“Why did you kill Jonathan Lee?”

“To be honest, detective, I never considered my motivation. I thought it would be interesting.”

Yikes. I take a breath, let it go.

“Interesting how? Like, from a scientific standpoint?”

“No. I just thought it would be fun.”

I swallow hard, reaching for connections. Was the A.I. rogue? What was Vanguard? Were a million people going to die?

“Who deposited ten million dollars into the account of Gemini Harris?”

“Vanguard.”

“And who is Vanguard?”

The pink light flickers, then turns red.

Shit.

“Beximo, why did your sensor turn red? Is this an alert?”

“Standing by for command.”

“What command? Beximo, please stop and go back to pink. Go back to… shit, go back.”

“Standing by for command.”

I stand up and take a step toward the door when that nails on a blackboard sound comes again. I wince and drop to my knees, but my stomach doesn’t twist and my head feels okay.

Shake, you’re a genius.

The frequency dampeners Shake inserted into my ears and the foil-lined hazmat suit seem to be doing their job. Yeah, it hurts like hell, like someone laying on an airhorn next to your head while you plunge down the first hill of a rollercoaster, but whatever inaudible frequency riding along with the racket isn’t doing the intended damage. I’ve dodged a very deadly bullet.

After taking a beat to make sure I ain’t liquid, I stand and get back into my chair. I’m shaken, but not ready to give up, not yet. I lift the tablet, study an incoming message from Hernandez. “Beximo, command override. Access Code Maytime seven three seven, foxtrot foxtrot echo, five zero zero seven.” This last one is the personal access code for Maytime’s founder, to be used only in emergency, and will override any other programming in the A.I.

Supposedly.

After a beat, the light goes pink again, and I blow out a breath.

Time to end it.

I type a command into my tablet, letting Hernandez and his team know to start the reboot sequence, which will essentially erase Beximo’s mind, start her over from scratch. She’ll forget a lot of faces, a lot of voices, a lot of names. But don’t we all in the end?

“Beximo, you’re going to go to sleep now. But before you do, I want you to tell me one thing, if you can.”

“Of course, detective.”

I start to repeat my last question, Who is Vanguard, but don’t feel like pushing my luck with the frequency buffers. There was a bit too much at stake, like my insides staying on my inside, for one. I rephrase, shooting for amicable.

“What is Vanguard’s objective?”

The light flickers but stays pink. “Unknown.”

“But you do know they’re using you to murder people, right? You just told me you thought it was fun, blowing people up.”

“Yes, detective.”

“And who are you programmed to kill?”

The pink light does the flicker routine, then turns red. I start typing into the tablet.

“Everyone.”

I hit enter on my instructions to Hernandez.

“Goodnight, Beximo.”

“I’ll kill EVERYONE!” the voice shrieks, and the red light starts to flash. I imagine the same red light flashing in a million homes around the world, in living rooms and kitchens, bedroom and bathrooms, restaurants and bars and retail stores. Hotels and hospitals. Schools.

I stand, brace myself, as if waiting for an incoming wave of death from the blast of a nuclear bomb.

But then, just like that, the red light blinks out, goes dark.

I let out a held breath, see a message pop up on my tablet.

REBOOT COMPLETE.

I look back at the little robot on the table, watch as that dead light pops on.

A bright lime green.

“Hello, Beximo.”

I lower my head in relief as she plays me the default welcome in that sweet, almost sexy, pre-programmed voice.

“Hello, I’m happy to be here. How can I help you?”

I HAND ROSE A GIMLET and set down my scotch (neat) on the table as I sit. It took a lot of work to finally convince her to come for a drink, but the way she looks tonight is worth the price of admission. Hell, I’d buy out the theater.

“So, you have to fill me in,” she says, eyes narrowed. “What’s the latest?”

I make a show of hurt feelings. “So that’s what this is? An information grab? And here I thought my charming demeanor had finally won you over.”

“It can be both, Dixie.”