Invisible Armies

Chapter 36

The crowd at the Mirage is very different from that at DefCon; older, Midwestern, conservatively dressed. In the lobby, dominated by an aquarium three stories high crowded with colourful fish, Keiran checkes in with his false ID. He smiles as he takes the keycard. He knows what the desk clerk does not: that the Mirage's check-in system, which Keiran now owns, recognized the name on his ID and, as per the instructions he programmed before they entered the hotel, has impregnated the magnet- ic strip on his card with a master-key code that will open any room in the hotel.

They move through the artificially damp air and palm trees of the Mirage's oasis-themed lobby bar, then the whirling lights and burbling noises of the casino; like all hotels on the Strip, the Mirage is arranged so you can't go anywhere without walking through an enticing sea of gambling tables and machines. Banks of slot machines face men and women, mostly old, who push buttons like rats in a Skinner box. Even the people who walk the green baize floors without gambling move like extras in a zombie movie. Keiran is relieved when they reach the elevators.

They walk past 1719, the room they just checked into, and stop outside the door to 1723. Keiran withdraws the gun from his pocket, sleek and dully metallic, densely heavy, delivered to their room this afternoon by Trurl. The Polish nihilist hadn't said where it had come from, other than that it was untraceable, and Keiran hadn't asked. The weapon feels foreign in his hand. He used to go on shooting expeditions in the California desert with other hacker friends regularly, when he lived in Oakland, but until today he hasn't held a gun for five years.

Keiran looks looks to his right and left, to Danielle and Jayalitha, checking readiness. Danielle nods. Jayalitha tilts her head Indian-style. Keiran takes a deep breath. He secretly hopes that P2 – Sophia, if that's her real name – is out, the room is empty, and they can find what they need to know by rummaging through her computer. He'd rather avoid actual physical confrontation.

He inserts the keycard. The little light above the card reader turns green. Keiran pushes the door open and enters 1723, which is a suite. The connecting door is half-closed.

"You're early," a voice says from the other room. A girl's voice, its tone eager and teasing. "Maybe you found some reason to make good time?"

Keiran throws open the connecting door. P2 is lying on the bed facing the door. She wears black jeans, a white bra, and a shocked expression that turns to a gasp of horror as Danielle and Jayalitha follow Keiran into the room. Eyes wide, she gapes at each of them in turn, and at the gun in Keiran's hand.

"You will tell us what we want to know or I will strangle you here and now myself," Jayalitha says. Her voice is soft, almost a whisper, but allows for no doubt. "You led them to my family. For you my husband was murdered. For you my children burned. You are no girl. You are a demon."

P2 finds her voice, high and quavery. "Please."

"Cooperate and you won't get hurt," Danielle says, parroting every cop show ever, playing good cop to Jayalitha's murderous cop. "We believe you didn't fully understand what you were doing. Answer our questions and we'll leave you be, Sophia. Is that your real name? Sophia?"

The girl on the bed nods.

"Vocalize, please," Keiran says. "But not too loud."

"Yes," she says hoarsely. "That's my name."

"Why check in with your real name?" Danielle asks.

"I didn't think you could find me."

"Well," Keiran says, pleased, "you're very good, but you're not omniscient."

"Can I put on a shirt?" Sophia asks.

Keiran looks at Danielle, who nods. He takes a shirt hanging over a chair and throws it to her.