“Coming, miss.”
She got up, cursing at the backache that seemed to be here to stay. She went into her bathroom, fetched the tissue roll from her cupboard. Andy let her in the toilet room and closed the door behind her.
“I got it. Your neighbors.”
“What? Tell me!”
“Don’t talk so loudly. I didn’t see all of them; some weren’t at home. But I did notice they’re not all purely French.”
“You sound like our awful president when you say that.”
“Listen. Listen carefully. They’re like you. Bicultural.”
She took the paper out of her pocket and unfolded it.
“Arlen, from Montreal. Bell, from Australia. Engeler, not there. Fromet, supergluey, poured her heart out. She has an English mum. Holzmann, from Germany. Azoulay, Morocco. Olsen and Miki, not home.”
“Adelka Miki’s mother is Italian.”
“Aha. See? And your buddy Perrier?”
“Belgian mother. I believe he speaks Flemish.”
“Pomeroy, charming, from San Francisco. Rachewski, from Saint Petersburg. Van Druten, Amsterdam. Zajak, not home.”
“What’s your point, missy?”
It was beginning to get warm in the tiny space.
“You’re all bilingual. You all speak two languages fluently.”
Clarissa’s pulse quickened.
“Andy! Mia White!”
“Yes, what about her?”
“Franco-British, like me.”
Andy waved the paper around theatrically.
“The mind reels. What if C.A.S.A. was studying the lot of you because you have hybrid brains, as you like to call it? And what if dear bilingual Mia White was the project leader on all this?”
The cat was anxiously waiting for them. They returned to the screen, not speaking to each other. Clarissa found she could no longer concentrate on the movie. She kept thinking back to the numerous questions Mia White had asked her about bilingualism, trying to remember her own answers.
Andy was scribbling something on a bit of paper. She handed it over to her.
On the third floor, door on the left was ajar. Jim Perrier’s place. Wasn’t able to see inside. I rang; no one answered.
Clarissa continued to stare at the screen, transfixed. Andy mumbled, “We need to go check this out. Later. When everyone’s off in the land of nod.”
The entire building was still. Not a single noise to be heard. The night-lights were switched on, casting a pallid glimmer into the depths of the stairwell. Clarissa and Andy waited until two in the morning. They watched another movie, or pretended to, more or less dropping off in front of it; then they turned off all the lights, faked going to bed, lying down in the dark, fully clothed. Clarissa activated “intimate mode.” They quietly slipped out of the flat.
Jim Perrier’s door was ajar. It only needed to be pushed in order to open wide. Inside, a patch of darkness. Andy turned on her mobile’s flashlight. Clarissa pondered if this was a good idea. What would they ever do, or say, if they were found here? But Andy was already striding ahead, fearless. What an amazing little person. But then she thought of Jordan. Her daughter would be furious, no doubt.
“Come on!” murmured Andy. “There’s no one here.”
The space had been entirely stripped. Andy moved the flashlight over the walls and floors. Everything was empty, as if no one had ever lived here. Clarissa thought of Jim Perrier, in his underwear, the night the alarm went off. His pleasant cologne. Where was he now?
“Watch out for those cameras,” whispered Clarissa. “‘They’ will detect us soon enough.”
“In my opinion, nothing’s on,” said Andy. “The virtual assistant is off, as well. We have nothing to be afraid of. They’re not going to film a vacant apartment.”
They padded into the kitchen, then the bathroom.
“What if Jim was expelled by C.A.S.A.,” said Andy, “because he knew too much?”
“Or maybe because of his drinking problem?”
“Whatever it was, C.A.S.A. didn’t approve.”
“Maybe he’s the one who took off—”
“Shh!” commanded Andy, interrupting her. “There’s someone there, just outside.”
Clarissa was petrified. Her stomach churned uncomfortably. Who could it be, out there? Ben? Dr. Dewinter? She’d have to think up some sort of excuse to explain what they were doing here. Panic took over.
“Get into that wardrobe over there, Mums. Let me take charge. I know what to do.”
“But…”
“Do what I say. I can handle this. Trust me.”
Clarissa dashed into the hiding place, taking care to leave the door slightly open. From there, she could glimpse the entrance, where Andy had lain down on the floor, as if she were asleep. What on earth was she doing?
The noise Andy had picked up was now making its way to her own ears: an odd hissing sound. Andy was still flat out, motionless. Clarissa held her breath. The presence materialized, crossed the threshold. The form she beheld had nothing human about it; it was a large steel wheel, moving forward with metallic clicks. The circle halted when it came to Andy, and then, under Clarissa’s agitated and incredulous gaze, it lengthened out, modifying itself, changing its shape. She saw a long iron silhouette slowly unfold, taking its time, unfurling upward as it grazed the ceiling. Clarissa had never seen one in true life before, but she knew what it was. And Jim had mentioned it. A Bardi. One of the most elaborate and redoubtable guard robots ever, overpriced and efficient. At the end of each extremity, it bore a set of electrocuting pincers. Two round gleaming LED lights acted as its eyes. The Bardi had something of a Giacometti statue about it, with its long, lean, and elegant lines, and seemed harmless, but Clarissa had read enough about them to know what a Bardi was capable of. How could she get Andy out of this? She thought of Jordan. Ivan.
The Bardi had located Andy’s body on the floor. It came onward with that menacing skid that compressed Clarissa’s heart. The red beam flickered over Andy, who pretended to awaken.
“Get up.”
A mechanical, androgynous voice.
Andy rose, unperturbed. How was she able to remain so calm? Clarissa also knew the robots were equipped with facial recognition. The red spotlights lit up Andy’s face and then locked onto her eyes.
“The individual is a minor recognized by C.A.S.A. protocol. Adriana Garnier. Explain the reason of your
