Chapter 3

The elevator doorsopened on a lower floor and Reynard entered. "Ah, Adam, there you are. I did wonder where you'd gotten to. The technicians took a look at?—"

"Erm, so." I planted my hands on my hips, and tried to casually lean against the side of the elevator. I could project totally normal, not in any way suspicious vibes. I'd been doing it for over six months now. "I think it's best if I maybe take an Uber back to the hotel? It's been great an' all. Super great. But it's getting late." I looked at my wrist, without its watch. "And I'm real tired?—"

"It's two in the afternoon."

"Oh is it?" I frowned at the nonexistent watch. "So it is. Well, I had a late night crocheting."

"You crochet?"

"Did I say crocheting?" A laugh squeaked out. "Crocheting? Who does that? All those weird knots. Not me."

"Adam." Reynard used his no-nonsense voice, that brought my runaway thoughts screeching to a halt and had parts of me wanting to drop to my knees.

"Yes?" Oh my stars, why was my voice so high?

He tilted his head and stared without blinking. "Is everything alright?"

"Fine. It's fine." I returned my hands to my hips, cleared the high-pitched knot in my throat, and donned a manly timbre. "What did the technician say about Tom?" I growled.

Reynard's perfect eyebrows pinched, but whatever concerns he had, he opted to keep them to himself. "There's nothing wrong with our Tom Collins unit. It's performing exactly as it should."

That's what I'd been afraid of. "Can we get our broken Tom back?"

"I asked that very question. Apparently, only if there's an offsite backup of his functions."

He may as well have been speaking a foreign language. "I just plugged him in, Victor. I don't know about any backup." Sometimes, this world and my place in it felt so alien.

"Hm. There's more. The technician was surprised the unit worked at all, considering the hotel's wards. As everyone is aware, wards and technology do not mix."

There was something in that. Something important. The fact Tom had worked, added to the mystery of Tom Collins. What if he wasn't AI, but something else, something the wards allowed? "Can you get him back?" I asked, really needing Tom Collins back in the bar, not just for the hotel guests, but for me. And Zee. We all needed his straight-talking, no-nonsense, alcohol-infused advice.

"I will try, Adam," Reynard said solemnly.

What if Tom had been deleted? What if our Tom was gone for good? No, I couldn't think it. "So, I don't know much about the internet, but Tom did have a new bow tie, which he must have gotten from somewhere?"

"Correct. His behavior was being modified."

"So, if he was downloading bow ties off the internet, something else could have gotten in and taken him? Our wards protect our guests from harm, but Tom told me he had maybe circumvented the wards."

"It's possible. Likely, even, as Tom's connection was unauthorized, therefore unprotected. I'll look into that also."

The elevator doors swished open, depositing us into the building's glistening lobby with its fountain and smartly-dressed city people. No alarms sounded here, so perhaps my little edit on Reynard Technologies' fancy monitoring system wouldn't be noticed.

"Adam, are you sure you're alright?" Reynard asked, as he escorted me toward the main doors.

"Oh yes, I am fine. Everything is fine. I'll see you later at the hotel?"

"Indeed."

After leaving him chatting with the doorman, I hurried down the steps, dropped into the warded safety of the black sedan and sighed. Leaving the hotel had been a terrible idea. Nothing good ever came from it. Apart from that time we'd saved pets from pies, and Zee from Sebastien. But besides all that, I needed to stay within the hotel wards and get on with being average and forgettable before any more disasters happened.