Robot Trouble (7 page)

Rachel glared at her twin, who was whistling nonchalantly as he gazed out toward the ocean. “Roger, if you've changed the shut-off code…”

Roger looked astonished at the menacing tone in her voice. “It still turns him off,” he said, his voice dripping innocence. “I just thought he should have a chance to express an opinion before he was put out of commission.”

“I think someone's going to put
you
out of commission if you're not careful, Roger,” said Trip Davis, walking up behind them. “If I were a fortune-teller, I'd say you should be very watchful today. I see an angry redhead in your future.”

Rachel glanced up at Trip. “Thank goodness you're here,” she said. “Now I have someone sane to talk to.”

Roger made a face at her.

“Cool it, guys,” warned Trip. “Joggers coming.” He squinted into the distance. “I can't quite make out who they are.”

“It's Dr. Ling and Dr. Fontana,” said Rachel, more because she knew that the two female scientists were jogging partners than because she could make out their features.

“Good news at last!” cried Roger.

Rachel scowled. Among the males of the A.I. Gang, it was generally agreed that of all the scenic spots on Anza-bora Island, the most beautiful at any given moment was wherever the raven-haired Dr. Bai' Ling happened to be.

“Hi, kids!” said Dr. Fontana as she and Dr. Ling came puffing toward them. “What are you up to today?”

The women jogged in place as they waited for an answer.

“Not much,” said Roger with a shrug. “We're going to install an optical scanner on the computer, figure out how to catch one of Brody's security robots, and then begin designing a major communications satellite.”

It was all Trip could do to keep from jabbing Roger in the ribs.

“Well, at least you won't be bored,” said Dr. Ling with a chuckle. She was wearing a visor, T-shirt, and shorts; her shoulder-length ebony hair glistened in the sunlight.

“Is that Paracelsus?” asked Dr. Fontana, indicating the bag Rachel was carrying.

“Yes!” cried Paracelsus. “Thank God you found me! I've been kidnapped by gypsies!”

“Well, that answers that question,” said Dr. Fontana with a smile. Her specialty was trying to make machines express themselves more clearly in human language, and she had been very impressed the first time she had seen Paracelsus in action. Now she never failed to ask about him when she ran into the twins.

“We'd better get moving if we're going to get our five miles in,” puffed Dr. Ling. “See you kids later.”

With that, the two women began running down the road. Trip and Roger watched happily until they were out of sight.

“You two are disgusting,” said Rachel, shaking her head. “And I thought you told me Paracelsus's shut-off code still worked.”

“It does,” said Roger. “But I also put in a key so he would boot up if someone asked about him.”

Rachel sighed and turned to Trip and said plaintively, “How would you like to let Roger be
your
brother for a week or so? I'd like to try being an only child for a while.”

Hap Swenson squeezed a tiny drop of oil into the hole in Rin Tin Stainless Steel's belly, then glanced at his watch. He wished the others would get here. He was eager to get started for the day.

More than that, he wanted to tell them about the strange thing he had seen that morning.

He turned the mechanical dog back onto its feet and walked to the computer console.

“Good morning, Hap,” said Sherlock, when he had punched in his identification code. “How are you today?”

Hap smiled. Though he has been skeptical when Roger had suggested that they give their terminal a British accent, it really did make the machine seem more real somehow; friendly, almost.

I wonder if it really will be friendly if it ever becomes truly conscious?
thought Hap.

It wasn't the first time Hap had fretted about what success for the project would actually mean, not only for them, but for the rest of the world. He wondered if his own father even knew the real purpose of the Anza-bora Island project. The gang had figured it out from clues the others had picked up from their parents, who were actively working on the project. But Mr. Swenson was only here to keep the island's machines running. So he might never have been informed of the project's true goal.

Hap frowned. Even though his father had explained several times why they had not left with the others when the Air Force pulled out, it still seemed strange.

Like the rest of the gang, Hap was unwilling to believe that one of his parents might actually be Black Glove. But each of them had had at least one parent at that orientation meeting. So each of them, himself included, had at least one parent who was open to suspicion.

Hap's gloomy thoughts were interrupted by Wendy Wendell storming into the room. She was sputtering like a power cable that had fallen into a mud puddle.

“Have I got news for you guys!” she cried.

 

The Trap

“Send the men in, Sergeant Brody,” said Bridget McGrory, speaking into the intercom on her desk. “But let's keep this short, all right?”

She snapped off the intercom, then sighed. Brody's insistence on doing everything precisely by the book would drive her out of her mind yet.

Dr. Hwa stepped out of his office. Bridget went to his side. Together they watched as Sergeant Brody and his eight new guards filed into the room.

Ramon Korbuscek was third in line.

Those two would make good bookends,
thought Korbuscek as he walked past the observers.

Indeed, with their short, jet-black hair and diminutive stature (neither stood more than a few inches above five feet) Dr. Hwa and Bridget McGrory did look like a matched set. Most of the island staff felt that they made a good pair in more ways than one. The feisty Irishwoman was notorious for shielding her softhearted boss from people who wanted too much of his time. Dr. Hwa, in turn, seemed to be the only person who could keep McGrory from removing someone's head once her temper had been aroused.

“Staff Sergeant Brody reporting, sir,” said Brody, snapping off a salute.

Dr. Hwa gave him a gentle nod in return.

Korbuscek's gaze circled the room, taking in every detail. If he had to make a midnight visit it would be helpful to know the location of the desks, the chairs, the wall sockets, even the wastebasket.

Moreover, he could discern a great deal about someone's personality by the way he or she kept a room. This woman McGrory, for instance, was highly efficient and intolerant of intrusions. Comfort for visitors was almost nonexistent. Yet there were touches—the flower on her desk, the green silk scarf on the coatrack—that spoke of a softer side. That, too, was good to know.

The spy's brow furrowed momentarily. Other signs, even more subtle, indicated something else, something more interesting: This woman was keeping a secret.

Korbuscek's brain began to race. What was going on here?

While trying to analyze McGrory, Korbuscek was also listening to Dr. Hwa's brief remarks about the work being done on the island. Suddenly the spy felt a surge of excitement—no sign of which was allowed to reach his face. He had been sent to Anza-bora Island because the government that hired him was interested in a robot called Euterpe. After months of monitoring the scientist who was making the robot, their operatives had temporarily lost track of him. Considerable effort had finally turned up the information that Dr. Leonard Weiskopf had moved to Anza-bora Island under “mysterious circumstances.”

Now, that government wanted to know what he was up to.

Actually, they wanted more than that. If Weiskopf was still working on his robot, they wanted a few “changes” made.

That was fine with Korbuscek. He would do exactly as his employers desired. But Dr. Hwa's speech, oblique as it was, confirmed what the spy had already begun to suspect. Whatever was being created on Anza-bora Island, it was bigger—much,
much
bigger—than the people who hired him had even begun to guess.

That meant information—information that could be sold to the highest bidder.

Looking at his solemn face, no one could possibly have understood how happy that thought made Ramon Korbuscek.

From his position at the computer Hap looked up at the sputtering Wendy and said, “What guys? I'm the only one here.”

Wendy scowled. “This is important. Where are they?”

“I don't have the slightest idea.” Hap paused, then added tartly, “You don't have to wait for them to tell
me,
you know.”

Wendy smacked her palm against her forehead. “Duh!” she said. “Sorry.” Then, talking so fast she could barely keep her words straight, she spilled out the story of Black Glove's warning message.

Hap turned pale. But his response was interrupted by a commotion at the door as Roger, Rachel, and Trip came piling into the room. A moment later Ray, clutching his beloved basketball, came stumbling in as well.

“What happened to you two?” asked Roger, when he saw the expression on Hap and Wendy's faces. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

“Not saw,” said Wendy. “Heard from. Black Glove left a message on my computer this morning.”

It was impossible for her to speak above the babble that erupted at this statement.

“All right, everybody shut up!” shouted Roger. When the gang finally fell silent, he turned to Wendy and said, “Do you have the message?”

She snorted in disgust. “It disappeared, just as you would expect. But it also burned itself into my brain. I feel like Rachel; I can repeat the thing by heart.”

“Go ahead,” said Roger.

Wendy cleared her throat, and began to recite:

Miss Wendell:

This is a warning.

The people I work for have suffered enough from your foolish interference. You and your friends will stay out of my affairs, or suffer the consequences.

If you question this, let me review a few points for you.

You know I exist, but you cannot convince anyone else that I am real. Even worse, you have no idea who I am. You do not know where to find me, or how to fight me.

I, on the other hand, know who each of you is.

I can contact you by computer anytime I wish. Much of the time I can see what you are doing.

At times I can even hear you.

I have power. You do not.

Until today, I have been taking it easy on you. But I am not playing any longer. Cease to bother me, or be prepared to suffer the consequences.

Remember: I am watching.

And I may watch one of you die.

—Black Glove

When the Wonderchild was done a heavy silence hung over the group.

“He's bluffing,” said Roger at last.

“Or
she,
” said Wendy. “And I don't know if I agree with you. We're playing in the big leagues here.”

“Agreed,” said Roger. “But if the main thing on Black Glove's mind is getting information off the island, then he or she can't do much unless there's information
to
get off. If something happened to one of us, even accidentally, it would blow this place apart. The least that would happen is that things would slow down. More likely it would actually cause some of the scientists to leave. I'm pretty sure Dad would want to get away from here if anything happened to Rachel or me.”

“I think my folks would feel the same,” said Trip. “And that could bring the project to a standstill. These people are the best in the country—in the world, most of them. It wouldn't be easy to replace them.”

“My point exactly,” said Roger. “I just don't think Black Glove will want to take that chance.”

“Great,” said Hap. “That means if the enemy starts feeling cranky, I'll be number one on the hit parade, since
my
folks don't really make much difference to the success of the project.”

“Maybe we should just drop the whole thing,” said Rachel, who had been chewing on the back of her thumb.

“No,” said Hap firmly. “We can't do that, either.” He stood up and began pacing. “I've done a lot of thinking about this project lately. Frankly I'm not sure the thing is such a good idea to begin with; I get a little scared just thinking about what this computer might be able to do. But I doubt I could convince Dr. Hwa to call things off. So the odds are there really
is
going to be a computer that can think. If that's the case, I sure don't want it in the hands of G.H.O.S.T.! And since we can't get anyone else to take this seriously, that leaves it up to us. Risky? You bet. But I don't even want to think about the alternative.”

“Then I'd say it's time to get busy,” said Wendy. She pushed up the sleeves of her sweatshirt, then blinked and said, “What should we do first?”

“Finish the optical scanner?” suggested Trip.

“Already done!” said Hap. “I finished it last night. Would have had it done earlier, but I had to cobble up some substitutes for the parts that we couldn't get from the warehouse because of Brody's robots.”

“I hate to say this, but those robots should probably be our first project,” said Ray. “Until we handle that situation, we can be seriously slowed down any time we need a spare part.”

“Don't forget Dr. Weiskopf's rocket,” said Rachel. “We promised to build that, too.”

“I don't know,” said Roger. “It seems to me that's one project that
can
go on hold for the time being. We've got more important stuff to—” he paused, and a strange but familiar look appeared in his eyes. “Wait a minute! Stand back, everyone! I think I'm about to be brilliant!”

The rest of the gang looked at him nervously. Roger's brainstorms were known to be hazardous to other people's health.

“Oh, this is great!” he cried, looking at the ceiling. Then, turning his eyes back to the others, he said, “It's time we tracked down Black Glove and put a stop to this mess.”