“It would have killed the intruder for me.”
Jackson wanted to laugh. This was the shit of movies, fantastical crap. Yeah, he knew there were things out there that the average person wasn’t aware of, but something that would have killed a man, something that was governed by a computer?
It happens, you know it happens. It’s just that seeing it when the software is in someone’s house and not in a war situation… It’s thrown you off, that’s all.
“How?” Jackson asked.
Randall shrugged. “That’s a part of my secret you’ll never know. But I will tell you the man won’t make it to the house. Like that deer there”—he jerked a thumb at the monitor—“he’ll only need to step onto the grounds and he’ll be taken care of if that’s where I choose for him to die.” He thumped his fist against the window as though trying to contain his excitement.
Jackson should have been alarmed. Should have thought Randall a crazy bastard, but he didn’t. “I see. And if the software works later?” he asked.
“I’ll become a murderer.”
“And if you sell it?”
“I’ll be a killer several times over, I imagine, even though I personally will never have killed a soul.”
Chapter Twelve
Colin wasn’t best pleased. He’d stupidly allowed himself to have a little nap, thinking no one would be any the wiser because Randall and that bald man were probably well out of the picture by now. He went into the dining room, expecting to find Randall and that grim-looking fellow sprawled on the floor, having fallen off their chairs, drugged and out of it. No such sight greeted him. He spotted the full wine bottle immediately, the still-clean glasses, and cursed under his breath.
“I’m going to have to explain to my boss why I failed. That I fell asleep, of all things.”
He glanced at his watch. The two hours his boss had given him were well and truly up. He quickly cleared away the dinner things, dumping them onto the drainer beside the kitchen sink, then retrieved the wine and poured it down the plughole. If he tried to get them to drink it now, he’d alert them, get them all suspicious.
No, Colin would have to let things progress as they would have before he’d offered to get rid of Randall and his new friend. He’d rethink, perhaps let that Jackson man kill the person being sent here later. Let Randall think Colin had nothing to do with any of this mess. Then Colin could hand his notice in—tomorrow morning would be a good time—saying he’d been kept awake all night thinking and that working for Randall had now become too much. At his age, he couldn’t risk anything too stressful. With Randall being sympathetic, Colin could perhaps shoot him in the back before leaving the property, never to return. Never to live in this country again.
Yes, and he’d definitely pop into the village to drop in on Nellie.
He felt better for having a purpose, a new plan in place now his previous one had gone wrong. He went into his room, unsurprised that his phone was vibrating. Answered it. Listened to what was being said.
“But they didn’t want wine with dinner, sir,” he said. “So your man needs to visit after all.”
“I had a feeling you’d mess this up, Colin.”
“I’m terribly sorry, sir.” He gritted his teeth.
“It can’t be helped. So long as everything is squared away by the morning… Then you need to scarper. The funds will be deposited into your bank. But before you go, make sure to leave his top room unlocked.”
“I will, sir.”
“This should be the last time we speak.”
“Indeed. Goodbye.”
The phone clicked without a tarra or a Godspeed in return. Colin was oddly distraught by that. It was plain manners, surely, that his boss should thank him or wish him well. After all he’d done, keeping an eye on Randall…
He went into the little room behind his. He wanted to make sure the hidden screen there was in full working order. Then he’d check on Randall and Jackson. Let them know he was available to them should he be needed. Actually, he’d insist he wanted to be present. This time he didn’t want to risk anything going wrong. Not when he was so close to getting to that beach, that paradise in the sun.
Chapter Thirteen
Back in the vast lounge, Jackson sat on one of the sofas, leaning forward with his head in his hands. While Randall was in his study checking the main system that linked to his computers upstairs, Jackson tried to work out what the hell kind of software had the ability to kill someone. He came up with maybe an electrical force field being issued, bullets or silent bombs being set off, the kind of shit that already existed out there. He decided he didn’t want to know what Randall had been working on, that if it were something that would be sold to countries who chose to use it for mass murder and the like, he’d be better off in the dark.
Come on. Mass murder? That’s a bit much. Isn’t it?
As they’d left that circular room and made their way downstairs, Randall had said, “If I’d known the software was completely ready, the man coming tonight would have been taken care of, then would have just simply disappeared. You wouldn’t have needed to know anything about this. I’m sorry that you do, because it might bother you when you leave here, but at the same time, I’m not. I’m glad I got to share a part of me with someone who…who understands that killing is sometimes necessary.”
Jackson hadn’t answered—what the fuck was there to say to that?—but it played on his mind now, even though he was trying to block it out. And if the
