He had no idea what sort of revenue was possible until talking to some old acquaintances who were now working for international security firms.
Their answer: A lot. Maybe a lot a lot.
How much depended on specifics he couldn’t give. So he mostly punted. Or would: he was still working on it.
“I wonder if it thought the terrorist was on your side,” suggested Jin Chiang. “Because you have other guys in that environment who look similar. And you know its basic AI is working — it rescued you.”
“It did,” agreed Chelsea.
“It does register a threat after the fact,” pointed out another software engineer. “Look at line 302. But I bet Johnny wishes it had recognized the threat sooner.”
It took Johnny a moment to realize everyone was looking at him.
“What?” he asked. “Oh, right.”
Massina interrupted the laughter that followed.
“I think we’ve gone as far with this as we can today,” he said. “Right now, Ms. Goodman and Mr. Givens have appointments at city hall. And the rest of us are invited to witness it.”
This was the first Johnny had heard of that, and judging from the look on Chelsea’s face, it was a surprise to her as well.
“But before we wrap up,” added Massina, “I think we can all show our appreciation for our two people who risked their lives helping give a little payback to the bastards who did so much damage to our city. For Boston!”
Massina sounded more like a football coach than an intense but pragmatic scientist.
The engineers cheered. A few behind Johnny tapped him on the back, nudging him to stand.
He felt his face warm with embarrassment.
“Just doing what I can,” he mumbled.
He made his way up to Massina in time to hear Chelsea ask what was going on. He was glad of that: it saved him the trouble.
It also gave him an excuse to look at her.
“It’s just a little thank-you the city has arranged,” said Massina. “No big deal.”
“Is this for Syria?” she asked.
“No. That’s strictly confidential. This is for the attack. Bravery under extreme circumstances.”
“The city arranged this?” asked Chelsea. “Or you?”
“The city,” insisted Massina, but he had the slight impish look he got when he was foisting a surprise on someone.
A good surprise.
“Are you in on this?” Chelsea asked Johnny as he walked up to the front.
“No. Not a clue.”
“Downstairs, both of you,” said Massina. “We’re running late.”
Chelsea grabbed her laptop and briefcase.
“You’ll want to leave that upstairs,” added Massina. “You’ll be gone all night.”
Johnny and Massina were waiting when Chelsea came down. There were three black Yukon SUVs parked in front of the entrance.
“We’re in the middle,” said Massina.
“The hotel is three blocks away,” said Chelsea. “Can’t we just walk?”
“Easier this way,” said Massina.
“I doubt it,” said Chelsea.
“You’re in a grouchy mood,” said Massina mildly. “Not enough coffee today?”
“You should have told us.”
“I did.”
Ten minutes later — traffic was relatively light — they arrived at the hotel and pulled into the downstairs garage. Johnny unfolded himself from the back, following along behind the others. Standing next to Chelsea as they went up, he made it a point to look away from her.
They stopped on the third floor. Johnny was surprised to see a throng of people in the atrium lobby as they turned the corner from the elevators. They were all very well dressed, the men in suits and ties.
“This is a fancy thing,” said Chelsea.
“Black-tie,” said Massina.
“Crap — all I have on are jeans.”
“I’m a little out of place, too,” said Johnny. Though he had a sport coat, he was wearing jeans and sneakers.
“There’s a solution for that,” said Massina. “For both of you, actually. Come on.”
He led them down the hall to a suite. Two racks of clothes stood in front of the couches in the living room. One contained dresses; the other had a tuxedo and white shirt. Two women were standing nearby.
“Take your pick,” Massina told Chelsea. “These ladies will help with any alterations you need.” He turned to Johnny. “I’m afraid you’re on your own, but we did use your measurements that you had for the gear in Syria.”
It was an exceptional night, one that pleased even Massina, who was ordinarily deeply bored by these sorts of things. Not only did he sit patiently through the speeches, but he gave one of his own.
“Boston is too strong to be hurt by terror,” he said. “We kicked out the Red Coats, and we haven’t stopped since. Do your worst; we’ll kick you in the teeth.”
He wished he could tell the audience about the recent actions in Syria, but he knew that would only hurt the country. The best he could do was say he “hoped” the perpetrators of violence would be brought to justice.
But all in all, he thought it was an exceptional night.
The speeches were bad enough; the reporters’ interviews were even worse.
Chelsea didn’t realize that saying she would talk to one journalist meant that every other one in the building would queue up behind him, subjecting her to a marathon of squinting into a camera while repeating the words “overwhelmed,” “humbled,” “very happy” over and over again. At least a dozen other people who had been held hostage at the hotel were honored as well, but the reporters seemed to zero in on her. She kept glancing over at Johnny, who somehow managed to avoid the reporters while milling around with Bozzone and some of the other Smart Metal people.
“He’s the real hero, you know,” she said finally, pointing to him as he went to the bar nearby. “He broke in and rescued me.”
Johnny rolled his eyes and shook his head, continuing in a beeline to the bar.
Finally, the reporters were done. Chelsea got up, only to find that the bar had been shut down.
“Hey,” said Johnny.
She punched him in the shoulder. “You suck.”
“What?”
“I had to talk to all of them. You should have been the one. You saved me.”
“Eh. You saved yourself. I got there after the fact.”
He’s right, isn’t he? Maybe I did save myself.
“Thirsty?” Johnny asked.
“Dying.”
“Let’s try downstairs.”
They went down to the bar on the first floor, but it was so crowded they couldn’t see the actual bar.
“I think we should go somewhere else,” suggested Johnny.
“How about that cute place you took us to when we got back?”
“Sure.”
Johnny started to lead her out of the lobby.
“Wait,” she said, grabbing his arm. “Don’t you think we’re a little overdressed?”
Johnny looked down at his tux, then over at her. “You’re not,” he said.
Chelsea laughed. “I think we better change.”
78
“How long will you be staying with us?” asked the hotel clerk.
“Three days,” said Ghadab.
The man reached for the passport Ghadab had placed on the marble counter. “I need to make a copy.”
Ghadab nodded. The clerk went into a closet-sized room directly behind the registration desk; in the dim light of the lobby, the flash of the copy machine as it moved its platen seemed like the spark of an explosion.