again and this time he looked up too. Thought it was difficult to see in the dim light, rows of pipes and sprinklers lined the ceiling.
George said, “The gas is the first line of defense, but if it fails to deploy then the water turns on. Saves the building, but kills the Sorter. The sprinklers aren't connected to the VESDA. That means if this room caught fire, it would be flooded. Do you see what I mean, boss? You should be worried about Nagel, not me.”
The red head continued calking down the row of tanks. The wall turned a corner and there was a door ajar. On it was a sign reading, “Emergency Exit. Alarm Will Sound.”
“There was no fire.” said George. “The chassis were overheating and the AC couldn't handle the load. That triggered the thermal sensors. The alarm sounded, but there was no smoke. I turned off the alarm, but that warning light will blink so long as I have this door propped open to let the hot air out.”
“I have no fire system and no security system.” said Reggie. “On today, of all days?”
George leaned in close, ignoring the weapon in Reggie's hand.
He whispered, “Blame Kevin Nagel.”
“What I want to know it what you've been doing to fix it.”
“I was getting to it.” said George. “I just had some other business.”
Binder nuzzled the barrel of his gun under George's chin.
“You have been a problem for a long time.”
George held up the spinning wheel and said, “The wheel says we all die today.”
“George, fix it.”
“Not before I show you my surprise.”
The coder held is phone in his other hand. It showed the image of the wheel and when George pressed it the image was replaced by the words,
1 HOUR
“I was going to make you wait, but I won't.”
George swiped across it and produced a number keypad. He typed in a code and when he closed the keypad the screen now read,
ZERO HOUR
A few moments later, a phone mounted to the wall rang.
Reggie said, “What is this?”
“That's the beauty.” George shrugged. “I have no idea what's going to happen, but I know it's going to be good.”
The phone rang again. Reggie walked over and pushed the speaker button. Cass's voice blared over the whining noise of the fans.
“There's someone here to see you, George. John Smith from Judge Network Solutions?”
Reggie turned to George and said, “Who's that?”
“I have no idea. I just hope you're ready for this.”
TWELVE
TWO HOURS LATER
“Are you the only one who doesn't feel the Sorter isn't trying to control you?” said John.
Ruth was sitting in her car and John was inside Polymath. The phone rested in a dash mount and John had opened up a video chat session. All she could see right now was his face, but she knew there had to be a reason why he wanted her to see something rather than just hear it.
“I don't have time for a philosophical discussion. Let Jason go, right now.”
“Philosophy isn't for alone time, Detective Holland.” said John, his dilated eyes filling the screen, “It matters for each and every decision you make.”
“Can you put Jason on? Can I talk to him?”
“In a minute.”
“John, I need to know he's okay. Don't you understand that?”
She paused and wondered how she was supposed to handle this. Could she appeal to his conscience at this point? Or should she treat him like any other terrorist? When she spoke again, it was slower and more deliberate.
Ruth said, “Jason was an accident. I know that you intended to hurt Reginald Binder and the Sorter, but I also know that you don't want to hurt any innocent people.”
“None of us are innocent. We've all been doomed from the start.”
“And what about all those people standing outside the building now? You let them evacuate. The only people in there now are those who were in the Polymath office when the bomb threat went out. You believe they're guilty and maybe you're right, but Jason is just like the others you let go. He wasn't even a part of your plan before this morning.”
“It's not my plan, Ruthie.” said John, and it really stung when he called her that. “It's in the Sorter's hands now. As for the guilty...”
At last, John turned the camera away from his own face. Though the image was poor, Ruth could make out a typical office space. The camera passed over some people she didn't recognize standing near a group of cubicles and looking stunned and in pain. One of them stared off to the left, at something outside the field of view. As the camera panned, however, it became clear what had put them in that state of distress.
Reginald Binder was sitting in what looked like a conference room. There was a table with chairs, but the walls were gone. Ruth supposed that they must have been made of glass, because the floor was covered with shards of it. Reggie was seated, with his arms hanging loose over the sides of the chair. He was staring at the ceiling. His neck was a mess. It looked as though someone had wounded both of his jugular veins with multiple tiny, tiny cuts. Binder's motionless body made Ruth feel cold.
John moved the camera away, but it hardly out of mercy. The next image was worse than the first. There was another body laying on the floor. Its shirt was open at the chest and some tattooed words were visible on its skin. They looked to Ruth like Latin, maybe. Its hair was long and red and its face simply wasn't there at all. It looked like a close range weapon had removed it, leaving a pulpy mess in its place.
Then came the last icon in this infernal little triptych. She saw Jason. He was not dead. Rather, a pistol hung by his side as he looked over the destruction.
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