Chapter 4 – Enemy Territory #5
Jill looked cross, clearly not satisfied with this answer, and Lorna’s husband, Governor Atkinson, returned to the table.
He was a stocky man with broad shoulders and sparse grey hair.
Like all the politicians present that evening, he wore a white suit with a white waistcoat and a matching white bow tie.
Probably feigning his non-existent innocence, thought Marci grimly.
She imagined throwing a glass of red wine over his hypocritical outfit in front of everyone.
Or even better, tomato sauce – sprayed over his suit in public, simulating all the innocent blood that was spilt every day by men like him and Ambush in their lust for profit.
Will’s blood, to be more precise. She was under no illusion that, in his political role, Atkinson was ignorant of MacIntyre’s schemes.
Just like Jill Ambush’s ex, who as a senator was heavily involved in those decisions.
They were all part of a group of unscrupulous criminals who cared little for the value of human life.
Judging from his wiry appearance, Atkinson played sport regularly and seemed to be fully aware of his attractiveness. He smiled confidently at Marci before being introduced to her.
“Sweetheart, this is Skyla Rosebud,” said Lorna to the Governor, who was clearly closely acquainted with Jill Ambush as he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.
“Ms Rosebud runs her own company making male escort robots,” Lorna continued, her enthusiasm evident in her voice, giving Marci the impression she was actually trying to provoke her husband by giving him this good news.
“Isn’t that fantastic? And she’s even brought one with her so that women can order from her new product range this evening. ”
Atkinson jerked as if hit by a laser and automatically withdrew the hand that he’d been holding out to Jack. He’d clearly mistaken the smart robot with the green eyes for a human. Following his awkward misjudgement, he simply gave a brief nod to Marci.
“Doug Atkinson,” he said, coolness evident in his voice, before taking a seat next to his wife, grumbling, and aiming his sharp grey gaze directly at Marci.
“Monty tells me you’ve put yourself forward as a new competitor to CRU.
I’d imagined you to be more…masculine. Don’t ask me why.
I admit I’ve never heard of you before, but that doesn’t mean anything.
I don’t build robots, after all, I just use them for my purposes. Can I ask where you’re based?”
“Vancouver,” replied Marci confidently, a fact retained from her crash course with Cathrin.
“And so outside your area of responsibility,” she said by way of clarification, “although that doesn’t mean that we’re not interested in collaborating with local industry.
I wouldn’t be here otherwise. We’re still looking for suitable partners.
As you can imagine, as a start-up company we can’t get production like this off the ground all by ourselves.
Once word gets around among women about what we’re offering, we probably won’t be able to move for incoming orders. ”
Atkinson raised an eyebrow and Marci thought she could detect overt disapproval in his dark gaze, particularly when he looked at Jack, whose expression was blank.
“Is what Monty said true? You’re producing these robots using former combat robots?”
“Yes, their basic framework, at least,” replied Marci coolly.
“Oh, so that’s why he’s so huge?” Atkinson wrinkled his nose as if he’d been served the wrong meal. “And what about the rest?”
“His core processor is based on our own software with a very special, regularly upgraded emotional component. Apart from the usual ingredients that make up his incredibly human appearance, you won’t find anything else from a combat robot,” she explained calmly, relieved that the link to her prompter at Hunters Lane now seemed to be working smoothly again.
“After his transformation, he can do everything that a modern woman wishes of her dream man,” she added with a touch of arrogance.
“Does he still have his dick? Or has that been modified, too?” asked Atkinson bluntly, looking at Jack with a cynical grin.
“Of course,” replied Marci, unruffled. “And if you want to know some more details, he can even be circumcised to suit the cultural needs of the particular client.”
Atkinson seemed momentarily lost for words, while his wife gave a restrained giggle.
Jack took a slug of his whisky and scanned the large room, a look of boredom on his face as if the discussion about his internal and external features were of no concern to him.
Atkinson had clearly noticed that the robot drank alcohol and therefore acted no differently from all the other guests, which only seemed to fuel his suspicions.
“You’ve no doubt heard what happened to Rochelle MacIntyre,” he reminded Marci unnecessarily.
She swallowed hastily, trying not to show anything that might reveal she’d actually been a witness to this event. “Your wife has already broached the topic and I told her that this incident would never happen with our products.”
He continued to press his point. “Rochelle ordered a robot from CRU and she ended up in her bedroom with a broken neck. Nobody knows what happened yet, but it looks like it was the work of professionals. All the recording systems were deleted remotely. The robot that was delivered has disappeared and there’s no trace of her human cleaner, either.
If you ask me, it was no simple burglary.
I’m sure these bloody rebels are behind it.
” He huffed in annoyance, his irascible gaze sweeping over Jack’s imposing figure, whose body language was currently all too clear.
He didn’t like him. The two women at the table exchanged a hasty glance but refrained from expressing any further opinion about Jack’s presence.
Jill Ambush gave a stiff nod. “For a journalist like me it’s a huge story, but I feel incredibly sorry for Rochelle MacIntyre. ”
“We’ve pulled out all the stops to catch the perpetrators,” added Atkinson with an aggressive undertone in his voice, “but so far to no avail. The only thing we have is an energy trail from a supersonic glider that escaped over the lake heading to Canada.”
He paused and looked intently at Marci. “That’s where their production facility is located, from what I’ve heard.
If I were them, I’d be careful not to attract the attention of these rebels.
They’re like an animal rights organisation for robots that will stop at nothing to achieve their aims,” he proclaimed darkly.
“A hypocritical bunch of moralisers who believe they can change the world based on their ridiculous ideas. But they need to watch their backs. Once we find where they’re hiding out, it won’t help them one bit to be in a neutral neighbouring country.
We’ll raze their hide-outs to the ground.
” There was a gleam in his eyes as he said this, still looking threateningly at Marci.
“Don’t get so worked up, darling,” said his wife, stroking his arm in an attempt to placate him.
“It’s not Ms Rosebud’s fault that she works in a business that’s full of crazy people.
And besides, her mission is completely different from MacIntyre’s.
Make love not war,” she said, quoting the hippies’ motto from the previous century and glancing at Jack with an expression of optimism on her face.
Given her husband’s short temper, Jack’s expression remained blank; he’d realised early on that the Governor’s presence put them on dangerous ground.
“As I’ve already said,” growled Atkinson looking at his wife, “before letting a guy like that in your bed I’d check every last one of his processors, and if he had even one screw loose, I’d personally smash him into tiny pieces.”
His hostile expression rested on both Jack and Marci and she felt sick at the thought of what would happen if Atkinson found out who they really were.
Jill coughed quietly and gave Jack a sympathetic smile. “I don’t think he looks that threatening,” she said, trying to make light of Atkinson’s misgivings.
“How do you know it was the robot that murdered Rochelle MacIntyre?” The words slipped out of Marci’s mouth. “It could just as easily have been a human perpetrator. Someone who had something against CRU starting a new project.”
“You mean someone who saw them as competition?” Atkinson raised an eyebrow and gave a superior smile. “Someone like you, perhaps?”
Marci’s heart started to race and she felt Jack unobtrusively put his large hand on her knee, calming her with his warmth.
“That’s just absurd,” said Marci, firmly if inelegantly refuting his suspicions. “MfM doesn’t need to remove unwelcome competitors from its path. We have a strong individual concept.”
Before Atkinson could respond, Montgomery MacIntyre appeared on the stage to rapturous applause.
He was of average height and his slim frame and short black hair, styled in a childlike ponytail, made him look less like the fully-grown adult he was and more like an innocent choirboy.
Which he definitely wasn’t. He would never have appealed to Marci for that reason alone, but his small brown eyes, full of pure calculation, set her alarm bells ringing.
And now she had also learned just how amoral his businesses were.
Even the way he stood in his white, collarless suit, arms spread wide like a saviour before his faithful public, didn’t change what he was.
In a fiery speech, he espoused the wonders of his latest combat robot model, lavishing praise upon its many features as if it were a divine blessing.
He gave no mention of the fact that the government could barely afford his deceptively human-looking, super-powerful machines and that he was therefore forced to either make them cheaper, which would negatively impact the quality, or come up with a more cost-effective version, which is basically what hybrid soldiers were.