GARGOYLES: Re-Awakening

Premonitions: 1

Elisa strode into the Cyberbiotics lobby with Bluestone in tow. They flashed their badges and a man dressed in a black suit stepped forward to greet them.

"Detectives, welcome to Cyberbiotics. If you would please accompany me," he said, holding an arm out in the direction of the elevator bank.

The three of them rode up to the 32nd floor in silence. The doors opened with a ding and they headed left down a long corridor. At the end was a glass door with an inordinate amount of light emanating from within. When they reached it, the man in the black suit opened it and then stood off to the side so they could enter. Once they had, the door closed quietly behind them.

Elisa and Matt found themselves standing in a large conference room with a long table in the center. The walls were floor to ceiling windows, presenting a spectacular view of the downtown Manhattan skyline and accounting for the light that was flooding through the glass door they'd entered by. Around the table were a half dozen men. Two sat with nothing in front of them, while the others had open briefcases, piles of papers, and legal pads spread in front of them. The legal team, Elisa thought, unsurprised.

The two men who were not the lawyers rose. "Good morning detectives. I'm Halcyon Renard, and this is my assistant, Mr. Vogel. We hope that we can be of service. Please, have a seat." Renard gestured with his hands towards two empty seats across from him. Elisa and Matt sat down.

"Thank you for seeing us," Elisa said. "As we told your staff, we're investigating the robbery of your armored car yesterday. We'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Of course. Please," Renard said.

Elisa glanced around the table. Four lawyers, all focused intently on her. Other detectives would have taken that as a sign to tread lightly, to warm them up before getting too far into questions that might prove sensitive. Matt, for example, would have been one of those detectives. Elisa though, almost always took the opposite tack. She'd come up largely on the streets and learned early that a show of strength, of boldness, especially from a young woman, often surprised, and the element of surprise often produced results.

"What was in the truck, Mr. Renard?" she asked.

She could feel Bluestone looking at her, but she kept her eyes on Renard, who showed no reaction. His lawyers, on the other hand, seemed to all flinch simultaneously in their chairs. One leaned forward, giving a quick sideways glance toward their boss. "Uh...I'm obligated at this juncture, Detective Maza, to inform you that Cyberbiotics is under no obligation to reveal any sensitive trade secrets. We have, however, put together a folder of pertinent details as well as a list of possible relevant business transactions, partners, and associates who may in some way be connected to this incident. Perhaps you could view the file and formulate any questions based on your assessment of what we have provided." He slid the manila envelope across the table toward Elisa, who did not take her eyes of Renard.

Halcyon Renard was the biggest name in business and research in New York City, next to David Xanatos. He was older than Xanatos—Renard was in his seventies—and therefore of a very different stripe. While all powerful men can inspire a certain fear and even suspicion, especially when they keep themselves largely out of the spotlight, Renard enjoyed a certain level of esteem with the public. Unlike Xanatos, who sometimes stirred controversy with his penchant for bombast, Renard seemed more like the city's stern grandfather. He was old school and still observed many of the social graces that were the hallmark of his generation. Some would call it class. Like grandchildren the public respected him, stood in awe of him, trusted him, but would never have wanted to find out what it was like to be on his bad side. Elisa, with her experience, read him as a man to whom power, status, and achievement were important but only when properly placed within a certain moral code. Renard felt the weight of responsibility, she believed. She was counting on it.

"We both know, Mr. Renard," she said, "that this crime was no ordinary robbery. As I am sure you're aware, the city is already running with a terrorism narrative. I'm willing to bet that you know, based on what was in that truck, that that's a load of crap. So why don't we skip the obligatory song and dance here. If you had wanted to stone wall, my partner and I would still be sitting behind our desks arguing with your staff on the phone."

His lawyers glanced at each other, rather concerned. "Perhaps I didn't make myself clear," the lawyer who'd passed the envelope began, "but..." He was cut short by Renard raising a hand. The old man still hadn't flinched, nor had he taken his eyes of Elisa.

"Well put, Detective Maza," Renard said. "In the truck was a very advanced microchip."

"Sir, I would advise against..." again, the lawyer was cut off by a raise of the hand.

"A microchip?" Elisa said, puzzled. "That's not what we were expecting. What's its significance. What would someone want it for?"

"Well Detective, there's the rub. This chip could be used for almost anything. It is a prototype A.I." Renard made the statement cooly, undramatically, and yet the word fell on the table like a lead weight.

"As in, artificial intelligence?" Matt interjected.

"Indeed," Renard responded.

There was a pause in which everyone seemed to be taking stock of the room—everyone except Renard. The lawyers were glancing at each other and at their stacks of papers, clearly unnerved and uncertain where to direct their gazes. Matt was looking at Elisa, wondering what exactly she would do next. Elisa leaned back in her chair, maintaining the eye lock that she and Renard had been engaged in for the better part of five minutes. Finally, she spoke again.

"It could be used for anything," Elisa leaned forward. "If someone were willing to go to the lengths that they've gone to, what would you expect them to use it for?" she asked.

Renard smiled. He liked Elisa. She had a spunk that he admired. "Most people fear that A.I. will be used for weaponry. Those who would blow open an armored vehicle, kill its guards, and steal this technology...well Detective, what would you expect such people to use it for?"

The room settled once again into silence. Everyone looked at one another.