Robert Ludlum's the Bourne Evolution - Brian Freeman Page 0,45
for the command based on the personality traits and resistance levels needed to carry it out.”
With one hand, he tapped on the keys. On the laptop screen, a series of red X’s began populating the mapped area on Las Vegas Boulevard. In a few seconds, more than a hundred users had been identified, and their photos and profiles appeared in a separate column on the right side of the screen.
“See, the X’s mark the Prescix users within the target area,” Kevin explained. “Now, based on the command I selected, the software will use its AI algorithm to assess the likeliest users to respond to that suggestion. It will look at everything, their photo stream, their alcohol purchases, keywords in their posts, arrest records, attitudes toward authority, whatever we know about them. Then it will highlight the users with the greatest probability of success and deliver the prompt to their devices, as well as photos and posts designed to encourage the behavior.”
Blue circles appeared around two dozen red X’s.
“Watch this … Miss Shirley.”
There was a long, pregnant pause as she focused on the crowd below. Kevin couldn’t see the people clearly from the top-floor suite, but a few seconds later, he could just make out a body in the glow of the Las Vegas lights, jumping over the stone railing and splashing into the fountains.
Then another person did the same thing.
And another. And another.
He could see Miss Shirley’s eyes glittering. Her smile showed perfect teeth.
“It becomes a self-fulfilling command, too,” Kevin went on. “When one person does it, the resistance level diminishes in the group, and others join in.”
By now, he could see almost thirty people wading in the Bellagio fountains and security running to deal with them.
Miss Shirley put down the binoculars. “Kevin, you succeeded. I am impressed.”
“Thank you … Miss Shirley.”
“And you run this company?”
“I’m the number two executive, but the founder is crazy, out of control. I’m in town to squeeze him out. Another company is paying me a fortune to take over the entire operation. As of tomorrow, Prescix will be mine … Miss Shirley.”
“Well, you’re a busy man, so let’s not waste time,” she told him, loosening the knot on his robe and pushing it off his shoulders. Kevin stood naked in the middle of the floor, and her fingernails began to scrape across his body. He groaned.
“Go to the bedroom right now,” she directed him.
“Yes … Miss Shirley.”
“Do you want to touch me?”
“More than anything … Miss Shirley.”
“Do you want me on top of you? Do you want to be inside me?”
“I do, I do … Miss Shirley.”
“Then go. Wait for me.”
Kevin practically ran for the bedroom. Miss Shirley followed at a languid pace. He bolted through the doorway and threw himself onto the king-size bed and lay on his back. He squirmed with anticipation. Moments later, Miss Shirley appeared before him, a silhouette in the doorway. Neon from the tall windows blinked on her nude body. She brushed aside her dark hair. Her pale eyes glistened.
“Are you ready for me?”
He spread his arms to beckon her to him. “I can’t wait.”
She took a step into the room. She had her purse over her shoulder again, and her right hand was buried inside the zippered pouch. She posed for him like a model, her mouth smiling wickedly.
“What did you say?”
“I said, I can’t wait.”
“That’s too bad, Kevin.”
“What? Why?”
“You forgot the rules,” she reminded him. “Forgetting the rules means punishment.”
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry … Miss Shirley!”
“It’s too late for that,” she said. “In any case, this punishment doesn’t come from me. It comes from Medusa.”
“What?”
Miss Shirley’s hand emerged from her purse with a gun.
She fired a bullet into Kevin’s throat.
FIFTEEN
“TELL me about Medusa,” Abbey said to Jason.
Her voice came out of the darkness. They sat in the Land Rover, hidden in a dense stand of trees in the Green Mountains. The windows were open despite the cold; if anyone came close, he’d hear them. They’d crossed the border on a smugglers trail in northern Vermont without being noticed, but he was certain that alerts had been posted for him throughout the northern states. He needed to be careful.
In the daylight, they’d head into New York City and prepare their campaign of psychological warfare against Carson Gattor. Panic him. Scare him. Force him to make contact with his superiors.
But for now, they needed rest. They’d been on the road for hours. Sleep is a weapon. It’s as powerful as a gun.