Daemon

now hear approaching sirens. Lots of them. He looked at his hands. They were only slightly cut. He followed the deputies out of the truck.
    They raced around the overturned bomb squad trailer to the estate side of the road. They could see the Hummer still on the other side of the fence. It wasn’t following them, but was instead charging around the lawn like a raging bull, spinning and tearing up the turf.
    The officers opened fire on it again, emptying shotguns, pistols, and an M-16 rifle while shouting obscenities. The Hummer raced off toward the mansion.
    Ross covered his ears against the noise and looked up the road to see approaching emergency vehicles.
    It had begun. He knew there was no hope of containing the Daemon now. And guns were useless against it.

Chapter 13:// Demo
    BBC.co.uk
    Dead Computer Genius Slays Police , Federal Agents – Thousand Oaks , CA – Authorities have surrounded a walled estate owned by the late Matthew Sobol , a leading computer game designer who died earlier this week of brain cancer. Six law officers were killed and nineteen others injured serving a search warrant at the property. They were reportedly attacked by a computer-controlled SUV that still roams the grounds.
    Anderson’s North Beach condo had twelve-foot pressed-tin ceilings, original wood floors, full-height windows with a fabulous view of the windows across the street, and enough Victorian charm to draw grudging praise from the snottiest folks she knew. It had taken her years to decorate, and she never tired of appreciating the style it reflected upon her. Even though she could no longer afford it.
    But her eyes were riveted right now to the plasma screen television hanging within a Victorian picture frame on her living room wall. There was breaking news from Thousand Oaks, California – just as The Voice had promised.
    She sat numb with fear and excitement all at once, soaking up the images on the screen.
    In the absence of facts, a local reporter was breathlessly transforming hearsay into news under the harsh lights of a live remote: ‘Thanks, Sandy. Sources describe a scene of total carnage and devastation on the estate. The area has been cordoned off, with FBI tactical units brought in. Once again, a robotic killing machine is roaming the estate grounds,unleashed by a recently deceased madman. That madman: Matthew Sobol.’
    Anderson’s cell phone vibrated on the coffee table in front of her. She looked at it and recoiled in terror. The phone vibrated again, moving slightly across the tabletop.
    Christiane Amanpour would answer it
.
    Anderson timidly picked up the phone and pressed the send button – not saying anything, just listening.
    A man’s voice came over the line.
‘Do you know who I am? Answer “yes” or “no.”’
    She watched the video footage of injured policemen being loaded into ambulances. ‘Yes.’
    ‘Clearly speak my name.’
    ‘Matthew … Sobol.’
    There was silence for a moment. Then,
‘If you contact the authorities, I will know, and you will lose the exclusive on this story.’
    Anderson’s hands were trembling as the voice continued.
    ‘I am analyzing your verbal responses with voice stress analysis software – I can tell if you lie to me. Answer truthfully or our relationship is over. Remember: I have extended my will beyond physical death. I will never be gone from this earth. Do not make an enemy of me.’
    Anderson dared not even breathe. She wasn’t a religious person – but she felt as if an evil force was on the other end of the line. An immortal being.
    ‘Do you still want to be a journalist? Answer “yes” or “no.”’
    Anderson swallowed hard and took a breath. She used her best broadcasting voice. ‘Yes.’ Anderson’s heart raced.
    There was a pause.
    ‘Do you want access to exclusive information on this story? Answer “yes” or “no” … ‘
    ‘Yes.’
    A pause.
    ‘Do you agree to keep our relationship secret from everyone – with no exceptions? Answer “yes” or “no.”’
    ‘Yes.’
    Another pause.
    ‘Are you prepared to follow my instructions in exchange for success and power? Answer “yes” or “no.”’
    Anderson caught her breath. This was the proverbial Rubicon. If she crossed it, there was likely no turning back. Years from now she would remember this moment with either regret or relief – but she knew she would never forget it.
    The Voice insisted,
‘Answer “yes” or “no.”’
    Anderson’s mind raced. She