Just when it looked to Kurt like the race would be called a draw, the wheels on the robot car spun and it began grinding its way out of the gravel trap and back onto the course.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Kurt said.
He fired up his own engine, put the car into gear and punched the gas. The start was slow and sloppy, tearing up seventy yards of turf, before he got the nose pointed in the right direction.
One look told Kurt there was no way he could catch the robot car by getting back on the track and chasing it around the long horseshoe turn, so he took a shortcut and drove straight across the infield, heading for the other side.
Angling for the finish line, he stole a glance across the track. Han’s car was picking up speed but losing parts along the way. They were heading for the same spot from different directions. A collision was imminent.
Kurt kept the gas pedal down, merged onto the front straight and cut across the finish line on a diagonal angle. The robot car, or what was left of it, crossed the line half a second later.
Locking up the brakes once more, Kurt skidded to a stop. The robot car slowed with far greater control and stopped a hundred feet down the track.
Kurt threw open the door, punched the quick release on his harness and stepped from the car.
As Akiko ran up to him, he pulled off his helmet and the fireproof hood. Meanwhile, several of Han’s people rushed over to the ruined prototype that had come in second.
“Are you all right?” Akiko asked.
“Never better,” he said, though he was drenched in sweat and smelled like burnt rubber.
“I can’t believe you won,” she said, grabbing his hands. “You really are mad.”
“I don’t like to lose,” Kurt said. He held up a single finger. “Humans: one. Robots: zero.”
Han and his assistant came down from the viewing platform, looking far less excited. “You haven’t won anything,” Han insisted. “You cheated. You cut across the infield.”
“And you said first one across the finish line wins,” Kurt replied. “I don’t recall any conditions about how we were supposed to get there.”
Han pursed his lips, looking angrily at Kurt. “This mess doesn’t prove anything.”
Kurt grinned wickedly. “I disagree. It proves robots can be beaten. And that humans aren’t the only dangerous outside forces.”
Han bristled at Kurt using his own words against him, but there was nothing he could say to refute it.
A chime toned on Gao’s medallion and he checked a message on the screen. “Dinner is ready. If anyone is still interested in eating.”
Han glowered beside his assistant. He seemed to have lost his appetite. Gao looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there. Akiko tensed, her free hand inching toward the hidden knife beneath her sleeve. Only Kurt was all smiles.
“I’m famished,” he said with a grin. “Racing works up quite an appetite.”
37
JOE WAS parked at a scenic overlook on the switchback road that led up into the mountains. From there, he enjoyed a commanding view of Nagasaki Harbor, the waterfront and the CNR factory that occupied a large section of it.
He set a camera with a powerful zoom lens on a tripod and carried a pair of high-powered military-grade binoculars as a backup. Watching Han’s production facility in this way, he’d seen Kurt and Akiko park and enter the building. He’d even caught part of the race on the test track behind the factory. He was glad to see Kurt walk away from the crash unscathed. Most men would have had enough at that point, but Joe knew his friend too well to expect Kurt to call it a night.
With the race over and events in a lull, Joe bit into a rather tasteless sandwich he’d purchased from a vending machine. “Just my luck,” he said to himself. “Stranded alone on a cliff while Kurt goes to dinner with a beautiful woman and races a million-dollar sports car.”
Leaning against the fender of the Skyline GT-R, he put the sandwich down and lifted the binoculars to his eyes. Focusing them with a light touch, he scanned the area around the factory.
Aside from the race, there had been no movement whatsoever. Kurt’s rental car sat, alone and undisturbed, in the parking lot. The grounds themselves remained quiet. Joe hadn’t even seen a security patrol. But then China-Nippon Robotics probably used automated systems instead of humans, making slow and obvious rounds.
Joe lowered the binoculars and checked his watch. It was just past ten o’clock. Kurt had insisted he and Akiko would return by midnight no matter what. If they hadn’t reappeared by then, it was up to Joe to get them help.
Thinking that was a likely possibility, Joe had put in a call to Superintendent Nagano. He’d been told the superintendent was in the field on an assignment and would be out of reach until he returned.
There was something odd in the assistant’s voice. Joe wanted to chalk it up to translating the words to English but couldn’t shake the feeling that it was something more.
Regardless, he was ready with Plan B: a trunkload of industrial-sized fireworks that he’d launch into the complex as he called the Nagasaki Fire Department for help.
It was a crude idea, but it would work. These were no sparklers Joe was going to set off. He had bottle rockets the size of mortar rounds. Starburst shells and spinners that he could land on the roof of the factory, where they would flare green, red and white while pumping out huge volumes of smoke. And with fumes and fire pouring from the roof of the factory, Han’s personnel would be unable to turn the fire department away. Joe would rush in right alongside them.
He hoped it wouldn’t come to that. But experience had taught him otherwise. “Come on, Kurt,” he said to himself. “This isn’t the night to linger over drinks.”
Lowering the binoculars, Joe caught sight of something new. A dark sedan moving down the road toward the factory.
Retraining the binoculars on the car, Joe tracked it as it passed under a streetlight and turned toward a loading zone around the side. Joe hopped up and moved to a spot where he could see the loading zone more clearly.
The sedan pulled up to the dock. A man got out and climbed up on the loading platform. He rang the buzzer and, without waiting for an answer, began to pound his fist on the back door.
An overhead light came on, illuminating the man, but all Joe could see was his back.
The door opened. A security guard appeared and words were exchanged. It seemed like a heated discussion.
The security guard went back inside and the angry fellow waited impatiently.
“Turn around,” Joe whispered. “What have you got to lose?”
The man stood his ground and Joe took the moment to grab the camera tripod and bring it to his new vantage point.
By the time he’d set it up and focused, the door was open again. This time, Han appeared. He walked out to the parked sedan. The trunk was opened and Han reached in to retrieve a long wooden case. He rested the case on the roof of the car and opened it.
Joe focused as finely as he could. In the case was a shimmering sword.
“Strange hour of the night to be buying collectables,” Joe whispered.
An approving nod came from Han and the case was folded shut.
Joe expected he would lose any chance to ID the driver in a moment. He edged closer to the cliff but could not change the angle enough to see the face. Then he noticed a large convex mirror, stationed on the edge of the dock. Every loading zone had one, placed there to help the drivers back in without hitting the dock.
Joe turned the camera toward the mirror, zoomed in as far as it would go and refocused. The magnification was so high that the slightest bump made the image blur, so Joe took his hands off the camera and watched the glowing screen.
The focus tightened and Joe recognized the driver: Ushi-Oni. To his surprise, Joe noticed a passenger slumped over against the window of the car as if sleeping. Recognition came to h
im in a flash. “Superintendent Nagano.”
No wonder he wasn’t at his office and his assistant sounded concerned. He was lying on his side, in the back of Ushi-Oni’s car, with a length of white tape stretched across his mouth.
Movement began in earnest now. Other swords were displayed. Some wrapped in leather, others were in additional wooden boxes. A leather-bound book was produced. Han kept this and offered an approving nod. He waved his hand, the entry gate was drawn back and Ushi-Oni climbed back into the car and drove through.
38
KURT WAS in the garage washroom, getting dressed and making himself presentable. Ten laps in the hot box of a race car had drenched him in sweat. He was back in his own clothes and splashing water on his face when his phone began to buzz.
He shook the water from his hands, dried his face with a towel and grabbed the phone. It was Joe.
“I hate to interrupt the fun,” Joe said, “but you’ve got a party crasher. Ushi-Oni just pulled up to the back gate.”
Kurt didn’t bother asking Joe if he was sure. He wouldn’t have made the call if there was any doubt. “So Nagano wasn’t able to track him down.”
“Wish that was the case,” Joe said, “but it looks like the hunter got taken down by the hunted. I saw Nagano in the back of the sedan. Mouth taped, hands tied.”
“Is he alive?”
“Can’t tell. He wasn’t moving.”
Kurt held the phone against his chin as he pulled on his dinner jacket. “Where’s the car now?”
“It pulled through the gate and parked just beyond the loading zone by the secondary building.”
“How do I get there?”
“You need to get to the southwest corner of the building you’re in now.”
Kurt needed to create a distraction. He had an idea that would dovetail nicely with the tools Joe had at his disposal. “I’m going to make a run for it. Get yourself into position. If they leave the building, you follow them. If they stay, give me two minutes and then start the fireworks.”
“I figured you might want some help,” Joe said. “I’m setting up the launch tray now.”
“Two minutes,” Kurt repeated. “Not a second more.”
Joe confirmed and hung up. Kurt put the phone in his pocket, straightened his cuffs and walked out of the washroom.
Akiko waited outside chatting quietly with Gao. Walter Han was nowhere in sight.
“Are we still on for dinner?”
“I’ll take you to the dining room,” Gao said. “Mr. Han will join you shortly.”
Kurt nodded and took Akiko by the hand. “Lead on.”
Gao took them across the garage toward the inner doors. Kurt spent every second scanning for the items he needed. Workbenches surrounded them. Tool chests filled with every implement known to man covered an entire wall, but Kurt was looking for the simplest of items.
Spotting what he wanted, he squeezed Akiko’s hand ever so slightly.
She looked over at him.
He nodded toward Gao.
Her eyes widened.
He held up one hand. Wait.
They reached the inner door. Gao pulled out his key card and held it to the sensor. The light on the door went green and the bolt disengaged with an audible click.
Before he could pass through it, Kurt clubbed him between the neck and the shoulder with a knifehand strike. The blow landed hard on Gao’s suprascapular nerve, rendered the right side of his body numb and dropped him to the floor in a daze. A right cross to the jaw put him down for the count.
“He’s out cold,” Kurt said, checking on him and grabbing the key card. “Find something to tie his hands with.”
She grabbed an electrical cord and began binding Gao. “What are we doing?” she asked. “You know they’re watching. There are cameras everywhere in here.”
“Which means we have to move fast.”
Kurt ran to one of the workbenches. Oily rags filled a garbage bin on one side. Spray cans of WD-40 stood nearby.
“Spray the WD-40 into that pile of rags and keep spraying,” he told her.
All he needed was a spark. He found it with the battery cart they’d used to start the race cars.
While she soaked the rags with the lubricant, he wheeled the cart over to the workbench, switched it on and scraped the terminals against each other. Sparks shot in all directions.
“Are you about to do what I think you’re about to do?”
“They burned you and Kenzo out,” he said. “Now we’re going to return the favor.”
Stepping around her, Kurt brought the cables up and placed them in line with the mist blasting from the can. A single touch released a new wave of sparks and the spray can was transformed into a miniature flamethrower.
Akiko held the nozzle open for several seconds before releasing it. By then, the garbage bin full of cotton rags had become a burning cauldron.
Kurt shoved it beneath a workbench so that it wouldn’t go out when the sprinklers came on. Akiko tossed the can of WD-40 inside for good measure.
“Let’s go,” he said, rushing to the door.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“To the southwest corner of the building,” he said. “Joe saw a van pull up with Superintendent Nagano inside. Let’s just say he didn’t come here of his own volition.”
Kurt used the key card to open the door, smashed the glass of a fire panel with his elbow and pulled the alarm handle. Lights began to flash and the alarm began wailing.
“Wait,” Akiko said.
She dashed back into the garage.
“Come on,” Kurt shouted. “We don’t have time.”
She returned seconds later, dragging the unconscious body of Gao behind her.
“He would have been fine,” Kurt said. “This place isn’t going to burn up like your old castle.”
“I wasn’t saving him,” she said. “We need a doorstop if we want to cause any real trouble.”
She wedged him between the door and the wall, keeping it open and allowing the hall to fill with smoke.
“A helpful touch,” Kurt said. “Let’s go.”
They were off and running, heading down the hall to the southwest. At the end of the hall, Kurt found a locked fire door, but Gao’s key card opened it. They made it through what had to be a design room, filled with scale models and computers, and then found an elevator lobby, with doors on three sides plus the one they’d come through.
Kurt rushed to the farthest door and opened it with the key card. He saw only offices and a conference room.
He turned to see Akiko, waving him over. She’d found an emergency escape plan plastered to the wall. It showed the entire floor plan.
“Three cheers for the Japanese version of OSHA,” Kurt said.
Akiko was looking out into the room and rechecking the plan. “It’s got to be that one.”
They ran to the door on their right, opened it and found a long hall that led along the front of the building. Running through it, Kurt saw the first of many flares and phosphorus explosions raining down on the lawn outside. “Rocket’s red glare,” he said. “Right on time.”
39
JOE HAD launched exactly half of his fireworks at Han’s building when he called the fire department. Using the phonetic translation Akiko had worked out for him in advance, he told them the CNR factory was exploding and burning. At least that’s what he hoped he was telling them. He repeated it twice and then hung up.
Grabbing the second set of launch tubes, he loaded more of the monster-sized bottle rockets and angled them to fire downward and onto the roof ahead of him instead of up into the sky. With the press of a button, he lit them off.
The launch filled the overlook with a swirling cloud of gray smoke. Through it, Joe saw red, white and purple explosions right above the building. Another s
hell, designed to flare in a horsetail effect, hit the roof and spread out blazing golden embers in all directions. He listened to reverberating booms and the sound of fire engines coming from the outskirts of town.
“That should do it,” Joe said to himself.
He got up, tossed the camera and the binoculars into the back of the Skyline and climbed into the driver’s seat.
The sirens were growing louder by the moment; he could see the flashing lights coming down the main road a mile or two from the factory, but it was another sound that got his attention.
He turned back toward the factory and noticed lights descending toward it from Nagasaki Bay. Amid all the chaos, a helicopter was coming in for a landing.
Joe turned the key, put the Skyline in gear and spun the tires, pulling off the dirt and out onto the road. If Han’s people took Nagano out of there in a helicopter, he would never be seen again.
* * *
• • •
GAO HAD already come around by the time Han and three members of the security team reached him. Smoke was pouring into the hall through the open door to the garage, the sprinklers were blasting at full pressure, but the fire had been hidden so well, it wasn’t being doused.
“Untie him,” Han ordered one of the men. “And get someone in there to put out that damned fire.”
“What happened?” Gao asked groggily.
“What do you think happened?” Han snapped. “Austin and the woman jumped you and set the place on fire.”
By now, the guard had untied Gao’s hands and propped him up. Gao rubbed at his wrists, then his neck. “Maybe they realized I was taking video of them.”
Han put his hand on the medallion around Gao’s neck. It was undamaged. The high-tech computer glasses he’d been wearing lay on the floor a few feet away.
“If they were upset about you recording them, they wouldn’t have left all your cameras behind. This is an act of desperation. A fire to bring the authorities into the building. An incident to put a spotlight of attention on us. It won’t matter; in fact, it will be more evidence to use against them later. Did you get enough video?”