Toys - A Novel Part 2

My next foe was a fast learner, and clearly had undergone impressive augmentations. Instead of fighting, he ran-or pretended to. It took me all of three 10-foot strides to catch him.

As my hand lashed out to crush the elbow of his knife arm, he whipped around at me like a snake-a preternaturally fast snake-holding a second knife in his other hand. It sliced past my throat so fast I could hear the whir of the blade through the air.

"Close, guy. I'm impressed." I gave him his due.

Then I followed the arc of his knife with my own slashing left hand, slapping the weapon out of his grasp as my right hand crushed his other elbow from behind. Next, I jammed his head between two vertical bars in one of the neighborhood's iron fences and bent them around his neck to form a snug, but not quite strangling, collar.

"Not to worry," I said. "The police will be here to rescue you soon."

I absolutely needed to keep a couple of these skunks alive for interrogation. Had to keep that in mind.

I glanced over at Lizbeth to make sure she was doing OK. My lovely bride was just dispatching her next a.s.signment with a graceful rib-cage-collapsing ballet kick. In her spare time, she's a dancer, a private dancer for the kids and me.

"Way to go, Dr. Baker!" I called to her.

"You too, Dr. Baker!"

I turned my attention to the last of the group, the one who had registered on my sensors as far and away the most dangerous. The criminal was still in the driver's seat of the car they'd rammed into ours-he only watched while the others fought. Coward, or mastermind? Coward, or mastermind? I wondered. I wondered. If there is such a thing as a human mastermind. If there is such a thing as a human mastermind.

Only it wasn't a he, I suddenly realized. The creep's s.h.a.ggy blond hair was cut short, but the body and facial structure was definitely female.

She was staring at me through the open car window, and the emotion she projected, the undisguised hatred in her eyes, made my scalp bristle. Then she completely shocked me-she knew my name.

"You think you're a hero, Hays Baker, but you have no idea what you're doing," she said softly. "You're the criminal here." the criminal here."

Then she pulled back on the car's wheel and it accelerated straight skyward. My muscles tensed to leap and catch hold of the rear b.u.mper. I could have done it. But I stayed rooted to the ground. I had no idea why.

Lizbeth was watching me, suddenly looking concerned. "Hays, are you hurt?" she called. "Hays?" "Hays?"

"No, I'm... I'm fine."

She looked puzzled. "Why didn't you go after the driver?"

"I... I thought it was too risky," I said, though that wasn't it at all. "If the car had taken off and we'd crashed... we're in a residential neighborhood. Don't worry, we'll catch her."

"Her? It was a woman?" Lizbeth asked in amazement. "I thought all human females were pregnant and working behind a stove." Lizbeth asked in amazement. "I thought all human females were pregnant and working behind a stove."

"Good one, Jinxie," I said and gave her a hug. She could tell a human joke with the best of them.

Chapter 9

THE LOCAL POLICE arrived in the next sixty seconds and very quickly and professionally cordoned off the automobile crash and crime scene. The Agency had already been in touch to verify our vitals and to dispatch another car to take Lizbeth and me home.

We arrived at our apartment, a beautiful tenth-story floor-through in one of the most desirable lakefront locations in the city.

When we stepped through our front door, the first thing we heard was the jangly, atonal pulse of robo-rap music coming from our house android, Metallico, who was prancing around the living room and singing along with the tunes.

Metallico hastily turned off the sound and stared at us in shock. "What in the world happened to you two?" he asked. "Lizbeth, your beautiful hair is a mess!"

"Never mind about that," she snapped. "What happened to this this place? It looks like all the closets exploded." place? It looks like all the closets exploded."

"Well, excuse me. me. I suppose I'm too lazy to shop, cook, play nanny, I suppose I'm too lazy to shop, cook, play nanny, and and clean, all at the same time. If you must know, I just finished giving the girls their bath and was starting to tidy up. I wasn't expecting you home so early." The robot's supple, bronze-tinted silicone skin glowed a little brighter, indicating his annoyance. clean, all at the same time. If you must know, I just finished giving the girls their bath and was starting to tidy up. I wasn't expecting you home so early." The robot's supple, bronze-tinted silicone skin glowed a little brighter, indicating his annoyance.

"We had a slight change of plans," I said calmingly. I always tried to smooth over these little sniping matches between the two of them.

The apartment didn't seem all that bad to me; Lizbeth had a tendency toward tidiness that could go over the edge. There were games and clothes strewn on the coffee table, but Metallico was right: with our two little-girl cyclones racing around at full speed, even he-a machine designed to clean-sometimes got maxed out before day's end.

His skin had returned to a normal hue, although he still managed to convey that his "feelings" had been hurt.

"All right, let's kiss and make up," he said. "I'll get you both a drink-you look like you could use it. Your clothes-Lord."

He gave us quick hugs and pecks on the cheek, then bustled off to the kitchen, crooning again, shaking his booty, and making us both smile, though Lizbeth did mutter "hopeless heap of metal" under her breath.

Besides being incredibly helpful, Metallico could be a lot of fun. He was the size and shape of a normal adult but built for work and, thus, without the refined exterior of the high-end entertainment androids. But he could move with such speed and grace that he made the simplest household task look like an Olympic event. He was also a perfect playmate and teacher for the girls, a vast encyclopedia of knowledge-robots like him were of course interfaced to the Cybernet, with all the information of our entire civilization at their instant command-a witty conversationalist, a master of adult games (such as four-dimensional chess), a gourmet chef, and a thousand other useful things. Also, like the rest of our family, he despised and distrusted all humans.

As he came back with our regular no-carb drinks-a gla.s.s of sauvignon blanc for Lizbeth, vodka with a twist for me-Chloe and April came charging into the room and threw themselves into our arms. Ah, my sweet baby girls. Ah, my sweet baby girls.

"Did you bring us Jessica and Jacob dolls?" they asked their mom. Chloe, who'd just turned four, p.r.o.nounced dolls dows. dows. She was an elfin beauty with her mother's violet and ivory coloring, while April, six, was tawny-skinned with thick blond hair like mine. She was an elfin beauty with her mother's violet and ivory coloring, while April, six, was tawny-skinned with thick blond hair like mine.

"I'm not feeling very good about those dolls, sweeties," Lizbeth confessed.

"Neither am I," I added in support. "Sorry, ladies."

"Noooo," the girls wailed in a chorus of grief.

"We'll talk about it tomorrow, OK? It's bedtime-go get settled, and Daddy will come tell you a story. Won't you, Hays?"

"Of course I will. That's why they call me Daddy, isn't it?"

Chapter 10

ALTHOUGH DISAPPOINTED, the girls were mostly obedient at this age, and they scampered away to their room. "C'mon, Daddy!" they called to me. "You have to tell us a story now. Two Two stories. Because you're denying us our dolls." stories. Because you're denying us our dolls."

I followed close behind and turned my thoughts to choosing a favorite bedtime story for my babies. I scrolled through the library menu on Chloe's wall... maybe Don't Let the Pigeon Land the Car, Don't Let the Pigeon Land the Car, or or Mr. Popper's Penguins. Mr. Popper's Penguins.

The thing about the girls and me back then, we had sort of a secret life. On the weekends, we loved to go off to the city's very large library to read together. We listened to Mozart on earphones on the way there, then settled in to read Charles d.i.c.kens aloud. The point-if there has to be a point to everything-is that you can hate humans, but n.o.body should hate Mozart or Charles d.i.c.kens or J. K. Rowling.

As I was reminiscing about our little secret times together, my earring phone chirped-three quick beeps signaled an Agency emergency of some sort. "d.a.m.n!" I muttered. "This can't be happening."

"Daddy!" April said with a frown. "You just said a forbidden word." I wasn't supposed to curse. April said with a frown. "You just said a forbidden word." I wasn't supposed to curse.

The caller turned out to be Owen McGill, my partner at the Agency of Change and a longtime friend, probably my best friend-other than Lizbeth, that is.

"Grab your boots, Hays," McGill said. "There's been an ugly incident at the Toyz store in Baronville"-a tony Elite suburb at the northern edge of New Lake City, about twenty miles away. "They want you here right now. It's homicides, plural. plural."

"Me? Now? I already had my ugly incident for the night. Lizbeth and I were attacked-by skunks. Besides, I'm supposed to be off." Besides, I'm supposed to be off."

"Sorry, buddy. Jax Moore specifically requested you. 'I want Hays Baker on this!' That's what he said."

I exhaled. "All right, all right. I'm on my way."

So much for reading bedtime stories, a romantic interlude with my wife, or even getting to taste my vodka with a twist of lemon. What a letdown, and what a s.h.i.t night this was turning out to be.

I hadn't even had time to take off my tux jacket before I was heading off to face, well, whatever was so important that Jax Moore had requested me at the crime scene.

Homicides-plural.

Chapter 11

OUR APARTMENT BUILDING'S superfast express elevator whisked me up to the rooftop garage, and I jumped into my own car-a teardrop-shaped sports-pod just big enough to comfortably fit me and a pa.s.senger. Although the touch of a b.u.t.ton would extend it rearward, enabling it to carry as many as four others.

As the hatch slid shut, the instrument panel lights blinked a message: "Ready when you are, Dr. Baker."

"Toyz store, Baronville, max speed," I said.

Usually, I operated the vehicle myself, but right now I needed a break, even-as it would have to be in this case-a very short one.

"Roger that, Dr. Baker," replied the interactive pilot's crisp voice.

Suddenly, the sports-pod shot straight upward, then forward, pressing me firmly back into the custom seats. These superlight pods were among the fastest models available, capable of doing zero to sixty in two seconds flat, maneuvering in the air like a hummingbird, and cruising comfortably at three hundred miles per hour, even on a surface road.

"Airs.p.a.ce clearance is set. Estimated flight time: four minutes and twenty-three seconds," said a different voice, female and as familiar as an old friend. "Would you care for a drink? Entertainment of any kind? Sensory stimulation?"

This was Elle, the artificially intelligent attendant. I hadn't named the pilot-our relationship was more businesslike-but Elle deserved a name.

"How about some Bach?" I said. "Please, Elle. That would be terrific. Just what I need."

"If I might make a suggestion, the Brandenburg Number Six, Allegro, would just about fit our flight parameters."

"Perfect."

"Perhaps with a multisense track?" she said.

"Something light, yes."

Elle didn't have a full body, just a pair of slender robotic arms, but they functioned with a precise efficiency that could be spellbinding. She slipped the car's mood helmet onto my head, and I relaxed with the cla.s.sical music-another of the very good things that humans had given the world. How bizarre was that?

Actually, to be fair, humans were still making a few worthwhile contributions to the world. We Elites weren't numerous enough to fill every role in our society, so we had to concentrate on managing the vital ones-government, medical, military, law enforcement, telecommunications, media. Consequently, well-trained and strictly supervised humans were still manning the orchestras, bands, and studio sessions that we required. Humans also had many necessary subservient roles, especially those involving cleaning and waste collection.

But I believed it was Elite technology that really took cla.s.sical music to the next level-when the Brandenburg began, I wasn't just listening, I was experiencing experiencing with all my senses... with all my senses...

... drifting along a pure, clear river, with the scent of lilacs in spring wafting through the air. drifting along a pure, clear river, with the scent of lilacs in spring wafting through the air.

Trees along the banks thrust their strong trunks up from the earth, while their branches reach like slender, red-tipped fingers to caress the sky.

Rich, ripe fruit of all varieties hang within easy reach, and alluring nymphlike shapes frolic in the water around me, waving at me to come join them in their play...

The exquisite concerto ended with its last, very memorable drawn-out chord.

"We're here, Dr. Baker," Elle said in the quietest whisper. "Toyz store, Baronville."

d.a.m.n. I could have used a little more Bach.

Chapter 12

OWEN MCGILL CERTAINLY hadn't exaggerated-the crime scene was ugly all right. Eleven dead! The first thing I saw was a butchered male body in what looked to be a very expensive navy blue pin-striped suit. The poor fellow's torso was twisted horribly and partly submerged in a veritable lake of his own blood.

I'd seen plenty of gore before, but this was possibly the worst yet. The most nightmarish aspect of the scene was that the victim's blood had splattered all over some miniature toy horses that had been let out of a stable-themed play set.

The cat-sized horses were covered head to hoof in blood and were walking around, leaving tiny, crescent-shaped red prints on the synthetic marble floor, apparently looking for some miniature oats or hay.

Creepy didn't begin to describe it. didn't begin to describe it.

But the full measure of the ma.s.sacre, the carnage, was much worse than that initial impression.

A second corpse, this one female and partially dressed in an expensive gold lame pantsuit, was lying nearby. Close to that were two more female victims. Their trademark pink and blue Toyz shopping bags were scattered everywhere around the courtyard.

They had been cut in a way that sickened me-torsos savagely ripped open, organs removed, the heads completely gone. Missing, Missing, in fact. in fact.

As I stared at the gore, and shooed away one of the little horses from the male's body, McGill came striding over. As always, I was glad to see him. My friend is rock solid, dependable, and a good ally when things get rough. He's built like a gorilla, six foot six, and close to three hundred pounds.

"Where are the killers?" I said, a.s.suming the humans responsible had been arrested by now. The city police would have been on the case immediately.

"So far, no sign of them, Hays. You believe it? They got away with this."