Bikie tramped calmly along after the Agency man. They walked into a large, well-lit office, where a man in a nice beige doctor’s gown was sitting with a young woman in white, evidently a nurse or laboratory assistant. They seated Bikie in an armchair, with Isaac facing him on a sofa. The lab assistant quickly checked Bikie’s pulse and blood pressure and pricked his index finger.
“A trace of residual alcohol, within the normal range, no traces of drugs, all other values also normal.”
“Well then, we can get started. Do you wish to make any changes to the contract?”
“No,” Bikie replied curtly.
“Isaac Leroy has been appointed your temporary guardian. Accommodation at the Versailles Fields boarding house in Paris.”
“That’s right,” said Bikie, getting slightly nervous. “Get on with it.”
“Here’s your check. Congratulations, young man, you are extremely wealthy now.”
Bikie glanced at the six digit figure on the neat little piece of grey paper. He gave a crooked grin and stuck the check in his pocket.
“Can you leave us alone together for a couple of minutes? To say goodbye.”
“All right, take a moment alone,” said the man in the beige doctor’s gown. “But relax. You’re not in any danger, it’s absolutely safe and doesn’t hurt at all. You’ll still be a normal person, only with low creativity. Believe me, there’s nothing terrible about that.”
Seizing the moment, Bikie slapped his pockets again. Everything was in place. The timer on the hacking device was set for thirty minutes, all he had to do was switch it on. Bikie handed the check to Isaac, closed his eyes and pressed the key.
The doctor in beige soon came back, accompanied by another colleague in a gown, who was going to carry out the downloading of Bikie’s energy.
“Shall we begin?”
Bikie nodded.
They put a helmet on Bikie’s head and connected several sensors to it.
“Let’s roll!” Bikie exclaimed with affected gaiety.
Isaac took hold of his hand. His macho friend usually didn’t like any signs of weakness, but, this time, everything was different.
“Start. Engaging the field… three, two, one,” the man in beige counted down and pressed a button.
Even through the helmet Isaac recognized that melody. Bikie seemed to be asleep already. The whole downloading procedure took a minute at the most.
“That’s it. Now he’ll sleep for fifteen to twenty minutes,” the man in the beige gown said. “You can wait here or upstairs, on the sofas by the lift. There’s a no-charge coffee-machine and a cooler; please, feel free to help yourself.”
Isaac thanked him and asked to be shown upstairs. Once he was alone, the first thing he did was cash the check and transfer all the money to Bikie’s account. Then he glanced at his watch. Another ten minutes.
The lift doors opened and out walked a member of the Agency staff and suddenly... The Professor.
“There’s his chaperone. You can wait here,” said the staff member. “You know each other, don’t you?”
“Yes, yes, of course. This is Isaac, my nephew’s friend.”
Isaac nodded. He, of course, recognized Link at once. The Professor had used the same makeup and costume as on the first day of the conference.
“Link? How did you get in here? What for?” Isaac asked when the staff member left.
“I couldn’t help. It’s all too exciting for me.”
“I see. Sit down. Bikie’s already been downloaded, they’ll bring him here soon. How did you manage to get down to this floor?”
“I just waited for the first member of staff who approached the lift. I told him I’d just come from the railway station and got lost. Said I was the uncle of the downloader being processed right now. They explained that there was a different entrance for that and checked that Bikie really was being downloaded. Then they escorted me here, straight from zero level, not driving the venerable old uncle round via the street,” Professor winked.
Soon a lab assistant came to get Isaac and they went down to the downloading room on the minus two level. Bikie had already woken up.
“Well, how did it all go?” Isaac asked him
“Alright,” Bikie answered with a feeble smile.
Isaac felt an unpleasant deja vu of his conversations with Pascal the Veggie. A perfect copy. The lab assistants muttered something about not wanting to detain them.
“Of course, you still have a couple of minutes,” one lab assistant said. “But you can wait as long as you like near the lift on the next floor up. I’ll show you the way.”
“Thanks.” Isaac glanced at his watch. He had to stretch this out for another seven or eight minutes. “Where’s the restroom?”
“Along the corridor on the left.”
Leaving Bikie in the room, Isaac went out, counted off eight minutes and came back. The lab assistant looked annoyed, but Isaac couldn’t care less.
He slapped Bikie on the shoulder and asked:
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m all right,” Bikie replied curtly, not showing the slightest sign of interest.
He was clearly still a Veggie…
“Let’s go then,” said Isaac, thinking about how to play for time. The lift was already too close, but they couldn’t leave the minus two level, no matter what.
Isaac stopped, retied his shoelaces and went on. Obedient Bikie tramped after him.
“It’s all fine for him,” Isaac thought nervously. “For him these minutes are simply passing by. But for me every single one is like a year.” Glancing at his watch, Isaac discovered that he’d gained another thirty seconds. The lab assistant was calling the lift.
Isaac began creeping along the wall, already prepared to fall on the floor and act out a heart attack, clutching at his chest, but at that moment someone pinched him on the backside! He swung round: Bikie was almost stony-face, but it was clear from his eyes and the corners of his mouth that he was struggling to resist laughter!
There hadn’t been a power surge, the lights hadn’t blinked, in fact, there hadn’t been any visible results of the hack at all. But by this time it must have happened.
“Did it work? But of course, it worked! Why would a Veggie pinch anyone?” Isaac thought anxiously.
“We can manage on our own from here if you like,” he suggested out loud to the lab assistant.
“No, I have to escort you up, that’s the rule,” said the lab assistant, walking into the lift.
In the lift, Isaac could barely restrain a smile. Could it really have worked? All they had to do now was cut and run.
Getting out on the level above the protected zone, the guys leisurely sat down on a sofa. Bikie pretended he hadn’t recognized the Professor, but Isaac caught on quickly.
“Come on, don’t you recognize your own uncle?”
“Yes, I do,” Bikie replied in a theatrically feeble voice.
The lab assistant left without waiting for the mock relatives to embrace. He’d done his job, the rest was none of his business. As soon as the lift doors closed, Isaac sighed in relief and the Professor sprang at Bikie
“Well? Did it work?”
Before Bikie could even answer, they suddenly heard someone running down the corridor. Could they have been busted?
It was the girl from reception, and striding rapidly behind her was… Wolanski!
“Peter?” Isaac was astonished. “Is this a special day for surprises?”
“Is this man with you?” asked the girl. “He demanded to be let through to you.”
“Yes, he’s with us, thank you.”
The girl left. Peter walked up to Bikie, ruffled up his hair and asked:
“How’s things, old buddy?”
“Thanks, Peter, fine.”
“You a Veggie?”
“No.” Bikie grinned. “But there are cameras here, so be careful.”
Peter held his hand out to the Professor.
“Peter.”
“I know who you are. I saw your photos at the villa,” growled Link, reluctantly shaking the hand. He was clearly annoyed by Peter’s sudden appearance. “Isaac, I don’t understand the point of these unnecessary improvisations!” The Professor did not try to conceal that he was angry.
“He didn’t know either, Professor” Peter replied. “I was going to arrive this morning, before the downloading, but my plane was delayed slightly.”
Wolanski intended to continue, but, at this point, Bikie got up.
“Maybe we should make tracks out of here first?” he asked.
The plotters finally realized that it had all worked! Isaac and Peter exclaimed “Yes!!!” in unison and dashed towards their friend.
After hugging them, Bikie walked over to thank Link.
“Congratulations, Bikie, and please return the dictaphone that I gave you,” the Professor still looked agitated.
“Hang on, Link, let’s get out…”
“Give it to me right now!” The Professor’s voice was far from friendly or polite.
Bikie frowned.
“Right now? What’s the problem, Professor?”
“Hand it over!” Link barked, taking a handgun with a silencer out of his briefcase.
“What are you doing, Link?” asked Isaac, flabbergasted. “Have you lost your mind? Put the gun away!”
“Give me the dictaphone, quick! There are scads of cameras here, I don’t have time to stand here jawing with you!” growled the Professor.
“No, I won’t! What’s in it? What kind of “sub-insurance?” Bikie’s voice was firm.
Link coolly trained the pistol on Bikie.
“It’s merely a little copy of the latest data base. Harmless, but it means a lot to me. The latest technologies that have been developed. It is the payment for my invention. And taking a bullet for it is very bad for your health. You can keep the hack as a souvenir. You never know, it might come in useful.”
“What a bastard you are, Link! Now I understand why you didn’t want to go to the police! You wanted to steal the technologies right from the start, you were just messing with me! We all took risks here for nothing! Bikie risked everything!” Isaac was absolutely furious.
“It’s billions of dollars, you dope! And by right they’re mine! What I said about the police was perfectly sincere, you, idiot! Everyone wants money. Not only you, Bikie!” Link started losing his temper too. “Go running to the police, Isaac, if you’re so smart. You have a good thousand living proofs now!” Then he turned to Bikie: “And you give me that copy, you, blockhead, or I’ll put a bullet through that tattooed noggin!” Link aimed the pistol straight at Bikie’s head.
Wolanski suddenly stepped in between Bikie and Link, turning his back to the Professor.
“Please, Bikie, hand it over. He was aiming at your head, so now he’s aiming at the back of mine. Hand it over for my sake,” said Peter. “You’re my friend. Give him the damned technologies, let him choke on them.”
Bikie reluctantly handed the dictaphone to Peter.
“An attractive little gizmo. Very stylish. But not worth dying for.”
Wolanski turned to Link.
“Here, take it. And now get lost!”
“Brat! How dare you? You three are just three dumbheads, blind with hate, three inquisitors of science! Punks, who tried to kick the ass of evolution. Pathetic froggies! Did you really believe that I will help you to destroy my creation, my child? The most progressive invention of all times? The only possible safe artificial intellect which has already saved millions of lives? You are just regular half-wits, you were nothing but the means at hand, like a taxi driver who brought me here, not more. Collective Mind gave the world as many good things as God! Or more! It gave peace and happiness, created paradise on the earth, here and now. Releasing the energy of these people you won’t get anything, they will all come back, you’ll see. Your lousy freedom is nothing but fighting for survival. Do you really believe this kind of freedom is needed? Your freedom results in wars for different spiritual values, material benefits. Order! That’s what they need! Freedom is in order! Jerks!”
The Professor mumbled something else and backed away into the lift he had called, still pointing the gun at them. When the doors had almost closed, he smiled sneeringly, swung his arm and tossed the gun into the corridor. It fell with a crashing, the silencer flying in one direction and the gun in the other. The pistol was not real. It was a plastic fake.
“Ah, you asshole,” exclaimed Bikie, kicking the doors.
“Let him go,” said Wolanski. “The Professor is in for a little surprise too.”
“What have you done?” Isaac cracked down on Wolanski. “That asshole tricked us.”
“Bikie, Isaac, wait, it’s all right. Here, take your dictaphone, Bikie. The Professor took away a real dictaphone,” said Peter, emphasizing the last two words. “I even recorded a greeting for him,” Wolanski said with a smile. “Now we’re definitely clearing out of here, and quick!”
Recovered from the shock, the false donors ran along the corridor to the exit. Not completely recovered yet, Bikie stumbled on the stairway and Isaac helped him get up. Outside a car with driver was waiting for them. As soon as they all got in, it drove away.
Bikie checked that he was holding the Professor’s dictaphone. It was still there, in his pocket.
“Peter, can you explain all this, maybe?” Isaac asked.
“In a moment,” Wolanski replied, “Not here. Did you leave anything in the hotel worth going back for?”
“Nothing special. The biker jacket that Bikie gave me. I have my passport with me.”
“Bikie, how about you?”
“No. I’ll buy everything new now. And a jacket for Isaac, too.”
“That’s just great. Then we go straight to my place.”
***
In the elevator, Link held the dictaphone carefully. It was priceless! “That’s strange, the keys are not taped over,” he thought. And it looked absolutely new. He suddenly felt a vague doubt. The screen indicated that there was one recording. “What the hell is this?” the Professor swore and pressed the playback key.
“Hi, Professor,” the dictaphone said in Wolanski’s voice. “If you’re listening to this, it means I was right. I have a piece of advice for you. It is better to be a heroic freedom fighter than a member of a terrorist group. I wish you luck!”
What sort of drivel was that? Link was berserk with rage. The lift doors opened and he saw the hall crowded with people. The Professor tried to jostle his way through them to the exit, but suddenly a man standing beside him shouted:
“Look, it’s Professor Link!”
Standing a bit farther off than the throng of journalists was the Professor’s red-bearded assistant. Link had summoned him a few days earlier and they were supposed to meet today. Redbeard watched what was happening helplessly, not knowing what to do. People were exulting, shouting, squealing. He watched Link, totally bewildered and frightened, being tossed in the air like a champ by the ecstatic crowd. Others were trying to squeeze through the crowd with microphones at the ready. How had they recognized the disguised Professor, and who had gathered them here?
***
Having reached the famous Plaza Hotel, the car stopped. Peter asked the driver to wait for an hour and invited the friends upstairs to his room. He poured himself some water and finally explained everything.
“In my bedroom and all over the house, even in the grounds, there are lots of hidden video cameras,” Wolanski began. “I wasn’t intending to snoop on you. Well, sorry, maybe just to start with. I didn’t really know you, it was just in case. After Amsterdam, to be honest, I never looked even once. But then an alert message was triggered, telling me you’d gone into my bedroom after all. I was angry, of course, but when I saw that it was Link himself, that you’d found him after all, I decided not to say anything. But I keep a few personal things in my bedroom, and it would have been unpleasant if Link found out about them. I wat
ched the recordings once in a while to check that he didn’t poke around into my chest of drawers. I also noticed that he always locked the door. That seemed strange to me. Anyway, I started spying on him.
“Well, I wasn’t an undergraded flankey either, and when I realized that if the Professor was locking the door and working on two devices, but only showing you one of them, I concluded that he was doing something you might not like. They were connected in some way, he usually switched them on at the same time. Then I saw that he had bought a gun. I thought it was real at first too. It really looks like it.”
“Dammit, Peter, and I thought you were super-cool, but it turns out you knew the gun wasn’t real?” Bikie chortled.
“Of course, I did. How do you think he could have got a real one past the metal detector? Think about it!”
“Hell knows. He’s a smart guy.”
“Damn the gun anyway. In a critical situation like that, no one could tell it was a toy. Anyway, I had no more doubts: he hid the second device too carefully before he left the bedroom. And then he stuck the gadget in the casing of a dictaphone. Sure, I couldn’t make out what it was, but I bought a dictaphone exactly like that oen just in case.”
Isaac got a kick out of listening to Peter. It was a real pleasure to deal with intelligent people. Yes, Isaac had screwed up a bit, been too trusting. But did he really have any choice?
“So then it was important not to miss the day when you went for the hack. Hanging about with you in New York was too dangerous, given that you had already dragged a policeman bound hand and foot into my home.”
“I decided not to put you in the picture about that,” explained Isaac. “That way, if anything went wrong, you could wriggle out of it. Who knows, they could have stuck you on some kind of lie detector. But that way, you were clean.”
“Isaac, you frightened me so badly with your secrecy and your coded telephone conversations that I couldn’t even share my thought about Link with you. And you also forgot to warn me about the first attempt. You should be grateful it didn’t work out and we have the dictaphone now. He remained silent for a while, then added: “And I actually wanted to do it myself.”
Collective Mind Page 36
