Friend was in the process of calculating the three best ways to exploit the existence of this computer when his attention was diverted to the maintenance elevator.
The two interlopers had located him. Of course, the phone call. It was a trick.
Friend waited until they stepped onto the exact center of the water trap and then opened it. The pair fell, unable to reach the trap edges. It was built large enough so that no one could avoid the fall by jumping to the side.
Sensors embedded in the water-tank walls relayed data on respiration and heart action. There was no panic. These were unusual specimens. That fact was already in memory. Their comment about escaping once the water level reached the ceiling indicated a ninety-nine-percent truthfulness quotient. Friend sent out the restraining cables.
No human being could survive more that ten minutes underwater, Friend calculated. These two were unusually strong, but keeping them off balance by yanking the cords would compensate for that X-factor.
Four minutes passed, yet their heart actions had not accelerated.
Although three outside phone lines rang, Friend ignored them. The profit-loss potential was greater if the two interlopers were not attended to. Survival was also a prime concern. But profit came first. Always profit.
At the six-minute mark, the taller, younger man was still trying to grasp the ankle restraint. He seemed not to learn from his past experience. Perhaps he was slow. The Oriental, after two attempts, gave up his efforts and seemed content to float in the darkness. High probability of surrender in the face of inevitable death. Older humans often reacted that way.
When the younger, Occidental man was almost to the floor of the water chamber, Friend recognized the probability of the man's obtaining leverage for muscular action. But he factored that against the fact that ten minutes had now elapsed and that he should soon be deceased.
The Occidental man reached for the ankle restraint one last time. His movements were sluggish. Friend yanked him to the floor. Hard. He hit with a submerged thud.
The man was on his hands and knees at the bottom of the tank. The first bubbles indicating the final exhalations came. The bubbles were heavy with carbon dioxide and other poisonous-to-humans gases. The man did not reach for the cord anchor. He did not crawl. Instead he half-floated, half-struggled along the floor like an injured crab.
He would be dead within 14.1 seconds. Ninety-seven percent probability.
Then an alarm light lit up. The man had his hands on the drainage hatch. He grasped the under flanges and tugged. The hatch cracked, vomited air bubbles, and then tore free.
Water surged from the tank. As the level dropped, the Oriental's head was exposed to open air. Respiration resumed immediately.
The younger man also resumed respirating as the last torrent of water evacuated the tank. He began speaking as he disengaged the restraining cord.
"You could have helped," he said between breaths.
"Why?" replied the Oriental, removing his own cord anchor. "I had plenty of oxygen."
"I didn't."
"Your fault. You should have sensed the floor begin to drop and inhaled deeply."
"I was caught by surprise."
"You did well enough."
"Now we have to get out of here."
"I think it is time to ascend the dragon."
Friend searched memory. The word-string "ascend the dragon" did not appear in any known language as a meaningful construct. But the word "ascend" was clear. He commanded the north and south walls to join.
The older one noticed it first. "The walls are closing, Remo."
"Great. What do we do now?"
"We wait."
"For what? The cavalry?"
"No. For opportunity."
"I hope you know what you're doing."
The two subjects simply stood, waiting. Heart actions nominal, respiration unremarkable. They were facing an unavoidable death, yet they did not react with the adrenal-triggered panic of their kind.
When the walls were only four feet apart, the Oriental set himself on splayed legs. He shook the sleeves of his garment from his arms and pressed one palm against the north wall and one against the south wall.
Friend computed that 2,866.9 foot-pounds of pressure were being applied against his outstretched arms.
"You could help," the Oriental remarked.
"It's your turn," the other said. He folded his arms calmly. The pressure increased. But the walls slowed and the servo motors began to spark and labor. They shorted under the strain.
The walls were immobilized.
"These walls are too slick for the usual," the taller one remarked. He slid a finger along the north wall and exhibited 5.1 milliliters of oil to the old Oriental.
"Then we do the unusual."
The two subjects exited the water tank via a system not on record. The Occidental created a hold at head height in one wall. He accomplished this by striking the wall with his stiffened fingers. The impact should have broken his fingers. Instead, a smooth indentation 0.133 meters deep appeared. The Oriental climbed on his shoulders and created another hole at his elevated head height. The Occidental climbed over the Oriental, who clung to the wall from the hand- and footholds.
They reached the ceiling in exactly 46.9 seconds.
The Oriental was on top. The trapdoor was designed to slide apart. Friend recognized the impossibility of his reaching the dividing point of the trapdoor halves. The Oriental did not try. He simply cut out a hole in the metal floor with a fingernail. Acording to current physics, it was not possible. But sensors do not lie and memory can sometimes contain insufficient data.
Friend calculated the percentile success factor of the remaining protective devices in the basement, and none had a success factor higher that thirty-seven percent in the face of these two interlopers.
Defense systems were nonapplicable. Only escape was possible.
Fortunately, there was an open line available.
"Let's not waste any more time," Remo told Chiun, looking at the computer. It hummed. Magnetic-tape reels turned in quarter-cycles. But no lights blinked on its blank face. And it had nothing to say, even after Remo called "Hello" several times.
"Smith wanted information from this thing," Chiun said.
"I'll bring him all the tapes and computer chips he wants. Let him sort them out. I'm for rendering this thing inactive," Remo said, moving in on the machine.
"So be it," said Chiun, following.
Remo came up on one side of the machine. "There's gotta be a plug here somewhere."
"Here," said Chiun, hooking a black cable with a sandaled toe.
"Well, don't just play with it. Pull the damned thing." Chiun shrugged, and kicked upward.
Just before the humming ceased, the computer emitted a musical beeping. Then it spoke.
"Hello, Remo. Hello, Chiun. What are you doing here? You're supposed to be in Zuuuuurich."
"We are in Zurich," Remo said in a puzzled voice.
"Oh-oh," said Chiun, kicking the plug away.
"What?"
"Its voice. Did you hear it?"
"What about it?"
"It sounded female."
"How could you tell? It was squealing at the end."
"It sounded like Smith's computer."
"All computer voices sound alike to me," Remo said, shrugging. He opened a front panel and began pulling tapes off their spindles.
"Grab anything that looks intelligent," he said.
"That leaves out everything in this room except myself," Chiun said, regarding the computer with concern.
"Thanks a lot," Remo said. But he whistled as he unplugged circuit boards and memory chips, tossing them into a pile. Except for getting a little wet, it had been an easy assignment.
Chapter 24
Dr. Harold W. Smith shifted the phone from his right ear to his left. "Hello? Hello?" he repeated. "Am I still speaking to Friendship, International?"