Half Life (Russell's Attic Book 2) (41 page)

“He’s going to go down for all the murders?”

“It looks like it. They salvaged enough of the ’bot who did the killing at Arkacite for Denise to recover most of the programming, and I’m sure Agarwal’s mountain lair will provide a lot more evidence once it’s deemed safe to enter and they can get Denise to comb through the code. It looks like the government is publicly scapegoating Agarwal for everything, in fact, which is fantastic—if people can point to a human villain they won’t be clamoring against the AI so much, though of course there’ll still be some anti-science fallout from this. Though Arthur…”

“Arthur what?” I asked.

He cleared his throat. “He got Mama Lorenzo to lean on some media companies they’ve got influence in, and in particular on Reuben McCabe, of all people. She’s forcing them to be vocal in a backlash against the anti-AI people. Arthur told her it was, uh, a favor to me.” He fidgeted slightly.

“It’s a good thing, you know,” I said. “Like Malcolm said. If she felt like she owed you, that might be more dangerous. Now she can forget you exist.”

“I very, very much hope for that,” said Checker fervently.

C
HAPTER 39

I
DROVE
back to Mammoth that night and slipped through the police tape to retrieve a plutonium battery from one of the ’bots I’d executed—fortunately, I managed to pull one that was still undamaged. Since Denise was in government custody, I tracked down Okuda the next day—she had managed to duck FBI notice and disappear back to Japan with her remaining people as soon as she was out of the hospital—and got her to commission Funaki to build a new version of Liliana’s body. They already had all the specs, after all; the first ’bot they’d built had looked like Liliana precisely because it had been so easy to work from the stolen Arkacite plans.

They balked at first, but large sums of money are good at eroding objections. Luckily hoarding cash had always been part of my MO.

Of course, all this meant I’d lost a
ridiculous
amount on Warren’s case. I’d never ended up in the red on a job before; I guess I decided to go big my first time out. I told Arthur I never owed him a Christmas present ever again.

At least I had made a little back on the batteries. Even if I’d given it all to Cheryl.

We waited to activate Liliana’s clone until Warren was discharged from the hospital. Her programming wasn’t aware anything had happened, and we didn’t tell her. We didn’t tell Warren what had happened either, only that she’d had a memory glitch Denise had fixed before she turned herself in. Warren had ended up with the charges against him dropped for much the same reasons Pilar had; we ignored the subpoenas listing him as a material witness in several pending cases, and I paid Tegan to forge some very pretty passports for him and Liliana. Then I set them up with a way out of the country.

“You’re being downright charitable, Cas Russell,” Checker teased.

“The authorities would figure out he has her eventually,” I said. “You know they’d come for her. And
he
may be an incompetent welcher, but she’s just a kid.”

He gave me a measured sort of look but didn’t correct me.

Checker and I saw them off. Liliana came up very formally and shook our hands—well, with me she shook the left one, since my right arm was still in a sling. “Thank you for helping us,” she said to each of us, with perfect eye contact. The intonation was exactly the same both times she said it.

“Yes,” added Warren. “Thank you.”

His gratitude was heartfelt, but I liked hers better. “I didn’t do it for you,” I said to him.

He nodded. I knew he didn’t care.

“Daddy says we have to go,” Liliana chirped. “Good-bye.”

“Bye,” I said.

Warren reached out and took her hand. Liliana looked up at him, her face glowing with childlike joy.

They walked off down the street together to the white van waiting at the corner. Warren gently helped boost his daughter inside and climbed in after her. The van rumbled away.

“I wonder what kind of life they’ll have now,” mused Checker.

“I don’t know,” I said. “But I guess they get to find out.”

I had client meetings lined up so I could jump onto my next job, but I hadn’t scheduled them till evening. I returned to the apartment I was currently using, feeling oddly good about the way this case had turned out, to find a tall Asian man in a long tan duster leaning next to the door.

“Oh,” I said. “I didn’t know you were in town. Hi.”

“Grab a bite?” asked Rio.

“Sure.”

We headed back out to the street, where I led the way to a nearby café with outdoor seating. Rio’s coat made him stand out among Angelenos still dressed for the ongoing fall heat wave, but he paid no notice. He probably preferred its weapons-hiding capabilities to being comfortable.

We settled with some iced coffee and generic pastries at a table a ways away from any other customers. I’d barely seen Rio a handful of times in the past year, since he had saved my life and my sanity from Dawna Polk and then refused to tell me why.

“Are you still keeping your promise to Dawna?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. “I am certain you would know if I were not.”

Because she would come after me. She’d agreed to ignore me only because he’d set aside his private war against her.

I wasn’t sure whether I was more furious at Rio for trying to protect me or more terrified of what would happen if he stopped.

“I heard Los Angeles had some excitement,” said Rio, his eyes briefly going to my broken arm.

I sighed and allowed the change of subject. “Yeah. We were right in the middle of it.”

He raised one eyebrow. “We?”

“Oh,” I said. “You remember Arthur and Checker, right?”

“I remember.” His tone was entirely neutral.

“They’re not bad people,” I protested.

“I don’t doubt it.”

“And they’re good in a pinch. Smart. You know, competent. I mean, not on your level, but…”

Rio tilted his head fractionally, studying me. “It seems you’ve made some friends.”

I wasn’t sure why, but I felt my face heating. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“No, it’s…good,” said Rio, as if the words didn’t quite fit together right in his mouth. “So I’m told.”

I swallowed. “Yeah. It is good.”

“You seem well.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I guess I am.”

He gave a sharp nod as if to say,
Well, that’s all right then,
and stood, reaching into his coat to pull out a few bills in American currency, which he tossed on the table next to his untouched food.

“Wait,” I said.

He waited.

I struggled, but the words wouldn’t come. Literally. “Help me out here,” I groused.

I wasn’t sure if I expected him to get it, but he did. “You want to ask me about Pithica.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that statement.” Dawna’s mental prohibition made my tongue woolen in my mouth.

“Stop fighting it, Cas. This is the better way.”

The old resentment against him flared. “Says you.”

“Please. Leave it.”

Please.
Rio never said “please.”

“There’s another shoe,” I said finally.

Rio did the one-eyebrow thing. “Pardon?”

“The saying, about another shoe dropping. Pithica isn’t done with us. There’s going to be another shoe.”

“Perhaps,” said Rio. “If so, we shall deal with it.”

“You mean you’ll deal with it.”

He inclined his head to the side, as if to say,
Well, yes.

“You’re not helping me by leaving me in the dark.”

“If not, that is between God and me,” said Rio calmly.

“I don’t get a say?”

Rio’s stare was penetrating. “No.”

I felt a chill, even through the warmth of the Southern California day. It was so easy to forget, sometimes: Rio didn’t care about me personally, and never would, not in any way beyond the abstract requirements of his religion.

The reminder was uncomfortable in a way it never had been before. I didn’t know why it should be. I had known Rio for years, and he’d never pretended to be my friend.

“Be well, Cas,” said Rio, and strode away, his coat flaring behind him.

I slumped in my seat and stared at our uneaten pastries. A drink would have been nice, but was out of the question because of the client meetings. I had a few hours to kill, a suddenly-deflated mood, and nothing to do.

I thought about going back to my flat and reading some papers on natural language processing. But instead I ended up at Arthur’s office, a nicely-stenciled door in a less-than-nice part of town. I knocked, wondering if he was even there.

The door opened, spilling out laughter.

“Russell!” said Arthur, delight lighting his features. “Come on in.”

I came in. Checker was there too, grinning, and Pilar was perched in one of the office chairs, her feet tucked up to sit cross-legged. They all looked relaxed. Happy.

“Heard you helped a certain father skip out on his legal responsibilities this morning,” said Arthur, but he sounded more amused than disapproving.

“You don’t mind?” I said.

He shrugged. “Exceptions for dads.”

Exceptions for kids.
I hitched myself up one-handed to sit on his desk. “Think we’ll ever hear from them again?”

“Not if Warren’s got the least iota of common sense,” said Checker. “Best if they stay far, far outside the United States.”

“Is Funaki going to keep making more robots, do you think?” asked Pilar. “They could still sell them in Japan or something, right?”

“Eh, even if they do, I suspect ‘proceed with caution’ will be a mantra,” answered Checker. “They didn’t expect the bad press here to extend to the level of supervillainy, after all. I’m guessing they don’t want to pick up that mantle, even an ocean away.”

Pilar wrinkled her nose. “Robots that look like people. Can you even believe it?”

“Damn near ridiculous,” agreed Arthur.

“Welcome to the future,” said Checker. “Early last century it sounded ridiculous to talk about human beings walking on the moon. And before that it sounded ridiculous to talk about flying to the other side of the world in big metal machines. And before that—”

“Yeah, I can print out an assault rifle on a 3D printer these days,” I said. “How’s that for living in the future? Of course, it’s usually easier just to steal one.”

Checker put a hand to his eyes. “You are not normal.”

Pilar laughed.

After coffee with Rio, the banter was somehow both comforting and jarring. I found myself wanting to say something meaningful, but I had no idea what. I cleared my throat. “Hey. Arthur. Eighty-eight days and counting.”

He grinned at me like a proud father, and a warm feeling spread through my chest as I lounged on Arthur’s desk and listened to Checker and Pilar argue over whether they should get a 3D printer for the office.

Maybe another shoe was coming. But right now things were pretty okay.

THE END

Cas Russell will return in

ROOT OF UNITY

(coming 2015)

And if you’re wondering what Rio was up to during this book, check out the short story
RIO ADOPTS A PUPPY
– available January 2015

T
HANK
Y
OU
F
OR
R
EADING

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F
ICTION BY
SL
H
UANG

The Russell’s Attic Series

Novels

• Zero Sum Game
  
• Half Life
  
• Root of Unity
  – coming 2015
  
• Plastic Smile
  – coming 2016
  

Short Stories

• Rio Adopts a Puppy
  – coming January 2015
  
• Ladies’ Day Out
  – coming 2015
  

Other Works

• Hunting Monsters
  [Book Smugglers Publishing]
  

A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS

S
O MANY THANKS:

• To my sister, always and forever. No question: I would not be doing this without you. I’d just be flailing about endlessly, a directionless squid, squirting my ink into the abyss in a senseless mess.
  
• To the Barnyard, for everything. I can’t imagine anymore what it would be like to write without you in my life. I don’t know where this series would be without you—or where I would be. Probably walking into walls somewhere clawing my face off.
  
• To my intrepid, fantastic beta readers, Bu Zhidao,
  Jesse Sutanto,
  Elaine Aliment, Kevan O’Meara,
  Tilly Latimer,
  and
  Layla Lawlor.
  You improved this book drastically. You are amazing. I am acutely conscious of how lucky I am to have you. I want to start a religion and make you the deities.
  
• To my cover designer,
  Najla Qamber,
  and my editor,
  Anna Genoese.
  The fact that I’ve been able to work with people like you, who are so incredible at what you do, and who have such a stunning level of talent and competence—it makes me giddy. You floor me every time. Thank you, a thousand times thank you.
  
• To David Wilson, for once again spending your precious time and skill dialect-checking for me. I don’t know how you manage to be such a seriously awesome person, but somehow you do. The fact that you choose to correspond with me is sincerely humbling.
  
• To the community at
  Absolute Write,
  for your continuing patience, your vast depth of knowledge, your brainstorming and critique help, and the absolutely heartwarming enthusiasm you all express in your support of me. I never knew that writing could come with such an infinity of good wishes at my back.
  
• Finally: to my friends and family who have put up with my workaholic tendencies, helped me proofread, or answered my questions, and who have consistently believed in this series even more than I have. I don’t deserve you. And I cannot overstate how grateful I am, to all of you.