Page 4 of Operation Iron Heart

The robot stepped out of his steel prison with a slightly awkward gait. Marci was almost disappointed; she’d imagined his first steps would somehow be more fluid, but he then relaxed his impressive muscles and made another succinct movement, snapping to attention as if he actually were a soldier reporting for duty.

“Isn’t he just unbelievably gorgeous?” said Rochelle dreamily, already exploring the man’s imposing chest muscles and perfectly defined six-pack with her restless fingers.

No, he’s not, Marci wanted to reply, even though she couldn’t deny his erotic aura. She actually found the guy slightly alarming; despite all the physical perfection, his rugged face and the fixed stare of his eyes suggested ruthless determination. His soft mouth, at least, seemed relaxed, which made his overall impression on Marci slightly less overpowering. She had never seen a robot like this in her whole life. He looked almost no different from a real man if you discounted his extraordinary muscles, which were a great deal more impressive than those seen on most human guys. The idea of what this robot could do to a person if its owner lost control made her shudder. He startled her by suddenly blinking repeatedly, probably to moisten his eyeballs with artificial tears.

To Marci’s amazement, he didn’t show any emotion as Rochelle’s hands continued their restless exploration down his hairless chest. She ran her hands over his narrow hips, round his muscular buttocks and down his solid upper thighs, where she paused for a moment and then, after a second of hesitation, stroked his impressive penis, which was relaxed despite its remarkable size. She then placed a featherlight touch on his testicles, where his makers had clearly decided – as on the rest of him – to forgo the use of any pubic hair. While Rochelle was in raptures about her new acquisition, the robot seemed completely unaffected.

“Does he have a name?” asked Marci tentatively, wondering how on earth you were supposed to address a guy like this.

“It’s Rob 007,” replied Rochelle with a childish giggle. “But I think I’ll call him Robby.” She giggled again, putting on an innocent expression that would have amused Marci had the robot not looked so cold and unpredictable. He didn’t seem to be interested in what she called him and showed barely a flicker of interest in his new owner.

“Do you really think Robby is the right name for such a colossus?” asked Marci doubtfully.

“That’s the good thing,” enthused Rochelle, slapping Mr Perfect on his luscious behind. “I can say and do anything I like to him. What man would put up with that?”

“I don’t know…” replied Marci hesitantly, while she scrutinised the robot’s incalculable features again for some sign of objection.

“Do you have any idea why this magnificent specimen is standing in my entrance hall?” Rochelle looked at her challengingly.

Marci had to collect herself before she felt capable of answering.

“I have an idea,” she replied uncertainly, “seeing as you called him a ‘few hours’ entertainment’.”

Even if there was nothing about this guy that was to Marci’s taste and could ever replace Will, she understood Rochelle’s enthusiasm. Standing there like that, he was incredibly sexy and she was sure she wasn’t the only woman who would feel drawn to his masculine aura.

“He’s a sex robot,” explained Rochelle with an almost unbridled joy that didn’t match the calm authority with which she approached nearly everyone and everything. “The latest innovation from Copter Robot Unlimited. A decommissioned combat robot, completely overhauled and fitted with the latest emotional program,” she explained to Marci, switching smoothly into standard business mode. “I gave Tanaka a few schematics and he created this fantastic guy for me. Together, we came up with the idea of overhauling decommissioned robots in our lab and re-programming them into escorts. Practically perfect male creations who can read in a woman’s eyes exactly what she wants whilst also keeping her safe, every day. To make this long-cherished dream come true, Tanaka needed the key code that I got from Monty as a consolation prize with my divorce settlement. He didn’t think it was of any use because his combat robots don’t need any emotions to activate their survival instinct. The upgrade may have been no use to Monty, but Dr Tanaka applied it to activate the emotional area in a combat robot’s brain that was suppressed during their original production – like empathy, compassion and sexual excitement. If all those unsatisfied, bored career women out there want to have this kind of guy in bed, we’ve got it made. He’s guaranteed to be worth more than any combat robot and, as Tanaka said, he’ll also replace the bodyguard and will clean, cook and sort out the garden. I’m convinced it’s going to be an absolute gold mine. In one year, I’m going to make more credits than Monty ever could with his tin soldiers, especially as his businesses aren’t going as well as they used to because the government is running out of money.”

While Marci was still reeling internally from the shock, because it seemed her worst fears of a cleaning robotic lover were coming true, Rochelle grinned confidently at her.

“I’ve promised Dr Tanaka to test the first one myself and send him a report the same day,” she added unnecessarily. “If anyone calls for me, tell them I’m unavailable until lunchtime. We’ll see whether Rob 007 can keep the promises CRU is making to its customers. When I’m finished with him, if you’re still here, you can use my bedroom. Your husband’s been gone for a while and I’m sure you’ll want to have your fun with this well-endowed robot. The more empirical data I can give CRU, the better. That’s the great thing about these machines,” she continued, looking amused, “it doesn’t make any difference to them who they stick their powerful cocks into. They can do it any time, any place, and with anyone. At least, that’s what Dr Tanaka claims after his initial test runs, although he probably didn’t take into account my tremendous appetite for a guy like this after almost a year’s celibacy.” With a smug smile, she signalled to the robot to follow her. “Do excuse me,” she said to Marci, who went cold at the thought that she was probably about to lose her job to this jack-of-all-trades.

Grinning like a satisfied cat that’s just got the cream, Rochelle headed up to her bedroom. The robot followed her, seemingly without resistance, but Marci could have sworn that he gave her a surreptitious wink as he passed her. She stared after them disbelievingly, as if in a trance, and was only roused from it when she heard the door of Rochelle’s bedroom open with a quiet hum and then immediately close again after the two of them had disappeared inside.

Marci was not particularly nosy by nature, but she would have loved to have crept upstairs and eavesdropped at Rochelle’s door to find out whether her expectations of the robot would even be partially satisfied. Or, because she was somehow suspicious of the winking robot, whether things would take a totally different direction. All the rooms in this villa, however, were hermetically sealed and could also function as panic rooms that required a specific password to open, which Marci didn’t know. Even though there had been virtually no cases of anyone being kidnapped or assaulted in this area, because these houses’ security made them as impregnable as Fort Knox, people in Rochelle’s circle preferred to play it safe.

Maybe it was because of this that Marci felt uneasy and made the imprudent decision to tiptoe up the stairs to Rochelle’s room and wait outside the door to make sure her boss emerged unscathed. If this guy actually did have a screw loose and didn’t function as Rochelle intended, Marci would call security immediately, and they would throw this cleaning, cooking, fucking machine with the potential to be a weapon of mass destruction out of the villa. Preferably before Rochelle came to any harm. She wasn’t particularly fond of her boss but at least she guaranteed Marci a halfway decent income. For now, at least.

Marci didn’t have the slightest idea how these machines worked; Will had tried to explain to her once how incredibly complex it must be to build and program a humanlike robot that didn’t just look like a human, but also acted like one. There were now numerous biotech labs in which multinational companies like MacIntyre played God by using organic 3D printers to create thousands of lifelike creatures from genetically modified materials, with raw components that were increasingly similar to human cells. The finished product could only be distinguished from a real person by using X-rays; their organs were arranged slightly differently and in place of a brain, they had a quantum processor that could be adapted and upgraded with new programming at any time.

Deeply troubled, Marci thought back to that wink that this thing had given her and a horrible suspicion crept over her. What if this robot actually had a life of its own that Rochelle and her business partners knew nothing about? Whoever had programmed this kind of robot for its first job almost certainly hadn’t considered that it might engage in light flirtation with a cleaner before sexually satisfying its new owner. The more Marci thought about it, the more she became gripped by a growing sense of panic. What if Mr Perfect suddenly got out of control and assaulted Rochelle, or worse? With her heart hammering, she stood in silence, listening. Nothing. Should she call security anyway and alert them to a potential problem that they should look into just in case?

Unfortunately, Marci was almost certain that Rochelle hadn’t just hermetically sealed the doors, but had also turned off the cameras in her room, so what would happen if Marci’s suspicions were unfounded and security used the emergency code to open the doors for nothing?

Rochelle would definitely be furious with her and fire her on the spot. Even if her job seemed to be under threat anyway, she really didn’t want to risk this.

Undecided, she looked out of the large windows at Lake Michigan, where the bright morning sun reflected innocently off the turquoise waters.

Maybe she’d only imagined the man’s cheerful wink. Her senses had been completely muddled by all that masculinity, after all. She hadn’t had a man in her bed for more than six months and combined with the thought that this guy and his skills might shortly replace her made her feel incredibly anxious.

Sighing, she turned to continue with her work when a rumbling noise made her spin round. In shock, she watched as the door slid open and Rob 007 stood in front of her. Barefoot, wearing running tights and a grey gym top that was far too tight for him, he looked like Superman, if Superman had accidentally put his clothes through a hot wash. He stared down at her as if he’d been waiting for her, and then without warning, ripped the duster out of her hand and threw it over the railings. When Marci started to protest loudly, he grabbed her upper arm with such force that it felt like being squashed between two automatic doors. She let out an instinctive yelp of pain and feared for a moment that she was going to follow the duster over the railings. The robot, however, dragged her towards the stairs.

Marci was too stunned to call for Rochelle or even to shout for help, and Rob 007 was moving so quickly that she had to concentrate on not tripping down the stairs, never mind being able to raise anyone’s attention. It wasn’t until they reached the ground floor and he dragged her mercilessly towards the exit that she took a deep breath and prepared to scream. Rob 007 was faster, however, and whipped his hand over her mouth. As his strong fingers covered both her nose and mouth, Marci couldn’t breathe, but he seemed not to notice, ignoring all her attempts to free herself and dragging her closer to the security doors. To Marci’s horror, he swept aside the heavily bolted door as if it were nothing, and they were outside. But instead of being able to inhale the fresh air drifting over from Lake Michigan, Marci still couldn’t breathe. She felt her legs wobble and black spots swam in front of her eyes. It’s over then, she thought, her last thoughts about Willie Junior, her younger son, and Logan, who was due to celebrate his eighth birthday in a month and would probably have to do so in an orphanage with no mother or father.

When Marci came to, she initially thought she was dreaming because she was back in her own bed. It wasn’t a proper bed, just a fold-out sofa that she turned into a bed at night and that was wide enough for her and her two boys. In confusion, she blinked in the sunlight that was casting its rays through the tiny window. Had she actually just overslept? Instinctively, she felt to the left of her where Logan normally slept, but he wasn’t there. Then to the right, where Willie Junior normally lay, snuggled up to her like a puppy. But there was no one there either. She sat bolt upright in panic…and looked into the emotionless face of Rob 007.

For a moment, she felt like she was suffocating and the panic that she thought she would always associate with the sight of this man returned. He had nearly strangled her! And it didn’t help when he gave her the gentlest of smiles. All indications suggested that he was clearly working for the other side.

“Where are the children?” she yelled once she had found her breath again, beside herself with worry.