In Death Collection: Books 30-32 Read Online Free Page B

nodded toward the head. “From the spatter and pool, it appears that part of him left this part of him in a hurry, went splat—”
    â€œIs that a medical term?”
    â€œOf course. Splat and roll. It’s fate’s little jab in the ribs that the face landed up and toward the door. It looks like the poor bastard died before he knew his head took wing, but we’ll take all of him in and see what we see.”
    â€œA lot of force to decapitate that clean, and a damn sharp blade.”
    â€œI’d agree.”
    â€œThe girlfriend’s about five-two, maybe a hundred and ten fully dressed. She wouldn’t have the muscle. A droid could do it.”
    â€œPossibly, if the programming was altered and enhanced.”
    â€œI haven’t come across anything that says self-termination, but a logical theory, given the circumstance, might be he wanted out, wanted out in a flashy way. Programs the droid. It does the job, disposes of the weapon, resets the security. It feels like bullshit, but it’s an angle.”
    â€œPeople often do the incomprehensible. It’s what makes them so fascinating. Was he in play?”
    â€œApparently. Whatever disc he had going is fail-safed, still in the unit.” She gestured to the controls. “EDD’s heading upstairs. Maybe he had the droid in play, too, and something went very wrong.” But she shook her head, slid her hands into her pockets. “And that wouldn’t explain the droid reprogramming itself. It’s cutting-edge—ha-ha—according to Peabody, but that’s beyond any edge. Droids require a human operator to alter programming.”
    â€œAs far as I know, but then I don’t know much about this sort of thing. In general, human-replicate droids strike me as mildly creepy and just a little pitiable.”
    â€œYes!” She pulled her hand out of her pocket to point at him. “Exactly.”
    â€œAnd since they don’t do the incomprehensible without that human operator programming it, they’re just not that interesting.” Morris shrugged as he got to his feet. “You should ask your expert consultant, civilian. He’d know whatever there would be to know, I’d think.”
    â€œI’ll see what the department geeks have to say before I tap Roarke.”
    â€œWhoa.”
    She turned to see the aforesaid geeks step in.
    â€œBig whoa,” McNab repeated. “Now that’s a large fucking shame. Bart Minnock, boy genius.”
    â€œI always figured he’d come out ahead.” Callendar winced. “Sorry.”
    â€œIt’s inevitable. That’s Morris’s.” Eve jerked a thumb toward the two pieces of Minnock, then the control panel. “That’s yours. It appears the vic came in to play or maybe to test a new program. Whatever he put in is still in there. It’s passcoded and fail-safed. I need it out without damaging it or the unit. I need the security on this door and the entrance door fine-toothed. The logs say nobody went in or out once he locked in, but since he didn’t do that to himself with his fingernails, the logs are off. Peabody and I will be in the field. Since everyone here has a good head on their shoulders—see? Inevitable. I’ll expect some progress by the time we get back to Central.”
    She left them to it, signaled to Peabody.
    â€œUniforms did the knock-on-doors,” Peabody told her as they started out. “Since his place takes up the top three floors of the building, we didn’t get anything. The doorman on duty last night came in when contacted. He confirms time of arrival, and swears no one came in for Minnock or accessed any of the three floors until the girlfriend went up this morning.”
    â€œA smart e-geek employs, works with, and knows other smart e-geeks. Let’s go find out who didn’t like good old Bart.”
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