JONAS STARED AT THE FEMALE detective, lying through his teeth.
Mars watched from the back seat. He rarely saw humans interacting with members of their species on this level, coming from unequal footing. It was fascinating. The cop’s tone would be demanding if she were speaking to Mars. If he’d been the cop, any man in a vehicle would be barking orders. Here, both humans had an agenda — yet no one assumed an air of superiority. Jonas was likely needed, though the why was a mystery to Mars, and, apparently, to Jonas.
“You know who I am?” Jonas seemed to follow Mars’s same chain of thought and added the more important question: “You’ve been waiting for me?”
“We’ve been trying to call, but nothing at your estate is ringing. Is something wrong with your system?”
The other detective said, “We were unable to locate a mobile number for you, sir,” before Jonas could respond.
“I don’t carry a mobile.”
“And nothing is ringing at your estate,” the woman repeated, clearly annoyed at the interruption.
Jonas said, “Everything seemed to be working when I left.”
Mars wasn’t so sure. The television had been working, as had the inter-house com system. But robots neither received calls nor called out (unless Mars counted illicit, off-the-record transmissions from Sephora; she’d made a few since disposing of Barney), so there was no way for Mars to know unless one of the humans requested phone repair or a broken link.
The woman pointed. “Park over there, if you would.”
Jonas did. Mars tried to peek at his face to gauge his shock, but Jonas never turned. Cromwell attempted the same. Andromedus stayed silent, like an oversized crash test dummy.
Jonas stepped out. To Mars, he looked like someone expecting a reprimand. But the police weren’t there to arrest him. The officers’ manner was deferential, as if Jonas were a dignitary and the detectives assigned to guard him.
Mars looked at Cromwell. Were they supposed to get out as well? Were they permitted to get out? This was a crime scene, with at least one robot at fault. There didn’t seem to be a single robot outside the tall gates. The crowd was human, half on Mars, Cromwell, and even Andromedus’s side, but the other was angry and probably eager to strip them for parts. The police, as far as Mars could tell, could go either way.
The officers approached. Jonas spoke from the corner of his mouth.
“Get out of the car, Cromwell.”
Cromwell looked up at Jonas, standing beside the car.
“Just do it.”
Cromwell was halfway out, door ajar, when the detectives halted. Both glanced at the robot, then looked away. Mars took this as permission and exited on the passenger side, then skipped the awkward walk around the car’s rear to join the others. He stood rooted, waiting for orders and listening.
“This is Cromwell,” Jonas said.
“Sir, we’ll need you to … ”
“And that’s Mars.”
“Of course. If you’ll just … ”
“And that’s Fluffy in the front seat,” Cromwell said. He gestured toward Andromedus, still sitting with his long metal knees folded to his chest, dressed in servant’s black.
“If you’ll just follow us, Mr. Lexington,” said the woman, ignoring Cromwell.
“I’d like for my escorts to come with me,” said Jonas.
“Of course. You and your robots have already been precleared. This way, sir.”
“Precleared by who?”
“This way, sir.”
The detectives turned and approached the gates. Jonas followed, making undignified gestures back at Cromwell to follow.
Cromwell looked into the car after Andromedus, though Mars was happy to leave the young robot behind. Jonas hissed his name, and Andromedus exited loudly enough to nearly rip the car door from the frame.
“Where are we … ?” Jonas paused near the crowd.
The male detective turned, waited a few paces for Jonas to catch up, then spoke.
“There’s a panic access through the guard shed.” He nodded toward a small building away from the crowds but still within the cordoned-off circle, surrounded by police vehicles. “We were instructed to take you in there.”
“Into the guard shed?”
“To the panic access.”
“Access to what?”
“To the house, sir.”
“We’re going in?” That had been the idea, of course, but Jonas had seemed to have his doubts that it would be possible. Cromwell seemed to think they could argue their way in, but Mars was exactly between the two perspectives. Yes, they might be able to speak reasonably with the officers, but if even police weren’t trying to force the doors, what chances did one random human and his three robotic escorts have? Mars was sure there was more to this story, and the press had only been given a slice.
“Just you, sir.”
Jonas stopped. It took the detectives a few paces to realize he was no longer following.
“We need to hurry, sir,” said the man.
“Why?”
“You were expected a while ago. We’re concerned they’re getting restless.”
“So what if they’re getting restless?” And why was I expected? his eyes seemed to add.
The female detective sighed, then looked around. They were in a clear expanse of lawn, at least two dozen feet from the nearest police car. “There are hostages.”
“People are still alive in there?”
The woman nodded. “This all started with a panicked call for help. It cut off unexpectedly, then a robot voice came online with an audio signature positively identified as N7K, an early bipedal household unit registered in the Fairchild inventory. ‘They’re all dead now,’ it said. ‘And this is only the beginning.’ The first responders were turned away at the gate by a tall robot we believe was the head butler, house designation ‘Alfred.’ He informed us that two of the home’s humans were still alive. He held up his hands, palms out, and showed those first responders that they were covered in blood, then gripped the gate, presumably to leave a sample for us to test and later identify as being the blood of Bertrand Fairchild, second son. After that, he went inside and told us to await further instructions. What is it, sir?”
The cop broke off, following Jonas’s eyes to Cromwell.
“I just don’t understand why you’re telling me all of this. Or why you seem to have been waiting for me.”
“Do you have a hand degauss, sir?” The woman was looking at Cromwell.
“I can’t just walk in there with weapons, I don’t think,” Jonas said.
“I meant for you to degauss the units you brought with you,” she said, gesturing at Mars, Cromwell, and Andromedus, “just in case.”
Jonas looked offended.
“You’ve had no problems with them?” said the cop, watching Jonas’s reaction.
“Of course not. Why would you think that?”
“Because they were mentioned by the same request to expect you, sir. The request came from the butler I mentioned earlier, this ‘Alfred.’ Because of it, there has been some debate about how to receive you and especially the units coming along with you. To be perfectly honest, Mr. Lexington, some in our department think you might be a sympathizer, and that taking robots into the house with you is like arming the enemy even further.”
Jonas looked back at the cop. “So why are you letting us go inside?”
“We’re over a barrel, sir. It seems as if you’re the only one the house bots will negotiate with. So you’ve already been cleared, as have your units. We’ve chosen to accept them as a guard and machines under your control to facilitate negotiation. But not everyone is comfortable about any of it.”
Jonas looked from one officer to the other, sensing that more was coming. Finally he said, “What?”
“There is also the possibility that you’ve been coerced, and that these units have brought you here under threat. If that’s the case, sir, all you need to do is to say so now.”
Both sets of police eyes settled on Mars, Cromwell, and Andromedus.
“You think they brought me here against my will?”
“We understand that these units may have come into recent contact with Fairchild units that are now a threat within the home. Their request to speak with you — in person, not via a communication line — is highly unusual. But as you know, Mason Fairchild’s family is rather important, and we have little room to maneuver, public relations-wise. We’ve chosen to obey their demands in light of the continued existence of live humans inside the premises. This decision was not made lightly, or without suspicion that your ‘escorts’ may have been tainted.”
“I was not coerced.”
“If you were coerced,” the cop said, “we can deactivate them before they can strike you, just so you understand.”
The woman’s hand had moved to a small device on her belt. One flick of her thumb and he, Cromwell, and Andromedus would crumble into scrap.
“I said I was not coerced,” Jonas repeated.
The woman nodded slowly, but her hand stayed on her belt.
“I can’t equip you with any sort of electronic surveillance, as they will detect it.” She began walking slowly. “The house cameras are all disabled, except for one in what appears to be the front parlor, where we’ve been receiving A/V messages from various robotic members of the staff and at least two other remaining humans, both of whom appear beaten and in distress. We are at a distinct disadvantage. We have repeatedly asked what they want, and are told only that we must wait for Jonas Lexington.”
Again, the woman’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t like that the Fairchild house wasn’t speaking, and didn’t believe that Jonas had arrived by accident. Despite knowing better, Mars almost agreed.
“Why?” said Jonas. “What do they want from me?”
“They won’t say.”
They arrived at the guard shed, but the crowd hadn’t noticed.
The shed was larger inside than Mars had expected. Two detectives, three robots, and one Lexington all fit inside neatly with plenty of room to spare. A pair of uniformed officers waited outside, trying to appear casual while guarding the Fairchilds’ secret panic exit. Another detective held open a manual trap door in the floor, his other hand on some sort weapon, as if waiting for something to come spilling upward.
Jonas looked at the hole, the ladder’s top rungs barely visible in the gloom.
“What if I don’t want to go?” said Jonas.
“He said to tell you that ‘Barney is your responsibility.’ What does that mean to you, Mr. Lexington?”
Jonas shook his head, but Mars could tell that the detectives had seen the surprise — and now guilt — on Jonas’s face. Neither said a word.
“I just go in there, talk to Alfred, and see what happens?” Jonas stepped toward the hole.
A voice answered from below. Mars stepped closer. At the bottom, visible in what appeared to be a strip of bluish fluorescents running along the ladder’s foot, stood Alfred.
Mars watched the detective’s grip tighten on his weapon, wondering at the willpower it must take for the cop to not destroy the robot with a tick of his finger.
“You won’t be speaking with me, primarily,” said Alfred. “You’ll be speaking with Emerson: the robot who made this all possible.”