She’s wrong, of course. But I can’t blame her for not seeing the bumblebee clinging to one of the computers. Edgar must have flown through the vents when no one was looking. One of his tiny feet is hooked into a port.
“Aren’t you adorable with your guns,” says Edgar cheerily. I can only imagine what every occupant in this building is thinking. Probably that this is the weirdest hostage situation they’ve ever been part of. “Now, put yours down, Ms. Vale.”
“Who are you?” says Vale. She seems to have control of herself again; her face has smoothed out and her voice is icy. She goes to the computer monitor, holding her gun in one hand while she begins typing commands with the other. Probably attempting to retake control of the communications.
“Like I said,” replies Edgar, “I’m taking control of this building now, and there’s little you can do to stop me.”
I fight back a grin. Under normal circumstances, Edgar invading a smart apartment building would be the stuff of horror films. But he is the devil I know, and I love him for it. And if he has control of the building, Vale loses every one of her hostages. The feds could break inside without fear of innocents being killed. The computers all around us are whirring, processors flaring to life as Edgar seizes control.
Vale’s fingers are a blur against the keyboard. She types faster with one hand than I could with two. Her shoulders tighten, and I see the muscles of her forearm clench as her fingers tighten around the gun. She may be an expert hacker, but Edgar is inhumanly fast.
“Rook takes queen,” I say, a little giddy with relief. “Check.”
Vale lets out a quiet sound of frustration.
“The problem with kids,” says Vale, “is that you think everything is a game.”
And then she picks up her gun again, aims it at me, and fires.
Pain flares hot in my leg and I let out a startled gasp. Dust rises all around me and for a moment, I can’t see or think. The throbbing beats in time with my pulse and wetness slides down my calf.
When the dust clears, I see the divot in the floor. Vale didn’t shoot me—she shot about three inches from my right foot. A ricochet of concrete must have nicked my leg.
“Whoever you are,” says Vale, and her voice is clear and calm as a wintery night. “The next time I aim for her head. Do you understand?”
The computer fans flare in something akin to a hiss.
I swallow. And I resolutely do not look at the bumblebee.
That threat might prove meaningless to Edgar. He isn’t programmed for love or sentimentality, if such things can be programmed. We’ve been together for years and he’s the closest thing I have to a friend, but I suspect that for him, I’m a convenience. I keep him from being destroyed, provide him with enrichment, and ensure his batteries remain charged.
“Hmm,” says Edgar. “How about this—you release her. Right now, if you please.”
“And why would I do that?” asks Vale.
“Because if you do not,” says Edgar brightly, “I willpurge every apartment in this building of its air right now. Then you will have no hostages. Whoosh, farewell leverage.”
I freeze.
Well, shit.
That’s the kind of cold calculus only an AI could dream up. I open my mouth to shout at Edgar to stop, but then I catch sight of Vale’s expression.
All the color drains from Vale’s face. Her lips are slightly parted, pupils drawn to pinpricks.
It’s the first time I’ve seen her falter.
She has been in control since she walked into the lobby. This has been her game, her board, her pieces all laid out. I was a complication, but I’m just one person. Even with Eames helping me, I couldn’t take out Carla.
But right now, Vale has lost control. Fear draws a sharp line between her brows.
“You wouldn’t do that,” she says.
“Oh yes, he would,” I say, in the same moment Edgar says, “Oh yes, I would.”
Vale’s gaze flicks to me. “You’d kill hundreds of people to ensure she lives?”
“Yes,” says Edgar. “I find her presence more useful than not. And she isn’t terrible, for a human.”
