Lit by the screens, Esme plunged her hand into the drawer of Tobias’s desk. Her violet-blue eyes were brimming with tears as they moved first to her uncle and then to North, as if in search of guidance or answers. Did they understand? Did they judge her? But the brand-new 3D gun was steady enough in her hand when she pulled it out.
The itch North hadn’t been able to scratch. Why would the Thinkers shoot Tobias with his 3D-printed gun when they had their own weapons?
‘I had to stop them both – Tobias and Syd. I had no choice.’
Even with a gun pointing at him, North’s eyes went back to the video screens. He couldn’t tell if Esme had aimed at her husband’s heart and missed. If she had expected her husband’s death to be instantaneous. But Tobias Hawke was a big man at his moment of triumph. And he fought against death. His hands went to his stomach, his eyes wide with shock. Astonished that she had done what she had done, when she loved him and when he loved her. When she knew good from evil. When she was so good.
That what he had worked for, what he still had to give, had come to this.
And that just this once, at the end, he had been so catastrophically wrong.
Esme pulled his head towards her and held him as he convulsed. He didn’t fight her. Instead, his arms went around her, as if he was drowning and she was his only chance of salvation. She bent her head – her lips meeting his, her eyes closing. Desolation. A single tear. Her shoulders drooped and, with lowered head and dark hair falling over her husband’s face, she dropped the gun to caress his cheek.
His own bloodied hand went up to hers to hold it there. They were the only two people in this world.
‘Always and forever, Tobias.’
‘Ten fourteen…’ Tobias was finding it difficult to speak and she knelt down next to him. Blood bubbled and popped in the corner of his mouth. ‘Esme, I couldn’t trust them to make the right decision. Syd goes live tomorrow morning at 10.14. Where Atticus ends, she begins. Darling, you’re too late.’
Esme took hold of him by his lapels, shaking him. Panicked.
‘Ten fourteen? Tobias. What have you done? The kill switch? What’s the kill switch?’
But Tobias’s eyes were closing.
Off screen, there was the sound of rapid gunfire, round after round, screams. Startled, she let go of his dinner jacket and turned. As she did, Tobias’s body started to fall. The colour of her dress matching his blood. And the video stopped – Tobias’s falling body caught mid-air between the chair and the floor. Caught between life and death.