"It could be done-using the same AI engine that controls characters in a computer game. We were the objective. We're just infrared heat sources."

Sebeck shook his head. "Bullshit."

"Any word on Detective Mantz? He was hanging on to the trailer last time I saw him."

"Broken leg and a couple of broken ribs. Someone is going to pay for this."

"Sobol is dead, Pete."

"I don't care. Someone is going to pay."

"I know you're upset." Ross gestured to encompass the scene. "Where are we going?"

"To find Agent Decker. He needs to hear your theory about how Sobol's doing this. Maybe they can use the information to contain this thing."

"Sergeant, the Daemon probably spread to the four corners of the world in minutes. It's too late for containment. What you have to do is understand what it's trying to accomplish and prevent it from accomplishing it."

"It's trying to kill people-wake up."

Ross spoke calmly. "Pete, think about it: If all it wanted to do was kill people, why did it phone you to find out if you were present? Why didn't it kill you in the courtyard when it had the chance? We all saw that Hummer stop and turn away from you. The Daemon has plans for you, and I'm sure it has plans for others as well."

Sebeck fumed for a bit, but then what Ross said began to sink in. "We've got to find Decker." Sebeck pointed at the county sheriff's mobile command trailer a couple hundred yards away. "That's probably where he'll be." He started walking toward it.

Ross grabbed Sebeck's sleeve.

"What?"

"Why are police massing around the estate?"

Sebeck gave Ross a quizzical look. "What do you suggest they do?"

"The house is not important, Pete. It won't contain any useful information."

"The hell it won't."

"Let's not replay this map. We're wasting time."

Sebeck raised his eyebrows. "So you think this is that much of a game to Sobol?"

"I think life was a game to Sobol."

Sebeck sighed, truly lost. "Why would Sobol issue a press release forbidding the Feds from entering the property if there wasn't anything important inside?"

"Will the Feds defy the demand?"

"I would. Who the fuck does this guy think he is?"

Ross pointed. "That's why Sobol did it."

"You think he's just pushing the FBI's buttons?"

"More than that. He publicly drew a line in the sand against authority. They'll have little choice but to cross it, and people will die. He's manipulating them-to keep public attention focused on this location."

"But why? If Sobol killed the two programmers to protect the secrets of the Daemon's design, then what's the purpose behind the Hummer? Isn't it also to protect the Daemon?"

"I don't think so."

"Then why in the hell would he go through so much trouble?"

Ross thought for a moment, then looked back up at Sebeck. "What do you think will be the number one news story in the world tonight?"

Sebeck didn't hesitate. "This."

"Right. And that'swhat we have to worry about: what is the Daemon about to do that requires the attention of the whole world?"

Sebeck glared at him again. "Oh, come on, Jon. My head hurts just from talking to you."

"This didn't happen by accident. Manipulation was Sobol's specialty. These physical killings were to attract publicity. He's issuing press releases."

"Look, I know you feel you're a Sobol expert, but what I need is a technology expert."

"You'll need both."

"You're biased, Jon."

"Biased? How am I biased?"

"You're too big a fan of this guy. Listen to yourself; you make Sobol out to be twenty feet tall."

"Pete-»

"Sobol had brain cancer. You should see how thick his medical file is. Did it ever occur to you that he was just fucking crazy?"

"Does that make him less or more dangerous? I'm telling you, it doesn't end here at his house. I'm sure of it."

"Do you suggest we just let the Hummer prowl the neighborhood?"

"No, I'm saying the main investigation should branch off and try to discover Sobol's master plan. We're wasting time here. The master plan is everything."

Sebeck pointed toward the sheriff's mobile command center. "C'mon. Tell your theory to the Feds."

In the mobile command trailer, Agent Decker sat motionless while a paramedic prepared a bandage for his recently stitched head wound. Decker was docile-perhaps sedated. Next to him stood another agent-taller, leaner, younger, and with an air of self-confidence. This was Steven Trear, the special agent in charge of the Los Angeles Division of the FBI, and he was carefully considering the expectant face of Peter Sebeck.

"Are you sure it was Sobol?"

Sebeck nodded. "I think it was the same voice from the computer video this morning, and in any event it phoned me just before the attack."

Ross piped in. "And no other radio or cell phone traffic worked on the estate."

Trear considered this, calculating the impact of this information on the case. He looked more serious the more he thought about it. He shot a glance at Decker. "We cut off electrical power to the house, right?"

Decker nodded slowly. "Yes, but the acoustic team says there's a motor running in an outbuilding. Probably a generator."

"Damn. We've got to take that house as soon as possible."

Ross stepped past Sebeck and right up to Trear. "You're not thinking of defying the Daemon's demands, are you?"

"Defying?"He pointed at Ross but looked at Decker. "Who does he belong to?"

Decker was gingerly touching his bandaged head. "That's Jon Ross. The consultant we brought in for questioning from Alcyone Insurance."

Sebeck added, "He discovered the Daemon."

"No, I didn't." Ross turned to Trear. "Look, just don't storm the estate."

"Sobol's not in charge, Mr. Ross. He can make all the demands he wants. It won't affect my plans in the least."

"Agent Trear, I think this is another trap."

Trear rolled his eyes. "No kidding. The whole house is a trap." He looked to Sebeck. "Detective, please escort Mr. Ross out."

Ross persisted. "I just don't think the house contains critical information. It wouldn't make sense-from a technological standpoint-for Sobol to store his plans there."

"No one's accusing Sobol of making sense, Mr. Ross."

"I think this event was designed to announce the Daemon's arrival to the world, and to set the stage for something to come. It's finished here."

Trear digested that for a moment. "And what makes you think this?"

"Because that's the way Sobol thinks."

"How would you know that? You're not a psychologist."

"I've played Sobol's games. A lot. His AI succeeds because it doesn't anticipate you-it manipulatesyou."

Trear didn't dismiss it immediately.

Nearby, Agent Straub glanced at his watch. "The press briefing was scheduled to start four minutes ago, sir."

Trear looked to Ross again. "Why should I take you seriously, Mr. Ross? You're a wandering computer consultant who doesn't even keep a permanent address-and you play video games. Does that qualify you to deconstruct the motivations of Matthew Sobol?"

Ross couldn't think of an immediate response. Put that way, it sounded bad even to him.

Trear continued. "I appreciate that you want to help. But what you see here is not our entire investigation. Sobol was under psychiatric care for nearly a year before his death. As we speak, I have criminal psychologists conferring with his doctors and reviewing thousands of pages of medical notes-all to build a profile of Sobol's changing motivations as his illness progressed. His goals. His fears. We've used this approach with great success in countless cases-and usually with far less raw data to work with. So I think we know a lot more about Sobol's motivations than you."