Pex and Chips were closer now, comparing the merits of various fictional characters.
“Captain Hook rocks,” said Pex. “He would kick Barney’s purple butt ten times out of ten.”
Chips sighed. “You’re missing the whole point of Barney. It’s a values thing. Butt-kicking is not the issue.”
They walked right past Artemis without seeing him. And why would they see him? Holly had mesmerized them not to notice anybody out of the ordinary on this floor, unless they were specifically pointed out to them.
The outer security booth lay before them. There were approximately forty seconds left before the next set of guards turned the corner. The unmesmerized set.
“Just over half a minute, Holly. You know what to do.”
Holly turned up the thermo coils in her suit so they were exactly at room temperature. This would fool the lattice of lasers that crisscrossed the vault’s entrance. Next, she set her wings to a gentle hover. Any more down-draught could activate the pressure pad underfoot. She pulled herself forward, finding purchase along the wall where her helmet told her no sensors were hidden. The pressure pad trembled from the air displacement, but not enough to activate the sensor.
Artemis watched her progress impatiently.
“Hurry, Holly. Twenty seconds.”
Holly grunted something unprintable, dragging herself to within touching distance of the door.
“Video file Spiro three,” she said, and her helmet computer ran the footage of Jon Spiro punching in the vault door code. She mimicked his actions, and inside the steel door six reinforced pistons retracted, allowing the counterweighted door to swing wide on its hinges. All external alarms were automatically shut off. The secondary door stood firm, three red lights burning on its panel. Only three barriers left now. The gel pad, the retina scan, and the voice activation.
This kind of operation was too complicated for voice command. Foaly’s computers had been known to misinterpret orders, even though the centaur insisted it was fairy error. Holly ripped back the Velcro strap covering the helmet command pad on her wrist.
First, she projected a 3-D image of Spiro’s eyeball to a height of five feet six. The retina scanner sent out a revolving beam to read the virtual eyeball. Apparently satisfied, it disabled the first lock. A red light switched to green.
The next step was to call up the appropriate sound-wave file to trick the voice check. The equipment was very sophisticated, and could not be fooled by a recording. A human recording, that is. Foaly’s digital microphones made copies that were indistinguishable from the real thing. Even stink worms, whose entire bodies were covered with ears, could be attracted by a worm-mating hiss from Foaly’s recording equipment. He was currently in negotiation with a fairy insect collection agency for the rights.
Holly played the file through her helmet speakers. “Jon Spiro. I am the boss, so open up quick.”
Alarm number two disengaged. Another light green.
“Excuse me, Captain,” said Artemis, an undercurrent of apprehension creeping into his voice. “We’re almost out of time.”
He unwrapped the thumb and stepped past Holly onto the red floor plate. Artemis pressed the thumb into the scanner. Green gel oozed into the severed digit’s whorls. The alarm display flashed green. It had worked. Of course it had. The thumb was genuine, after all.
But nothing else happened. The door did not open.
Holly punched Artemis in the shoulder.
“Well? Are we in?”
“Apparently not. The punching is not helping my concentration, by the way.”
Artemis glared at the console. What had he missed? Think, boy, think. Put those famed brain cells to work. He leaned closer to the secondary door, shifting his weight from his back leg. Beneath him, the red plate squeaked.
“Of course!” exclaimed Artemis. He grabbed Holly, hugging her close.
“It’s not just a red marker,” he explained hurriedly. “It’s weight sensitive.”
Artemis was right. Their combined mass was close enough to Spiro’s own to hoodwink the scales. Obviously a mechanical device—a computer would never have been fooled. The secondary door slid into its groove below their feet.
Artemis handed Holly the thumb.
“Go,” he said. “Spiro’s time is running out. I’m right behind you.”
Holly took the thumb. “And if you’re not?”
“Then we go to plan B.”
Holly nodded slowly. “Let’s hope we don’t have to.”
“Let’s hope.”
Artemis strode into the vault. He ignored the fortune in jewels and bearer bonds, heading straight for the Cube’s Plexiglas prison. There were two bullish security guards blocking the way. Both men had oxygen masks strapped over their faces and were unnaturally still.