the hold lifts. I figure we’ll need the cash.”
“But how? Who sent the money?”
He shook his head. “Honestly? I don’t have a clue. Online it shows up as a wire transfer. My guess is that whoever’s pulling our strings hacked in and transferred the money from somewhere.”
“Can we find out where?”
“Possibly. With some poking around. Or if we get the authorities involved.” Warning bells went off in my head as I remembered what the Mystery Man had said. But I needn’t have worried. “Right now,” he continued, “I’m more concerned about keeping you alive.”
“Oh.” The reality of the situation smashed against me, making me light-headed. I stood up and moved toward the window. I shoved the sash up and stuck my head out, suddenly desperate for air. “A target. I’m a target.” I whispered the words, as if by not giving them voice, I could make this all go away.
“It looks that way.”
He stepped up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder. I whipped around, aiming the gun at his chest. “Wait just a fucking minute,” I said.
He backed away, hands in the air, his face placid. All of which confirmed to me that this was not a stupid man.
“Calm down, Melanie.”
“Calm down? I really don’t think the situation calls for calm. I’m thinking it calls for abject hysteria. Too bad for me I’m not the hysterical type.”
“More the sarcastic type,” he said, and the tiny smile that lit his eyes made me feel a little better.
“Or the careful type.” I kept the gun on him, but I nodded toward the computer screen. “For all I know, you set this up. Carried some cash you could whip out for my benefit. Sent yourself this message from a different player profile. You haven’t said one thing that makes me want to trust you.” Although I did want to trust him. At the moment, though, I’d willingly trust Attila the Hun if I thought he could give me a moment’s peace.
Todd’s murder was still hanging over me. I wanted to curl up and cry. I wanted to grieve. Mostly, though, I didn’t want to be next. But at the same time, I would have given everything I owned for the chance to hide under the covers and let someone else cope for a while.
“Fair enough,” he said. “But how would I have gotten your profile?”
“What profile?”
“You didn’t read the whole message.”
I looked back and, sure enough, the message included a link to a player profile. I swallowed, fighting off a wave of bile. I didn’t want to click on that link. I really, really didn’t want to….
“Go on,” he said. “We might as well be sure.”
I drew in a breath and nodded, then moved his finger around the touchpad and clicked. A profile came up. All my various stats and interests. All the silly little life stuff that made PSW such a cool game—Grimaldi had used nascent artificial intelligence technology in such a way that the game was different depending on who the players were that filled each role. Each of the clues, tests and game levels were constructed from the information set forth in the player profiles.
“Is it your profile?”
I nodded, the queasiness being replaced by anger. “Yeah.” A lot of folks make up personal stats when filling out various online profiles. For PSW, I hadn’t, and if the media coverage was accurate, neither did most of the game’s players. PSW’s appeal was that it incorporated a person’s real-life interests into the clues. What incentive would I have had to lie? None. I’d told the truth, and look what happened. There’s a lesson there somewhere, I think.
“This doesn’t make sense. My profile should have been deleted years ago.”
“Mine should have, too,” he said. “But it wasn’t. And there’s nothing we can do about it now. We’re playing the game, Melanie. Whether we want to or not.”
Chapter
16
I couldn’t sit still. I paced the room, the gun still in one hand, as I tried to process everything that was going on. My head pounded with the
“But how? Who sent the money?”
He shook his head. “Honestly? I don’t have a clue. Online it shows up as a wire transfer. My guess is that whoever’s pulling our strings hacked in and transferred the money from somewhere.”
“Can we find out where?”
“Possibly. With some poking around. Or if we get the authorities involved.” Warning bells went off in my head as I remembered what the Mystery Man had said. But I needn’t have worried. “Right now,” he continued, “I’m more concerned about keeping you alive.”
“Oh.” The reality of the situation smashed against me, making me light-headed. I stood up and moved toward the window. I shoved the sash up and stuck my head out, suddenly desperate for air. “A target. I’m a target.” I whispered the words, as if by not giving them voice, I could make this all go away.
“It looks that way.”
He stepped up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder. I whipped around, aiming the gun at his chest. “Wait just a fucking minute,” I said.
He backed away, hands in the air, his face placid. All of which confirmed to me that this was not a stupid man.
“Calm down, Melanie.”
“Calm down? I really don’t think the situation calls for calm. I’m thinking it calls for abject hysteria. Too bad for me I’m not the hysterical type.”
“More the sarcastic type,” he said, and the tiny smile that lit his eyes made me feel a little better.
“Or the careful type.” I kept the gun on him, but I nodded toward the computer screen. “For all I know, you set this up. Carried some cash you could whip out for my benefit. Sent yourself this message from a different player profile. You haven’t said one thing that makes me want to trust you.” Although I did want to trust him. At the moment, though, I’d willingly trust Attila the Hun if I thought he could give me a moment’s peace.
Todd’s murder was still hanging over me. I wanted to curl up and cry. I wanted to grieve. Mostly, though, I didn’t want to be next. But at the same time, I would have given everything I owned for the chance to hide under the covers and let someone else cope for a while.
“Fair enough,” he said. “But how would I have gotten your profile?”
“What profile?”
“You didn’t read the whole message.”
I looked back and, sure enough, the message included a link to a player profile. I swallowed, fighting off a wave of bile. I didn’t want to click on that link. I really, really didn’t want to….
“Go on,” he said. “We might as well be sure.”
I drew in a breath and nodded, then moved his finger around the touchpad and clicked. A profile came up. All my various stats and interests. All the silly little life stuff that made PSW such a cool game—Grimaldi had used nascent artificial intelligence technology in such a way that the game was different depending on who the players were that filled each role. Each of the clues, tests and game levels were constructed from the information set forth in the player profiles.
“Is it your profile?”
I nodded, the queasiness being replaced by anger. “Yeah.” A lot of folks make up personal stats when filling out various online profiles. For PSW, I hadn’t, and if the media coverage was accurate, neither did most of the game’s players. PSW’s appeal was that it incorporated a person’s real-life interests into the clues. What incentive would I have had to lie? None. I’d told the truth, and look what happened. There’s a lesson there somewhere, I think.
“This doesn’t make sense. My profile should have been deleted years ago.”
“Mine should have, too,” he said. “But it wasn’t. And there’s nothing we can do about it now. We’re playing the game, Melanie. Whether we want to or not.”
Chapter
16
I couldn’t sit still. I paced the room, the gun still in one hand, as I tried to process everything that was going on. My head pounded with the
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