Читать книгу The Forbidden City - John McNally - Страница 18

ithin minutes all routes out of West London were subject to extensive roadblocks as police scoured the capital looking for the three scooters.

Nobody noticed the street sweeper and his cart emerge from the smoke. His passage south was uninterrupted. When he reached the river he pushed the cart to the end of a jetty and transferred it to a waiting speedboat.

Moments later the boat was cutting through the grey-brown water of the Thames.

DAY TWO 18:38 (Local GMT+8), Roof of the World, Shanghai.

Al headed back up in the elevator surrounded by a team of Chinese State Security Officers who had appeared in alarm while he queued at the ice-cream van.

On the top floor King and Bo Zhang waited for him to arrive. King had been alerted to the misdemeanour – “Allenby has left the building! Without an escort!” – and had agreed to talk to him about his conduct. Eccentricity might be seen as a marker of genius (or just an annoying trait) in Britain, but in China it bore no such association.

Then an emergency call came in and King had to step back and pick up a phone.

The elevator doors slid open and Al stepped out.

“Doctor! I insist we follow security protocols!” said Bo Zhang in polished distress.

“Take a chill pill, or at least get yourself one of these,” said Al, indicating the ice-cream cone. “If we’re going to work together, you have to understand my only rule is – ‘there are no rules’. Frees up the mind, y’know? Helps to think.” Al gestured expansively.

“Your working methods are your own. I am responsible for your personal safety!” snapped Bo Zhang.

From his phone, Commander King cut across them both.

“Gentlemen –” he looked grave – “we have a problem.”

DAY TWO 23:59 (Local GMT+8). Kung Fu Noodles, The Forbidden City, Shanghai. Nano-Botmass:*249994

*249995 …

*249996 …

*249997 …

*249998 …

*249999 …

*250000: NANO-BOTMASS = DISTRIBUTION MASS

Production continued while the datum was transmitted to Song Island.

A response code was received.

Immediately the PRIME XE.CUTE gave the order.

SEE VECTOR DESPATCH.

Bot group by bot group, the tiny army, packed so tightly into the three Casio QT6600 cash registers that they were in danger of overheating, began to come to life.

Miniature turbines turned in earnest.

Over the next few hours the bots left their electronic hives. They proceeded to the maximum altitude allowed by the food hall ceiling then drifted down to land on the heads of the workers, crawling down through their hair to hide.

The unwitting workers then carried them back to factories across the Forbidden City. There the bots crawled out of the hair, cut their way through protective hairnets, and flew off in search of fresh electronic circuitry. Having located one another through a simple signal and colour-coding system they formed fifty-two new bot production suites. And began again.

SEE VECTOR MULTIPLY

*250001 …

*250012 …

*250019 …

*250034 …

*250041 …

*250056 …

*250077 …