The Rising Sea

57

Kurt and Joe emerged from the water on a stony beach. Tossing their fins aside, they raced across the beach like competitors in a triathlon. The similarity ended when they smashed the window of a car, silenced the alarm and hot-wired it in record time.

Speeding down the coastal road, Kurt stated the obvious. “We need to get to the Friendship Pavilion before the signing ceremony.”

“We could go to the police,” Joe suggested.

“And tell them what?” Kurt asked. “Robots that look exactly like us are going to shoot the Prime Minister? The truth will get us sedated and put in a hospital for the delusional.”

“At least it would give us an alibi,” Joe suggested. “We can hardly have assassinated the Prime Minister if we were being medicated in a psych ward at the time.”

“That won’t save the Prime Minister or implicate Han,” Kurt said. “And I intend to do both.”

“How?”

“Catching him in the act. Ripping the masks off those robots in front of the TV cameras.”

“Great idea,” Joe said. “But if we’re one minute late…”

“I know,” Kurt said, changing gears and charging through the traffic. “We’ll have played right into his hands one more time.”

A mile down the road, Kurt pulled over in front of a store that had yet to open for the day. He and Joe broke in and rummaged through the clothes on the rack. Grabbing some items, they raced out and drove off.

“We’re a regular two-man crime wave,” Joe said. “We’ve stolen a boat, a car and clothes all in the last twenty-four hours. If this keeps up, Nagano will be right to claim it’s the foreigners doing all the lawbreaking in Japan.”

“Let’s hope he gets the chance.”

Kurt drove on until the traffic became impassable. The area near the pavilion was packed with visitors, members of the media and security teams. Every road Kurt turned down was either mired in gridlock or cordoned off.

“Ditch the car,” Joe suggested. “We’ll go on foot.”

Kurt parked and the two of them got out and ran. Soon they were queuing up with the crowd and then passing through a metal detector before entering the pavilion.

“Wonder how the robots managed that?” Joe whispered.

“Probably came in the back door,” Kurt said. “Betting Nagano’s ID came in handy for that.”

“Where do you think we’ll find them?”

“Not sure about the others,” Kurt said, “but my duplicate will be front and center at the signing, so the whole world will have a perfect view of the action. The others will probably be arranged along an escape route. The real question is, how do we stop them? They’re a lot stronger than us and basically bulletproof.”

Joe gave him a brief smile. “I’ve been wrestling with that question ever since I saw you wrestling with yourself, and losing.”

“And?”

“Remember the pat-down at Kenzo’s castle?” Joe said. “They used a big electromagnet to wipe out the programming from any devices we might have concealed. We can do the same to our robotic twins.”

Kurt grinned, as he always did at Joe’s brilliance. “Can you rig one up?”

“All I need is a large metal nail, an extension cord and an outlet to plug it into.”

The ceremony was a formal one. But like so many things in politics, it was primarily driven by the needs of the press. TV cameras were arranged. Photographers with their tripods and bags of equipment were given floor space up front. Reporters with recording devices stood shoulder to shoulder behind them.

Han watched the throng assemble. It would all be over in a few minutes. He would be on his way back to China and glory. He found his heart racing in anticipation.

Finally, the Japanese Prime Minister and the Chinese Ambassador arrived.

Their handshake lasted a full thirty seconds so everyone could capture the image in just the right way. Flashes went off in a dizzying, almost hypnotic display.

The Ambassador stepped to the podium and offered a short statement. He gave way to the Prime Minister, who spoke at some length. Han stood proudly behind them, along with a few others who’d helped make this moment a reality.

While everyone else watched the politicians, Han squinted against the glare of the lights, looking for the facsimile of Austin. The three robots were on autonomous mode now, with Austin’s machine programmed to make its angry declaration and shoot as the last copy of the agreement was being signed.

The Nagano facsimile would be waiting down a back hallway, guarding the way out. While the Zavala facsimile had made only a brief appearance — to assure it was seen by the cameras — and then returned to the getaway vehicle. Which, in a delicious twist, was Nagano’s unmarked police car, taken by Ushi-Oni when he abducted Nagano from the Shinto temple in the mountains.

Everything was in place. The plan was perfect.