“No, no. No need. I didn’t mean to imply —” Blushing now, the receptionist lifts her hands off the buttons in front of her and rolls her chair back from the desk. “Claude?” she says, raising her eyebrows at the guard. Clearly she wants nothing more to do with this business.
In a masterstroke of inspiration, Quinn says to the guard, “Look, Officer Murphy, if you haven’t got the authority to let us through, perhaps we should call the guards at the gate.”
“Of course I’ve got the authority. I don’t report to them,” the guard snaps. And with one last, feeble attempt at defending his dignity, he blusters, “I’ll have to inspect that bag, though.”
“Sure,” Quinn says.
“Just be quick,” Evyan adds.
The guard hoists the bag onto his inspection table, unzips it and, with a white dowel stick, pokes through the contents, frowning deeply.
“What’s this?” he says, pointing at something with the stick.
Robin peers inside. “That’s a tripod for the camera. Like a stand?”
“And this?”
“Extra battery packs — please don’t open the tins, they often leak,” is what Robin says.
Please don’t open the tins, they’re filled with extra ammunition, is what he means.
“Could you hurry it along?” Quinn says.
We do need to hurry. We’d planned to smooth-talk our way through quickly, but this delay has the potential to disrupt everything. No doubt the security officers monitoring the feed from the closed-circuit camera on the wall near the elevators will have noticed this altercation, even though their primary focus would have been on tracking the president’s progress. If one or more of them isn’t already on their way to come check what’s going on, they soon will be.
“Agents,” I say to Bruce and Cameron, “would you please go to the security operations room, which is where?” I look expectantly at the receptionist.
“Down that hallway and on the left,” she says, pointing and smiling, eager to be of assistance now.
“Down that hallway and on the left,” I repeat. “And check whether the in-house security and video surveillance staff require any … assistance.”
I know the boys must understand what I mean, but they hesitate.
“Are you certain you won’t require our help?” Bruce asks.
Neither he nor Cameron will like the idea of me being the only armed person on the next part of the mission. They’d like to stay with me, to protect me. The irony is, it isn’t easy for me to order them away, because I’d like to stick by their side, by everyone’s side, to protect my team, too. Plus, I’m not sure I trust them to use violence only as a last resort.
“Once you’re sure that all is safe and secure,” I say, pinning them with a warning look that Cameron, at least, will understand to mean that they can subdue, gag and bind whoever they need to, but they should avoid shooting anyone unless their lives depend on it, “then you can follow on and catch up with me. Will the president be going to the operations room first?” I ask the receptionist.
“No. First the data center on the top floor — everyone wants to see that, it’s awesome! Then he’s scheduled to go down to operations on level three to launch the Go!Game, before finishing up in the gaming arena out back.”
“And what’s the quickest route to the arena?” I ask.
“The quickest way is via Ms. Roth’s stairway — she likes to have her own direct access — but if she’s not in her office, you’ll have to come back down, and go out and around the side of the building, past the helipad.”
“There you go,” I tell Bruce and Cameron. “Now hurry!”
Still clearly reluctant, they spin on their heels and stride down the indicated hallway. Immediately, I feel both better and worse — more confident that we’ll get this mission back on track, but also more anxious about their safety.
“Look — the president must be moving down to the operations room right now,” the receptionist says, pointing at the row of lights above the elevators. The down arrow is flashing, and a moment later the indicator for the third floor lights up. “There’s usually no access to the third and fourth floors for outsiders — you have to be on the biometric system and scan your eye for the elevator doors to open on those levels. But they’ve overridden the elevator system for today, else the president himself and all his entourage wouldn’t have been able to get in,” she says helpfully. Then, clearly worried that we might be questioning the stringency of the security measures, she adds hurriedly, “Of course, all systems will be reinstated the very minute President Hawke concludes his visit.”
“And what the H-E-double-hockey-sticks is this?” The guard lifts a long wooden object out of the bag. It looks exactly like what it is — the stock of my sniper’s rifle.
“That’s the handle for the steadycam rig,” Robin improvises wildly. “It screws into the camera here, see, so you can hold it low for running, low-angle shots like so.” Robin takes the stock and scampers about the lobby, miming filming.
“Right, that’s enough of this nonsense,” Quinn says in his firmest voice. “If we take any longer, we won’t be in time to do what we came to do.”
I check my wristwatch. It’s 11h43. The prez is due to hit the go-button on the game’s launch at noon, and Robin and Neil still need to upload the malware before then.
“Pack up there, Rob, we need to get this show on the road. We’re running out of time,” I say.
Robin grabs the bag. He, Quinn, Sofia and I march over to the elevators, and I punch the button. Neil lingers a moment, takes some candy out of his jacket pocket and insists that the two PlayState employees each have a piece — just to show there’s no hard feelings, and because he knows deep down they’re not racists.
Whether they really want the treats or are just terrified of causing further offense, they each take a piece, immediately unwrap it and start eating.
The elevator doors open, and we enter. There’s a biometric scanner above the control panel, but it’s lit with a dull yellow light. I hit the button for the fourth floor while Quinn holds the doors open for the last member of our team.
“You have a nice day, now, folks,” the receptionist says, smiling ingratiatingly at Neil as he takes his leave to join us in the elevator.
“I’m sure it will prove to be extraordinary,” Neil replies.
The doors close, and with a soft ping, we move up to the fifth floor.
Chapter 38
Out of time
“It’s 11h44. We have exactly sixteen minutes before they release the new version,” I say as the elevator rises.
When the discreet ping sounds our arrival at the fourth floor, nothing happens. I stare at the retinal scanner. Has it already been reactivated? If so, we’re screwed.
“And now?” Sofia asks in a tight voice.
“Let’s try the obvious,” Robin says.
He presses the open-doors button, and my shoulders relax a good inch when the doors part.
Wait, I signal to the others. I peer out and check both directions. We’re at one end of a long, empty hallway. I can see only two doors. One is about twenty yards down, and the other is located at the far end of the hall. There’s a scanner on the wall beside the elevator — I guess that’s how you get the elevator doors to open on this level — but I don’t spot any cameras.
I step out, signaling to the others to follow me. On the section of wall beyond the elevator, there’s an illuminated map of PlayState’s national network of distributed data centers. Tiny lights mark the location of nodes situated in Arizona, South Carolina, Wisconsin, Washington state and at least half a dozen other places in between. Blue lines between the lights show the connecting fiber-optic web, and all the lines ultimately trace back to here. The data center in this building is the nerve center, the very engine of The Game, and it’s where Neil and Robin plan to access the system and upload their malware.
Neil reckons the data center will have strong security, but that fewer peo
ple are likely to be present there than in the operations room, particularly on a day when new game software is being released.
“The ops room is where all the action will be for the release,” he’d explained. “They’ll only have a skeleton staff overseeing the hardware in the server and network rooms.”
The door at the far end of the hall must be to Roth’s office, because the first door has a sign on the wall to the left of it stating: DATA CENTER — NO UNAUTHORIZED PERSONS ALLOWED. On the wall to the right is an intercom system, and above that, an ID verification unit, complete with retinal scanner. Unlike the units for the elevator, this scanner is activated. The indicator glows red, and the display reads: NO ACCESS.
The door itself is reinforced with metal plating and is inset with a head-sized circle of thick glass, undoubtedly bulletproof. The door has no handle, and no lock for Evyan to pick. An electronic display screen mounted on the door alternates flashing messages (Days since last server error: 16; No food or drink beyond this point) with a Go!Game countdown widget.
0 hours 10 minutes 15 seconds to launch! it reads.
I risk a peek through the glass porthole. Sitting with her back to us at a computer console inside is an operator with a long braid of black hair.
“Robin, Evyan — you’re up,” I say.
I bang a fist against the door and slip out of sight beside it. A moment later an aggrieved woman’s voice sounds through the intercom.
“You startled me — I spilled coffee all over myself.”
“Sorry,” Robin says into the intercom. “Can you let us in, please?”
“Who are you? What are you doing up here?” the woman asks.
“We’re the camera crew, here to get footage of the data center, for the game launch.”
Evyan lifts the camera to shoulder-height and steps up beside Robin, pretending to film the door and the woman behind the glass.
“You’re too late. The president has been and gone. He and Roth have gone to the ops room.”
0 hours 09 minutes 49 seconds to launch! the display on the door flashes.
“We know that, we just need to get footage of the data center. Like, background stuff,” Robin says.
“Your other team already did that.”
Robin gives his little explanation about the special camera for the augmented reality, but the operator shakes her head firmly.
“I’m under strict instructions not to let anyone in.”
“Fine,” Robin snaps, and the annoyance in his voice is real. “But if there are complaints, I’m directing them all your way.”
“You do that,” the voice says dryly.
Robin and Evyan make a show of leaving in a huff, but they stop a little way down the hall.
“What’s the plan now?” Robin mouths.
0 hours 08 minutes 31 seconds to launch!
We’re running out of time. I run my fingers through my hair, trying to think of some scheme to con our way into that room that won’t involve tripping a bunch of alarms.
Quinn takes a step toward the door, but I hold up a hand, signaling him to wait. I’ve had an idea, and since I look the least threatening of all of us, I figure I should be the one to try it.
I buzz on the intercom. The woman appears at the porthole after a moment, scowling.
“And what do you want?” she says.
I smile brightly, flash my badge at the glass and say into the intercom, “Hi there, sorry to bother you. I’m one of the president’s guards. He sent me back up because he lost his comb in your data center.”
The operator looks around at the room beyond the door.
“I don’t see it,” she says.
“He thinks he set it down in the server room after fixing his hair for the camera.”
“Tell me where, and I’ll go fetch it,” she says.
“Um, he said it’s between two of those big things with the flashing lights and the wires, near the back,” I say vaguely. “Sorry, it’s hard to describe, but if you let me in I can find it in two ticks.”
I sneak a quick glance at the display panel.
0 hours 07 minutes 28 seconds to launch!
She still looks unconvinced.
“Please, the president sent me to get it, and he won’t go on camera without making sure his hair is perfect. And if he doesn’t go on camera, the whole launch will be delayed. He’ll hand me my ass if I return empty-handed,” I plead with her. “He’s very particular about his hair.”
“Let him use someone else’s comb,” she says.
I gasp loudly in mock horror. “Never! He never does that.” I lower my voice to a confidential whisper. “This one time, he borrowed a brush from a makeup artist and got an awful case of lice. Please don’t ever tell anyone.”
The intercom erupts with giggles.
“Come on, give a sister a break,” I say. “I’ve just been promoted to his security detail, and I do not want to go back to presidential pooch duty. That poodle has chronic diarrhea.”
“Fine,” she says, still laughing.
Finally! We literally have mere minutes in which to complete the task we came here for. Six minutes and forty-five seconds, to be precise. I signal the others to approach with one hand, while extracting my Ruger 9mm with the other. Should I take the safety off?
No. Betting that she’s more nerd than ninja, I leave it on.
The door hisses as the seal is broken. Neil told us that there would be serious air-conditioning and cooling systems inside. The electronic display flashes a warning as the door begins to swing open: NO TAILGATING! This door must be closed behind each person. NO TAILGATING!
But that’s exactly what we do.
Quinn grabs the door and yanks it wide open. I bring my Ruger up and point it at the operator’s face.
“Inside. Now!”
Her eyes widen with fright. She backs up, and the others slip in behind me.
There are several computer consoles in the network room, but she’s the only person on site. It’s surprisingly noisy with the hum of machines and the air-conditioning. Behind the bank of computers there’s a huge glass wall inset with another door labeled: SERVER FLOOR.
“Wh-what’s going on here?” the operator asks, her frightened gaze fixed on my firearm.
“Where’s the server software access point?” Robin asks.
She points a shaking hand, and Robin immediately sets off in the indicated direction, followed by Sofia, who will be helping him with any typing that’s required.
“Who else is here?” I demand.
“Just P-Pete. The rest wanted to be in the ops room for the launch.”
“Call him and tell him to come here. And” — I check her ID badge — “Ananya? Don’t do or say anything silly now.”
She presses a button on a communication device hanging from a lanyard around her neck.
“Pete? Come in, Pete?” she says in a quavering voice.
“Hey, Ananya,” a male voice replies.
“Can you come to the network room for a moment?”
“What’s up?”
“I j-just need your help with something,” she says.
Is she sending him a signal? I narrow my eyes at her and position the barrel of my Ruger under her chin. Tears well in her eyes.
“Sure, on my way,” Pete replies.
“You better not have been trying to warn him, Ananya,” I say, putting as much menace as I can muster into my voice.
“I w-wasn’t! I swear!”
“Put your hands behind your back,” I say, moving around behind her and taking a step back so that Quinn can bind her hands with zip ties.
To my horror, I see that the seat of her pants is wet. Oh God, I meant to scare her into cooperating, but I don’t like the idea that I’ve caused such terror. I want to tell her I’m sorry, that I have no intention of harming her, but that would be counterproductive. I need her compliant.
I check the ties, tighten them a notch. Then I stand just behind her, with my weapon pressed into
her back, both of us facing the glass wall, waiting for Pete.
Chapter 39
The only way out is in
Quinn crouches down beside the door, and Evyan hides behind the desk.
There’s a deep sigh from beside me. A quick glance confirms that Neil is standing there, staring transfixed at the massive server floor visible through the glass.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” he says in an awed whisper.
Beautiful isn’t a word I’d use to describe it. But it is impressive. When we were planning this mission, Neil tried to describe what it would probably look like, but I wasn’t prepared for the sheer massive scale of the thing. The room is enormous, and filled with row upon row of vertically stacked servers stretching off away from us as far as I can see. There must be thousands of them, each with pulsing multicolored lights. The hard drives are plugged into the stainless steel vertical racks, and each rack is connected to the others and to the power supply, I presume, by great bundles of yellow, orange and gray cables running along the ceiling overhead.
“Can you imagine the processing power? The storage capacity?” Neil says, pushing up his glasses, the better to see the setup.
He sounds like a man in love. Or like he’s finally come home — like if he died now, he’d die happy.
“Neil,” I snap. “Shouldn’t you be helping Robin?”
“Yes, of course. Yes.”
With a last longing look, Neil moves off, and I check my watch.
“Five minutes,” I call.
“Almost there,” Robin replies.
There’s a movement in one of the passages between the high racks on the other side of the glass wall. A man comes gliding toward us on a push-scooter. When he gets closer, I see he’s wearing a baseball cap topped with a propeller.
“Is that Pete?” I ask.
Ananya nods.
Quinn tenses. As soon as the door opens, he springs up and seizes Pete. A half-minute later, Pete is also restrained, and Evyan is tying gags around his and Ananya’s mouths.
The Recoil Trilogy 3 Book Boxed Set: Including Recoil, Refuse and Rebel Page 68
