We’re in a
basement, and I have no windows in my office, so the place is musty and getting hot. I’m sweating a little, and I feel a bit uncomfortable.
‘It wouldn’t be possible without configuring the entire system for everyone.’
‘But you could still do it.’ It’s like he doesn’t need to blink. ‘These are multiple murders we’re talking about.’
‘The company wouldn’t put our users in that sort of a situation,’ I say. It sounds a little weak to me, as the words come out, but it’s the truth.
‘Three girls are dead,’ Killkenny says, as though I need to be reminded. ‘You don’t think your users can live with that sort of “situation” so that no one
else dies?’
‘It would disable the entire system,’ I point out.
‘I can’t believe—’ Killkenny’s voice is rising, but Yvette cuts him off.
‘Detective, even if we could reconfigure the system internally, it wouldn’t help. Anyone with the kind of computer skills this guy has is already routing his signal through blind
servers, before anything even gets here. For five dollars a month you can sign up for access through a Russian Internet service that will wipe the signal clean, and there’s no way to trace
that.’ Killkenny stares at her now, but she isn’t sweating. ‘There must be another way,’ she says.
We sit in silence for a few moments. ‘Maybe we can start with the girls,’ Killkenny says at last.
‘What do you mean?’
‘How does someone create one of these avatars – like if I wanted to create a new stripper, and I had a particular person I wanted it to look like, how would I do it?’
‘You’d have to start with one of our templates. You’d find the one that looks closest to the person you’re thinking of, and then you’d adjust it. I assume
that’s what he did – he designed avatars to look like the girls he wanted to kill, and then used those for practice.’
‘Where do the templates come from?’
‘We have a library of several hundred looks that people may want.’
‘No, I mean how were the templates created?’
‘I don’t know,’ I answer honestly. ‘I wasn’t involved in that process. I assume they used models.’ As I say the words, their implication hits me. ‘They
used models,’ I say again.
Killkenny is nodding. ‘Amanda Hicks was a part-time model. Four and a half years ago she did a modeling job for NextLife. We found deposits from NextLife in the bank accounts for the other
two girls right around the same time.’
‘They were models who were used to create the templates,’ Yvette says, grasping Killkenny’s point.
‘He doesn’t create avatars to look like girls he wants to kill,’ Killkenny says. ‘He kills the avatar girls in the template library, and then goes out and finds the girls
they’re based on in the real world.’
‘But how would he find them?’ Even as I ask the question, I know the answer.
‘He would have to have access to the company records at NextLife,’ Yvette says quietly.
Killkenny is nodding. ‘Yeah, he would.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
It’s late. The records for the models who were used to create the templates for the NextLife avatars wouldn’t be at the basement facility in Cambridge; they’d
be at the corporate offices in Brighton, and that office is closed, so Yvette and I agree to meet Killkenny there in the morning. Yvette lives just a few blocks down from Ma’s house, so I
give her a ride back to Charlestown. We’re both quiet for the first half of the ride. I’m watching the road; she’s looking out the passenger side window, watching the Charles
River roll by, the lights of Boston rising above it on the other side, like Oz.
‘It’s got to be someone at the company,’ she says at last. I was kind of hoping she wouldn’t voice what we were both thinking.
‘We don’t know that,’ I say.
‘You’ve got a better explanation?’
‘You want me to make rational sense out of murder? Who would do something like
basement, and I have no windows in my office, so the place is musty and getting hot. I’m sweating a little, and I feel a bit uncomfortable.
‘It wouldn’t be possible without configuring the entire system for everyone.’
‘But you could still do it.’ It’s like he doesn’t need to blink. ‘These are multiple murders we’re talking about.’
‘The company wouldn’t put our users in that sort of a situation,’ I say. It sounds a little weak to me, as the words come out, but it’s the truth.
‘Three girls are dead,’ Killkenny says, as though I need to be reminded. ‘You don’t think your users can live with that sort of “situation” so that no one
else dies?’
‘It would disable the entire system,’ I point out.
‘I can’t believe—’ Killkenny’s voice is rising, but Yvette cuts him off.
‘Detective, even if we could reconfigure the system internally, it wouldn’t help. Anyone with the kind of computer skills this guy has is already routing his signal through blind
servers, before anything even gets here. For five dollars a month you can sign up for access through a Russian Internet service that will wipe the signal clean, and there’s no way to trace
that.’ Killkenny stares at her now, but she isn’t sweating. ‘There must be another way,’ she says.
We sit in silence for a few moments. ‘Maybe we can start with the girls,’ Killkenny says at last.
‘What do you mean?’
‘How does someone create one of these avatars – like if I wanted to create a new stripper, and I had a particular person I wanted it to look like, how would I do it?’
‘You’d have to start with one of our templates. You’d find the one that looks closest to the person you’re thinking of, and then you’d adjust it. I assume
that’s what he did – he designed avatars to look like the girls he wanted to kill, and then used those for practice.’
‘Where do the templates come from?’
‘We have a library of several hundred looks that people may want.’
‘No, I mean how were the templates created?’
‘I don’t know,’ I answer honestly. ‘I wasn’t involved in that process. I assume they used models.’ As I say the words, their implication hits me. ‘They
used models,’ I say again.
Killkenny is nodding. ‘Amanda Hicks was a part-time model. Four and a half years ago she did a modeling job for NextLife. We found deposits from NextLife in the bank accounts for the other
two girls right around the same time.’
‘They were models who were used to create the templates,’ Yvette says, grasping Killkenny’s point.
‘He doesn’t create avatars to look like girls he wants to kill,’ Killkenny says. ‘He kills the avatar girls in the template library, and then goes out and finds the girls
they’re based on in the real world.’
‘But how would he find them?’ Even as I ask the question, I know the answer.
‘He would have to have access to the company records at NextLife,’ Yvette says quietly.
Killkenny is nodding. ‘Yeah, he would.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
It’s late. The records for the models who were used to create the templates for the NextLife avatars wouldn’t be at the basement facility in Cambridge; they’d
be at the corporate offices in Brighton, and that office is closed, so Yvette and I agree to meet Killkenny there in the morning. Yvette lives just a few blocks down from Ma’s house, so I
give her a ride back to Charlestown. We’re both quiet for the first half of the ride. I’m watching the road; she’s looking out the passenger side window, watching the Charles
River roll by, the lights of Boston rising above it on the other side, like Oz.
‘It’s got to be someone at the company,’ she says at last. I was kind of hoping she wouldn’t voice what we were both thinking.
‘We don’t know that,’ I say.
‘You’ve got a better explanation?’
‘You want me to make rational sense out of murder? Who would do something like
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