Doctor Who_ Trading Futures - Lance Parkin [66]
The couple of Onihrs he passed barely seemed to notice him as he made his way down the transparent corridor. He wasn’t entirely sure where he was heading, and it was hard work in the alien gravity.
He’d have to stop the Onihrs. That was obvious. Rather less obvious was how.
As soon as he found a quiet spot, he took the Onihr control box out. It was simple enough – there were only four controls, as far as he could make out. One of them controlled the holographic disguises they wore on Earth. Another one controlled the teleportation. What the other two did was a complete mystery.
* * *
Baskerville entered the code that allowed him access to the cockpit. Leo was there, managing the autopilot software.
‘Can they catch us?’ Baskerville asked.
‘Impossible. Baskerville, they can’t even see us.’
‘Stealth technology… it’s not all it’s cracked up to be, you know. I’ve sold enough of it in my time. Any country with a mobile phone network can detect a stealth plane.’
‘We’re well into unmonitored territory here. Neither the Americans or the Eurozone have hypersonic jets in intercept range, and they won’t launch them in the current climate, because the other side will think they’ve just launched a world war.’
Baskerville took his place in the co‐pilot’s chair. This was exactly as they’d planned. He checked the news feeds on the datanet. Tension over the Tripoli shootings. There was pressure on the Americans for the President to make a statement. But he was ‘holed up in his hotel room in Istanbul’. They weren’t telling anyone he’d been kidnapped. Maybe they didn’t even know – the Americans might think he was still at his mysterious meeting. Still, the news agenda was about to change.
‘Time to deal with Toronto,’ Baskerville decided. He reconfigured the co‐pilot’s controls for RealWar interface.
He entered the ‘back door’ codes that, unbeknownst to even a single one of his customers, enabled him to take any RealWar robot in the world and see through its eyes, control its every action.
He entered the unique registration code for one of the robots in Toronto.
And, on the screen in front of him, he saw the nuclear device.
* * *
The Doctor and Malady swirled into existence in a small office in a mezzanine level in the warehouse.
It was some sort of foreman’s place – full of paperwork, requisition orders, maps and invoices. The light was off, so was the computer. The room smelt of pickle, clearly a favourite of the man who worked here.
There was a small safe.
‘How big is the bomb?’ the Doctor asked.
‘The size of a small car,’ Malady told him.
‘It’s not in the safe, then.’ He checked under a pile of paperwork, before realising it wasn’t likely to be under there, either.
Malady peered out of the office window, out over the warehouse. ‘It’s down there.’
From here, they got a good vantage point. Behind a screen, there was a large articulated lorry, corrugated silver sides, but with no markings. Three human guards and four humanoid RealWar robots stood guard.
‘Ready to move out,’ the Doctor said softly.
‘There’s no way of confirming it’s in there,’ Malady told him.
‘We could go and look,’ the Doctor suggested.
‘It looks well‐guarded.’
‘Yes, it does, but –’
One of the RealWar robots raised an arm and fired its machine gun. None of the three human guards had time even to register the attack. They fell where they stood.
The sound of the shots echoed around the warehouse. The other RealWar robots stood motionless, apparently oblivious. The robot that had fired raised its arm and advanced towards the truck.
‘That’s our cue, I think,’ the Doctor said, heading for the door.
Malady drew one of the energy pistols, and followed him out.
The robot was opening the door at the back of the lorry. Its hands were a little too large for the delicate operation.
Malady and the Doctor hurried along the gantry. RealWar robots had their place, but Malady knew they weren’t perfect – their cameras and microphones were notoriously poor. Operators had a narrow field of vision