Hong Kong (51 page)

"We have both won, Mr. Cole. You have conquered Hong Kong and I have relieved the Chinese government of a great deal of money."

Sonny parked his rump on the edge of the desk, one leg dangling, the pistol negligently pointed in their direction.

"What do you want?"

"I owe this man here"—he gestured with the pistol at Grafton— "some serious pain. He killed more than a dozen of my associates and destroyed several major assets of mine, a floating restaurant and a large yacht. Capital assets worth twelve million American dollars burned or went to the bottom, Admiral, thanks to you. You are a real pain in the ass."

"You should have left my wife alone," Jake said calmly.

"Nothing personal, but I was trying for a lever to pry some money from Mr. Cole, who has more than is good for any man. He couldn't spend it in five lifetimes. I merely wished to help him with that chore."

"I should have killed you when I had the chance," Jake said, still speaking in a conversational tone.

Sonny Wong grinned. The truth was he felt damned good. "Too late now, Grafton. Too late, too late."

"Where did you get the York?" Cole asked Sonny.

"It was being repaired. Miss Kent had to shoot several of the technicians when they proved uncooperative, but the York seemed glad to see her."

Cole finished the last bite of his breakfast and put the knife and fork on the plate. Carmellini moved his feet back under his chair.

He truly is evil,
Callie thought, staring at Sonny. She had never seen him in the flesh; he wasn't anything like she had imagined. Short, pudgy, a round, youthful-looking face—he didn't look like anyone's idea of a career criminal. He was, though.

"I'm ready," Kerry Kent announced triumphantly. She smiled at Carmellini. It wasn't a nice smile. "After Charlie does the admiral, he's going to do you, Carmellini, you sneaky bastard."

The coffeepot, creamer, and sugar bowl sat on a highly polished silver tray. Jake reached for the edge of the tray with his left hand, pulled it a little closer so he could reach the coffeepot better. The York unit was about fifteen feet away, staring at him.

Jake poured himself a cup of coffee and set the pot on the table, away from the tray. He then looked again at Wong, who was saying, "Tell you what, Cole. I will give you a chance to save yourself and your friends. Use the satellite telephone. Call your banker in California. Tell

him to wire the fifty million to my Swiss account. There's been enough violence in Hong Kong. Pay me the money and get on with your quest."

"I don't have that kind of cash available at a moment's notice," Cole

remarked evenly.

"Perhaps your banker can be persuaded to find some lying around somewhere. Miss Kent has programed the York. I am out of patience and time. We have played the game and you have lost. Step over here and pick up the phone."

Callie was staring at her husband.
He's going to /(ill that man,
she thought,
and regret it for the rest of his life.

"We just want to go home," Callie said, causing Wong to look at

her.

Jake reached for his coffee cup with his left hand and knocked the cup over. As he started to rise to avoid the coffee splashing across the table, he drew the Colt .45 from its shoulder holster with his right hand. He thumbed off the safety as he swung the barrel and shot at Sonny Wong.

Sonny was looking the wrong way when Jake drew and he wasn't ready, so he was a second behind, which was just enough. His shot missed Jake's head by three inches and smacked into the wall behind him.

Jake Grafton didn't miss. His shot hit Sonny in the middle of the chest. His second hit him high in the throat, snapping his head back, and his third went through Sonny's heart.

When the first bullet hit Sonny, Kerry Kent screamed and lifted the York control unit up in front of her face.

She was still screaming when Jake Grafton put his fourth shot through the control unit and hit her in the forehead, tearing off the top of her head and spraying a blood mist.

The York unit lurched forward as Kent's corpse toppled to the floor.

Jake tilted the edge of the silver tray with his left hand. The creamer

and sugar bowl fell over. Jake turned the tray to catch the sun, then

shined the brilliant reflection into the sensors of Charlie York. The

robot froze, blinded.

Jake concentrated on keeping the reflected sunbeam in the lenses of the York's visual and infrared sensors. "Oh, Jake," Callie murmured.

"I\ow what;'" Jake said to Cole as he slowly holstered the pistol.

"Jesus, man, you shouldn't have shot a hole in the damned control unit."

Cole scrambled for it, picked it up, and turned it over in his hands, inspecting it.

"Oh, boy!" said Tommy Carmellini, who had dashed around the table and was checking Wong's pulse. "I don't think Mr. Wong expected that."

"Ruined the bastard's day," Jake muttered.

"Is he dead?" Callie asked.

"Pretty much," Carmellini replied, and went to take a squint at Kent. A glance was enough.

"Ruined," Cole said disgustedly, and tossed the control unit on the desk.

"Well, don't just stand there, Dr. Frankenstein," Jake said, his voice tightly controlled. "Turn the son of a bitch off."

"That's just it, Jake. Without the control unit, I can't."

"Isn't there an on-off switch or something?"

"Ah, no. The thinking was that the enemy could flip a switch as well as we could. The control unit is the only way to communicate with a York."

"Go get another one."

"Okay, but I don't think it'll do any good. Kent probably slaved the York to this unit so no one else could give it extraneous commands."

The sun was moving. In a couple of minutes Jake was going to lose it. As the beam wavered on Charlie York's face, he steadied the tray with both hands.

"Start thinking!" he said to Cole. "Gimme a plan!"

"Maybe you'd better get the hell out of here!"

"What if the damn thing then kills you people?"

"Kent said—"

"She lied to everyone—her whole life was a lie." He stared at Charlie York, trying to think. "What are the York's shortcomings, its vulnerabilities?"

"We just started the testing process when we had to stop. We ran out of time."

"No shit!" Jake took a deep breath, then exhaled. "Okay, everyone

out of the room. All you people clear out, now! (Jo down the nail ana get in one of the offices and close the door."

One by one they went around behind him and out. Callie was last. "Jake ..."

"Go on, Callie. I want to know you're safe." "Jake!"

"Go! Let me think for a minute."

There it stood, a big, massive mechanical monster with one arm and a damaged minigun, blinded by the sun. It
was
going to kill him.

Perhaps he should just sit still, refuse to be a threat. But Kent said she had told the York to kill
him\
As the York was looking at his face, she probably designated him as a target, bypassing the threat recognition program. Or was she merely using a figure of speech? Or just flat lying?

He was about to find out. In a few seconds the sunbeam would be gone and ...

Holding the tray as steady as he could with his left hand, he drew the Colt .45 again. The distance to the York was about ten or twelve feet. God, the thing was intimidating!

With his elbow on the table, he aimed at the York's visual light sensor behind the lens turret. Got the sights lined up, held them as still as humanly possible, and squeezed the trigger. The gun bucked in his hand.

The York's head snapped back from the impact of the heavy .45 slug, but the sensor lens appeared intact. So did the lens in the turret. Bulletproof glass! Of course!

He had two more rounds left, so he aimed at the left sensor, the infrared one.

The York jerked again from the impact of the bullet, yet when its head came erect the lens still appeared to be okay. The last shell.

Another hit. Again to no apparent effect.

He gently laid the empty Colt on the table, trying not to disturb the beam of light reflected from the tray.

On the table was a squeeze bottle of ketchup. Jake picked it up with his right hand. Still pretty full.

Now!

He flipped the tray at the York and ran for the door.

The York was right behind him.

As he went through the outer office, he grabbed a chair and hurled it at the York's feet.

Like a champion hurdler, Charlie York launched itself up and over. And lost its balance on landing and fell in a crash.

Inertia caused the unit to do a somersault.

And it rolled forward onto its feet and kept coming!

Jake dashed along the hallway as fast as he could go. He risked a glance over his shoulder. The York was twenty feet back, lurching along, touching the wall occasionally with its left hand to steady itself.

Callie opened a door, pushing a chair on rollers. "In here," she urged Jake as she sent the chair flying along the corridor toward the York, who again attempted to hurdle it. This time the chair caught one foot while it was in the air, and the York landed in a thunderous crash on its head and good shoulder.

Jake slammed the door closed. Carmellini, Cole, and Callie were there along with five or six consulate personnel. "I told you people to get outta here," Jake protested.

"In line, quick," Cole said. "It'll look through the wall."

A half dozen of the quickest thinkers got into a tight knot, then they separated.

The door shook from the impact of Charlie York's fist.

"Where's the nearest swimming pool?" Jake demanded of Cole.

"The hotel, three doors down the street."

"Meet me there," he shouted as the York's left fist smashed through the door. "Bring extension cords."

He jerked open the door to the adjacent room and dashed through it just as the York ripped the door to the room he had left completely off its hinges.

The robot charged into the room, then examined the features of each person there. Clearly it was unsure which of the humans was the designated target.

Grafton was not there. With its UWB radar the York had seen one person leave, so after no more than a four-second delay, it turned and charged after Grafton, lurching as it went, slightly off balance.

As he left the adjacent office Jake had locked the door behind him. He ran down the corridor as the York smashed at the wall, punching holes in the dry wall with its fist, ramming it, making dust come out in clouds.

Jake was going for the stairs when he reconsidered. He pushed the button for the elevator and stood there waiting while the York tore at the wall behind him. A leg came through, the head, now the arm.

He could hear an elevator coming, a high-pitched whine. There were two elevators, so he looked at the floor numbers over the doors. The elevator on the left was a floor away ... stopping on this floor ... the doors opened as the York crashed completely through the wall into the corridor.

Jake wormed his way between the opening doors and jabbed the down button as the York came tearing down the hall, each leg driving
hard.

The elevator door took its own sweet time closing.
If it gets its claws in the door, the door won't close!
The elevator closed in the York's face, with the hand reaching.... The York slammed its fist into the exterior door, making the whole elevator shake.

Jake's eyes went to the floor indicator. The elevator had been going up, so the up arrow was there. Before his eyes the arrow flipped to a down indication, and the elevator doors began opening.

Jake pulled out the emergency stop button. An alarm rang somewhere.

The door opened about two inches and stopped. The York got its two claws into the opening and began tugging. The door creaked.

If Charlie York had had two hands, the door would probably have failed. With only one hand, the robot could get insufficient leverage. The ringing alarm bell only added to Jake's adrenaline level. The York was right there in front of him, its head only inches away. He pointed the plastic bottle of ketchup at the York's face and squeezed with all his strength. The ketchup squirted out, covering the York's sensor lenses.

When its vision clouded, the York withdrew its claws from the crack in the elevator door and brought its hand in front of its face. Fluid

squirted from an opening in its wrist onto the sensor lenses. The doors remained frozen open about two inches, so Jake could still see the York.

With the alarm ringing steadily, Jake opened the emergency escape door on top of the elevator car and grabbed it with both hands. He swung his feet, wriggled wildly, and got one shoulder through.

The York tore at the door again. It got its hand through and used the middle joint of its arm for leverage.