He was about to find out. In a few seconds the sunbeam would be gone and…
Holding the tray as steady as he could with his left hand, he drew the Colt .45 again. The distance to the York was about ten or twelve feet. God, the thing was intimidating!
With his elbow on the table, he aimed at the York’s visual light sensor behind the lens turret. Got the sights lined up, held them as still as humanly possible, and squeezed the trigger.
The gun bucked in his hand.
The York’s head snapped back from the impact of the heavy .45 slug, but the sensor lens appeared intact. So did the lens in the turret.
Bulletproof glass! Of course!
He had two more rounds left, so he aimed at the left sensor, the infrared one.
The York jerked again from the impact of the bullet, yet when its head came erect the lens still appeared to be okay.
The last shell.
Another hit. Again to no apparent effect.
He gently laid the empty Colt on the table, trying not to disturb the beam of light reflected from the tray.
On the table was a squeeze bottle of ketchup. Jake picked it up with his right hand. Still pretty full.
Now!
He flipped the tray at the York and ran for the door.
The York was right behind him.
As he went through the outer office, he grabbed a chair and hurled it at the York’s feet.
Like a champion hurdler, Charlie York launched itself up and over. And lost its balance on landing and fell in a crash.
Inertia caused the unit to do a somersault.
And it rolled forward onto its feet and kept coming!
Jake dashed along the hallway as fast as he could go. He risked a glance over his shoulder. The York was twenty feet back, lurching along, touching the wall occasionally with its left hand to steady itself.
Callie opened a door, pushing a chair on rollers. “In here,” she urged Jake as she sent the chair flying along the corridor toward the York, who again attempted to hurdle it. This time the chair caught one foot while it was in the air, and the York landed in a thunderous crash on its head and good shoulder.
Jake slammed the door closed. Carmellini, Cole, and Callie were there along with five or six consulate personnel. “I told you people to get outta here,” Jake protested.
“In line, quick,” Cole said. “It’ll look through the wall.”
A half dozen of the quickest thinkers got into a tight knot, then they separated.
The door shook from the impact of Charlie York’s fist.
“Where’s the nearest swimming pool?” Jake demanded of Cole.
“The hotel, three doors down the street.”
“Meet me there,” he shouted as the York’s left fist smashed through the door. “Bring extension cords.”
He jerked open the door to the adjacent room and dashed through it just as the York ripped the door to the room he had left completely off its hinges.
The robot charged into the room, then examined the features of each person there. Clearly it was unsure which of the humans was the designated target.
Grafton was not there. With its UWB radar the York had seen one person leave, so after no more than a four-second delay, it turned and charged after Grafton, lurching as it went, slightly off balance.
As he left the adjacent office Jake had locked the door behind him. He ran down the corridor as the York smashed at the wall, punching holes in the dry wall with its fist, ramming it, making dust come out in clouds.
Jake was going for the stairs when he reconsidered. He pushed the button for the elevator and stood there waiting while the York tore at the wall behind him. A leg came through, the head, now the arm.
He could hear an elevator coming, a high-pitched whine. There were two elevators, so he looked at the floor numbers over the doors. The elevator on the left was a floor away… stopping on this floor… the doors opened as the York crashed completely through the wall into the corridor.
Jake wormed his way between the opening doors and jabbed the down button as the York came tearing down the hall, each leg driving hard.
The elevator door took its own sweet time closing.
If it gets its claws in the door, the door won’t close!
The elevator closed in the York’s face, with the hand reaching…
The York slammed its fist into the exterior door, making the whole elevator shake.
Jake’s eyes went to the floor indicator. The elevator had been going up, so the up arrow was there. Before his eyes the arrow flipped to a down indication, and the elevator doors began opening.
Jake pulled out the emergency stop button. An alarm rang somewhere.
The door opened about two inches and stopped.
The York got its two claws into the opening and began tugging.
The door creaked.
If Charlie York had had two hands, the door would probably have failed. With only one hand, the robot could get insufficient leverage.
The ringing alarm bell only added to Jake’s adrenaline level.
The York was right there in front of him, its head only inches away.
He pointed the plastic bottle of ketchup at the York’s face and squeezed with all his strength. The ketchup squirted out, covering the York’s sensor lenses.
When its vision clouded, the York withdrew its claws from the crack in the elevator door and brought its hand in front of its face. Fluid squirted from an opening in its wrist onto the sensor lenses. The doors remained frozen open about two inches, so Jake could still see the York.
With the alarm ringing steadily, Jake opened the emergency escape door on top of the elevator car and grabbed it with both hands. He swung his feet, wriggled wildly, and got one shoulder through.
The York tore at the door again. It got its hand through and used the middle joint of its arm for leverage.
It’s learning, he thought. The damn thing is learning!
Jake got both shoulders through the opening, now his chest, then he was sitting on the side of the hole. The York had the doors open a foot now.
He swung his feet up just as the York lunged for him.
His sports coat was torn and inhibiting his movements. He jerked it off. He was about to throw it away when the stalk on the top of the York’s head came up through the hole.
He tossed the coat over the stalk, forcing the York to lower itself down and use its hand to pull the coat away.
Meanwhile Jake was climbing the ladder in the elevator shaft.
He pushed the emergency exit button by the door two floors above. The door slowly opened. Jake dashed through the door, paused and looked back, just in time to see the stalk on top of the York’s head disappear into the exit hole.
The York is coming!
The York will undoubtedly use the stairs, the door to which was twenty feet away.
Jake pushed the button for the elevator. He went over to the stair door, opened it a crack, and listened.
The damn elevator alarm was still going off, masking the sound of the climbing York.
Jake heard the other elevator arrive and the door open.
He turned…
And found himself staring at the York, which was charging him as fast as its legs would churn.
He tore open the stair door and dashed downward, taking the stairs three at a time. Charlie York was right behind.
Goddamn Cole! This fucking machine is too smart by half.
Even crippled, the agility of the York was awe-inspiring.
Jake vaulted a rail to gain a little distance, then did it again.
He slammed open the door at the bottom of the stairwell and charged through, right past two marines with assault rifles.
They turned and knelt.
As the York blasted through the door the marines opened fire in full-automatic mode.
The impact of the bullets staggered the York and gave Jake another second of lead, but that was all.