The Storm (NUMA Files 10)

He glanced over his shoulder. Down the ladder, Marchetti was climbing at a snail’s pace. One rung, then a rest, then another rung, another rest. He coughed, spat water.

“Come on, Marchetti,” Kurt said in a harsh whisper, “we don’t have all day.”

“I fear I can go no farther,” the billionaire said. “This is where it ends, right here on this ladder. You should go on without me.”

“I’d love to,” Kurt mumbled, “but I need you to turn off the machines.”

“Right,” Marchetti said as if he’d forgotten. “I’m coming.”

Marchetti began to climb once again. In the meantime, Kurt spotted a pair of figures exiting the second floor of the starboard pyramid and scrambling down a stairwell. He thought he recognized one of them as Marchetti’s arrogant aide. The other was unfamiliar.

“What’s Otero look like?” he asked.

Marchetti poked his head over the top of the ladder. “Average-sized man,” he said, “dark complexion, close-buzzed hair on a very small, very round head.”

The figures were too far away for Kurt to be certain, but that description fit the man he spotted. A moment later the two figures began a fast jog down one of Aqua-Terra’s roads. The occasional glance back was enough to tell Kurt they were on the run.

“Anyway off this boat,” Kurt said, “er—I mean island?”

“By helicopter,” Marchetti said. “Or via the marina, by boat or seaplane.”

The marina. If Kurt guessed correctly, that was their goal.

“I think Otero and your lawyer friend are headed that way,” he said. “Leilani, help Marchetti find a computer terminal and try not to kill him in the process. As annoying as he is, I think we’ve cleared him of anything more than crimes of fashion.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I promise.”

Kurt turned to Joe. “Ready?”

Joe nodded, and an instant later they took off running, sprinting into the wheat field and cutting their way through the neck-high stalks of grain. They reached the other side and began to cut across the park. Halfway there, Kurt heard the sound of an engine starting up.

“That sound like a boat to you?”

“More like an air-cooled Lycoming,” Joe said. “They’re going for the seaplane.”

“Then we’d better hurry.”

AS KURT AND JOE raced to the other side of the artificial island, Leilani and Marchetti scampered forward, eventually ducking into a maintenance building. The sight of fifty machines plugged in and charging gave her chills, but none of them moved.

Marchetti found the programming terminal and quickly logged on.

“I’m sorry I tried to scare you,” Leilani said, hoping it had some effect on Marchetti’s judgment.

“Me too,” Marchetti said, typing furiously. “But I can’t blame you for being angry.”

She nodded.

“I’m in,” Marchetti said. For a second he seemed elated, and then he paused with his mouth open as if surprised by what he saw. His eyes narrowed, focusing on one particular part of the screen. “Otero,” he mumbled, “what have you done?”

Suddenly, the machines around them began powering up. Motors whirring, LEDs going from orange to green.

“What’s happening?” Leilani asked.

“He changed the code,” Marchetti said. “When I logged on, it triggered a response. He’s set the robots on intruder mode.”

“Intruder mode? What exactly is intruder mode?”

“They go after everyone on the island not wearing an ID badge with an RFID chip in it. It’s my defense against pirates.”