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Kurt had plunged the metal spike through the artificial flesh and padding of the replica. The hundred-volt current of the Japanese electrical system did the rest, creating a cycling electromagnetic field and a power surge in the robot at the same time. In the blink of an eye, it disrupted the robot’s CPU and erased its programming.
The Nagano facsimile didn’t cry out in pain or react in any outward way. No sparks flew. No mechanical seizures. It just turned slightly to the right and shut down. Now it stood as still as any mannequin.
Kurt waved a hand in front of its eyes.
Nothing.
Joe came running up, gathering the extension cord in loops as he approached. “What did I tell you?”
“You’re a genius,” Kurt said. “Are you sure this thing isn’t going to wake back up?”
“Not after that shock,” Joe said. “Even it did come back online, it won’t have any programming files. It won’t know what to do. It’ll just stand there.”
“One down, two to go,” Kurt said. “Let’s lock this thing in that broom closet where we found these uniforms and get moving.”
* * *
• • •
HAN WAITED as the Prime Minister finished his lengthy speech. Finally, he thought.
The ceremonial pens were handed out. Six copies of the agreement placed on the desk. The first copy was signed and the pens placed aside. New pens appeared for the second copy. And so on.
As the fifth copy was being autographed, the Ambassador accidentally dropped his pen. It fell off the table and rolled onto the floor. Both men picked it up together.
“Cooperation,” the Prime Minister said.
Everyone laughed. The final copy was placed on the table. Han could barely handle the adrenaline.
He looked out into the crowd once more to reassure himself. The Austin facsimile was creeping closer, pushing confidently through the crowd, toward the front of the photographer’s row. It looked ready to draw its weapon and open fire. But something was wrong.
“No,” Han whispered. “No.”
Pen was put to paper. The facsimile burst forward, throwing a photographer aside. “Japan will never be an ally of China!”
The machine raised a pistol and was tackled as it opened fire—not by members of the security detail but by the real Kurt Austin. Four shots rang out. The bullets flew low, drilling the platform and little else. The crowd shrieked in unison and began to scatter.
Han could hardly believe his eyes. He stood motionless for a second, stunned. And then he fled.
* * *
• • •
KURT TACKLED the machine and plunged the metal rod into its back, but aside from a moment of stiffness, the machine hadn’t been affected. It functioned without restraint and threw Kurt off with a violent jerk of its arm.
Kurt flew several feet and knocked over a group of vacant chairs as the machine stood and opened fire again. The shots hit members of the Prime Minister’s security detail, who’d formed up around him and were trying to get him out of the room. Three men went down in rapid succession. A fourth fired back before he, too, was gunned down by the robot.
Kurt looked at the rod in his hands as if it had betrayed him, but the truth was simpler than that. Someone in the fleeing crowd had tripped over the cord and pulled it from the socket.
Kurt grabbed a chair and smashed it over the back of the machine.
The robot was knocked off balance, but it didn’t fall. It turned and belted Kurt, knocking him over a camera dolly.
With Kurt knocked aside, the facsimile took one more shot. This time, the Prime Minister was protected by a civilian, who tackled him from the side, taking a bullet in the process.
Kurt knew he couldn’t overpower the robot. He grabbed the power cord, whipped it toward him and plugged it into an outlet beside the TV camera.
As the replica moved forward, looking for a kill shot, Kurt rushed the stage and plunged the metal spike into the spine of his mechanical twin.
