The Eternity Code

“Indeed.”

 

 

“I don’t know where to start. Should I make my own money? Or should I rip off somebody else’s?”

 

Artemis forced a smile. “The world is your oyster.”

 

Spiro patted the Cube gently. “Exactly. That’s exactly what it is. And I’m going to take every pearl it has to offer.”

 

Pex and Chips arrived at the vault door, guns drawn.

 

“Mr. Spiro!” stammered Pex. “Is this some kind of drill?”

 

Spiro laughed. “Oh, look. Here come the cavalry. An eternity too late. No, this is not a drill. And I would dearly love to know how little Artemis here got past you two!”

 

The hired muscle stared at Artemis as though he had just appeared from nowhere. Which for their mesmerized brains, he had.

 

“I don’t know, Mr. Spiro. We never saw him. You want I should take him outside for a little accident?”

 

Spiro laughed, a short nasty bark. “I got a new word for you two dumbbells. Expendable. You are and he isn’t, just yet. Get it? So just stand there and look dangerous, otherwise I may replace you with two shaved gorillas.”

 

Spiro gazed into the Cube’s screen, as though there were nobody else in the room. “I reckon I’ve got twenty years left in me. After that the world can go to hell as far as I’m concerned. I have no family, no heirs. There’s no need to build for the future. I’m going to suck this planet dry, and with this Cube I can do whatever I want to whoever I want.”

 

“I know the first thing I’d do,” said Pex. His eyes seemed surprised that the words were coming out of his mouth.

 

Spiro froze. He wasn’t used to being interrupted in mid-rant.

 

“What would you do, dumbbell?” he said. “Buy yourself a booth at Merv’s Rib ’n’ Roast?”

 

“No,” said Pex. “I’d stick it to those Phonetix guys. They’ve been rubbing Spiro Industries’ nose in it for years.”

 

It was an electric moment. Not only because Pex had actually had an idea, but because it was actually a good one.

 

The notion lit a thoughtful spark in Spiro’s eyes.

 

“Phonetix. I hate those guys. Nothing would give me greater satisfaction than to destroy that bunch of second-rate phone freaks. But how?”

 

Now it was Chips’s turn. “I hear they’re working on a new top-secret communicator. Super-life battery, or something.”

 

Spiro did a double take. First Pex, now Chips. Next thing you knew, they’d be learning to read. Nevertheless . . .

 

“Cube,” said Spiro. “I want you to access the Phonetix database. Copy the schematics for all their projects in development.”

 

“No can do, bossman. Phonetix is operating on a closed system. No Internet connection whatsoever in their R and D Department. I have to be on site.”

 

Spiro’s euphoria disappeared. He rounded on Artemis.

 

“What is he talking about?”

 

Artemis coughed, clearing his throat. “The Cube cannot scan a closed system unless the omni-sensor is actually touching the computer, or at least close by. Phonetix is so paranoid about hackers that their research and development lab is completely contained. Buried under several floors of solid rock. They don’t even have e-mail. I know because I’ve tried to hack it myself a few times.”

 

“But the Cube scanned the satellite, didn’t it?”

 

“The satellite is broadcasting. And if it’s broadcasting, the Cube can trace it.”

 

Spiro toyed with the links of his ID chain. “So, I’d have to go to Phonetix.”

 

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” said Artemis. “It’s a lot to risk for the sake of a personal vendetta.”

 

Blunt stepped forward. “Let me go, Mr. Spiro. I’ll get those plans.”

 

Spiro chewed on a handful of vitamin supplements from a dispenser on his belt.

 

“It’s a nice idea, Arno. Good work. But I am reluctant to hand control of the Cube over to anyone else. Who knows what temptation they might yield to? Cube, can you disable the Phonetix alarm system?”

 

“Can a dwarf blow a hole in his pants?”

 

“What was that?”

 

“Eh . . . nothing. Technical term. You wouldn’t understand it. I have already disabled the Phonetix system.”

 

“What about the guards, Cube? Can you disable them?”

 

“No problemo. I could remote activate the internal security measure.”

 

“Which is?”

 

“Tanks of vapor inside the air vents. Sleeping gas. Illegal, by the way, according to Chicago State Law. But clever, no aftereffects, untraceable. The intruder comes to in lock-up two hours later.”

 

Spiro cackled. “Those paranoid Phonetix boys. Go ahead, Cube, knock ’em out.”

 

“Night night,” said Foaly, with a glee that seemed all too real.

 

“Good. Now, Cube, all that stands between us and the Phonetix blueprints is an encrypted computer.”

 

“Don’t make me laugh. They haven’t invented a unit of time short enough to measure how long it will take me to crack the Phonetix hard disk.”

 

Eoin Colfer's books