“Something pulled us in here is what happened,” Bryson answered. “Which means we probably didn’t get into the club quite as stealthily as we thought.”

“Hello?” Sarah called out. “Who brought us here?”

A door in the back swung open, spilling a fan of light across the floor. A woman walked in, and the only word Michael could think of to describe her was whoa. Not beautiful, not sexy, not old or young or anything else. He found it impossible to guess her age or even say if she was ugly or pretty. But her elegant black dress, her gray hair, her wise face, everything about her screamed authority.

Michael prayed that Bryson wouldn’t say something stupid.

“Have a seat,” the woman said as she walked toward them. “I have to say I’m impressed with your little trick outside, though the two idiots who fell for it have already been fired.” She sat down in a plush leather chair and crossed her legs. “I told you to take a seat.”

Michael realized that all three of them had been staring at her with their mouths slightly open. Embarrassed, he quickly made his way to the couch on her right and sat down just as Bryson and Sarah took the one on the left.

“I assume you know who I am,” she said. Michael couldn’t tell if the lady was angry or upset. He’d never heard such indifference in a voice before.

“Ronika,” Sarah replied in a reverent whisper.

“Yes, my name is Ronika.” She turned her cold gaze on each of them in turn, and Michael was mesmerized. “You’re sitting in this room for only one reason: I’m curious. Your age and background give me no clue as to why you might be here. Judging by the time you spent stumbling around upstairs, it wasn’t to dance.”

“How did you …” Michael stopped himself before asking the dumbest question of his life. Of course this lady knew how to find their information. Her hacking skills were probably ten times his own. You didn’t become a club owner—much less the owner of the Black and Blue—without talent and loads of money.

She merely raised her eyebrows at him, which was answer enough. She continued.

“I want to make this clear: the Black and Blue didn’t get its reputation in the VirtNet by chance. People who’ve tried what you did today have ended up in places ranging from hospitals to mental wards. Answer my questions. Be up-front and you’ll be fine. But be warned—I despise sarcasm.”

Michael exchanged a look with Sarah. She’d been the one to get them inside; he knew that now it was his turn. It seemed like Bryson always got off easy.

“Why are you here?” Ronika asked.

Michael cleared his throat and swore to himself that he wouldn’t let the lady see how badly she intimidated him. “We were told to come here because we’re looking for information.”

“Who sent you?”

“An old barber over in Shady Towne.”

“Cutter.”

“Yeah, he’s the one.” Michael almost made a joke about his bad breath but stopped himself.

Ronika paused for a second. “I think I already know the answer to this question, but what are you looking for?”

“We’re looking for Kaine. The gamer.” He assumed that would be enough, but he continued. “Cutter said something about ‘the Path.’ ”

Bryson suddenly stood up, his hands flying to his temples, his eyes squeezed tight. “Oh, crap. Oh, crap.”

Michael’s heart sank. This couldn’t be good.

“What?” Sarah asked.

Bryson dropped his arms and opened his eyes. He looked over at Ronika. “My Tracer just lit up. Kaine knows we’re here. He’s close.”

Ronika seemed completely unfazed.

“Well, of course he is,” she said.

CHAPTER 7

BLACK AND BLUE

1

They all looked at the woman, waiting for her explanation. Michael wanted to get up and run, but he knew they might never get another chance to learn anything if he did.

“He’s been here before,” she said. “I assure you my firewalls are solid. That man wouldn’t dare cross me, considering I saved … one of his most cherished … Tangents from Decay.”

Her odd pauses almost made Michael forget they were in danger. He knew that all Tangents eventually went through Decay—an artificial-intelligence program that complex and that lifelike, with such realistic intelligence, couldn’t last forever before its very existence began to contradict its instincts. The research showed that it always started with essential elements in the Tangent’s life disappearing for no reason—its artificial memory lost its ability to “fill in the blanks.” Then weird things started happening to its “physical” body. The manifestations supposedly varied from Tangent to Tangent. But once the signs got too bad, became obvious to players, the programmers would shut them down. Kill them.

Ronika’s voice pulled him back to the present.

“… wouldn’t be around this long if I hadn’t cleaned out its coding and basically rebirthed Kaine’s prized Tangent. That’s not easy to do without erasing its memory, not to mention that the whole thing is illegal. Kaine owes me. He supposedly spent years developing that specific program. I didn’t know then what I do now about him, but I will say, I probably still would have done it. It’s always good to have friends—and enemies—in your debt.”

“He doesn’t seem the type to care if he betrays an old friend,” Michael pointed out. “Also, he’s been trapping people inside the Sleep. He’s ruthless, and I don’t think we should stick around to see what he does.”

Ronika eyed Michael carefully. “Then you are most welcome to leave.”

“She won’t help us anyway if they’re friends,” Bryson said.

“Friends?” Ronika repeated, saying the word as if the concept was foreign. “He paid me a ridiculous amount of money. I’m no friend of any gamer. Only an associate. All I’m saying is that what I did for him involved a rare talent of mine, and he wouldn’t dare risk jeopardizing its availability in case he needs it in the future.”

Michael didn’t feel much safer, but they had to start prying. Sarah seemed to have the same idea.

“Look,” she said. “We don’t have that kind of money. Is there a way we can earn information from you?”