“If it wasn’t premeditated, how’d he manage to clean up and walk out without his clothes full of blood? Dammit.”
Had the killer taken some of Bart’s clothes? she wondered. Take a shirt, take some pants-Bart wasn’t in a position to complain. That increased the possibility of accidental or violent impulse.
“Need the weapon. Need to ID the weapon. Who owned it.” She brought up Bart’s financials again, scouring them for any sign of a major purchase from an individual or a vendor who might deal in gaming weapons.
She cross-referenced the financials with the inventory list of weapons, toys, props found in his apartment and his office.
“Light saber. That’s a kind of electrified sword. Not a blade though, more like… a tube? Not a broad straight edge, not the weapon.”
She picked her way through U-Play’s financial records. Steady, she thought, gradual and healthy up-ticks since inception, with a lot of the profit rolled back in. That showed partners in for the long haul.
The four of them attended a lot of cons-individually or as a group, and sometimes sent other employees. The business picked up the freight, and paid the hefty fee for display and demo space, often sponsored contests and events.
A lot of money for that, she noted. Was that usual, practical, smart? She glanced toward the closed door. She’d just have to ask her expert consultant, civilian, when he was in a better mood.
Using the crime scene images, Morris’s findings, the sweeper’s reports she programmed a reconstruction of the murder. Eyes narrowed, she watched the two comp images stand face-to-face, watched the sword slice down so the tip ripped open the victim’s forearm, then swing up, back before making that slightly downward and powerful beheading stroke.
“That had to hurt-the first gash. It had to hurt as well as shock.
What does someone usually do when something hurts, when they’ve been cut, when they’re bleeding? Why didn’t you, Bart?” she asked aloud. “Why didn’t you press your hand to the wound? No blood on your palm, and there would’ve been. It cut, it burned, it bled, but you don’t attempt to staunch it, feel it. It’s instinctive. But you couldn’t if you had something in your hand, like the hilt of a sword. Couldn’t if you tried to defend, or if the killing blow came too fast.”
She ran it again, changing variables, then dragged a hand through her hair. “What was the game? Why would you play with a fake sword if your opponent had a real one?
“Because you didn’t know. But you damn well should have.”
She rose, paced, then gave in and rapped a fist smartly on the closed door.
It took a moment. Did he do that on purpose? Make her wait? Then the light flipped green, and the door opened.
“I need to use the holo-room,” she said. “I need a game that approximates what Bart might have been into at the time of the murder. I need you to set it up and go through it with me.”
“All right. I’ll meet you there.”
“I don’t suppose you have a couple of swords, of the nonlethal variety.”
“Everything in the weapons room is authentic, so no. You’ll have to make do with holo-weapons.”
“Okay.” She tried to think of something else, then simply shrugged and started to the holo-room.
Roarke’s was bigger than the one in Bart’s apartment-big surprise, she thought sourly. It probably met or exceeded the specs of anything Roarke had in any of his R &D operations.
But the size didn’t matter.
A holo-reconstruct of a murder that took place during a holo-game would give her a better feel, she hoped, for what had happened. What often led to why and why to who.
She walked around the large, empty space, listening to her own footsteps echo. She wasn’t much for games, not really. Training exercises, now, that was different, and she found the holo-room handy there.
More than once Roarke had used it to take her somewhere fantastic-a rainy night in Paris, a drifting boat on an empty sea. Romantic, seductive-well, the holo was handy there, too, though at the moment she doubted either of them felt particularly romantic.
He came in with a disc. “You’re still wearing your weapon.”
She’d forgotten, and now stripped off the harness to lay it and the weapon by the door.
“You wanted something close to U-Play’s Fantastical. We’ve been dissecting what we have of it in EDD, but I don’t have the data or components here. It seemed… a gray area to bring any of that home to continue the work here.”
“Agreed.”
“But I have our most current version of our game-no title as titles can leak. It’s Program HC84-K.”
“You have that at home? Isn’t that shaky security?”
“First, someone would have to know it’s here, then get through house security, into my private office, and find the vault, get through that security, then get through the passcodes and fail-safes on the disc. If they managed all that, they’re likely good enough to have developed this themselves.”
He slid it into a slot as he spoke, used both palm plate and retinal scan, added a voice command and several manual ones.
“In any case,” he continued, “it’s something I’ve been fine-tuning myself, and I prefer to do that here. So…”
He stepped back, studied her. “You want sword play, but you don’t know the era, the setting, the mode, or the goal. We haven’t managed to get anything off the disc Bart used to give you any of that. You’ll have to pick.”
“I don’t know. Sword fight. Not foils,” she added. “Broad blade. Strong, straight.”
“Broadsword.” He tilted his head, smiled a little.
“Don’t put me in some dumbass girl costume.” She jabbed a finger at him. “I mean it. I’m not doing this half naked for your perverted amusement.”
“A shame, but fair enough. Let’s try a few.” He went manual again, she suspected to keep his little game a secret until she was sucked in.
The air shimmered, wavered, and in a moment she found herself standing in a shadowy forest-and dressed in some sort of ancient Asian garb. She had a sword in her hand and soft boots on her feet.
“When and where are…”
She broke off, eyes huge. While her thoughts were in English, her voice had come out in what she thought was Japanese.
“How the hell-”
“Translator feature. Adds to the realism,” he said in the same language. “It’s just slightly out of loop. We’re working on that.”
“I… No, it’s too weird. I don’t want to speak Japanese.”
“All right, let’s try another.”
With barely a shimmer this time, she stood on a green hill, her hair long and tied back. She wore, as Roarke did, some sort of leather top that hit mid-thigh and snug pants that slid into the tops of boots.
She hesitated, then gave it another try. “Okay, now where… Gaelic. It’s Gaelic, isn’t it? I get the accent.”
“Ireland, Tudor era.”
“It… it smells green, and there’s a hint of something earthy, smoky.”
“Peat fires. All the sensory features have been enhanced. In the real world scenarios, the language, the syntax, the clothing, well, every detail’s been meticulously researched and replicated. There are any number of fantasy options already programmed in, or the players can program their own, either from an option menu or by going manual. There’s no limit.”
“Okay, frosty, because I’m hearing you speak Gaelic, but I’m processing English. Did Fantastical have this?”
“I don’t know, but tend to doubt it from the data we have, from their setup at the warehouse. We’ll offer a cheaper version without the translator, but I project the translator feature-which will be steep-will be a main selling point. And there’s the added educational aspect.”