“It sounded like he knew I was at least a little unusual as a kid. That I had a quick mind.”
“And an extremely precise mind, capable of perfect recall, without being overwhelmed. An ability to read those around you better than anyone else.”
“You mean like my clients at O. The way O is so interested in the things I can tell about them without needing to be told, just from watching them. Like I’m psychic.”
“Not psychic,” Brad said. “Intuitive.”
“You say that like it means something.”
“Maybe it does.”
“Will you just speak straight for once?”
Brad almost snickered. Asshole. “I wonder how you were so smart right from the beginning. I wonder how you were able to not only know your mother’s favorite and most tragic love song without her ever playing it for you, but also reproduce it on your xylophone.”
“Do you know the answer?”
“I have a guess.”
“And?”
“It’s restricted, Chloe.”
“Because it relates to Clive Spooner?”
Brad shrugged.
“Or because it relates to my father, whose information you said is also restricted?”
“Either. Or both.”
Chloe threw one of the pewter salt shakers. It soared from her breakfast table through Brad’s chest then landed on the carpet, unbroken.
“I’m not trying to be difficult.”
“Oh, go fuck yourself, Brad.”
“If only I could. It’s lonely in here.”
Chloe blinked. “Was that a joke?”
Brad gave her a holographic smile then said, “What else can you ask? Come on, Chloe. You’re smart enough to figure this out.”
“Then tell me about the call I got earlier, at Andrew’s. You said it was blocked, but can you see anything about it at all? Anywhere on Crossbrace?”
“That’s not how it works, Chloe.”
“Then analyze his voice. I know I’ve heard it before.” But then she realized how stupid that was; the call was off-record, so how would Brad know which voice to analyze and compare to others on the network? She sighed, not bothering to tell Brad never mind. “He said he’d been involved with Alexa since the twenty-teens. I already gave you the details. Can you match any of those patterns? The company Eros? Trevor’s Harem? Anthony Ross?”
“Information on Alexa Mathis is restricted.”
“Alexa is restricted?” She huffed. “Parker Barnes?”
“His records are private but not restricted in the same way as the others.”
A window!
“What’s his earliest venture with Alexa?”
“Information on Alexa is restricted.”
“Without her, then. Give me his rundown.”
Brad did. It took fifteen minutes, and Chloe scrutinized every word. There were obvious missing spots around the time of the fall, but she heard all about the doctor’s notorious past: dashing psychologist on the edge of scientific limits, experimenting with patients in his sex practice the way other doctors learned on cadavers. Patients were always willing, but rumors and accusations about Barnes had always abounded. Much of what followed involving Alexa was public, and Brad read through it all. Nothing was helpful.
“You didn’t mention Eros,” she said.
“Maybe it was an unofficial board position.”
“Possibly. There is also a spot on the board occupied by a blind spot — someone I can’t tell you about.”
“Alexa?”
“I can’t say.”
But this could be wrapped two ways. Blind spots weren’t truly invisible; their vacuums marked the past.
“Are there other associations with blind spots during that era? Not on the board, but elsewhere? More … casual deals, maybe?”
“It’s unclear.”
Chloe eyed Brad, increasingly able to read him. “There is … and you’re not telling me.”
“I can’t say.”
“Maybe the guy who called me. He said he was involved during that era.”
Brad said nothing. This felt like another dead end, but she could poke a bit later. And yet there was something, somewhere, about the past that mattered — maybe a lot.
A pattern was emerging. Brad had shown her O’s history through time, as it snaked tendrils of influence through the past. There was subtle political lobbying and the socially swaying works of Georgia Bernard, the Wellness Initiative, the penetration of sexuality into the mainstream.
O had engineered the present to create the future in order to capitalize on it; of that, Chloe had no doubt. But what itched at her was that the theme kept recurring, over and over again.
Parker and Alexa’s collective work— extending to before the turn of the millennium, evidently.
Alexa and her old friend and foe, today’s mystery caller. He was someone of influence, someone who’d once been big and was bigger today.
This Syndicate.
The Trillionaire Boys’ Club — a subset of Syndicate members.
She’d searched for both and come up with a fascinating history that did not seem to bear on her current questions at all.
Maybe Spooner had been in the Syndicate and maybe he hadn’t been.
Maybe Alexa had been and maybe she hadn’t.
There were blind spots in both the Boys’ Club and the Syndicate, and although Chloe’s caller had suggested a connection, she had yet to find one.
She’s always been searching, Chloe. Always been wanting to find something that would be her one-and-only.
Her caller’s words, crystal clear in her mind.
He’d said that in their discussion of the Syndicate. Following an exchange about Anthony Ross, whom he’d mentioned only in passing.
Always with the past. Always with history. Always with arms that reached back through time to pull yesteryear into today.
And Slava’s words, also flawlessly recalled:
She said they hadn’t spent sixty years on you just to lose everything because of some goddamn kid.
Sixty years.
Since the turn of the millennium.
Since around 2000, when Alexa might already have been working with Barnes to find her “one-and-only.”
Since before the Syndicate.
Since before Trevor’s Harem, whatever that was — her searches had come up empty.
“Some goddamn kid.”
Was this about Andrew somehow?
How could it be? Why would it be?
Andrew wasn’t much older than Chloe; she’d watched him long enough to know that his apparent age, unlike her O clients, wasn’t a lie. He hadn’t been around sixty years ago any more than Chloe or her mother had.
But of course, Slava’s recounting of Alexa’s words didn’t suggest Andrew had been around that long at all. They merely implied sixty years of work. They implied a long investment destroyed because Andrew had somehow gotten in the way.
How?
Why?
And why did Chloe get the sneaking suspicion that Alexa hadn’t been angry that Andrew had appeared as a problem … but that he’d become one instead?
“Brad,” Chloe said aloud.
But Brad was gone.
“Brad?”
He reappeared in a blink.
“I’m sorry, Chloe. There was an inquiry I needed to attend to.”
“An inquiry? From where?”
“I can’t say.”
But the inquiry could only have come from O if it hadn’t come from Chloe.
“What did your ‘inquiry’ want?”
“You misunderstand. I was the one making the inquiry, on your behalf.”
“On my …” She shook her head.
“Search restrictions on Alexa Mathis, subject to certain windows and limitations, have been temporarily lifted.”
Chloe’s mouth opened, her face confused. She couldn’t have heard that right. Why had Brad inquired about that? Who had he asked? And how the hell had he got
ten permissions he’d previously held carefully at bay?
But she couldn’t get distracted. There were a million questions she planned to ask about Alexa, but her newest inspiration was still under her skin like an itch.
She let it go. Dropped it like a hot potato, no matter how urgent that thread had so recently felt.
Shame on me. I’ve already disrespected Andrew enough by doubting him. Already ruined too many of our dates with my worries. I love him. I trust him. I won’t sneak around behind his back, siccing The Beam on him. Like Mom said: vulnerability goes hand-in-hand with love. Of course he’s been strange.
But I trust him.
And I love him.
“Fine,” Chloe said. “What can you tell me about Alexa? What are the ‘windows and limitations’ you mentioned?”
“Ask and see.”
There was only one place to start. Not with the endless past, but with now.
Now her questions formed a crossroads.
Now she’d hit her crux, unable to move for lack of insight.
Insight Alexa, who had sixty years of apparent history, seemed to know already.
“Then tell me what she’s doing right now.”
Brad nodded curtly.
Now she’d get her answers. Now she’d learn another swath of the truth.
“There is video,” Brad said, “tunneled through the new permissions.”
“Great.”
Brad looked back at her, his facial expression conflicted.
“And Chloe?”
“Yes, Brad?”
“I’m sorry.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Is there more to this, or just sweaty silence?” Olivia asked.
Alexa looked at Andrew, and for a second he thought she was going to leave him on his own to sink or swim. But then she exhaled, bobbed her head, and moved around to Andrew’s side, facing the others.
“This was my idea. Parker and I both thought there might be a way out of our current situation with Andrew and the … problems.”
“You and Parker came up with it all by yourselves, huh?” Houston grunted. “That’s convenient.”
Shit, Andrew thought. This wasn’t helping. He remembered what they’d said earlier, about how the others knew Alexa and Parker had been meeting in secret and resented it. They looked ready to resist on principle.
“No matter what you think or feel,” Alexa said, raising her voice, “there’s no denying that what might be termed ‘The Braverman Experiment’ has sprawled in some unexpected directions that are regrettably beyond our control.”
“Which is why we would have shot it down at the start,” Benson said, “if we’d been asked in advance.”
“Regardless,” Alexa continued, “we are where we are. Like it or not, this is our situation. Andrew feels attached to Chloe. He believes she is likewise attached to him, and that it’s more than the advanced modeling behavior we’ve seen from her in numerous verifiable trials.” She shook her head. “He thinks he is special. He insists that they love each other.”
“We do!” Andrew blurted.
“But we all know that love” — she said it like a theoretical concept rather than a human emotion — “makes people stupid. We don’t have to understand what’s happened here and we for damn sure don’t need to condone it, but we must accept it. Like it or not, Andrew’s gotten himself bitten by what he thinks is the love bug. And it’s made him a stubborn asshole. A righteous, self-important fucker who consistently forgets his place. And we all know how this whole thing has compromised Chloe. She’s less valuable with every day this continues. It’s all very delicate. Given that we’re here now no matter what we may once have wanted, do we force the situation? Or do we find an alternative exit, unpalatable though it may be?”
“What’s this really about, Alexa?” Charisma asked.
“We have one stupid asshole who insists on acting like a hero,” Alexa said. “And we have one elite escort who increasingly dodges her duties. Any way out is a step in the right direction.”
Olivia’s eyes locked with Andrew’s, then moved toward Alexa. With double meaning, she said, “Then maybe we need to remove a certain stupid asshole from the equation.”
“There might be another way to handle it,” Alexa said. “One that’s … simpler. A solution with fewer waves.”
Houston was shaking his head. He kept glancing at Parker. He adjusted his big hat before speaking, mainly to Olivia, who was clearly against whatever was coming. “Any plan that keeps him in the picture isn’t going to work.”
“Agreed,” Olivia said.
“He’s a wildcard. Even if he agrees to behave today, there’s no telling what he might decide tomorrow. What if he up and runs off with her? What if he tries convincing her to leave O?”
“Absolutely,” Olivia nodded.
“We all know he can’t stay in the picture forever. That was never part of the plan. He was supposed to get in, romance her a little. We’d see her reaction, then he’d step away. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I didn’t plan to marry off our best girl. This?” Houston gestured around. “Prolongs what’s already a problem.”
“Not necessarily,” said Parker.
“Yes, necessarily,” said Houston. “You’re not talking about solving the issue. You’re talking about sweeping it under the rug and hoping it doesn’t pop up again later.”
“Right,” said Benson. “If something needs to be done eventually, it should be done immediately.”
Heads bobbed. Only Parker, sitting with the others, and Alexa, now putting another step’s worth of distance between herself and Andrew, didn’t nod in agreement.
“I think we should put this to a vote.” Olivia fixed Alexa with a gaze. “If, that is, we’re still a democratic board, where each person’s opinion matters.”
Alexa didn’t reply. Every answer would make her look worse.
“Agreed,” said Charisma.
“So,” Olivia started. “Who votes that we—”
“Wait,” Andrew said.
Olivia stopped.
Alexa had distanced herself another two feet, and now twelve eyes regarded Andrew, waiting to hear the substance of his interruption.
“Can I say something?”
“Seems you can do anything you want, Andy.”
Andrew felt the room’s weight upon him as strongly as if its foundation were balanced on his back, pinned by the Six and their waiting gazes, his thoughts an urgent blur.
It had sounded, just minutes ago, as if they were about to vote him out. Maybe kill him with nanobots that might or might not already be inside him — or maybe drag him around the building and put a bullet in his brain.
What would it matter? The Six were some of the world’s most powerful people, and they could probably execute him in the middle of a crowded restaurant without repercussions.
They’d end him and then forget him. Probably tell Chloe he’d run off somewhere with another woman. God knew Andrew himself had made that easy enough to believe.
“Upsetting Chloe is a problem, right?”
“One of many,” Olivia said, her stare seeming to add … although YOU are a much bigger problem.
“If she’s upset, she can’t work. If she’s too bothered by something difficult, it will interfere with your … plans … right?”
Slow nods. Small, reluctant. Wary of whatever Andrew was about to say.
“I mean, if she somehow figured out that you’d hired me to … to …” He stalled, his heart hammering, sweat forming on his palms.
“If she found out?” Olivia turned to Parker. “Now he’s threatening to rat us out?”
“No, no,” Andrew stammered. “I’d never say anything. I get the feeling that would be disastrous for O.”
“You are threatening us.” This time, Olivia turned to Alexa. “Call me crazy, but I think I already know how I’m voting.”
“I’m not saying I’d tell!” Hanging on for dear life, feeling his vehicle careening out of c
ontrol. “I just … I want you to know that I understand how important this is! For all of us. But not just you. Me too. Especially me! I know I’ve caused you a lot of trouble—”
“A lot of trouble,” Houston agreed.
“—and I want you to get that I understand. That I’ll … that I want what’s best for everyone,” he amended, having originally planned to say … that I’ll do whatever you say.
Penitent, yes. But there was no need to get on his knees just yet.
“I think there’s some concern that you don’t fully understand what you were brought into this for,” Alexa said. “That, more than anything else, bothers us. We brought you in for a simple purpose, but you’ve run off and taken a different one upon yourself.”
“No. I understand. It just got … complicated.”
“Then tell us,” Alexa said. “Explain what you should have done, and how you’ll fix what you’ve broken.”
Andrew swallowed. He breathed deeply and forced himself to composure.
“All I ever wanted,” he began, “was to do my best.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Chloe watched the air fill with flowing symbols. “What am I seeing?”
“It’s a raw data stream from inside the O Corporation. The image processors are on O’s end. You’re seeing machine code.”
Chloe watched the code, holographic symbols falling like beautiful snow. “Do you understand it?”
“I do,” Brad said. “But programmers don’t even go this deep. O has a Beam connection and I’ve tunneled your canvas directly into it, so this is Beam to Beam without Crossbrace in between. Humans wrote the Crossbrace code, but AI has already rewritten and improved it for The Beam. Even Quark doesn’t understand it.”
“Why are you showing it to me? You said you had video of Alexa Mathis.”
“I have permissions and am making the connection. You are seeing video of Alexa Mathis.”
Chloe looked at the undecipherable code. “Thanks. This helps a lot.”
“I’m relying on interpreter AI to convert it back for you,” Brad said, sounding slightly annoyed. “The process isn’t simple.”
The Braverman Experiment Page 5