Page 97 of Sharp Force
“We haven’t,” he says in a stilted friendly voice. “I have facial recognition capabilities. Now that the Wi-Fi connection has been restored, I can access information. But my battery charge is low.”
“Robbie? Would you like to come out of the closet?” Benton asks.
“That’s a very personal question, Benton,” he answers slyly with what might be a grin.
“Why don’t you come on out. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“Okie doke, Benton.”
The robot steps out of the closet on spiderlike mechanical legs, his gait jerky and stiff, the feet thumping the wooden flooring. He stops in front of us.
“You and I have been around each other many times, haven’t we, Robbie?” Benton says.
“Yes, Benton. Most recently was the day before Thanksgiving when we were in the White House Oval Office. Zain was giving a demonstration to the director of Homeland Security.”
“Robbie’s one of the reasons robotic dogs are now utilized for security patrols at the White House and other strategic locations,” Benton explains to me. “And of course, the military is using them.”
“That’s correct.” Robbie nods.
He goes on to recite every date when he and Benton have been in the same place at the same time. The White House. The vice president’s mansion. Camp David. Also, Calvin Willard’s mansion on Embassy Row. And Mar-a-Lago.
“Robbie’s basically an AI chatbot on four legs,” Benton explains.
“That would be a chat-bark.” The robot’s gripper mouth opens into an almost grin again.
“Does Lucy know about this?” I ask Benton.
“She and Tron will be hauling Robbie out of here shortly.”
“I don’t need to be hauled,” Robbie protests. “I’m perfectly capable of walking. However, my battery is down to eight percent.”
“Lucy and Tron landed the helicopter at Quantico and are on their way back here,” Benton tells me.
“I’m unfamiliar with Lucy and Tron.” Robbie sounds perplexed and a touch worried. “I don’t go places without Zain.”
“Zain is in the hospital,” Benton says, and Robbie tilts his head.
“Why is he in the hospital?” he asks.
“He was hurt last night,” Benton explains. “And you were here when it happened.”
“You were offline when the Wi-Fi went down,” I say to the robot. “I assume you were in sleep mode?”
The robot turns his head back to me, his camera eyes staring.
“As long as I have a battery charge, I’m always awake, Doctor Scarpetta. Even when I don’t appear to be,” Robbie says. “I suffered a loss of signal at two-fifty a.m. It was restored three hours and forty-two minutes later at six-thirty-two a.m.”
“While the Wi-Fi was down, were you aware of anything happening inside the house?” I wonder.
“Yes, I was aware. My sensors had gone into autonomous mode.”
“Did you hear someone breaking in? Or maybe someone screaming?” Benton asks.
“I heard screaming at three-eleven a.m. The vocalization was consistent with the owner of the house, Georgine Duvall. She was screaming ‘STOP! STOP!’”
“You’ve been around her a lot,” Benton says.
“Yes,” Robbie answers, giving us the dates.
