Fantasy in Death

“And that… ah. Be

“He got to her first, and stayed with her. Var couldn’t do anything about it. He expected to find her dead. It had to be a shock when Be

“And you believe he played the role of friend and partner, all these years.”

“It may have even been true, as far as it goes, off and on. The business is successful, he’s making a good living with potential for more. It’ll be the more that pushed him, or gave him the excuse he wanted. And the fact Bart could and did overrule him. He’s already edging himself into a leadership role at U-Play. Taking Cill out just cements it. Be

“All right, say I’m convinced you’re right. How? I’ll agree he could easily have arranged to go in with Bart, it’s trickier with Cill as Be

I suppose he could have circled around, entered another way, intercepted her before she went in the apartment, but-”

“He was never in either apartment, not at the time of the murder or the attack.”

“Well then, how did he manage it? By remote control?”

“In a way. Okay, engaging that open mind you carry around with you, the hologram did it.”

“Eve, even a flaw in the system-which we haven’t found, couldn’t decapitate a player.”

“Not the system. The hologram. Bart fought the Black Knight, and the Black Knight won. It cut off Bart’s head, and in whatever scenario Cill played, it pushed her, or caused her to fall.”

Roarke took another sip of coffee. “Let me understand you. You’re suggesting that a holographic image, which is essentially light and shadow, attempted murder and committed it.”

“But it’s not just light and shadows. Neuro- and nanotech have advanced, and the images produced in holo-programs act and react, according to that program. They appear three-dimensional, appear to have substance. The player’s senses are involved and engaged.”

“It’s an illusion.”

“Right. But with clarity. And, some hold the theory that the wave front could be enhanced further, and the beams increased in power, and remarried to complex VR-”

“Results in burnout and system failure,” he finished. “You simply can’t create actual substance in holo. It’s replicated imagery.”

“You wouldn’t have to. But if you found a way to get around the system failure and increase those beams, the enhanced wave front, to cha

“It’s… hmm.” He set the coffee aside, rose to go over and edge a hip onto her desk. “Interesting.”

“The jolts you get in the game. Tied in to that illusion of contact in, say, a sword fight with the Black Knight. But, if you’ve found a way to do this enhancement, to take a jump on the tech trampoline, the sword could, conceivably, cut, slash, sever. Or the current could-in the shape of the holo it’s programmed to produce. Or in Cill’s case, replicate an impact where those currents, or whatever the hell you’d call them, could inflict the same damage as what they’d been programmed to replicate.”

When he said nothing, she shifted. “Listen, laser scalpels cut. Laser blasters, well, blast. Why can’t light imagery-essentially-be manipulated to slice and bash?”

“It would run hot-should run hot enough to shut down the system. To fry it for that matter. But…”

“How come all your hotshot R &D people aren’t all over this?”

“Oh, we have some toying with it. But the fact is, on a practical level it’s not marketable. You can hardly produce games where the players can go around chopping pieces off each other, or other mayhem. You’d be shut down, and sued within an inch.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Then why do you have anyone toying?” And he gave her an easy smile. “You never know what you might find when you’re looking for something else, do you? And under certain circumstances, such an application might interest the military. In any case, it’s low priority. Or was,” he corrected. “And this would explain-”

“A lot. I’ve eliminated everything else. This is what’s left. And when you’ve eliminated everything else, what’s left should be true.”

“Yes,” Roarke murmured. “It certainly should. There’s nothing on this technology on any record or comp at U-Play, or on the partners’ equipment. He’ll have that private space you’re looking for. He’d have to.”

“And he’ll take the bait there. He’ll have to. We’ll find it, and when we do, I think we’re going to find a lot more than a game.” She checked her wrist unit. “Shit. I spent more time laying it out for you than I should have. I need you to program a reenactment of both events, using this theory, so I can use it in the briefing.”

“Oh well, then, no problem at all. I can just take that jump on the tech trampoline in the next ten minutes, then take my bows.”

“Sarcasm noted. Look, I’ve got it started. It just needs to be refined some.”

“It’s not like twisting the top off a tube of bloody ketchup after you’ve loosened it.”

“Too much for you?” She cocked her head. “No problem. I’ll get McNab on it.”

“That’s bitchy. On here?”

“Yeah, I’ve just about got-”

“Go away.” He sat, then glanced back at her scowling face. “Now.”

“Fine. But don’t spend the next century fiddling with it. I just need it clear enough to-”

“Close the door behind you, whether or not it hits you in the ass.”

“No need to get pissy,” she muttered, and closed the door behind her with a sharp snap.

Since she’d forgotten to get coffee before being kicked out of her own damn office, she stopped and snarled at Vending. Machine and technology, not her friends in the best of times, were currently on her short list. She fingered the loose credits in her pockets and considered her options.

“Hey, Dallas.” McNab bounced up. “Great minds.” He punched in his code, ordered up a Tango Fizzy-tangerine and mango, Eve thought as her stomach curdled. “Here, get me a Pepsi.” She shoved credits at him.

“No prob.”

“Any activity on the scan?”

“Not yet. We brought a portable down so I can keep my eye on it while we brief. Anybody takes a stab at hacking in, I’ll know it. Here you go.” He tossed her the tube. “Peabody says Cill Allen’s hanging in so far. Hope she makes it, but I gotta say, I hate she might pop up and say, ‘Hey, it was Colonel Mustard in the library with the candlestick’ and make it easy after we put this much time in.”

“Who the hell is Colonel Mustard?”

“You know, from the game. Clue. You should play it. You’d kill.”

“I’ve had about enough of games that kill.” She considered him as she cracked the tube. He was young, and as into gaming as anyone she knew. Plus, being a cop, violence was part of his life. “Would you want that? Want to play games where the stakes were real?”

“You mean where I could win a zillion dollars? Oh shit, yeah.”

“No. Well, okay, say there’s a big cash prize.” Because if this thing ever went public, somebody would figure a way to gamble on it. “But to win, even qualify, you had to face off against opponents with real weapons. Real blood, real pain-and potentially fatal.”

“So I risk getting my ass kicked, maimed, or dead for money and/or glory? I do that anyway.” He smiled, shrugged. “Why would I want to do it for game? Gaming’s how you get away from the real for a while.”