“The marines let them in, sir,” the secretary squeaked, “because they thought they were with Mr. Cole.”
Sonny pointed the pistol at the secretary. “If anybody comes through that door I’m going to shoot these people and turn loose the York. Tell that to the marines. Now get out!”
The man went, pulling the door closed behind him.
Kerry Kent sat in the consul general’s desk chair and put the control unit on the desk. Jake saw that she was stirring the cursor around while Wong talked.
“We have both won, Mr. Cole. You have conquered Hong Kong and I have relieved the Chinese government of a great deal of money.” Sonny parked his rump on the edge of the desk, one leg dangling, the pistol negligently pointed in their direction.
“What do you want?”
“I owe this man here”—he gestured with the pistol at Grafton—”some serious pain. He killed more than a dozen of my associates and destroyed several major assets of mine, a floating restaurant and a large yacht. Capital assets worth twelve million American dollars burned or went to the bottom, Admiral, thanks to you. You are a real pain in the ass.”
“You should have left my wife alone,” Jake said calmly.
“Nothing personal, but I was trying for a lever to pry some money from Mr. Cole, who has more than is good for any man. He couldn’t spend it in five lifetimes. I merely wished to help him with that chore.”
“I should have killed you when I had the chance,” Jake said, still speaking in a conversational tone.
Sonny Wong grinned. The truth was he felt damned good. “Too late now, Grafton. Too late, too late.”
“Where did you get the York?” Cole asked Sonny.
“It was being repaired. Miss Kent had to shoot several of the technicians when they proved uncooperative, but the York seemed glad to see her.”
Cole finished the last bite of his breakfast and put the knife and fork on the plate. Carmellini moved his feet back under his chair.
He truly is evil, Callie thought, staring at Sonny. She had never seen him in the flesh; he wasn’t anything like she had imagined. Short, pudgy, a round, youthful-looking face — he didn’t look like anyone’s idea of a career criminal. He was, though.
“I’m ready,” Kerry Kent announced triumphantly. She smiled at Carmellini. It wasn’t a nice smile. “After Charlie does the admiral, he’s going to do you, Carmellini, you sneaky bastard.”
The coffeepot, creamer, and sugar bowl sat on a highly polished silver tray. Jake reached for the edge of the tray with his left hand, pulled it a little closer so he could reach the coffeepot better. The York unit was about fifteen feet away, staring at him.
Jake poured himself a cup of coffee and set the pot on the table, away from the tray. He then looked again at Wong, who was saying, “Tell you what, Cole. I will give you a chance to save yourself and your friends. Use the satellite telephone. Call your banker in California. Tell him to wire the fifty million to my Swiss account. There’s been enough violence in Hong Kong. Pay me the money and get on with your quest.”
“I don’t have that kind of cash available at a moment’s notice,” Cole remarked evenly.
“Perhaps your banker can be persuaded to find some lying around somewhere. Miss Kent has programmed the York. I am out of patience and time. We have played the game and you have lost. Step over here and pick up the phone.”
Callie was staring at her husband. He’s going to kill that man, she thought, and regret it for the rest of his life.
“We just want to go home,” Callie said, causing Wong to look at her.
Jake reached for his coffee cup with his left hand and knocked the cup over. As he started to rise to avoid the coffee splashing across the table, he drew the Colt .45 from its shoulder holster with his right hand. He thumbed off the safety as he swung the barrel and shot at Sonny Wong.
Sonny was looking the wrong way when Jake drew and he wasn’t ready, so he was a second behind, which was just enough. His shot missed Jake’s head by three inches and smacked into the wall behind him.
Jake Grafton didn’t miss. His shot hit Sonny in the middle of the chest. His second hit him high in the throat, snapping his head back, and his third went through Sonny’s heart.
When the first bullet hit Sonny, Kerry Kent screamed and lifted the York control unit up in front of her face.
She was still screaming when Jake Grafton put his fourth shot through the control unit and hit her in the forehead, tearing off the top of her head and spraying a blood mist.
The York unit lurched forward as Kent’s corpse toppled to the floor.
Jake tilted the edge of the silver tray with his left hand. The creamer and sugar bowl fell over. Jake turned the tray to catch the sun, then shined the brilliant reflection into the sensors of Charlie York. The robot froze, blinded.
Jake concentrated on keeping the reflected sunbeam in the lenses of the York’s visual and infrared sensors.
“Oh, Jake,” Callie murmured.
“Now what?” Jake said to Cole as he slowly holstered the pistol.
“Jesus, man, you shouldn’t have shot a hole in the damned control unit.”
Cole scrambled for it, picked it up, and turned it over in his hands, inspecting it.
“Oh, boy!” said Tommy Carmellini, who had dashed around the table and was checking Wong’s pulse. “I don’t think Mr. Wong expected that.”
“Ruined the bastard’s day,” Jake muttered.
“Is he dead?” Callie asked.
“Pretty much,” Carmellini replied, and went to take a squint at Kent. A glance was enough.
“Ruined,” Cole said disgustedly, and tossed the control unit on the desk.
“Well, don’t just stand there, Dr. Frankenstein,” Jake said, his voice tightly controlled. “Turn the son of a bitch off.”
“That’s just it, Jake. Without the control unit, I can’t.”
“Isn’t there an on-off switch or something?”
“Ah, no. The thinking was that the enemy could flip a switch as well as we could. The control unit is the only way to communicate with a York.”
“Go get another one.”
“Okay, but I don’t think it’ll do any good. Kent probably slaved the York to this unit so no one else could give it extraneous commands.”
The sun was moving. In a couple of minutes Jake was going to lose it. As the beam wavered on Charlie York’s face, he steadied the tray with both hands.
“Start thinking!” he said to Cole. “Gimme a plan!”
“Maybe you’d better get the hell out of here!”
“What if the damn thing then kills you people?”
“Kent said—”
“She lied to everyone — her whole life was a lie.” He stared at Charlie York, trying to think. “What are the York’s shortcomings, its vulnerabilities?”
“We just started the testing process when we had to stop. We ran out of time.”
“No shit!” Jake took a deep breath, then exhaled. “Okay, everyone out of the room. All you people clear out, now! Go down the hall and get in one of the offices and close the door.”
One by one they went around behind him and out. Callie was last.
“Jake…”
“Go on, Callie. I want to know you’re safe.”
“Jake!”
“Go! Let me think for a minute.”
There it stood, a big, massive mechanical monster with one arm and a damaged minigun, blinded by the sun.
It was going to kill him.
Perhaps he should just sit still, refuse to be a threat.
But Kent said she had told the York to kill him! As the York was looking at his face, she probably designated him as a target, bypassing the threat recognition program. Or was she merely using a figure of speech? Or just flat lying?