Fantasy in Death (In Death 30) - Page 139

“You gave them the discs, and didn’t tell them about the augmentation.”

“Yeah, I gave them the discs. So what? And Bart should’ve figured out the augmentation after five minutes if he was paying attention. It’s not like I forced him to play the game.”

“Cill didn’t know about the new tech. She knew nothing about it.”

He shrugged. “Okay, so what? She should’ve figured it, too. She’s so freaking smart. Benny’s already making noises about having her take Bart’s meetings, the interviews.”

“Pushing her in front of you.” Eve nodded. “Too bad she fell, instead of getting a knife in the heart.”

“The program shuts down if the player’s unconscious. I didn’t realize that until it happened. That’s the problem with droids. Now, I know, so I can adjust. Oh, and I wanted to say, you held up good out there. You and Roarke really showed some skill. But you can’t bring in alternate weapons—that’s not play. And, like I said, I was trying to shut it down, but hit some glitch. These things happen.” He smiled again. “I saw Roarke took a hard one. I hope he’s okay.”

She leaned in. “Fuck you.”

“There’s no need to get steamed.” He smiled broadly. “You happened to come in, and I was in the middle of an experimental game—and that’s not against the law either. Listen, you can get me on the unregistered. I’ll pay the fine, do the community service, whatever. I won’t even sue you for zapping me—in my own place. Now I should really get to the hospital and see Cill. I can’t even imagine how scrambled her brain is after what she went through. So, can I go now?”

“Yeah. Yeah, Var, you can go. To hell, via a cage. You’re under arrest.”

“Arrest?” He rolled his eyes. “Come on, come on, we’ve been through this.”

“That’s right, and you’ve admitted to creating the program, to giving both Bart and Cilla the discs without informing them of the augmentation or the risks.”

“I didn’t make them play. I didn’t—”

“You keep going down that road,” Eve advised. “It’s going to dead-end on you. The PA’s going to have a field day on charges. We’ll say Murder One on Bart, then the Assault with Intent on a police officer and a duly authorized expert consultant, civilian, Attempted Murder on Cilla, various and sundry cyber crimes.”

“I didn’t kill anybody!” he shouted. “They lost the game.”

“Your game,” Eve said. “Your rules. Your play. You’re go

ing to be a very, very old man if and when you get out of that cage, Var—a cage where you’ll be banned from the use of any electronics. No more games for you, you fucker.”

“This is whack.” He looked at Peabody. “You know this is whack. You get it.”

“Yeah, I get it. So let me put it this way, just to play the same theme as my partner. Game over, fucker. You lose.”

Face cold, eyes flat, Peabody got to her feet. “I’ll take him through, Dallas. McNab and I will take him through.”

“Okay.” She sat now, suddenly and completely exhausted. “Okay. Peabody? Good work.”

“This isn’t fair,” Var protested. “It’s just another cheat. You can’t put me away for this,” he continued as Peabody hauled him up. “I didn’t do anything. I wasn’t there. It’s their own fault.”

Eve closed her eyes as his voice, and the tears in it, faded away.

He believed it, she thought, at least in some small part of his mind. He’d done nothing more than provide, so couldn’t be held responsible for the results. And maybe his lawyers, when he got them, would play that one, but she had faith in Reo, and the system.

She had to.

She opened her eyes when Roarke came in and closed the door. He sat across from her, kept those wild blue eyes on hers.

“Been a while since I’ve been in the box with a cop.”

“Do you want me to read you your rights?”

“I’ll waive that. You let Peabody lead him along. She did well.”

“He believes some of that bullshit, enough of it to convince himself it’s Bart’s own fault he’s dead, Cill’s problem she’s in a coma.” Her heart squeezed, hard, before she finished the thought. “If that knife had gone into you a couple inches over, it’d be your own fault.”

“Going by that logic, it would be my own agility and skill that has me sitting here now, looking at you. You’re tired, Lieutenant, and you’re sad, and a bit beaten up as well.”

Tags: J.D. Robb In Death Mystery
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