The other's boasting irritated Holden. "That Batty replicant didn't run into me."
"Just as well, for your sake. You got iced by that Leon Kowalski model, and that thing's a goddamn moron by comparison. If you'd hit on the Roy Batty one, there wouldn't have been enough left of you to stick an artificial heart into."
"Maybe." Holden kept his own voice level and cold. "I wouldn't mind having the chance at one."
"You're not likely to get it. The Roy Batty replicant that was running around in L.A. was the only one that ever made it back to Earth. The UN. authorities know what a loose cannon one of them can be-I've worked for U.N. security, so they're hip to what a version of me is like-so they keep them under wraps or way out in the far colonies. How that one got close enough to make a break for Earth.. that was a screwup. Somebody wasn't paying attention."
"You're with the U.N.?" He was still trying to piece together what the deal was.
Batty shook his head. "Not right at the moment. And I never was officially hooked up with them. I was always more of a freelance operative, you might say. Mercenary. That's how I built up my rep. Then I hired on with the Tyrell Corporation-old Eldon Tyrell recruited me himself. That was because he wanted the best, and he could afford it."
The picture was starting to get a little clearer. "What did you do for the Tyrell Corporation?"
"Eh, some troubleshooting, some industrial strong-arm stuff-there were still a couple of other companies turning out replicants back then, and Eldon decided he didn't want the competition anymore. So they got… kind of eliminated. One way or another. And then I was on retainer for a coupla years, while they were checking me out in the corporation's labs. Doing the brain-scan thing-that's when they found out about the cross-wired amygdala. That was pretty much the kickoff for the Nexus-6 development program." Batty shrugged. "After the production line started rolling, I moved over to personal bodyguard stuff, covering old man Tyrell's ass."
He decided to risk a needle probe, just to see how Batty would react. "You must not have been doing a very good job. They told me in the hospital how Tyrell got killed."
"Not on my watch. I quit months before that went down. Man, I'd decided long before then that I wasn't going to work for those bastards anymore." Batty's face turned dark and brooding, gaze fixed on some inner vision. "I'm telling you-there's some sick people over there. Eldon Tyrell might've been the worst of them, but they're all fuckin' nuts. Some of the things I've seen…" He shook his head. "You know, there's a big red button over in the Tyrell Corporation headquarters-the U.N. made 'em put it in when the place was built. Just a little safeguard, in case some of the stuff they were dinking around with ever got out of hand." His voice twisted with bitter loathing. "I'd love to push that red button, and just stand back and watch the whole friggin' place come down. It's be just what those sonsofbitches deserve."
A few more notes were jotted down on the file Holden had begun assembling inside his skull. Whatever else this Batty might be following through on whoever else's orders he was executing-he had a personal agenda as well.
"Tell you what." The cigarette had been smoked down close to his knuckles while he'd been listening to Batty. He stubbed it out against the arm of the chair. "Suppose I accept for the time being this story you've been giving me. I'll accept-provisionally-that you're the templant for any Roy Batty replicants. That you're human."
"Oh, thanks." A wry smirk settled on Batty's face. "What, you want me to prove it to you? There's probably an old Voigt-Kampff machine sitting on a shelf out here. You could run an empathy test on me, if it'd make you feel better."
Holden shook his head. "I couldn't get any worthwhile results off somebody like you.
Too much of a professional gloss-you probably know all the questions and answers already. There's no baseline I could establish for your involuntary response times." He picked up the lighter and ran his thumb across its smooth plastic surface. "Don't sweat it; as I said, I'm accepting for the time being that you're human. Why not? The only problem is, that still doesn't explain much." He flicked the lighter and regarded Batty over the thin, wavering flame. "Such as-why'd you bust me out of the hospital? And why'd you bring me here?"
"Here's easy." Batty's hand gestured toward the building's walls. "I've got friends out here. I've had a long time to build up favors that people owe me-I cashed in a few to get you your new lungs. But actually, it works both ways. Not everybody in the LAPD is as dumb as you blade runners. There's some of them who'd like to know what the hell's going on. And that's what I'm helping them find out."
"'Going on-"' He snapped off the flame. "What're you talking about?"
"You haven't got a clue, do you?" The pitying gaze again. "Wake up and smell the synapses burning, Holden. How do you think you wound up getting blown away by that Kowalski replicant? I mean, other than by your being less than brilliant. And what do you think's been happening to all the other blade runners? You know how many of your pals have landed in the boneyard? Even before you did your stint in the hospital."
"I don't keep count of stuff like that." Holden shrugged. "It happens."
"Yeah, well, it's been happening a lot, buddy. The only smart one in your crew was that guy Deckard. At least he had the sense to take off before he could be set up to take a hit." He pointed his finger. "A hit like the one you took."
"Bullshit. I never took any hit. Kowalski got the drop on me, that's all."
"He got the drop on you, all right-in a secured area of the Tyrell Corporation headquarters. Hey, I know what the security measures are like over there; I was a consultant on most of them. Do you have any idea of how many metal detectors and alarm systems Kowalski would've had to pass through with that gun? It's impossible. Somebody had to have either passed him the gun in the secured area, right before you started to interview him, or they switched off the detectors. Either one of those things would've had to be done by somebody with clearance right up at the top level."
"That's guesswork." Holden shifted uneasily in the chair. "You have any proof?"
"Oh… bits and pieces." The smile radiated smug selfassurance. "You had a recorder running when you were giving the test to Kowalski. I've heard that tape-one of my pals in the department smuggled a copy out to me. Very dramatic… especially the part where you take it in the chest. But the best part isn't even anything you or the Kowalski replicant said. You can hear it in the background of the tape, from the p.a. voice: Attention… we have a B-1 security alert. Know what that means? That's the Tyrell Corporation's internal code for detected tampering with the security grid. All the time you were talking with Kowalski, the people over in the admin offices were running around, trying to figure out where the rip in the net was. Of course, by the time they did find out, you were lying on your back, wearing a hole a small dog could walk through."
"An alarm went off. Big deal." Holden shrugged. "If it'd meant anything-if it'd had some connection with my getting shot-the police would've checked it out."