He counted on Sparrow to be alive.
Brockway would expect him to enter the front gate with his guns blazing. Or to sneak in the back. He had to think of something more creative.
Since the entire island was disconnected from the UEA, so was the house. It had a smart android inside, but the house was dumb, just like houses built hundreds of years ago. He could use the house’s stupidity to his advantage.
A driverless pizza moped sped by, and X remembered what Kitchener had said about pizza drones coming in and out of the mansion regularly. X scanned the phone number on the side of the moped and stored it.
“Pizza time,” he said.
He blinked, and a digital screen appeared in front of him with the pizza company’s website: Jamaican Me Pizza. X typed in the address of the mansion—a profile had
