James Patterson - Toys

I was startled-not just by her words, but by the intense feelings that rose up in me. I’d never cared about humans. Far from it. But now it struck me that maybe I’d never considered their plight fairly. Why hadn’t it seemed possible that there was more to them than what the Cybernet said? Why had I been content to study and enjoy their colorful history, literature, art-their music especially-but dismiss humans themselves as self-destructive animals?

Shanna’s imploring eyes brought me back to the moment.

“Look, I have to keep moving,” I said. “But”-I hesitated, realizing that I was about to make an insane promise-“I’ll come back. I want to see your baby again.”

She nodded slowly, and so did Corliss.

Then I did something truly amazing.

I reached down and touched the baby’s soft cheek. His eyes were still closed, but his little mouth smiled at me.

“I have to go now,” I said. “But thank you-for letting me be part of this.”

I had finally figured out something useful. I knew what I had to do now and where I had to go-if I wanted to solve the mystery that had suddenly become my life. It was so obvious.

“I want to buy your car,” I said.

The man I was speaking to, a midlevel Elite just about to climb into his sporty Mazda ZX-740 airpod, looked stunned. I probably could have broached the subject more subtly, but I was in a hurry. I was a man with a plan now.

“Huh?” said the man. “I don’t want to sell you my car.”

“Yes, you do. Now come on, I’m in a real bind here. Name your price.”

He glanced around quickly, a grasp of the situation slowly creeping across his face. After walking to the edge of the human slums where Shanna lived, I had hopped on public transit and ridden to a commuter suburb of the city. A place with resplendent green lawns, backyard wave-pools, choreographed fountains, gold-plated driveway gates, and cozy commercial centers with boutiques, spas, high-end jewelers, and cafes that sold cups of organic coffee that cost more than the average human salary. A place, in short, where crime was almost unheard-of.

But the bottom line was that it was six o’clock in the morning, it was drizzling, there was not another soul in sight, and this poor guy was facing someone who looked like a human thug-and who was possibly crazy, or high on wyre.

“I’m not selling you my car. You should leave this neighborhood. Now, ” he finally said. We were standing outside the only twenty-four-hour establishment in the area, a convenience store.

“Listen,” I said, talking fast enough to keep him off balance. “This is the all-environments model, right? Works on-road, off-road, airborne? Can safely dive to one thousand meters underwater? Gull-wing doors? Ultrasonic massage seats? THX six-point-three holographic surround sound? What’s the sticker price? Like three twenty? Tell you what, I don’t have time to haggle”-I rummaged in the pockets of the pants I’d taken off the Beta and came up with seven dollars and some change-“but I’m a little short of cash right now. So I guess I’ll have to borrow some money from you too.”

His mouth opened in complete disbelief, but then his face took on a cynical smirk. “This is some kind of joke, right? It has to be a joke.”

I stepped forward, gripped his lapels with one hand, and lifted him off his feet.

“No joke,” I said. “I’m sorry about this-but I need your car. My life depends on it.”

I got in the ZX and quickly overrode the vehicle-identification circuits and security beacons so that the car’s computer wouldn’t recognize me as an unauthorized driver. “Sorry about this,” I called to the poor guy outside. “I will pay you back eventually. This really is life or death for me.”

The ZX took off in a streak while I settled back in the driver’s seat. It flew like a dream and had all sorts of features I hadn’t used before-like Level Two Priority Traffic Access, which let me cut right through the city’s elaborate air-traffic-control patterns by steering me to the shortest routes available to nonemergency or police vehicles. A total Elite VIP perk.

I stopped at a high-end Toyz store along the way and came out wearing new clothes: black jeans, a fitted T-shirt, a leather jacket, wraparound shades to hide my face. I had also downloaded some tattoo art at the Toyz Corp iTattoo booth. Like many Elites, I went in for tattoo-zone implants as a teen-one on the back of my neck, another on my right forearm. I can activate either to become visible-or fade back to skin tone-at a moment’s notice.

I also purchased an ultrasonic shaver and a tube of Elite-Man follicle-activation cream-one quick application and you could instantly grow yourself a fashionable hint of stubble.

Back in the car, I shaved my head-right to the scalp-and quickly gave myself a five o’clock shadow on the chin and cheeks. Then I activated the new tattoo art-a fist-sized tarantula on my forearm, a Harley-Davidson logo on the back of my neck.

Now I looked nothing like the old Hays Baker; I was just another of the wealthy, weekend-warrior civilians you’d expect to see in the Baronville Toyz store, where eleven executives had recently been murdered. That was where I was headed now. I’d made up my mind; I needed one more look at the crime scene where my life had begun to be shattered.

I needed to know why my life had been blown to pieces.

There had to be clues I’d overlooked. Also, why had Jax Moore insisted on calling me there, even though it was well outside my area of operations? What had happened to make the in-store witnesses forget everything they’d seen?

Hopefully, I’d learn something soon-because there was the Toyz store, less than a hundred yards straight ahead.

The place where everything had gone all wrong for me, and for my family.

That last thought reminded me of the girls-and suddenly I had another idea, probably my most constructive one so far.

Chloe and April both carried phones to school-and maybe, just maybe, I could talk to them now.

I dialed Chloe’s number first, then I couldn’t believe it when I actually heard her voice come on the line. Thank God, it was her!

“This is Chloe Baker,” she said. An odd first line, but it was definitely my baby.

“This is your daddy. Hello, Chloe Baker,” I said.

“Daddy, what happened to you? Mommy said you’re in trouble-bad trouble. Is that true? It couldn’t be, right?”

“Chloe, sweetie, it’s just a misunderstanding. I’ll be home soon.”

There was a silence, which I didn’t understand. Chloe tends to talk and talk.

“Chloe? Chloe? What’s the matter? Something is-I can tell-”

Chloe blurted out, “Daddy, the police are listening! The police are at my school!”

Then she clicked off the phone.

Talk about a heartbreaking call.

But why did I feel things so deeply?

Like a human would?

I knew I’d better hurry-the police could be here soon. It was almost surreal being back at the murder scene, especially since the Agency and city police were now searching for me. I strained to keep my vitals in check so that I wouldn’t set off any biometric-profile monitors in the Toyz store, but my nerves weren’t helped any by having to go past the window display of Jessica and Jacob dolls. They were strutting around like they owned that little world.

The customers inside Toyz were the same mix of Elites and the occasional upper-level humans I’d seen here the other night.

Almost immediately, I recognized a face-the pretty Elite woman I’d first interviewed, the one who said she’d been standing right next to two of the victims but hadn’t actually witnessed the murders.