Page 35 of Operation Iron Heart

Marci paused a moment too long; she was still receiving instructions from Cathrin’s base, telling her that she should agree to everything that MacIntyre requested if it would get her access to his production facilities.

“You can be absolutely certain,” added MacIntyre quickly, “that we will not abuse your trust if you move this important stage of production to our facilities. You can use your own engineers, of course, so we won’t come into contact with the source code.”

His artificial smile hid his true intentions, which Marci knew were the polar opposite of what he was allegedly conceding – she may not have been an expert at reading people but that much was clear. She didn’t want to think about it, though; as things would never get as far as production, it didn’t matter what evil plans MacIntyre was pursuing.

Marci decided to exploit his fake cooperation and put her hand on his arm. “Don’t worry,” she said gently. “I trust you completely, and besides, I’m pleased that you’re so keen. It really is an extraordinary stroke of luck – MacIntyre LLC is the only company that could cope with this order volume, so it’s great to have found such a capable business partner.”

“Excellent.” MacIntyre raised an eyebrow in surprise. He probably hadn’t been expecting her to agree so quickly. “How about we agree to be more informal with each other from now on?”

“That’s a wonderful idea.” Marci raised her glass and gave him a captivating smile.

Jack watched her closely and she could tell that he was concentrating fully on their conversation.

“Call me Monty.” MacIntyre gave her a silky-smooth smile and took a minuscule sip of his champagne. When he then sealed their agreement with a kiss, Marci could see out of the corner of her eye that Jack’s control was stretched to its limits. He wouldn’t allow MacIntyre to get any closer to her.

Before Monty could slip his tongue between her lips, she leaned back and took a deep breath. “I have one more request,” she said, looking directly into eyes burning with ambition.

“And that would be?” MacIntyre downed the rest of his champagne and frowned in irritation. “I’d like to see your production facilities before I formally agree to our business. After all, I have to ensure that the robots produced there will meet our clients’ requirements. Ideally, they should look like Rob, but we don’t want to create a single standard model. Some degree of individuality, ideally in line with the client’s wishes, would be perfect. On the battlefield, it doesn’t matter whether a guy has a bulbous nose or a missing eye, but for an escort robot that would be a disaster.”

“You are very welcome to discuss that with our designer,” MacIntyre said hurriedly. “All robots have the same titanium skeleton, but everything else can be customised. We will, however, need to advise our clients that the lead times will be long. For cost reasons, I’d therefore suggest that we initially recycle damaged robots that come back from the killing fields. Once they’ve been transformed, you won’t be able to tell that their parts were scattered across the battlefield.”

“As you wish,” Marci replied in a honeyed voice, despite knowing that no escort robot would ever be fitted with a titanium skeleton because it would be much too heavy, as Jack had previously explained to her. Ideally, you’d use flexible ceramic – like Cathrin did – which was more expensive but had the advantage that the robot could go through a security scan and pass as a human. But it wouldn’t come to that.

MacIntyre was clearly satisfied with her answer.

“And when can I see them?” she asked.

“Who?” he replied, sounding irritated.

“The robots, like I just said.”

“Ah, I see,” he replied, clearly realising that Marci was not going to be shaken off so easily.

“I need to talk to a few people to make the necessary preparations,” he said slowly, getting up off the stool. “Let’s say lunchtime today. Around one? And I’ll take you to the best restaurant in the city beforehand, OK?”

“That’s very kind of you.” Marci tried not to let it show that just the sight of him was enough to spoil her appetite.

“Then let’s say twelve sharp in the Japanese Garden. I guarantee it’ll be the best sushi you’ve ever eaten.”

Marci nodded. I’ve never eaten sushi, she thought, glancing at Jack, who gave an imperceptible nod. Hopefully, it meant that she’d said the right things.

“The restaurant is down in the harbour. In the Monty Tower. On the first floor. It has fantastic views over the lake and the city and the building has its own landing platform for VIP shuttles,” MacIntyre explained casually. “My private glider will pick you up in an hour.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Marci pushed her mane of red hair back in an elegant sweep. “I have my own glider and my robot will bring me.”

“But he’s not going to join us at the table, is he?” asked MacIntyre wryly.

“And why not?” retorted Marci. “Then you can see for yourself how good his manners are.” Before MacIntyre could respond, she gave him a smile that suggested that resistance was futile, but was surprised when he left it at that. He obviously wanted something from her and until he got it, he would agree to whatever she asked.

After MacIntyre had left, there was a moment of complete silence until Jack cracked open another bottle of champagne, popping the cork loudly.

“Oh, my God!” Marci cried, pressing both hands to the low neckline of her dress. “You startled me!”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he apologised, pouring a fresh glass of the sparkling nectar and pressing it into her hands.

Marci accepted the tall glass with trembling fingers; it looked very different from the goblets they’d just used, as Jack clearly didn’t want to raise a toast with the same glass as MacIntyre.

“To the most amazing woman I know,” he said with a proud smile, clinking her glass.