Toys - A Novel Part 3

"That's not possible."

"I hear you. Gets even stranger though. Listen to this. Every single one of the security cameras in the place just happened just happened to malfunction at the same time." to malfunction at the same time."

"What?"

"It gets even better. There must have been close to a hundred customers in the store-n.o.body remembers a G.o.dd.a.m.n thing. Not even the security guards."

That was impossible. Elites have crystal clear memories and would never lie to authorities. They aren't capable of it. was impossible. Elites have crystal clear memories and would never lie to authorities. They aren't capable of it.

"Go ahead, ask 'em," Owen McGill challenged me. He gestured at the civilians gathered beyond the cordon. "Maybe it will start coming back to them-once you turn on the old Hays Baker charm."

As with most of the company's consumer outlets, especially ones in respectable Elite communities, this Toyz superstore was open twenty-four hours, and it was crowded with customers.

"Who can tell me what happened?" I stepped forward and called to the blank-faced, clearly confused crowd. "Somebody must have seen these terrible murders. I need witnesses. Please. Anybody? Anybody? Speak up now." Speak up now."

A pretty, young Elite woman, wearing skintight jeans and a bodice that barely covered her nipples, shrugged helplessly. "I was standing right there, looking at the iSpielberg imagers," she said, pointing at a display of equipment that allowed you to star in your own movie.

Her shaking finger moved toward the homicide scene.

"Those two-I don't think they were a couple... they acted more like they worked together... Anyhow, they were walking past me, talking to each other. It was all perfectly... ordinary. Then-they were lying on the floor. Just like they are now. Cut open! It's the weirdest thing, but it was like there was nothing nothing in between." in between."

Others in the crowd nodded their heads in complete agreement.

"Hey, why don't you tell us us what's going on?" a man in front called out to me. "The police are supposed to protect us, aren't you? How could you let something like this happen? In a Toyz store of all places?" what's going on?" a man in front called out to me. "The police are supposed to protect us, aren't you? How could you let something like this happen? In a Toyz store of all places?"

It was a fair question, but I didn't have a clue what to say. How could I? Basically, these murders just couldn't have happened. these murders just couldn't have happened.

Chapter 13

"COME ON, THERE are more bodies up front," McGill said in a quiet voice, respectful of the occasion or, perhaps, the deeply disturbing mystery of it. It was rare for Elites to be crime victims-now here were eleven of them dead, and Lizbeth and I were still recovering from an armed attack. What the h.e.l.l was going on?

I followed Owen through the distraction-crammed store, trying to keep my focus on the grisly task at hand and my head clear of the Toyz siren song.

But what a collection of playthings. s.e.x and adventure simulators, domestic servants that could do everything but think your thoughts, genetically tamed wild animals that never needed feeding, personal submarines, personal airpods, role-playing worlds, antigravity chambers, celebrity "clone" androids you could bring home and interact with as you pleased... Toys, toys, toys for all good little girls and boys. Toys, toys, toys for all good little girls and boys. That line-from the Toyz store's famous jingle-you couldn't get it out of your head without using a ThoughtCleanser, another Toyz store favorite. That line-from the Toyz store's famous jingle-you couldn't get it out of your head without using a ThoughtCleanser, another Toyz store favorite.

"One thing's for sure-it had to be skunks," McGill said grimly, hatred for the despicable human killers burning like hot coals in his eyes.

I nodded. No Elite would commit a vicious crime like this. Almost by definition, it's what separates us from those murdering animals. Genetically speaking, of course, Elites are more than 99 percent human. It's not something we tend to dwell on, but we're rational-and it is what it is.

Quite simply, our kind was geneered from human stock. In our case, it was deliberate science rather than blind natural selection-but it's essentially similar to how "modern" humans themselves are said to have evolved from h.o.m.o erectus h.o.m.o erectus or or Australopithecus Australopithecus or other primitive forms. or other primitive forms.

But even more significant than our DNA blueprint-genes, after all, are simply sets of biological instructions-is the final product. Unlike humans-or any organism that's ever walked under the sun for that matter-we aren't just flesh and blood. We contain circuitry and nanomachinery. Although it isn't visible from the outside, we are, in fact, part machine.

One other difference between us us and and them them is that rather than being born from a woman's uterus, we grow in artificial wombs. This means Elite women don't have to endure the old-world pain, inconvenience, and health risks of pregnancy. is that rather than being born from a woman's uterus, we grow in artificial wombs. This means Elite women don't have to endure the old-world pain, inconvenience, and health risks of pregnancy.

Artificial wombs also permit us to gestate for longer-we spend a full two years developing before birth, as opposed to the typical nine months of human pregnancy. Among other things, this makes it possible for doctors to integrate the biocircuitry and other augmentations that enable us to rise above humankind's dangerous shortcomings: greed, immorality, self-destructiveness, rage. I could go on and on, of course. Even the best human artists understood humanity's frailties and failings. Just read Shakespeare, Dostoyevsky, Swift, Rand, Solzhenitsyn-even pop culture writers like Stephen King and Philip K. d.i.c.k got it right.

The brutally dismembered bodies at the Toyz store reminded me once again these human flaws should never be underestimated. Too often the outcome was tragic.

Looking around the scene, I noticed something interesting. The organs taken from the bodies were all those linked to uniquely Elite biotechnical augmentations-especially our circuitry-enhanced brains. It suggested something even more disturbing: the ma.s.sacre at the store wasn't random, or motivated by robbery-this wasn't an explosion of shortsighted rebellion and rage that occasionally flares in the human ranks.

Instead, this had all the elements of a complex and premeditated murder plot.

I shook my head and walked the route between the two crime scenes, cataloging traces that the cold-blooded attackers had left.

They'd come in at the rear-the blood of the first corpses I'd seen was more congealed than the others-and they'd moved fast to execute their daring plan. Footprints in the blood-sizes ten and a half, twelve, and two size elevens, all popular-brand athletic shoes-told me that there'd been four of them. Large males. Animalistic. Acting without any regard for right or wrong.

A forensic team was on its way, but I already knew my a.s.signment: I had to go bag myself four murdering skunks before they could kill again.

The Toyz premier items on display tonight were, of course, Jessica and Jacob dolls. Dozens of them had been placed in the store's huge front window, undoubtedly to lure in traffic. Scary Scary didn't start to cover that tableau. didn't start to cover that tableau.

The dolls had wandered away from their display stations and were now standing behind the gla.s.s barrier.

They were staring at the mutilated Elite corpses, pointing at them, talking among themselves like so many looky-loos at a terrible, terrible traffic accident.

To the Jessicas and Jacobs, the crime scene seemed to be the featured amus.e.m.e.nt for tonight. Talk about disturbing-dolls being entertained by real-life tragedy.

Lizbeth was right-there was no way our Chloe and April were going to get any of these little b.a.s.t.a.r.ds for the holidays. Not while I was Dad.

Chapter 14

"DR. BAKER, SIR. SIR. Our street surveillance cameras have picked up four skunks on motorcycles fleeing the area," a city cop called out, hurrying toward me. "They're heading north along the lakefront. We have emergency units-" Our street surveillance cameras have picked up four skunks on motorcycles fleeing the area," a city cop called out, hurrying toward me. "They're heading north along the lakefront. We have emergency units-"

I was already running for my car. I wanted in on this capture in the worst way. I had never investigated a crime as daring and unspeakable as this one.

This time I took over the driving controls. As I sped out onto the streets, I barked a command at the dashboard computer: "Four motorcycles, north lakefront. Rapid pursuit until intersect."

That order activated a link to the city's network of surveillance cameras.

Instantly, a grid appeared on-screen, showing a cl.u.s.ter of four shapes hunched over their bikes.

The readout gave their speed as 187 miles per hour and their location as 7.347 miles away. Other shapes on-screen showed me that airborne police pods were already chasing them and ground vehicles were forming roadblocks ahead.

The fact that they'd gotten as far as they had was astonis.h.i.+ng and made me feel anything but secure about a peaceful arrest.

McGill's avatar suddenly appeared on my display. I blinked my eye at the communications icon, signaling the computer to pick up his call.

"Hays, we've ID'd the vics at the store," he reported to me now. "They were all Toyz Corp execs."

"What?"

"Yeah, and we're not talking district managers either. They were members of the Toyz board. Moore's crazed about it. So, you know, no pressure or anything. Just catch-and kill-the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds. No mercy."

"I'm closing in on the vermin right now," I said, then clicked off McGill's feed with a blink.

No mercy indeed.

Chapter 15

I COULD DEFINITELY see the humans motoring at full speed up ahead. As if on cue, the cl.u.s.ter of bikes suddenly split apart, peeling off in different directions like campfire sparks scattered by high winds.

They dove down back alleys and even onto narrow walkways, where the maneuverable bikes could evade the roadblocks and stay sheltered from police aircraft. Smart b.a.s.t.a.r.ds. Smart b.a.s.t.a.r.ds.

"Your muscle tension is extremely high, sir," observed Elle. "Would you like me to engage ultrasonic ma.s.sage?"

"Not now, Elle-I'm skunkhunting."

"Of course, sir," she replied, and her status light turned from bright yellow to dim green. "Good luck with that."

I was getting close to the outskirts of the city and the chaotic human settlements where my targets would have a decent chance at disappearing among their kind of filth and vermin. What a terrible outcome that would be for the Agency-and for my own record.

I rammed the joystick forward and the pod went airborne, streaking up at a thirty-degree trajectory to an alt.i.tude of approximately one hundred feet. Then it leveled out.

Within seconds I was closing in on the nearest rider. I was doing more than twice his speed, actually. G.o.d, I wanted at him.

The punk killer was still on a fairly wide street, but he never had a chance to swerve away. I didn't give him one. I swooped down between the buildings and came in over him like an eagle snaring a gopher.

The car's belly grazed his back-just hard enough to flip him.

As I shot on by, the dashboard screen showed him skidding along the pavement, then bouncing wildly off several building fronts. Good riddance to bad rubbish. Good riddance to bad rubbish.

At close to two hundred miles per hour, there probably wouldn't be much left of that one.

The next closest rider was .74 miles away. The on-screen grid showed a path where I could stay hidden between buildings until I intercepted him.

I dropped the sports-pod back down onto the street and peeled out on a stretch of smooth concrete pavement.

Seconds later, I whipped around a tight corner in front of him-then skidded broadside to cut him off.

But he was good with a bike. I'll give him that much credit. He braked and laid the motorcycle down on its side, crouching on top and riding it like a sled.

At the last second, the rider leaped clear and tumbled away with the skill of a gymnast. The bike was still hurtling toward me, bouncing and throwing off sparks.

It slammed into my car hard enough to completely demolish the pa.s.senger side and send me violently off course.

Bright red warning lights flashed on the dashboard, and the shrill beep of an alarm sounded.

"We're under attack, sir!" the interactive pilot announced. the interactive pilot announced.

Sometimes artificial intelligence doesn't quite live up to its name.

Chapter 16

"NO IMMEDIATE DANGER to personnel on board," chirped the pilot computer as the pod righted itself and avoided what would have been a most unpleasant, and possibly deadly, impact with the front of a tinny-looking warehouse. chirped the pilot computer as the pod righted itself and avoided what would have been a most unpleasant, and possibly deadly, impact with the front of a tinny-looking warehouse. "Damage to vehicle will not impair operation." "Damage to vehicle will not impair operation."

"No problem then," I muttered.

I swung the pod around in a tight arc and zeroed in on the running human. With a touch, I sent off a heat-seeking tracer round from my front gun port.

The skunk vanished in an explosion of red vapor. Sayonara, you pitiful sack of c.r.a.p. Sayonara, you pitiful sack of c.r.a.p.

I was going to have to show some restraint from here on though. Just like before, I needed to take at least one of these killers alive to be interrogated at headquarters. That was my only mission now-to find out why eleven Elites had been murdered and eviscerated.

As I closed in behind the next target, he banked suddenly into a sharp right turn. In fact, he leaned the bike almost horizontally, then brought it back out and whipped into a dark alley. This one was very good, a superior athlete and rider.

The gap was too narrow for my car, but I had another idea. He wouldn't be breaking any motorbike speed limits on these narrow, twisty side streets, after all.

So I screeched to a halt.

"Take over," I snapped to the pilot, popping open the hatch and vaulting out.

"Be careful, Hays," Elle called after me.

How about that. She'd never used my first name before. She'd never used my first name before. Should that make me extra cautious? Was I in worse danger than I thought? Should that make me extra cautious? Was I in worse danger than I thought?

Chapter 17

I HIT THE ground running, and I mean running very fast running very fast. I estimated the fleeing rider's distance at thirty-seven yards and his bike's speed at forty-one miles per hour. I could more than match that on foot.