Page 23 of The Phoenix Code

  "They've been on the run for a month," Ander said. "It could take days to dig out their hiding place."

  Karl glanced at the other hostages. Both Raj and Megan were tied now, with the long-haired hacker free and rubbing his arms. Karl's thought was obvious: how would Ander control them for days? The same question bothered Megan. If Ander intended to keep them, he had to make sure they ate, slept, and took care of personal needs. Everyone knew the easiest solution to his dilemma. They stayed on their best behavior because they wanted to stay alive.

  "Keep trying," Ander told Karl.

  Karl rubbed his eyes, then went back to work. Ander stood like a ramrod in the same position he had held for hours, as focused now as at the start. If he felt any hard­ship from his injuries, he showed no sign of it. Megan thought of Grayton, the Phoenix android, hiding for weeks, kidnapping people one by one, until the authori­ties caught him—after he blew up the Phoenix labs. Had he started like this?

  No, she thought. Ander had bypassed plenty of chances to show that side of himself, if it existed. Yes, he always acted in his own interest. At times he seemed ob­sessed or paranoid. But he was no sociopath. He consis­tently chose the path that, given his own objectives, made it as easy as possible on his hostages. As a covert agent, he showed only erratic skill, but with more training he could probably do the job. Whether or not he wanted that job was another question, one they would have to address if they escaped this mess alive.

  Karl suddenly spoke. "I found something!"

  "Download it to me," Ander said.

  "What is it?" Raj asked.

  Karl shot him an uneasy look and said nothing.

  Ander answered. "Two hours after the Phoenix explo­sion, a man named Tom Morris bought a ticket at a small airport a few miles away. He flew to El Paso, and from there he flew to Washington, D.C."

  "That's it?" Raj shifted in his chair, adjusting his bound hands behind his back. "It could be anyone."

  "No one flies out of that first airport except crop dusters," Ander said. "Why go from there to D.C.?"

  "Do you have a picture of Morris?" Megan asked. The Phoenix files had included descriptions of the four an­droids destroyed in the explosion. If no resemblance ex­isted between any of the four and Morris, it might help push Ander out of his irrational hope that they still lived.

  "No image," Karl said. "Just a record of air travel."

  "How did he pay for his tickets?" Raj asked.

  Karl worked at his console, then said, "Cash. I can't trace it."

  "Can you trace his actions in Washington?" Ander asked.

  Karl studied the display. "The D.C. area is crawling with people named Morris. I have to sort them."

  "It makes no sense," Raj said. "Why would he go to D.C.?"

  "To lose himself in a central location," Ander sug­gested. "It's also international. He wouldn't stand out as much if he was unfamiliar with our customs."

  "Is that what you would do?" Megan asked him.

  He gave her his deadpan look, the one he used when he was about to make a joke. "I would kidnap my two cre­ators and take them to California."

  Ha, ha. His sense of humor got weirder all the time.

  "Okay," Karl said. "I've four possibilities."

  Ander tilted his head as if he were listening to a voice only he could hear. "That's odd."

  "What?" Megan asked.

  Karl glanced at Ander. When the android nodded, Karl answered her. "Morris could have rented a car and dropped it off in Baltimore, stayed in the Hilton at the airport, taken a flight to Louisiana, or taken an overseas flight to England."

  "Louisiana?" Raj sat up straighter. "Are you sure?"

  Ander gave Raj an appraising stare. "Anyone unusual contact you last month? You would be a logical person to seek out if he had problems."

  "People contact me all the time. I don't recall anything unusual."

  "A lot of people go to Louisiana," Megan said.

  "Follow up all four leads," Ander told Karl. "Give pri­ority to Louisiana."

  "Yeah. Okay." Focused on his work again, Karl almost seemed to forget he was a hostage.

  So they sat, waiting.

  It was late when Ander let the hacker free Raj. His next order was, not surprisingly, for Raj to tie up the hacker. He had earlier given Megan a short reprieve. At no time, however, did he show any inclination to free the guard. The man lay on his stomach, arms and legs bound, his mouth gagged, his posture tense, his gaze intent. Watch­ing him, Megan shuddered.

  She avoided looking at Ander's torso. Even knowing he felt no pain, seeing him torn apart hurt her at a visceral level. As the hours passed in monotonous succession, she dozed fitfully. Silence filled the basement, broken only by the murmur of Karl's voice commands, punctuated every now and then by a cussword. Raj sat slouched in his arm­chair, scrutinizing Ander.

  The android finally frowned at Raj. "What is it?"

  "The longer you go with that damage," Raj said, "the more it taxes your systems. We have to put you back to­gether."

  "We'll worry about it later," Ander said.

  The long-haired man was lying on his stomach now. "What happens to us then?" he asked.

  "If you do your job, you'll have your pay and no trou­ble," Ander said. "If you make problems, we'll send in the feds."

  "We don't want trouble," the man told him.

  Raj snorted. "Yeah. Right. You just wanted to take us into the desert and shoot us."

  The long-haired man gave him a cold stare. "You made him." Malice tinged his voice. "Lost control, did you? Tough shit, big shot. How's it feel to be a machine's toy?"

  Raj narrowed his gaze but said nothing. Ander made no attempt to disabuse the hacker of his conclusions.

  "I have profiles on all four." Karl looked up at Ander. "The Tom Morris in England visited his daughter in Lon­don. The one in Louisiana went to the University of Louisiana, where he's a student. The third went to an op­tometrist's conference, then home to Oklahoma. The one in Baltimore lives there." He paused. "Did you get the downloads?"

  "Yes." Ander made an impatient motion with his hand. "None of these help."

  "Even if Morris is who you want to find," Megan said, "he could have disguised his trail."

  "From most people, yes." Ander gave her a chilling smile. "I'm not most people." He indicated them all. "I also have the best working for me."

  She had no answer for that. None of them had a choice about their "employment."

  Finally she fell asleep. She woke when Raj was untying her wrists. She groaned from the pain that shot through her wrists and up her arms. After he freed her, he slid one arm under her legs and the other around her back. Then he lifted her off the floor. Comforted by his strength, she leaned her head on his shoulder. If Ander didn't like it, tough.

  Raj settled into the armchair, holding her in his lap. With her eyes closed, she listened while Ander told her to get her act together and tie up Raj. She was just awake enough to wonder what he would do when he realized "her act" was going to remain fragmented. Eventually he gave up and let them stay that way, probably because both the guard and the long-haired hacker had fallen asleep.

  Raj kissed her ear. "How are you doing?"

  "Okay."

  He tightened his arms around her. "Good."

  After they had sat that way for some time, bored stiff, with nothing to do, she lifted her head. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

  "I don't know. It depends."

  "Why didn't you ever marry?"

  "Jaguars don't make good companions, Megan."

  "Did your lovers tell you that?"

  "What lovers?"

  She made a humph sound. "No guy could look as good as you and not have had women throwing themselves at him."

  "Sure," he drawled. "They just sailed in the window."

  Megan smiled. "Trying to derail me won't work."

  "Marriage is not one of my favorite topics."

  She rested her hand against his chest. "I'm not p
ropos­ing. I'm just curious."

  After a moment he said, "Let me put it this way: yes, my being an angry kid with a brooding stare, foul mouth, tight jeans, and leather jacket attracted some girls. So what? I always picked a female version of myself. That didn't make for the most functional relationships."

  "Maybe when you were young. But you're forty-two now. You've had plenty of time."

  It was a while before he answered. "In my twenties, I didn't see much of anyone. I had enough to deal with, straightening out my own problems."

  "And later?"

  He scowled. "Why do women always want to know this stuff?"

  She shifted in his arms. "To understand a lover better? Because if you open up, it means you trust me? I don't know. Maybe we just want to know what we're in for."

  A smile quirked his lips. "That answer would have sent me running for the hills when I was younger."

  "And now?"

  "Ander won't let me run anywhere."

  "I guess you're stuck, then."

  He gave a quiet laugh. "All right. In my thirties, I had two girlfriends." His smile faded into a complicated expression, anger mixed with loss. "The first one walked out because she said I only cared about my computers."

  Megan winced. She had heard similar. "It must have been difficult for both of you."

  "She thought I loved my work more than her. I didn't. But I don't say emotion things well." Dryly he said, "To put it mildly." He readjusted her weight. "This must be boring you."

  "Not at all. What was the second one like?"

  He grinned. "Drop-dead gorgeous."

  That wasn't what she wanted to hear. "Did she criticize your work too?"

  "She loved it. The more money I made, the more things she could buy. I stopped seeing her, though."

  "Because she spent all your money?"

  "No, I didn't mind that. I wasn't using it."

  Megan wondered if he had any idea how naive that sounded. "I hope she didn't take advantage of you."

  "Well, no. The problem was, she was rather ... pro­saic."

  "Prosaic?"

  He winced. "She spent all her time watching those talk shows where people throw things at each other. We had these long dinner conversations about what shade of yellow she should make her hair." Then he muttered, "It was incredible. She could talk about nail polish for an hour."

  Megan struggled not to laugh. "Oh, Raj. I can't imag­ine you with someone like that."

  "Yeah, well, you never saw her in a miniskirt." He rubbed the back of his neck, smiling.

  "Stop thinking about the miniskirt," she growled.

  "You're jealous."

  "I am not."

  He smirked. "You are. I like it."

  "Fine. Go kiss prosaic blond bimbos."

  "I'd rather kiss you. I should have met you first, Nut­meg. Then I would never have wasted my time with them." He looked a bit disconcerted. "You would've scared the hell out of me back then, though."

  She hadn't expected that. "Why?"

  "Your self-confidence. That you treat people with re­spect. That we are so compatible."

  "Why would that scare you?"

  "It took me decades to believe I deserved to be treated well." Before she could ask more, he headed her off at the pass. "And you?"

  "Me?" She tensed. "What about me?"

  "Same question."

  She shifted her weight. "I haven't met the right per­son."

  "Yeah. Right. How many men have asked you to marry them? Five? Twenty? A hundred? And none were right?"

  "Oh, Raj. It was two."

  "What, that's not a good enough sample size?"

  "I won't hitch up just to be hitched." She wasn't the least bit sleepy anymore. "I'm not a baby machine. And I can support myself, thank you very much."

  "I don't doubt it."

  "Good."

  After a moment he said, "But don't you get lonely?"

  He would have to ask that. "I'd rather be lonely than be with the wrong person. Besides, I don't have much time to look."

  He spoke quietly. "In other words, you're so wrapped up in work, you rarely go out, and if you do, you don't like being with strangers."

  "Would you please stop being so perceptive?"

  "I know because I'm the same way."

  She tapped her finger on his chest. "I'll tell you the problem. I hadn't met anyone anywhere near as interest­ing as you."

  He closed his fingers around her hand and touched her hair with his other hand. Gentleness showed on his face, no strain now, but an echo instead, the memory of the love a child had once had to offer, before his ability to trust had been beaten out of him.

  "Wake up," Ander said. "We have to go."

  Megan peered blearily around the room. She had slid partway off Raj's lap and was curled next to him in the armchair. Karl sat slumped in another armchair, eating a bag of chips. The other two men were still asleep.

  Ander was leaning over, shaking Raj's shoulder. When he saw that they were waking up, he straightened and turned to Karl. "You can untie your friends after we leave."

  Karl just nodded. He looked exhausted.

  Ander kept the assault rifle. He took Raj and Megan upstairs and out of the house, not even giving them a chance to come fully awake. They stumbled along, almost running to keep up with him. Outside, the sky was turn­ing blue in a crystalline desert dawn.

  At the car, Ander said, "Megan, get in back. Raj, tie her."

  Raj gave him an implacable look. "No."

  "Ander, don't tie us up," she said.

  "I haven't time for this." Ander yanked open the back door and grabbed the Winchester off the seat. "Get in." Holding both guns, he motioned at Raj. "You drive. Don't argue."

  With his shoulders rigid, Raj got into the driver's seat. Ander pushed Megan into the back, then slammed both doors. The locks snapped into place; apparently his wireless capability wasn't completely gone. Although she was relieved he didn't bind her, his behavior was anything but reassuring. With the computer protected by a pass­word only he knew, neither Megan nor Raj could unlock the doors. She had no doubt Ander was also scanning the car for any tracking devices or rogue code that the trio in the house might have planted.

  He got in the passenger's side and leaned over to shove the magkeys in the ignition. Holos on the dash glittered as his "mind" talked to the car. Then it backed up the drive­way. Within seconds, they were out on the road.

  Ander took a breath, rattling the filaments that strag­gled out of his torso. Sagging in his seat, he held both the Winchester and assault rifle on his knees. So much heat radiated off his body, Megan felt it in the back. His reac­tor was running hard, producing more energy than he could dump, his version of a fever.

  She leaned forward. "You have to let us work on you."

  "We can't—go to a motel—with me like—this." His voice was eerily disjointed, the first sign he had shown of the strain he had to be suffering.

  "If we don't work on you soon," Raj said, "you'll break down."

  "I won't let you turn me off."

  "We have to do something," Megan said.

  "I have to—to confine you, Megan." Now he was talk­ing too fast. "To make sure you can't escape while Raj re­pairs me. Raj, I'll have the guns on you the whole time, so no tricks."

  "I need her help," Raj said.

  Megan motioned at Ander's injured chest. "We don't have the materials we need."

  "You'll manage," Ander told her.

  "How?" Raj asked. A bead of sweat ran down his temple.

  "You can work in the back seat." Ander's arm spasmed, almost throwing the guns out of his lap. He sounded desperate. "We'll drive into the desert. I'll tie Megan up in the front and opaque the windows."

  "This is ridiculous," Raj said. "You're asking me to do major surgery in a car, with no equipment and a patient who not only refuses to let me put him under, he insists on holding a gun on me while I'm operating. I can't work under those conditions."

  "You can," Ande
r said. "And you will."

  "We shouldn't stop," Megan said. "Karl and his peo­ple might catch up to us."

  Raj frowned at Ander. "They know you're an android. Do you have any idea how valuable you would be on the black market?"

  "They won't come after us," Ander said, to himself as much as to them. "They're into major shit there. If we re­veal them to the feds, they're fucked."

  Raj shook his head. "Don't count on that stopping them. They may decide it's worth the risk."

  "That guard scared the daylights out of me," Megan said.

  "What do you know about him?" Raj asked Ander.

  "Nothing I'm going to tell you."

  "Why not?" Megan asked.

  Ander's leg twitched. He grabbed it with his hand, holding it in place. "Why should I? I don't care if they jigger the law. That's like asking money if it cares who steals it."

  "Oh, come on. You're being obtuse on purpose." Megan thought it remarkable, actually. But it was the last thing they needed right now.

  "I don't know about the guard," Ander admitted. "He wasn't part of the negotiations."

  "What about the Phoenix androids?" Raj asked. "Any­thing?"

  "Two leads," Ander said. "Louisiana and Baltimore."

  "I thought Louisiana was a college kid," Megan said.

  "His records may be fake," Ander said. "Same for the guy in Baltimore. He's into some bizarre business on the stock market."

  "And if neither is a Phoenix android?" Raj asked.

  Ander answered in jolting bursts. "I won't. Let them. Be dead."

  *20*

  Turnabout

  With all the windows opaqued, no sunlight penetrated the car's shadowed interior. The vehicle had driven them far out into the desert and parked in the shadow of a hill.

  Ander climbed in the back, still holding both guns. "Megan, move up front."

  She stayed put. "This won't work."

  "How will you cover me while I operate?" Raj asked from the driver's seat. "I'll be close enough to pull those guns out of your hands."

  "You'll do what I tell you," Ander said. "Or take the consequences."

  "What consequences? You keep threatening, but you've never shot anyone. It's all bluff."

  "Besides," Megan said. "If you shoot him, who will fix you?"

  Ander scowled. "Quit arguing with me."