Part 15
Jaxx sat and listened to Hamish and the three ladies as they told their story. The level in the bourbon bottle dropped accordingly. When they finished, Jaxx sat back and lit a foul cigar.
"I believe YOU, on account of the disappearing ninja janitor...But this is all bullshit."
"What do you mean", Sheila asked, frowning.
"Okay", he continued, "So you're this machine intelligence, right? And you're gonna do in the people standing in your way, before you do everyone else in."
"Uh huh", Sara said, leaning forward.
"So why are you gonna gloat about it? Why would a computer program talk that kinda smack?"
"Maybe it's craaaaaaazy", Friday said, waggling her eyebrows.
"Naw. It ain't like that. That was someone talking trash. There's a person behind this. I can smell it."
"But", Hamish interjected, "You saw the maintenance program vanish after you killed it."
"Oh, I agree with you. But I think the maintenance program was being directly run by a person. A person who, among other things, doesn't know how to fight. That thing was fast, but it fought like shit. Also, you told me that most of the wierd zombies at The Mission just sort of stumbled toward you. Maybe nobody was actively controlling them...Or was, but was trying to control them all at once."
"I think you're right. It all adds up", Sara said, "But who the hell would be controlling them, and why target us?"
"You folks don't think crooked enough", Jaxx laughed, "You haven't asked the basic question, here: In all of this, the murder of Horne, the disappearance of his backup, his murder in 'Real Time'...Who benefits?"
"Well, that's the million-dollar question", Hamish said with a snort, "And the answer is, 'nobody that we can see'. His wife is actually worse off now, and she inherited the company."
"Does it have to be financial gain, though?" Sheila asked, "Maybe there's something else at stake here."
"Dooooooooooom", Friday giggled, "Maybe it's a madman that wants to rule the world. Worlds." She laughed out loud, then stopped when she saw everyone staring at her with thoughtful looks on their faces. "What?"
Jaxx and Hamish laughed. Jaxx turned to Friday. "I think we can forget cash profit as the motive. Someone needed Horne gone, and all of his copies gone, so that they could move without being interfered with." Hamish broke in, "Makes sense. Horne wrote the architecture, there's nothing he wouldn't know about it."
"Maybe it's time we spent a little more time looking at the deceased", he continued, "We've looked at the records and all that shit, but what do we know about the man himself, other than the fact that he and his wife got along so well after such a long marriage? I say we go back to his office first, then his house, and see what we can find about HIM. I mean, we're all out of leads other than that, except for weird crazy service sector programs."
"So, tomorrow..." Sheila began.
"No. Tonight. We've already been attacked once."
The five of them got to their feet and headed downstairs. Sara said, "Sheila and I will meet you there. We have to see a man about 1200 horses."
Hamish gave them a squint, but they ran down the street and started hailing a cab. The rest of them got in Hamish's packard, and headed to Horne Enterprises. They were greeted by the guard, who just waved them in. Once in Horne's glass-walled (though rigged with blinds) office, Hamish started going through drawers, while Jaxx gazed around the office.
"Interesting. It seems Mr Horne was a navy man", Jaxx said, pointing at a small model of a battleship on a small table in one corner of the spacious office. He went over and picked it up, showing it to Hamish. Hamish looked, and then did a classic double-take. The name on the plaque was "USS Dakota".
"Oh, shit."
"Oh, shit is right, human scum", a woman's voice said from outside the office. Friday hauled on the cord for the blinds, pulling them up out of the way. On the others side stood Dakota, their erstwhile liason at Horne. Except that now her face was oozing static, and her arms tapered down to blades. She strode toward the office door, laughing.
(to be continued)
