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Chapter 75
‘Changeof plan, ma’am,’ Poe said into Bradshaw’s laptop. He and Mathers were on a Zoom call, whatever the hell that was. ‘He’s refusing to leave and we can’t make him.’
‘And he caught Poe pretending to shake some dice, didn’t he, Poe?’ Bradshaw chipped in. ‘Mr Salt mistook it for a rude sign.’
‘Thank you, Tilly,’ Poe said. ‘That was very helpful.’
‘You’re welcome, Poe.’
‘How does this affect your plan?’ Mathers said, failing to completely cover a smirk.
Poe looked around the minimalist living room. At the glass walls. At the polished surfaces. At the lack of places to hide …
‘I’ll make it work,’ he said. ‘We’ll set up here and let everyone know.’
‘OK. Stay in touch.’ Mathers reached forward and ended the call.
‘Tilly, should we work from here?’ Poe said, pointing at the granite coffee table. ‘We’ll have views of the door, the stairs to the lower levels and we can see through all the windows.’
‘I’ll piggyback his wi-fi, Poe. I’ll have everything running in fifteen minutes.’
‘Mr Salt, before my team arrives we’re going to run through some precautions,’ Poe said.
‘Very well. But, like I said, I’ve been arranging my own security for years. This place is impregnable.’ He held up a small tablet. ‘The whole house is controlled by this. No one gets in who shouldn’t.’
‘I’m here.’
‘Yes, but you’re …’
Salt took a step back. Reached for his phone.
‘That’s good, Mr Salt,’ Poe said. ‘You’re thinking now. And don’t worry, wearehere to protect you. From now on, though, I need you to assume that anyone I haven’t personally vouched for is here to kill you.’
‘It can’t be that bad, surely?’
‘You say this place is controlled by that tablet?’ Poe said, ignoring the question and asking one of his own.
‘It is. It’s configured to my palm print and it can’t be hacked.’
‘Tilly?’
‘I’m in, Poe.’
‘Don’t be ludicrous!’ Salt said. ‘A contact at the Pentagon installed this system for me. It isn’t even officially out yet.’
‘Tilly?’ Poe said again. ‘A demonstration.’
‘Certainly, Poe.’
She typed some commands into her laptop and pressed enter. The ceiling lights flashed on and off. ‘Tin Soldiers’ by Stiff Little Fingers, a song Bradshaw knew Poe liked, started playing through the concealed speakers. The kettle began to boil. The television switched fromCitizen Kaneto a news channel.
‘But … how?’ Salt stammered. ‘This isn’t poss—’
‘Are there any physical locks in this house, Mr Salt?’
‘No, the whole system’s electric.’
‘Pick a letter then.’
