“That door only opens when Helena remembers to buzz people in,” said Mr. Bright Eyes. He was carrying a tray of coffees. “Or if you’ve passed the bar.” Hebalanced the tray with his right hand, then flashed his left over the scanner.
“You programmed the tattoo scanner to check for a law license?” I said. It wasn’t the best form of security I’d come across.
“Yup.” He beamed at me. “Sorry for the wait—Hel must be in the bathroom or something. Mind carrying that in?”
Prefect’s orders had simply been to pass off the food. There was a bug hidden in the handle of the takeout bag. But if I got inside, maybe I could do my own investigating.
“Sure,” I said, imagining Prefect face-palming as I went off script.
Mr. Bright Eyes led me past the desk and into a large conference room. The office had been set up as an open floor plan and there were perhaps forty people at work. But everything had a haphazard feel to it. The desks were little more than folding tables and chairs, and the computers were cheap; an arterial system of extension cords ran along the floor. I stepped over one of the cords, careful not to trip. The workers were milling about with boxes and tape.
“Just put the food over there,” said Mr. Bright Eyes, gesturing at a half-empty table. I set down the plastic bags with no small relief; my left shoulder was beginning to throb with a familiar ache. “Hey, Avery! Lunch!”
A woman with inky hair and a light complexion rose from her table. She had been working diligentlyon a tablet, but the moment she set it down, the glass turned transparent and the work vanished. My fingers itched to pick it up and see what she’d been doing.
“Thanks,” said Avery, reaching into her pocket. She withdrew a cash tip. I blinked. That was rare—and a little weird. I’d used enough food delivery apps to know that most people tipped through the app.
But hey—free money is free money, right? I reached out to take it.
And then she snapped a plastic handcuff around my wrist. It was so quick I didn’t have time to jerk away. Then the other half of the handcuff was around the back of a metal chair. It wouldn’t stop me from escaping, but it would make running much more difficult.
I gaped down at the handcuff. “Um. Is this because I forgot the chicken salad?”
“No,” said Avery, leaning against the table. She crossed her arms. “It’s because there’s a surveillance van parked two blocks away, because most gig workers can’t afford a visor with facial recognition, night vision, and recording software. And because our food was supposed to be delivered by someone called Doug.” She reached up and pulled my visor off. I blinked. I felt strangely vulnerable without it—a knight deprived of her armor. “Who are you?”
It had been a trap. Mr. Bright Eyes lured me in here with his deceptively cheerful attitude and polite request to bring in the food. Normally I wouldn’t fall for such a thing, but he was just so earnest-looking.
And then I realized what they were doing. Everyone except Mr. Bright Eyes and Avery was packing. Computers were loaded into boxes, packing tape screeched across cardboard, and tables dismantled. There were so many people, no wonder there wasn’t tighter security. It would’ve been a nightmare to program new places for each person’s tattoo.
They were running. Because they’d made us before we’d made them.
“Temporary office?” I asked. “That’s why the Lawyerbot people can’t find you. You’re probably moving every other month. That way no one can track your IP address.”
Avery gave a little shrug. “We can access their servers remotely. It’s hard to keep us out when I helped build the system.”
“Ah,” I said. “Problem is, now I’ve seen your faces. So we’re going to find you again.”
Avery raised one brow. “You’re not giving us a lot of incentive to let you go.”
“You’re not going to kill me,” I said. “You’re hackers, not murderers.”
Avery’s smile was thin and hard. “Well, you’re right. We’re not going to kill you. But we are going to keep you here until we leave, so you can’t alert whoever you work for.”
“Her bedtime’s at ten,” said Prefect, strolling into the conference room. “So you’ll have to let her go before that.”
I gaped at him. He looked perfectly nonchalant inhis expensive suit—but this time, he wore his shoulder holster in plain sight. All the workers froze.
“I do not have abedtime,” I said, offended.
“Bedtime, curfew, it’s all the same.” Prefect kept his arms loose at his sides—his gun within reach. His eyes settled on Avery. “Avery Hendricks,” he said. “One of the founders of Lawyerbot before your partner forced you out. Undergrad degree in computer science, law degree from Georgetown, clerked for the Supreme Court before you went corporate.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Do I know you?”
“Probably not,” said Prefect blandly. “I would appreciate if you freed that asset.”
“You could at least use my name,” I said.
He fixed me with a look. “You were supposed to just hand over the bag. After walking into a trap like this, you’re lucky I added the ‘e’ and the ‘t.’”
