Page 30 of Operation Iron Heart

“Not only do you screw better than a normal man,” she marvelled, making a move to climb off him, “you can do it more often and for longer, too.”

“I can do it as often and for as long as I like,” he stated, rather unromantically.

“And you can actually come like a real guy. Jesus, I hadn’t expected that! Your designers really did think of everything.” She smiled slightly uncertainly. “But you can’t get pregnant from it, can you?”

Jack suppressed the temptation to roll his eyes. “What do you think we’d make together? A hybrid robot?”

She laughed in confusion. “What’s a hybrid robot?”

“A mix of human and machine,” Jack explained casually.

“That doesn’t exist.” This answer at least made him think that Jill probably didn’t know about her brother-in-law’s hybrid business. “Or are you that sort of mix?”

“No,” retorted Jack with a touch of harshness in his voice. “I’m a robot. Through and through.”

“Although I still can’t believe it,” whispered Jill, kneeling next to him on the bed and stroking his chest and shoulders in fascination. “I’m going to tell Skyla that I want to keep you,” she murmured to him, visibly delighted. “No matter what you cost. I’d go crazy if I had to give you up now.”

MacIntyre must have noticed Marci’s lack of enthusiasm as Jack went off with Jill Ambush as if she were the main prize of the evening, not him.

“Don’t look so cross, Skyla,” said MacIntyre, which didn’t help her mood any. “I’ve just organised the best possible advertising of the evening. Provided your robot can do what your company says it can.”

His penetrating stare scanned her red evening dress, lingering a moment too long on her breasts. If he thought they were too voluptuous, he didn’t let it show.

“You’re pretty hot yourself,” he murmured with an inappropriate tone of familiarity. “If I were your husband, I wouldn’t swap you for any robot in the world.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” she asked pertly. “From what I see, you’re well looked after. And robots don’t answer back.”

“That’s exactly what makes a woman like you so attractive,” he replied, his meaning unmistakable. “Unlike these metal boxes, you know your own mind.”

Before she could think of a suitable response, he put an arm around her waist and let her to the dance floor, where dozens of other couples were swaying cheek to cheek over the parquet floor to the sound of an old-fashioned slow dance. Fortunately, her grandmother had taught her some of the old dances when she was a child, but until today, she’d never needed to know them. Will hadn’t known how to dance, and hadn’t wanted to either, and they’d never had enough money left over to find one of these sparkling palaces where you either paid an exorbitant entry fee or used your connections to get in and pretend that life was OK for a few hours.

She stood surrounded by the other guests as they whirled around her like beautifully attired film extras, and her dance partner tried to find out more about her history and commercial background. Fortunately, the chip in her brain made her well-equipped to answer his questions and she was able to supply MacIntyre with all the technical details about her fake robot lover.

“On the whole, your business model sounds great,” he murmured. “And now that CRU has had to shut down because Dr Tanaka has apparently lost the source code for the emotional programming of his recycled junk robots, you and MfM are stepping into the gap at just the right point.” Without further ado, he stopped in the middle of a turn and pulled her over to the bar, where he handed her a flute of champagne.

“Perhaps we should go to my suite and see whether Jill is having a good time with your robot? We might both learn something. I’ve heard from Rickman that things are going swimmingly.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Marci in irritation, although she guessed what he was referring to. “Are you having them watched?”

“Of course,” replied MacIntyre, sounding slightly insulted. “Do you think I would send the President’s sister-in-law off alone and unsupervised with your dark-haired flagship stud? What if his programming suddenly malfunctioned and he put us all in a difficult situation?” He widened his eyes dramatically. “After all, Jill Ambush is a well-known personality. If we want to work together in future, we can’t afford the slightest mistake when it comes to marketing.”

“I told you, I’ve tested him extensively.” Marci felt it was now time to respond more directly to this provocation. “Do you think I’m making this up?”

“Of course not,” he replied in a softer tone, giving her an oily smile and putting a patronising arm around her waist. “But discretion is the better part of valour, if you get my meaning.”

As MacIntyre showed her up to his penthouse on the top floor of the hotel, Marci couldn’t help thinking about what had happened to Rochelle. The feeling intensified as they went through a security point manned by fierce-looking security robots. Inside the apartment, however, there was no trace of the cold, military atmosphere; pale, deep-pile carpets absorbed the sound of their footsteps and light from real crystal chandeliers cast endless reflections off expensive vintage mirrors, installing a sense of awe as soon as she walked in that she found hard to suppress. Whenever she was with people like MacIntyre and his ex-wife, Marci always felt pathetic and insignificant, and the chip in her head hadn’t done anything to change that. She followed him hesitantly into a huge lounge that contained a pool with underwater lights and several vast holographic screens that presumably kept her host informed about his global business successes.

A young, Asian robot woman wearing a short, white minidress served them another glass of champagne and MacIntyre gave the voice commands to connect one of the screens to a specific suite located a few floors beneath them.

Marci almost forgot to breathe when she saw the lavishly decorated bedroom with the vast canopy bed and the people on it; the incredibly realistic, holographic 3D effect made it feel as if she were in the room with them. An open fire burned in a real chimney in the corner, lending the whole scene a historic feel. Right next to the fire stood Jack, tall and broad-shouldered in his black shirt, trousers round his ankles, giving Jill Ambush – stark naked and trussed up like a chicken – a thorough seeing-to with his unmistakeably impressive member as if he were aiming to win Stud of the Month. The picture quality was truly fantastic, but Marci was most shocked by the fact that Jill was clearly enjoying this highly questionable treatment, especially when Jack spanked her backside with the flat of his hand as he was having sex with her. Jack’s square-jawed face was utterly impassive and his green eyes glowed with a sardonic chill that reminded Marci of polished jade. She would have liked to bet that he took pleasure in whaling on the President’s sister-in-law. He even intensified his efforts when Jill signalled clearly that she wanted it faster and harder, bringing her to a visibly invigorating orgasm. That was far from the last of it, however, and Marci wanted to look away as they moved to the bath and the recording continued, but MacIntyre seemed determined that she should witness the whole session.

Marci stared, hypnotised, as Jill Ambush eventually collapsed in blissful exhaustion, and then had to listen in horror as the journalist, still catching her breath, announced to Jack that she wanted to keep him whatever the cost.

Marci wished she could step in between them and give Jack a resounding slap in the face, even though she knew that would be a ridiculous thing to do. Not only because the image was just a holographic recording that she’d been forced to watch, but also because such an inappropriate reaction would definitely rouse MacIntyre’s suspicions.

Despite that, what she had seen gnawed at her insides like acid, but MacIntyre knew no mercy and switched over to the live feed – as he announced with a grin – that showed Jill and “Robby” moving to the hot tub to relax after four thoroughly successful bouts of sex.

Before Marci could think about what was expected of her now, the screen showed the door to the suite sliding open and four heavily armed robot soldiers storming the luxury apartment.