Clive Cussler - Dragon

“It always runs in streaks,” muttered Okuma.

“His systems need updating and modifying,” agreed Kano. “No sense in giving him a quick fix. I’ll schedule him for a complete rebuild.” He turned to the replacement robot. “Ready to assume inspection duties, Otokodate?”

An array of lights flashed and Otokodate, a term for a sort of Robin Hood, spoke in slow but crisp words. “I am ready to monitor all systems.”

“Then begin.”

As the replacement robot took its place at the monitor, Okuma and Kano hoisted the malfunctioning robot onto a motorized dolly with a small crane. Then one of them programmed a code word into the dolly’s computer and it began to move automatically toward the conditioning area without human control. The two engineers did not accompany the injured robot but made their way toward the workers’ comfort room to indulge in a brief cup of tea.

Left alone, Otokodate concentrated his vision system on the dials and blinking digital readings and routinely began to process the data in his computer. His high-level sensing ability, incredibly advanced over a human’s, caught an infinitesimal deviation of measurement.

The laser pulse rate through an optic fiber is measured in millions of beats per second. Otokodate’s sensors could read the instrument measurements far more accurately than a human, and he recognized a minuscule drop in the pulse rate from the standard 44.7 million beats per second to 44.68 million. He computed the refractive index profile and determined that the light transmitting its waves through two of the strands inside a ribbon containing thousands of optic fibers was temporarily zigzagging at some point.

He signaled telepresence command that he was leaving the console for an inspection of the fiber bundles inside the passageways.

56

SUMA WAS GROWING more angry and impatient by the moment. Diaz and Smith never seemed to tire of quarreling with him, giving vent to their hatred of his achievements, threatening him as if he was a common thief off the street. He came to welcome the chance to wash his hands of them.

Abducting Senator Diaz, he felt, was a mistake. He took him only because Ichiro Tsuboi was confident that Diaz carried substantial influence in the Senate and held the President’s ear. Suma saw the man as petty and narrow-minded. After a medical discharge from the Army, Diaz had worked his way through the University of New Mexico. He then used the traditional road to power by becoming a lawyer and championing causes that brought headlines and support from the majority state party. Suma despised him as an obsolete political hack who harped on the monotonous and tiresome harangue of taxing the rich for welfare programs to feed and house nonworking poor. Charity and compassion were traits Suma refused to accept.

Congresswoman Smith, on the other hand, was a very astute woman. Suma had the uncomfortable feeling she could read his mind and counter any statement he tossed at her. She knew her facts and statistics and could quote them with ease. Loren came from good western stock, her family having ranched the western slope of Colorado since the 1870s. Educated at the University of Colorado, she ran for office and beat an incumbent who had served for thirty years. She could play hardball with any man. Suma suspected that her only soft spot was Dirk Pitt, and he was closer to the truth than he knew.

Suma stared across the table from them, sipping saki and regrouping for another exchange of harsh words. He was about to make another point when Toshie came into the room and whispered softly into his ear. Suma set his saki cup on the table and stood.

“It’s time for you to leave.”

Loren elegantly came to her feet and locked eyes with Suma. “I’m not moving from here until I know Dirk and AI are alive and treated humanely.”

Suma smiled indulgently. “They covertly came onto foreign soil, my soil, as intelligence agents of a foreign country—”

“Japanese law is the same as ours in regards to espionage,” she interrupted. “They’re entitled to a fair trial.”

Suma gloated with malicious satisfaction. “I see little reason to carry this discussion further. By now, Mr. Pitt and Mr. Giordino, along with the rest of their spy team, have been executed by my friend Moro Kamatori. Make of it what you will.”

Loren felt as if her heart had been crushed in ice. There was a stunned silence, made even more shocking at knowing it must be true. Her face went white and she swayed on her feet, her mind suddenly void.

Toshie grabbed Loren’s arm and pulled her toward the door. “Come, the aircraft that will take you to Edo City and Mr. Suma’s private aircraft is waiting.”

“No ride through your amazing tunnel beneath the sea?” asked Diaz without a hint of disappointment.

“There are some things I don’t wish you to see,” Suma said nastily.

As if walking through a nightmare, Loren uncaringly allowed Toshie to drag her through a foyer that opened onto a stone path that crossed over a small pond. Suma bowed and motioned for Diaz to accompany the women.

Diaz shrugged submissively and limped with his cane ahead of Suma while the two roboguards brought up the rear.

Beyond the pond, a sleek tilt-turbine aircraft sat in the middle of a lawn surrounded by a high, neatly trimmed hedge. The jet engines were turning over with a soft whistling sound. Two crewmen in red nylon flight suits and brimmed caps stood at attention on each side of the steps leading inside the main cabin. Both were short, one slim, the other fairly bursting the stitched seams over his shoulders. They respectfully bowed their heads as Suma’s party approached.

Diaz stopped suddenly. “When I return to Washington, I’m going to hold a news conference and expose you and your monstrous plans. Then I’ll fight you with every means at my command in both houses of Congress, until every asset you have in the United States is confiscated and nationalized. I won’t rest until you pay for your crimes.”

Suma made an infuriating grin. “Our Washington lobbyists are more than strong enough to dilute your pathetic efforts. We own too many of your fellow legislators, who have a weakness for hidden wealth, for you to influence. Your voice will ring hollow, Senator Diaz. Your government, whether you like it or not, corrupt and mired in emotional programs instead of technology and science, has become a wholly owned Japanese subsidiary.”

Loren leaned toward Suma, her eyes narrowing in scorn. “You underestimated American guts fifty years ago, and once again you’ve awakened a sleeping giant and filled him with terrible resolve.”

“Admiral Yamamoto’s words after December the seventh do not apply now,” Suma said contemptuously. “Your people have lost the fortitude to make sacrifices for the good of the nation. You must face reality, Congresswoman Smith. America’s greatness is gone. I have nothing more to say except to urge you to warn your President of Japan’s intentions.”

“Don’t you mean your intentions,” said Loren bravely, the color coming back into her face. “You don’t represent the Japanese people.”

“A safe journey home, Congresswoman Smith. Your visit has ended.”

Suma turned and began to walk away, but he’d only taken one step when the two crewmen grabbed his arms from each side, lifted him off his feet and hurled him backwards through the open door into the aircraft’s cabin, where he seemingly vanished. It all happened so fast that Loren and Diaz stood in blank-minded shock. Only Toshie reacted, lashing out with her foot at the heavier-built crewman.

“Is this any way to begin an intimate relationship?” laughed Giordino, grabbing Toshie’s foot, sweeping her up in his arms, and hoisting her through the door to Weatherhill and Mancuso’s waiting hands as easily as if she was filled with air.