Fantasy in Death (In Death #30)(108)

“I wanted to run it for him, to brainstorm with him, but he must’ve taken the disc to try it for himself.” Var lowered his head into his hands again. “I don’t know why he did that. Why he took a chance like that.”

“You’re stating that you told Bart about your work, about the program, and the risks?”

“Absolutely.”

“Just Bart?”

“That’s right. I didn’t realize he’d taken the experimental disc until—”

“Then why is Cill in the hospital?” Peabody persisted. “How did she get her hands on a second program disc if you only took one in to Bart?”

“After Bart I told her about it.” He widened his eyes, all sorrowful innocence. “I had to tell someone.”

“And she just got some wild hair and repeated Bart’s mistake?”

He sat back, set his jaw. “She must have. She didn’t say a thing about it. You can ask Benny.”

“We’ll be asking her. She’s out of the coma,” Eve lied and turned back. “The doctors said she’s going to make a full recovery, and she’ll be able to talk to us tomorrow.” She glanced at her watch. “Make that later today.”

“Thank God. Thank God for that. But you have to understand, she’s really pissed. She’s really wrecked and totally pissed at me about Bart. She blames me.”

“Imagine that. And imagine, Var, who we’re going to believe when she tells us you gave her that disc, told her to work on it.”

“I never did any such thing. You’ll never be able to prove that. My word against Cill’s, and she’s right out of brain surgery. Maybe I should get a lawyer. I bet a lawyer would tell you the same thing.”

“You want a lawyer? Fine. We’ll end the interview now while you make those arrangements. And while you are, the e-team will be dissecting your precious program, your logs and records, your unregistered, and destroying same.”

“Wait! Wait!” His restraints rattled again as he came halfway out of his chair. “You can’t do that. That’s my work. My property. You’ve got no right to do that.”

“Tell it to your lawyer.”

“Let’s just hold off. Let’s just wait.”

“Are you saying you don’t want legal representation at this time?”

“Yes. Let’s just talk this through.” He folded his hands again, but this time, Eve noted, his knuckles had whitened. “That work is valuable and complex. Your e-people aren’t going to get it. It’s years in the making. It’s mine.”

“Yours? Not U-Play’s? You have a contract, Var. Share and share alike. Any of you develops something, it goes in the kitty.”

“That doesn’t seem altogether fair,” Peabody added. “Not when you did this on your own. Something this brilliant.”

“I would’ve shared it, but Bart... Look, I discussed all this with Bart and he didn’t want any part of it. So it’s mine. Exclusively.”

“You told Bart about the work, the concept for the program?”

“He’s the marketing genius. We could’ve revolutionized the market.”

“But he was shortsighted.”

“Games are games, that was Bart’s line. He couldn’t see expanding

beyond that, couldn’t see the possibilities. He was all about the risks. So it’s mine. I did all the work, put in all the time—my own time.”

“And melded it with the concept and technology in Fantastical,” Eve finished. “Not yours exclusively.” She pointed a finger. “You cheated.”

“I did not!” Color rose, hot and bright, on his cheeks. “Look, he had a choice, and he made it. It’s all about choices, isn’t it? Every gamer decides what action to take, then plays it out.”

“And Bart was a better gamer than you.”

“Bullshit.”

“He had a better focus, and looked at long-range strategy. You’re the detail man, and you tend to miss the big picture.”

“He’s the one who’s dead,” Var snapped back.

“Yeah, got me there. You set him up, and you took him out.”

“Facts.” Var punched a finger on the table. “Bart took the disc. Bart plugged it. Bart played the game. I wasn’t there. Nobody forced him to play. He had a bad game, a terrible accident, but I’m not responsible. I created the program, worked the tech, but that’s like saying the guy who built that weapon you’re carrying is responsible when you zap somebody.”

“He’s got a point.” Peabody nodded. “You’re just the brains behind it.”

“That’s right.”

“I guess you’re the smartest one of the four, too. None of them came up with anything close to what you did.”

“They never think outside their box.” He drew four connecting lines in the air. “Four square.”

“Frustrating for you, to be able to see so much more than they could.” Peabody sighed a little in sympathy. “Why didn’t you ever cut loose, just go out on your own? You didn’t need them.”

He shrugged.

“Or maybe you did,” Peabody continued. “I mean, a smart man knows he needs to use other people, pick their brains, let them handle some of the work so he can focus on what’s most important. You’ve known them a long time, worked with them, so you know their strengths and weaknesses, and how to use them for, you know, that big picture.”