Mulch sat up, checking the camera’s ion stream through his visor.
‘Lucky,’ he breathed. ‘Very lucky. We have a path straight through.’ He slapped shut his smoking bum-flap. ‘It’s been a while since I launched a torpedo.’
Juliet took the video clip from her pocket, waving it in front of her wrist computer so Foaly could see it.
‘So, I just wind this round any old cable? Is that it?’
‘No, Mud Maid,’ sighed Foaly, comfortable in his familiar role as unappreciated genius. ‘That is a complex piece of nanotechnology, complete with microfilaments that act as receivers, broadcasters and clamps. Naturally it leeches its power from the Mud People’s own system.’
‘Naturally,’ said Mulch, trying to keep his eyes open.
‘You need to ensure that it is firmly clamped to one of the video cables. Luckily, its multi-sensor does not have to be in contact with all the wires, just one.’
‘And which ones are the video wires?’
‘Well… all of them.’
Juliet groaned. ‘So I just wind it round any old cable?’
‘I suppose so,’ admitted the centaur. ‘But wind it tightly. All the filaments have to penetrate.’
Juliet reached up, selected a wire at random and wound the clip round it.
‘OK?’
There was a moment’s pause while Foaly waited for reception. Below the surface, picture-in-picture screens began popping up on the centaur’s plasma screen.
‘Perfect. We have eyes and ears.’
‘Let’s go then,’ said Juliet impatiently. ‘Start the loop.’
Foaly wasted a minute delivering another lecture. ‘This is much more than a loop, young lady. I am about to completely wipe moving patterns from the surveillance footage. In other words, the pictures they see in the surveillance booth will be exactly as they should be, except you won’t be in them. Just be careful never to stand still or you’ll become visible. Keep something moving, even if it’s only your little finger.’
Juliet checked the digital clock on the computer face. ‘Four thirty. We need to hurry.’
‘OK. The security centre is one corridor over. We take the shortest route.’
Juliet projected the schematic into the air. ‘Down this corridor here, two rights and there we are.’
Mulch strode past her to the wall.
‘I said the shortest route, Mud Girl. Think laterally.’
The office was an executive suite, with a skyline view and floor-to-ceiling pine shelving. Mulch hauled back a section of the pine and knocked on the wall behind it.
‘Plasterboard,’ he said. ‘No problem.’
Juliet closed the panel behind them. ‘No debris, dwarf. Artemis said we weren’t to leave any trace.’
‘Don’t worry. I’m not a messy eater.’
Mulch unhinged his jaw, expanding his oral cavity to basketball proportions. He opened his mouth to an incredible one hundred and seventy degrees, and took a whopping bite out of the wall. A ring of tombstone teeth soon reduced the wall to dust.
‘A bi’ dry,’ he commented. ‘Har’ oo shwallow.’
Three bites later they were through. Mulch climbed into the next office without a crumb dropping from his lips. Juliet followed, pulling the pine shelving across to cover the hole.
The next office was not quite so salubrious, the dark cubby of a vice president. No city view, and plain metal shelving. Juliet rearranged the shelving to cover the newly excavated entrance. Mulch knelt at the door, his beard hair latching on to the wood.
‘Some vibration outside. That’s probably the compressor. Nothing irregular, so no conversation. I’d say we were safe.’
‘You could just ask me,’ said Foaly, in his helmet earpiece. ‘I do have footage from every camera in the building. That’s over two thousand, in case you’re interested.’
‘Thanks for the update. Well, are we clear?’
‘Yes. Remarkably so. No one in the immediate vicinity, except a guard at the lobby desk.’
Juliet took two grey canisters from her backpack. ‘OK. This is where I earn my keep. You stay here. This shouldn’t take more than a minute.’
Juliet cracked open the door, creeping along the corridor on rubber-soled boots. Aeroplane-style lighting strips were inlaid in the carpet; otherwise, the only lighting came from exit boxes over the fire-escape doors.
The schematic on her wrist computer told her that she had twenty metres to go before reaching the security office. After that, she could only hope that the oxygen rack was unlocked. And why shouldn’t it be? Oxygen canisters were hardly high-risk objects. At least she would have ample warning if any personnel happened to be doing their rounds.