WRAITH CASE STUDY AUGUSTA PINE #3
Avery’s smile was thin and hard. “Well, you’re right. We’re not going to kill you. But we are going to keep you here until we leave, so you can’t alert whoever you work for.”
“Her bedtime’s at ten,” said Prefect, strolling into the conference room. “So you’ll have to let her go before that.”
I gaped at him. He looked perfectly nonchalant in his expensive suit—but this time, he wore his shoulder holster in plain sight. All the workers froze.
“I do not have a bedtime,” I said, offended.
“Bedtime, curfew, it’s all the same.” Prefect kept his arms loose at his sides—his gun within reach.
His eyes settled on Avery. “Avery Hendricks,” he said.
“One of the founders of Lawyerbot before your partner forced you out. Undergrad degree in computer science, law degree from Georgetown, clerked for the Supreme Court before you went corporate.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Do I know you?”
“Probably not,” said Prefect blandly. “I would appreciate if you freed that asset.”
“You could at least use my name,” I said.
He fixed me with a look. “You were supposed to just hand over the bag. After walking into a trap like this, you’re lucky I added the ‘e’ and the ‘t.’”
Point to Prefect. I bit my lip to hide a rueful grin.
“So you’re here to investigate what we’re doing?” asked Mr. Bright Eyes.
Prefect snorted. “It’s not hard to guess.
Your boss here is taking her revenge against her partner—the one she cofounded Lawyerbot with.
I did my own research into your app. Lawyerbot was founded by two people, one of whom was forced out in a corporate takeover.
” He nodded at Avery. “Her. Which is why, years later, she has now retaken the app by hostile means. I assume all the payments are going to you now, too?”
“No,” said Avery.
Prefect frowned. “No?”
“What kind of criminals are you?” I said, giving the plastic handcuff a little yank.
“We’re not criminals,” said Avery. “Well, not really.”
“Not Really Criminals explains why your security sucks,” I said. “So … what are you doing here?”
“Winning cases,” said Avery. Her gaze remained warily on Prefect. “And that’s all I’m going to say without a lawyer.”
Oh. Oh.
And that’s when I got it.
“Oh.” This time I said it aloud. “You’re—you’re not in it for the money. You’re … you’re legal hacktivists. Or hacky legal counsel. No, wait, the first one sounds better.”
“Exactly,” said Mr. Bright Eyes. He must not have gotten the memo not to talk to the feds. “The app was supposed to help people who needed it. We’re just … returning it to its real purpose.” He gestured at all the other workers, still hastily packing up their things. “It’s all pro bono.”
“Way to incriminate yourself,” said Avery, with a sigh. She looked at Prefect. “Lawyerbot—the initial idea, at least—was mine. It was supposed to provide people with help. But it was co-opted as a way to make a rich man even richer. And then I was forced out of the company.”
Prefect looked as though he wanted to bang his head against a wall.
Under normal circumstances, he probably would have just handcuffed them and been done with it.
But something kept him talking. “Then you should have staged your own corporate takeover. But this—this is still illegal. You and your team co-opted the app when you do not in fact own the app.”
“We were just trying to help,” said Mr. Bright Eyes.
“Then start your own app,” I said. “Don’t try to supplant Lawyerbot. Do your own thing. Call it ProBonoBot.”
He blinked at me. “That’s … actually not bad.”
“I assume you called for backup?” asked Avery.
“They’ll arrive in five minutes,” said Prefect. “I am going to have to arrest you.” With a perfectly robotic intonation, he said, “You will be charged for your crimes.” He cleared his throat. “It is unfortunate that only two of you were here.”
The lawyers gaped at us.
Prefect spoke a little louder. “Unfortunate that only Avery Hendricks and her much younger associate were here to arrest. And then the associate managed to escape because I had to rescue my asset.”
Mr. Bright Eyes paled. He turned, picked up one of the moving boxes, and ran for the back door.
Avery’s forehead wrinkled as she looked at Prefect.
He stared back, expression opaque. “You going to make this hard?”
She shook her head. “No.” She reached down and uncuffed me. I rubbed at my wrist.
“And as for me?” said Avery.
“Ironically,” said Prefect, “I am going to recommend you call a lawyer.”
I leaned against the stakeout van. The late afternoon was blurring into evening. Prefect spoke into his phone, then flicked the screen back to transparency. Avery was handcuffed inside the van.
“Bosses happy?” I asked.
He nodded. “Lawyerbot will be restored to the app store. The fake replacement will be gone by tomorrow. The CEO is pleased.”
“So everything goes back to normal,” I said. “Eighty dollars an hour for a crappy chatbot.”
He shrugged. “Probably. At least until someone creates an alternative.”
I thought of Mr. Bright Eyes and all those other lawyers scurrying out the back door. “That’s why you let most of them go.”
His face was blank as glass. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You sympathized with them,” I said, nudging him with my elbow. “Didn’t you? That’s why you helped them.”
“I did no such thing.” He speared me with a look. “And neither did you. Officially, we’ll both be reprimanded if anything else ever comes to light.”
“You were a lawyer,” I said. “Before … all this. That’s how you got inside without anyone buzzing you in.”
I caught a glimpse of something like longing in his eyes before he closed them.
“Another life,” he said. “Another world.”
I considered pressing. After all, he knew everything about my life. But he’d done a good thing today—bending the law in a way that wasn’t entirely un-Augusta-esque. He could keep his secrets.
“Fair enough,” I said.