“But why kill those sims?”
“Because what threatens SimGen,” Zero said, “threatens the shadow group. And in this case, the sims were the logical target: Lawyers are replaceable, plaintiffs are not.”
“Thanks a lot,” Patrick said, but knew it was too true. “Any idea who they are?”
“No, but we’ve got the start of a trail, and we’re following it. That’s why I’ve asked you here tonight, Mr. Sullivan. We’d like your help.”
“You want to hire me?”
“Not exactly. You’d be an unpaid consultant, a volunteer like Ms. Cadman.”
“I don’t work for free.”
“Even for people who saved your life?” Romy said.
She had him there. “Glad you brought that up: Just whodid save my life?”
Zero said, “Join us and you’ll know…eventually.”
“You need me in the legal field?”
“There, and wherever else your unique brand of ingenuity can be of service.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“And who knows?” Zero said. “We may be able to position you for another crack at SimGen’s deep pockets.”
“Now you’re talking.”
“I thought that might sell you,” Romy said.
“I’m not sold yet. You’ve been calling the shots for Romy, I assume.”
Zero inclined his head. “I merely suggest…she is always free to decline, just as you will be.”
“But who’s calling the shots for you?”
“No one.”
“You could be just telling me that.”
“I could. But I’m not.”
“So you’re funding this operation?”
He shook his head. “I raise money in various ways…donations from a number of sources.”
“I must have missed the last annualFree the Sims telethon.”
No one laughed. Tough crowd, Patrick thought. But then, after what had happened tonight, what did he expect?
“Your point?” Zero said.
“Money tends to come with strings.”
“True. And these donations come with one string, and only one: Stop SimGen.”
“What about freeing the sims?”
“That will be the fallout, but first we shut down the pipeline. Once we cut off the flow of new sims, we can deal with the problem of what to do with those who already exist.”
“These donors…who are they—specifically? I like to know who’s footing the bill.”
“I will partially answer that when you join us, with the proviso that you never breathe a word of what you learn. But I must warn you not to accept my invitation lightly. The deeper you delve into this morass, the more you’ll see that nothing connected with it is what it appears to be. And there’s danger. You’ve witnessed firsthand on more than one occasion the ruthlessness of the other side. We’re in a war, Mr. Sullivan, and any one of us could become a casualty.”
Patrick swallowed. Where had his saliva gone? But if Romy was in this and willing to take the risks, how could he stand here next to her and back out? What kind of a man would that make him?
Perhaps a man who’d live to a ripe old age.
“What about if I decide I don’t like what you’re up to? If I want to walk, I want be able to do so with no strings.”
“Of course. As long as you understand that you’re not walking away from the confidentiality agreement.”
Hoping he wouldn’t regret this, he managed a shrug and a nod that conveyed a lot more bravado that he felt.
“Fair enough. I’ll give it a try. Do I have to sign in blood?”
Zero shook his head. “Your word is enough.”
He raised his hand and a TV flickered to life on the far side of the room. Diagonal lines danced across the screen, then the Reverend Eckert’s face appeared.
“Jerk!” Patrick said.
“Give him a listen.”
Eckert’s face looked grave, anguished. His voice was at least an octave lower than his usual ranting tone.
“My friends…I have just heard that a number of sims—nineteen of them, I’m told—have been killed. Poisoned. These were the sims who were trying to unionize. This is very disturbing. More than disturbing, it’s a terrible, terrible thing, and I hope, I pray to the Good Lord that no one in my flock is responsible. Because if one of you is, then I must shoulder some of the blame. It might have been my words that drove one of you to this terrible deed. If so, then I have been misunderstood. Terribly misunderstood.
“So hear me now, friends, and hear me well.
“I wish no harm to any sim. I have never, ever preached violence against
them. I have said they were created by evil, Satan-inspired science, and I know that to be true, but I have never said the sims themselves were evil. They are not. They are the innocent products of unnatural science who should be allowed to live out their lives in peace.
“Violence toward sims is not the way. If you kill sims, you only give SinGen the excuse to produce more. We want SinGen tostopproducing sims. We must use the law—the law,my friends—to cut off the supply at its source by piercing the beating evil heart of the problem. And that heart is the devil corporation that subverts the Laws of Creation by fashioning creatures that are not part of God’s design.
“Please. I beg of you: Do not harm sims. That is not the answer—it is, in fact, counterproductive. Spreading the word, boycotting businesses that lease sims, endlessly harassing SinGen in court until it finally surrenders. That is the way, my friends. The only way.
“And to continue fighting that battle, I need your support…”
The screen went blank.
“His standard request for contributions follows,” Zero said.
“When did he broadcast that?” Patrick said.
“He hasn’t. He rushed it into production and it’s going out to replace his previously scheduled message.”
“How’d you get it?”
“The Reverend Eckert is part of the organization. One of its major contributors, in fact.”
For the second time tonight Patrick found himself speechless.
Romy smiled, her first in too many hours. The pearly enamel within her smile caught the light, giving her a Cheshire Cat look.
“If only you could see your face! Oh, God, I wish I had a camera!”
16
SUSSEX COUNTY, NJ
NOVEMBER 14
As soon as Luca stepped into the room, the usually listless Sinclair-2 rose from his seat and came toward him. He looked like he’d slept in his clothes; his face flushed as he started shouting.
“It was you, wasn’t it! You killed those sims! You monster! Youmonster !”
“Calm down, Ellis,” Abel Voss said, putting an arm around the man’s shoulders. “You can’t go makin wild accusations like that.”
“I can!” Sinclair-2 cried. “I know this man’s methods. And if he didn’t do it himself, he sent one of his hired thugs!”
No, Luca thought. I did it myself. A one-man op. That’s what you have to do sometimes if you want to be sure a job gets done right.
It had taken Luca about a week after the Saw Mill River Parkway debacle to put all the pieces in place. Two nights ago he’d made his move.
But the op developed an early hitch: a tail. If he hadn’t been looking for one, he never would have spotted it. But he’d been prepared.
He’d driven into midtown Manhattan and valet-parked his car at the New York Hilton, then zipped through the lobby and out a side exit where he hailed a cab that took him to a second car that had been left for him in a lot near the theater district. He’d driven out of town immediately, directly to Westchester where he’d parked a good mile from the Beacon Ridge Country Club. He’d walked the rest of the way, ducking into the shadows whenever a car approached. When he reached the club, he’d huddled in the hedges until the sims were all in their barrack and the last human had left.