Even those who sat at desks or cubes jiggled and wiggled, tapped and trilled. Feeney ran what Eve saw as a madhouse with a steady hand, even thrilled at being at the controls. In his baggy pants and wrinkled shirt, he struck her as a sturdy, unpretentious island in a riotous sea.
In his office he stood in front of a screen, frowning, mussed, normal as he moved blocks of numbers and letters-those hieroglyphics again-from location to location.
“Got a minute?” she asked him.
“Yeah, yeah. You took my boy.”
Since they were all his boys-regardless of gender-it took Eve a minute. “McNab? I asked you first.”
“I hadn’t had my coffee. You get these notions in the middle of the damn night it puts me at a disadvantage.”
“It was after six this morning.”
“Middle of the night when I didn’t crash out until two. Now I’m doing his work.”
She shoved her hands in her pockets. “I asked first,” she muttered. “What is that?”
“It’s bits and pieces we got off what’s left of the game disc-which isn’t a hell of a lot. We’ve got it running through the computer, but I thought I’d try it the old-fashioned way.”
“Any luck?”
He sent her a weary glance. “Do I look lucky?”
“Take a break for a minute.” Her fingers hit something in her pocket. She pulled it out. “Look. I have a sucking candy. It’s yours.”
He eyed it. Then shrugged and took it. “How long’s it been in there?”
“It can’t have been long. Summerset’s always bitching about stuff I leave in my pockets. They’re my pockets. Plus it’s wrapped, isn’t it?”
He unwrapped it, popped it in his mouth.
“I’ve got a couple new angles I want to try,” she began. “I want another look at the vic’s house droid.”
“She’s clean.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, but two possibles. One, the killer programmed and used her for the kill, then set her back to normal. Two, he shut her down and brought in a dupe for the kill.”
“You’re looking at a droid whacking the guy’s head off?”
“I’m looking at the possibility. We’ve got two divergent styles-and Mira agrees.”
While he sucked on the candy, she ran him through the high points of the consult.
“How’d he switch the droids?”
“One step at a time, Feeney. Plus I don’t know they were switched.
It’s a possibility. If you could run a second, deeper diagnostic on it, with those two possibilities in mind, we might be able to confirm or eliminate.”
“Somebody’s going to fuck around with a droid’s programming, bypass the safeguards, they need time and privacy. And equipment.”
“They have equipment at U-Play. Plenty of them work late, stay after hours. That’s time and privacy.”
He scratched his cheek. “Maybe.”
“The second thing is going over the game logs, finding a pattern to the vic’s play. What version did he favor, who’d he play with. I want to see who he beat routinely, and what he beat them playing.”
“Now you figure somebody cut off his head because he beat them gaming?”
“It’s a factor. It plays. Why kill him during a game unless playing the game mattered? It’s showing off, isn’t it? All of this is a kind of showing off. Look how good I am. I made it real. I won.”
“Can’t tell anybody though. That takes some shine off it. You don’t play enough,” Feeney decided. “A serious gamer? He wants his name on the board. He wants the cheers and applause. He wants the glory.”
“Okay, okay, I get that.” She paced the office. “So maybe he gets that applause, that glory another way. Like… people who steal art or have it stolen then stick it in a vault where nobody can see it. It’s all theirs. It’s a kind of glory, too. The big secret, the ownership. That takes control, willpower and a hell of an ego. It took all of that to set up this kill. It took precision, brutality, and cold violence to execute the kill. So, it takes me back to maybe we’ve got two involved. Maybe two people, maybe one and a droid. Or maybe a multiple personality type, but that’s low on the list for now.”
He sucked on the candy, scratched his cheek again. “The model’s copyrighted on account it’s a replica of a vid character and there’s merchandising rights and all that. Then you gotta register a droid. There’s some getting around all of that if you buy it black or gray market, but this one’s the real deal. She’s got her registration chip and the proper model number. We got the vic’s registration and his authentication certificate. If she was messed with, she passed the standard diagnostic. We can run deeper. As for copies, well, it’s a popular model. It’s a classic for a reason. You can run a search for ownership on that, and maybe you’ll get a pop.”
“Unless it’s black or gray market.”
“If you were to run a probability, I’d bet it’s going to be high the vic would spot a knockoff. Even a dupe would have to be the real deal to get by him, if you’re asking me. Not to say they don’t have the reals off the grid, but what’s the point of going that way when it’s no crime to buy the real through proper sources? Less risky that way. We’ll go take a look at her.”
He led the way out and through to Evidence. He coded in, pressed his thumb to the plate.
Feeney, Captain Ryan, is cleared.
He opened the door to an organized pirate’s cave of electronics. Comps, ’links, screens, com and surveillance devices, all labeled, stood and sat on towering shelves. The droids were well represented as well-mechanical-looking household and yard droids, cheap mini-droids, and a number of the human replicas lined up like suspects.
Eve studied the victim’s choice of house droid. “That outfit wasn’t designed for fighting.”
“Slave-girl version, episode six. But she handles herself. Girl’s a rebel and holds her own. Helped kick the Empire’s ass.”
“Jesus, Feeney. It’s a droid-a replication of a fictional character from a space opera.”
“I’m just saying,” he muttered. “This model’s top of the line. She’s designed to exactly replicate the character physically, and she has top flight programming capabilities.”
“Did he play with it?”
“Now it’s my turn. Jesus, Dallas.”
“Not that way. Ick. Gaming. Did he use it in the games?”
“She’s programmed to participate. She’d interface with the game program, upload the scenario, the rules. She’d be a tough opponent.”
Didn’t look so tough in that outfit, Eve thought, but she’d take Feeney’s word.
“It could handle a sword?” Eve asked.
“Damn right.”
But Eve shook her head. “The vic was taller, considerably. Blow came from an upward angle, slicing down. It could’ve been standing on something, or it took the higher ground.”
“If she or one like her was programmed to do this, they’ll end up scrapping her. Damn shame. She’s a real beauty.”
She started to point out, again, it was a machine, but remembered who she was talking to. “Run it, and I’ll do the search on the model.”
“I’ll run her myself. I’ll put Callendar on analysis for the repeat scenarios and players.”
“Appreciate it. I’ll be in the field, at U-Play.”
“Hell of a place,” Feeney commented. “Too bad about the boy. He had a good thing going there.”
It didn’t surprise Eve to find the U-Play offices more subdued. The noise level remained high, but the bright, or slightly wild-eyed look of those who manned systems, cubes, offices, labs had been replaced by the solemn.
A great many wore black armbands along with their colorful attire, and she noted a great many who’d rushed around the day before weren’t in attendance today.