Wired For Sex: A.D.A.M. Page 8

Of course, but there's only one way into the building to avoid the bulk of the security cams. I don't want to be seen passing too closely behind you, and we sure as hell can't afford to meet up with the same people.

  Adam remembered that last thought before they parted with a sense of impending disaster when he almost literally ran down Bobbie, one of the new recruits in security, on his way into the building. The young man looked at him in surprise, but with complete recognition, and Adam felt his stomach execute a slow churn as the young man's eyes lit.

  "I just about beat you to the clock,” he said cheerfully. “That's a first!"

  Adam smiled grimly, searching his mind for a convincing lie. “I was checking the perimeter. I saw a man loitering near the rear door."

  The man looked unconvinced, and irritation flickered through him, but he thought it best not to belabor the point and brushed past him, striding quickly toward the rear entrance.

  He should've known better than to try it, he thought, furious with himself. It was a dangerous mistake, and one he wouldn't have made if he hadn't had Evie on his mind—or more specifically, leaving Evie on his mind.

  He'd begun to deeply regret yielding to the temptation to get closer to her. If he hadn't, he didn't think he would've felt any regret in leaving Robotics Inc. One ‘boss’ was the same as any other, and he hadn't given a great deal of thought to the tasks that would be required of him. Even when he had, it hadn't disturbed him. He hadn't actually killed before. The simulations were deeply imbedded, though, and he doubted the actuality would differ by a great deal—or wouldn't have if not for Evie. Now, when he thought of an existence of moving from one killing to another, never again knowing the balm of Evie's gentleness, the pleasure of her touch, the urge to kill and the rage against it were both so strong he feared what he would become—not the cold blooded assassin they had programmed him to be, but a monster.

  He didn't want to be a thing that Evie would fear and hate, even if she never knew.

  She would know, though. His father had told her what he had been created for.

  She would know when he left what he'd gone to do.

  She would never let him near again, even if he could somehow find a way back to her.

  His brother's thoughts intruded as he reached the third level of the stairwell.

  Clear.

  Screwed, he responded grimly. I ran into Bobby.

  Christ! Bobby of the big mouth?

  Yeah. The one with the tongue tied in the middle and loose on both ends. Monitor him. Maybe we can manage some damage control.

  "He ran into Phil Whitmore on the way in,” Adam announced grimly when he arrived in the security office.

  Adam closed his eyes. “Fuck! Whitmore didn't bite on the tale I spun for Bobby, I take it?"

  His brother shrugged. “He didn't say anything, but I didn't like his expression."

  "An accident?” they contemplated in unison.

  Adam considered it and discarded it with disgust. “Risky. It would look too suspicious if he was suddenly found dead."

  "It's risky anyway,” his brother pointed out. “If he's dead, he can't talk."

  "Bobby can, though, and you can bet your ass he'd be telling everyone he'd just spoken to the man before the accident ... and probably detailing the conversation they had. We can't take out both of them. That would be way too telling."

  "So we just sit on it and hope for the best?"

  "We sit on it and be prepared to act quickly,” Adam responded grimly.

  * * * *

  Evelyn was still exhausted when she got to work, despite two cups of coffee and a long, long shower. Wryly, she acknowledged that the upside of being worn to the bone was that she was too tired to be wired to explode with hysteria as she had been the day before.

  Her troubles certainly hadn't vanished, however, and neither had her distress. If anything, she thought, she was more confused than before. Maybe she just wanted to be convinced that Adam—the two Adams—were more than just androids? She couldn't believe, though, that Mr. Johnson had sent them to convince her they were capable of feeling human emotions. What would be the point of that? She was almost certain he knew about the incident in the conference room the first time they'd been together—not absolutely certain, but pretty sure—but that still wouldn't explain the visit to her apartment the night before and their joint efforts to convince her they adored her.

  She couldn't think of any reason at all why Mr. Johnson would've sent them, and that left, as far as she could see, the only explanation for their presence as freewill—a decision they'd made completely on their own, and probably against orders, because she couldn't imagine that the company would like to know their top secret project was wandering the city streets. Surely, regardless of the lengths the company had gone to to make them realistic, freedom of choice would have been the last thing they wanted to endow them with?

  Mr. Johnson had said they'd been designed primarily for covert operations and specifically as assassins. The thought made her shiver, but she'd never seen anything at all cold about Adam—which meant he—they—were hiding more than their background, but she didn't want to examine that at the moment. There had to be a reason, though, that they'd considered the Adam project more appealing than training real men, and the only thing that presented itself to her was the possibility that androids would not be expected to have a conscience, feel fear, or any doubts, question authority—and that meant they were expected to perform without question.

  She didn't think the developers had intended for Adam to have independence of that nature because it would've defeated the purpose. Autonomy to make quick decisions based on changing circumstances, yes, but not to decide whether or not to do what they'd been ordered to do.

  Adam had told her he felt, that he wasn't just emulating emotions.

  She believed him. She just didn't know if she could trust herself, because the discovery that he was an Android hadn't changed the way she felt about him. If it had, she wouldn't have been able to dismiss her qualms so easily when he'd kissed her. She didn't think she would've been able to respond all, much less with the complete abandon she had.

  She did believe.

  She didn't care if he had begun life as an android. She loved him.

  And where did that leave her? Without even her anger at being deceived as comfort.

  He'd told her he would be sent away. The conversation they'd had descended upon her like a thunderclap, fully enlightening and blighting at the same time. It explained so much, explained why he spoke and behaved as if he cared for her and yet had never suggested the possibility that there could be more between them than fleeing moments of pleasure. It explained why he'd slipped out of her bed and disappeared before she woke up. It wasn't because he was avoiding her. It was because he was trying to evade detection by the company.

  He belonged to the company. Maybe, despite the emotions he'd learned to feel, despite the rebellion he'd exhibited when he'd taken the chance to be with her, he still couldn't break the ‘loyalty’ they'd programmed into him. Maybe they'd even done something to him, she thought in sudden horror, that would allow them to destroy him if they realized he was no longer under their control?

  The bottom line, she realized in despair, was that it didn't matter how she felt. He was still leaving.

  It mattered to Adam, though. He needed to feel that she loved and accepted him whatever he was. She could be wrong, of course. She could be gifting him with feelings he didn't have, but she'd seen hurt in his eyes when he'd told her he couldn't bear for her to look at him as they did, and it had looked real enough to her.

  That thought brought her to a realization that hadn't hit her before, thoughts that had been teasing at the back of her mind that she'd willfully ignored.

  Adam was in danger. If the company found out that he'd evolved beyond their programming and was no longer in their control, they would destroy him.

  Chapter Eleven

  It was just as well they'd decided to
monitor their father, Adam thought grimly, watching the vid display as Whitmore and his father entered the EMR cage and settled before the console. He'd suspected their father was up to something when he'd told them to report to the lab for additional programming. Glancing around the lab, he studied each of the techs to make certain they were still breathing and still completely under the influence of the gas he'd injected into the room and finally turned to look at his brother.

  He's not convinced, but he's suspicious or he wouldn't have decided to look at the surveillance vids.

  Decrease the power on the EMR. There's too much interference to hear them clearly, Adam responded grimly.

  Nodding, his brother initiated a power drain by increasing the consumption in other parts of the office complex.

  Not too much, Adam cautioned. The alarm will go off and alert them.

  There was still a distinct, annoying buzz overlaying the sound when his brother had cut the power by nearly half, but the words were clear enough—and damning.

  "I think you're overreacting."

  Whitmore shook his head. “Maybe, but he was specifically programmed never to leave the building for any reason. He shouldn't have been able to override that programming, Mr. Johnson."

  "Pull it up and let's have a look at it and then backtrack and see if we can detect any other anomalies in his behavior. I think you're wrong, but I sure as hell don't want to get the Secretary of Defense down here and find out you weren't."

  "Ms. Carlson already sent the letter,” Whitmore reminded him. “What are we going to do if I'm right?"

  "We'll worry about that if and when we need to. You told the lab techs to do a thorough evaluation on the two of them?"

  "Yes, sir. I don't know if they'll be able to detect anything, though."

  Johnson's lips tightened. “I don't like this fucking guessing,” he growled. “We've got too much riding on this project to screw up."

  They stopped speaking when they'd brought the vid up on the screen. Both men leaned forward. “God damn it!” Johnson snarled. “Run that again."

  Whitmore and their father exchanged a long look.

  Adam and his brother exchanged a glance.

  "Where would they have been?” Whitmore asked finally.

  Their father tapped his chin. “Has he shown any interest in any of the women besides Ms. Carlson?"

  Whitmore frowned. “Not that I've heard, but then I didn't even know he'd noticed her until you told me."

  "Bring up the vid with their encounter in the conference room."

  "What day was that?"

  "Ms. Carlson's birthday—two weeks ago this past Tuesday."

  Whitmore scanned the dates on the vids and finally brought it up.

  Both men studied the recording in silence.

  Adam exchanged an uneasy glance with his brother, trying to tune out the sounds of Evie's pleasure and his reaction to it.

  "Now, skip forward to his next encounter with her."

  He's figured it out.

  We should've destroyed the records, Adam responded, disgusted.

  They would only have figured it out sooner.

  Adam shook his head. About us, yes. They wouldn't have known about Evie, though.

  His brother ground his teeth in frustration. We should've thought of that.

  It's too late to worry about it now. We have to decide how to handle this.

  "There!” their father exclaimed, drawing their attention to the men they'd been watching again. “Back track and play it at normal speed."

  Adam studied their expressions, watching for telltale signs of their reaction.

  Whitmore shrugged. “Normal emulation mode,” he concluded. “It certainly shows advancement in his interaction capabilities that he would go out of his way to try to make up with her to get another shot at fucking her, but I don't see anything to be concerned about."

  Their father gave him a disgusted look. “Don't you? Run it again and tell me what seems out of place."

  Whitmore looked surprised. He complied, studying the recording frowningly. “I don't see it."

  "She isn't looking at him,” their father said through gritted teeth. “What would be the point in trying to look so ... damned contrite when she wasn't looking at him? Go back to the conference room vid again and look at it."

  Whitmore was pale as he brought the vid into play again. “Oh my god! Jesus Christ! He isn't emulating passion. He's ... he completely forgot his programming."

  "Which means he isn't ‘acting’ at all!"

  "What are we going to do?"

  "Can you erase everything in his—their memory banks—I didn't catch the switch, but obviously they've both been in on this—and reprogram?"

  Whitmore's color fluctuated from pale to red and back again. “I don't know. Chances are if we did we'd cause irreparable damage to the biological part of the brain."

  "Then destroy them,” their father growled. “They're out of control, and if we can't control them.... And make damned sure you destroy all the records, too. Get on it!"

  Whitmore jumped to his feet. “What about Ms. Carlson? She knows."

  "She knows too much, but I've already taken care of that. I didn't like her reaction to the news. After I thought about it, I decided I'd made a mistake with her. I had one of our men plant a ‘package’ in her transport. Prepare a statement for the media to the effect that we suspect a rival international firm. They won't know it's her for a while, so be prepared to look shocked and dismayed when we get the news."

  * * * *

  Evelyn didn't know whether to be relieved or sorry that she didn't see Adam all day. On the one hand, she was afraid for him and feared any conversation they might have would alert the company to exactly what she wanted to keep from them. On the other, she desperately wanted to warn him.

  She'd already gotten into her transport and was searching for the key to the ignition when she heard her name bellowed so loudly it made her jump and drop her purse. As she whirled to look, she saw Adam barreling toward her at a speed that stunned her to stillness. Reaching her transport, he grabbed the door handle and wrenched the entire door off her vehicle. She was still gaping at him in disbelief when he grabbed her arm and snatched her from the seat.

  Clutching her tightly to his chest, he whirled and ran full tilt at a speed that might have amazed her if she'd been in any condition to think.

  The concussion from the explosion sent them both toward the pavement. Almost as if she was watching a vid in slow motion, the world tilted as Adam twisted mid-air, taking the brunt of the impact as they collided with the hard surface on his shoulder and side as they landed. He leapt up again before she could even command her lungs to drag air into them.

  His twin appeared from out of no where, jogging beside them, and Adam ‘tossed’ her to the other man as if she'd been virtually weightless. She tensed, but he'd caught her before she could even consider screaming. They'd raced out of the parking garage before she was able to dredge anything from the chaos of her mind. “What's happening?"

  Neither man responded. Instead, they paused, surveyed their surroundings, and then raced across the intersection in front of the building and through the small park, finally dropping to a fast walk as they neared the other side. “Adam! What happened? What exploded? Where are we going?"

  "Your car,” Adam responded grimly, nodding to his brother.

  Her attention diverted, Evelyn watched as he glanced around and then strode quickly to a parked transport. A blue spark shot from the tip of his finger as he pointed it at the door lock, then he opened the door and casually got in. Adam carried her around to the passenger side as his twin leaned over and shoved the door open.

  "Why would my car explode?” she asked blankly as Adam settled in the seat with her in his lap.

  "The bomb they planted in it,” he responded succinctly.

  Cold dread washed over her. “They? Someone planted a bomb in my car?"

  "The company,” his twin responded grimly
as he ripped the face plate off of the console, studied the circuit board briefly, and then touched his finger to first one point and then another. Sparks shot from his finger, or the circuit board—Evelyn wasn't sure—and then the transport engine roared to life and the vehicle rose from the parked position.

  Evelyn struggled with her shock, trying to shake it off and grasp the unbelievable. “They tried to kill me?” she asked weakly. “Why? Why would they do that?"

  "Loose end. Because you know about us, and now they know we've evolved and they can't control us."

  Evelyn looked from one man to the other, digesting what they'd told her. She didn't actually have trouble believing it, and yet accepting it was another matter. “What are we going to do?"

  Instead of answering, Adam lifted a hand to stroke her cheek, then took her hands and examined her hands and arms before he scanned the rest of her body. “You aren't hurt?"

  She hadn't considered it until he asked. She didn't think so, but she was still too numb with shock to really register anything beyond feeling shaken. Her attention was drawn to the bloody scrapes along his arm, though. Consternation went through her. “You're hurt!"

  Catching his hand, she examined the painful looking scrapes and then looked at his face. “The transport exploded. You protected me with your body. Are you hurt besides the arm?"

  He shook his head. Pulling her against his chest, he wrapped his arms tightly around her and nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck, dragging in a deep breath. “I was afraid we'd be too late,” he muttered. “We stayed to hear their plans, and it was almost too late, Evie."

  Evelyn snuggled against him, stroking his hair. “But you weren't too late."

  "We have to get you out of here—to a safe place. They'll know by now that you weren't in the transport. Probably will have found out we aren't in the lab."

  "A diversion?"

  Adam considered for a moment and shook his head. “I think the best bet is to take a straight shot and try to evade the net they'll throw out before they can get it up. Assuming Whitmore went straight to the lab to oversee deprogramming, he will have discovered our absence by now and notified father. Ten minutes to contact the exterminators, maybe fifteen for them to scramble—we can be outside the perimeter before they can get there."