enough, Norbert?” His voice was measured, deliberate.
“Oh, the repositories clicked over to a hundred per cent just before I killed the stream. As for whether we got what we were looking for,” he shrugged. “We’ll have to wait for the people in SP to tell us.” Norbert was lucky that Mason couldn’t see the tiny smirk on the corner of his mouth.
“Okay, folks,” said Mason. “Everyone on your toes. We have some data to analyze.”
***
After two hours of trudging around in the darkness, wet mud covering their shoes, they finally found the palm unit. It was actually Slocum who stepped on it, then bent down and picked it up. He indicated with a nod of his head and a wave of the gun to go back to the house. Ten minutes later they were there.
“I don’t suppose I could persuade you to take your shoes off?” Stanley had already bent down to untie his Oxfords, and Bobby was doing the same with his sneakers.
Slocum looked down at the mud that was caked to his shoes. “I’ll wipe them off.” He motioned again with his head, and father and son walked into the house. Slocum carefully scraped the clumps of dirt off his shoes, shaking his head in disbelief at his own softness. He walked into the house and held up the palmtop. “Get me something to clean this off with.”
As Stanley went to the kitchen to get a cloth, Slocum never took his eyes off him. He accepted the towel and carefully wiped the mud off the device, checking the interface port for any stray chunks of dirt. It seemed okay.
“I want you to show me how you downloaded those files,” said Slocum.
Stanley nodded and went to his PC. Slocum held the pistol and the palmtop in one hand, and used the other to wipe some more dirt off the face of the handheld computer. He powered it on, and the menu instantly displayed. Several seconds later it flickered and died. He handed it to Stanley, who plugged the interface cable into his computer, then into the palmtop. Though he went through the same procedure that had previously yielded positive results, this time it was to no avail.
“I don’t understand. It worked before.”
Slocum reached over and tapped on the unit. “Try it now.”
Stanley did so, and his computer screen came to life, displaying line after line of encoded data.
“Is that what happened before?” asked Slocum.
“No, I only got a couple pages of readable data before. This is much more, and in a different format.” The symbols reflected off of Stanley’s glasses as he watched the lines scroll past.
“How do you call that readable? It doesn’t even look like a language to me.”
“Machine readable,” said Stanley. “It’s not a human language, it’s symbolic computer code. Machine code. I have routines that can make sense of it pretty quickly.”
“Save the file and run those routines. I want to know…”
Slocum saw the tiny red dot appear on the side of Stanley’s head, then transfer to his own body. Instantly, instinctively, he knew what was happening. The palmtop, the instructions to report back to the agency, the message that downloads had been disabled, and now the red dot. He pushed Stanley to the floor, falling on top of him, as two bullet holes appeared in the wall behind them, then a third. Slocum grabbed Bobby, shoving him next to his father.
Stanley saw the holes in the wall. “I don’t hear anything!”
“Silencers. Two, maybe three shooters.” Slocum was watching the front door. He knew they would be coming.
Stanley was aghast. “Why do they want to kill us?”
“Not us. Me. And I’m not sure why. Something to do with that.” Slocum pointed at the palm unit, which sat on the desk next to the computer. “I’m going to take it and get out of here.”
“What about us?”
“They don’t want you, and they don’t want you dead. Trust me on this, they don’t like publicity,” said Slocum.
“Who are they?”
Slocum was already on his way. He crawled towards the computer desk, and was
“Oh, the repositories clicked over to a hundred per cent just before I killed the stream. As for whether we got what we were looking for,” he shrugged. “We’ll have to wait for the people in SP to tell us.” Norbert was lucky that Mason couldn’t see the tiny smirk on the corner of his mouth.
“Okay, folks,” said Mason. “Everyone on your toes. We have some data to analyze.”
***
After two hours of trudging around in the darkness, wet mud covering their shoes, they finally found the palm unit. It was actually Slocum who stepped on it, then bent down and picked it up. He indicated with a nod of his head and a wave of the gun to go back to the house. Ten minutes later they were there.
“I don’t suppose I could persuade you to take your shoes off?” Stanley had already bent down to untie his Oxfords, and Bobby was doing the same with his sneakers.
Slocum looked down at the mud that was caked to his shoes. “I’ll wipe them off.” He motioned again with his head, and father and son walked into the house. Slocum carefully scraped the clumps of dirt off his shoes, shaking his head in disbelief at his own softness. He walked into the house and held up the palmtop. “Get me something to clean this off with.”
As Stanley went to the kitchen to get a cloth, Slocum never took his eyes off him. He accepted the towel and carefully wiped the mud off the device, checking the interface port for any stray chunks of dirt. It seemed okay.
“I want you to show me how you downloaded those files,” said Slocum.
Stanley nodded and went to his PC. Slocum held the pistol and the palmtop in one hand, and used the other to wipe some more dirt off the face of the handheld computer. He powered it on, and the menu instantly displayed. Several seconds later it flickered and died. He handed it to Stanley, who plugged the interface cable into his computer, then into the palmtop. Though he went through the same procedure that had previously yielded positive results, this time it was to no avail.
“I don’t understand. It worked before.”
Slocum reached over and tapped on the unit. “Try it now.”
Stanley did so, and his computer screen came to life, displaying line after line of encoded data.
“Is that what happened before?” asked Slocum.
“No, I only got a couple pages of readable data before. This is much more, and in a different format.” The symbols reflected off of Stanley’s glasses as he watched the lines scroll past.
“How do you call that readable? It doesn’t even look like a language to me.”
“Machine readable,” said Stanley. “It’s not a human language, it’s symbolic computer code. Machine code. I have routines that can make sense of it pretty quickly.”
“Save the file and run those routines. I want to know…”
Slocum saw the tiny red dot appear on the side of Stanley’s head, then transfer to his own body. Instantly, instinctively, he knew what was happening. The palmtop, the instructions to report back to the agency, the message that downloads had been disabled, and now the red dot. He pushed Stanley to the floor, falling on top of him, as two bullet holes appeared in the wall behind them, then a third. Slocum grabbed Bobby, shoving him next to his father.
Stanley saw the holes in the wall. “I don’t hear anything!”
“Silencers. Two, maybe three shooters.” Slocum was watching the front door. He knew they would be coming.
Stanley was aghast. “Why do they want to kill us?”
“Not us. Me. And I’m not sure why. Something to do with that.” Slocum pointed at the palm unit, which sat on the desk next to the computer. “I’m going to take it and get out of here.”
“What about us?”
“They don’t want you, and they don’t want you dead. Trust me on this, they don’t like publicity,” said Slocum.
“Who are they?”
Slocum was already on his way. He crawled towards the computer desk, and was
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