe you two would like a moment alone,” Eve said coolly.
“Come on, Dallas, credit where it’s due. How long did it take you to develop the program? The tech’s beyond the ult. I can’t get my head around it.”
“It’s an entirely new level. It took years, but I could only put so much time into it. It’ll open up a whole new world, not just for gaming, but, well, for training you guys, and military. That kind of thing.” Eager now, he leaned forward. “I wanted to create something, to give something to society. I tried dozens of theories, applications, programs, before I was able to refine it. The realism offers the player true risk and reward. And that’s…” He drew back, as if realizing he was digging a hole.
“I never expected it would cause actual harm. That’s why I’ve been working to retool, to offer that same realism but without the potential to cause injury.”
“You knew it could harm, could even kill,” Peabody said, still wide-eyed. “So you’ve been trying to fix it.”
“Yes, yes. I’d never want anyone to be hurt.”