Cliff Ryder - Out of Time

He pulled out the small electronic scanner again. From another pocket he brought out a pair of tiny wire leads. He inserted them into two small slots on the meter until they were gripped by connectors inside the device. Next he placed the bare wire tips to two leads in the panel. He stood very still and waited. There was no alarm. The lights didn’t change. With his thumb, he pressed a small button on the side of the device, and the digital readout on the wall panel began spinning rapidly through different combinations.

His hand trembled, and sweat beaded on his brow. He tried to steady his fingers, but the harder he worked to prevent the trembling, the more severe it became. He moved his free hand closer and rested the shaking fingers on the palm, but he felt himself cramping up. The numbers continued to spin, and he closed his eyes, concentrating.

“Damn it,” he whispered. “Come on.” If he shook any harder, the wires would snap free, and he’d have to start over.

Then there was an audible click, and the numbers stopped. The code that appeared was made up of the numbers zero through nine and several letters. Hexadecimal code, very difficult to break—unless you had the right key.

The door slid open, and he didn’t hesitate. He stepped into the hallway before they could close behind him again. He slipped his tools back into his pockets and leaned heavily against the wall. When he glanced up again, he stopped and stood very still.

There were twice as many cameras on this level.

They crisscrossed the hallway and there was no chance he hadn’t been spotted on at least one of them. He scanned the walls quickly and saw that there were motion detectors, as well as audio sensors.

“What the hell?” he muttered. Security on this floor hadn’t been this high before. Not even close.

Then it hit him. He might not have it in front of him, but he’d found the prototype. There was no other explanation for such a shift in the level of security. He wondered where the other end of all the sensors was wired, and who might be watching. He wondered if they were awake, on duty, or if maybe Rand himself had them all on a big monitor on his wall, waiting for someone to step into his parlor. He almost waved.

If the prototype was in a lab on this level, then it was in Brin’s hands, one way or the other. He knew that the beefed-up security would set bells off for her, but he also knew she could be as ob-sessive with her work as he was with his. If she thought she was doing something beneficial, she’d kill herself trying to get it done. He had to make sure it never came to that.

The first thing was to take out the motion detectors. There was no doubt they’d already registered his initial movement, but at least he could keep them from showing the direction he traveled down the hallway. He reached into a deeper pocket on his hip and pulled out a small black box. A short metal antenna protruded from the top of it. He pressed the box to the wall and flipped a switch on the side of it. Then he stood very still. Up and down the hall the motion detector beams winked out one at a time as the device sent a coded pulse to each one, instructing the sensor chip to shut down. The power lights on the sensors didn’t fade, but the beams were neutralized. So far, he’d been fortunate that the people behind the security on this level were using standard industrial-grade security and nothing too customized. The motion sensors would now show no movement on this level.

Next he examined the angles of the cameras. He needed to get close enough to Brin’s office to get a good look inside, but he knew if he started taking out cameras indiscriminately it would set off alarms somewhere. He had to take out just the one he needed and remain in a very short, narrow slice of hallway, and then he needed to get the camera back online before someone was dispatched to check on it.

He worked quickly. There was a window on the outer wall of Brin’s office, and only one camera watched that particular bit of hallway. He slid along the wall, found the right camera and studied it for a moment. The ceiling wasn’t that high. He was able to stretch high enough to turn the connector on the back. It took a moment, and his fingers screamed with the effort, threatening to cramp up.

Finally the connector separated and he pressed into the wall again. His body shook, and he gritted his teeth. He couldn’t afford to slip up now.

He moved quickly back down the wall, slid to the cleared track he’d created and crossed the hallway quickly. He pressed his face to the glass window of Brin’s office and glanced inside. It was dark. Her computer monitor wasn’t glowing. He saw no indication that she’d been in the room recently, not even a coffee cup. He frowned.

He tried to get a look at the labs up and down the hallway, but he couldn’t without disabling more cameras, and he knew he probably only had a few moments to hook the first one back up before someone noticed and came down to check on it.

Alex slipped back across the hall and moved up under the camera. He took a deep breath, then stretched up and gripped the connector again. His fingers didn’t want to hold it, and sweat broke out on his brow. He stood very still, waiting for it to pass, and very slowly moving the connector up and forward. He felt it slide into place, and began turning. The camera was just high enough on the wall that he couldn’t reach it without a full stretch, and his body seemed intent on folding in on itself, cramping and preventing him. He gasped and released the connector. It hung on the lip of its mated piece, but he knew it wasn’t screwed in far enough. He sank down the wall. His legs trembled and his arms ached. He closed his eyes for a long moment and took several deep breaths. Then, without giving himself a chance to hesitate, he stretched up, gripped the connector and spun it. He managed to turn it three times before he had to drop back, and this time he thought it was tight enough. If not, he had no more time, or strength, to deal with it.

There had been two floors with lights visible from below. He hoped he hadn’t missed Brin, or Rand for that matter, but if they were gone and the building was empty, his work would be much simpler. He had to take out the entire complex, but he’d counted on taking care of Rand while he was at it and erasing any trail to the research or the prototype. Any trail but Brin. He would get her out safe, get her home, and then they’d have to see what Denny and Kate said, and figure out what they intended to do. It was entirely possible, he knew, that he was now a target himself and their only choice would be to run.

He turned back to the maintenance elevator and punched the up button. The door opened, and he was relieved. Apparently the code was only necessary to enter the floor, not to leave it. He hoped they hadn’t thought to alarm the access, letting them know whenever someone punched in the code. He pressed the top-floor button and leaned against the wall, wishing he’d taken some of the painkiller before entering the building. He also wished the elevator would move more slowly. He wasn’t sure his legs were going to listen when he told them to stand.

In a room down the hall from Rand’s office, the control panels for the security systems in the building lined one wall. A man stood, his back to the door, examining the panels. In particular, he studied the panels concerned with the new, heightened security on the ninth floor. It was a laughable system, almost childishly simple to overcome, but then, Rand hadn’t really expected anyone to try when he’d had it installed. The new system had a lot of sensors, a lot of cameras and monitors to watch over things, and it made a good security blanket for Rand and his inept crew.

The man watching the monitors wasn’t an amateur. He watched as a camera with the label G4