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Caldwell emerged from the stairwell on the ground floor and found himself in the ower lobby. The pristine white marble walls were dotted with massive plasma ss, erected for the sole purpose of reassuring ers that their data was safe if they stored it at data ters. There were ss showing the data flows of the works in plex but beautiful color-coded graphs. There were monitors displaying pulsing traffic-light is indig that systems were healthy with a green light, about to have problems with amber or irouble with a red light. All of ’s systems seemed to have the green lights. It was all systems go.A huge horizontal s, a grid of multiple monitors, displayed multiple camera views of the mai data ter trol room. Teis in shiny silver and purple windbreakers with the logo emblazoned on them gawked at terminals, studied the graphs and generally tried to look like they were giving the er their money’s worth.
It was lunchtime. The security guard in the lobby was stuffing his face with the tents of a Styrofoam lunchbox. In the bright glow of white light firing down from a giant modern delier in the high ceiling, desigo look like stalactites hanging from the roof of some ice cave, the bereted security guard looked woefully out of place. Four Haier robots roamed around the marble floors. Their senso<u>藏书网</u>rs told them to stay away from Caldwell. He walked up to the eleic directory board and studied it like a visitor looking for the right floor. The trol room was oweh floor, sandwiched in the middle of the building.
There was a terminal in one er of the lobby that spewed marketing bullshit about the bes of letti handle all your New a Region data needs. Video montages waxed lyrical about the size of ’s baes, bandwidth-o9９lｉｂ?n-demand, amazing 24/7 er support, raised floors, temperature trol and automatic server maintenand traffiit services. The terminal went on about how y pert of the Hang Seng New a 100 used o serve all their data ter needs. Logos of said panies lio more cyberspace marketing hype from said ers were displayed ready to be clicked by the potential er. Caldwell had seen enough. It was all one big smokes. He had remotely broken into enough data ters to know.
Caldwell walked up to the security guard who was chewing on some kind of greeable. Half of it, the leafy bit, was hanging oside of his mouth because the other half on the inside was refusing to be chewed. Swallowing was not on the cards for this guy as he seemed to have mao get a huge stalk of some veggie lodged halfway down his throat. Caldwell made his move.
“g King Real Estate tei,” he said in tonese. “Was here earlier, I just went out to grab some lunch. See you are still enjoying yours. Where did you buy that? It looks really good.”
All the security guard could do was motion with his head in the dire of the lifts. His expression said: “Don’t bother me while I am eating, gweilo half-breed.” Caldwell wi him aered ay elevator. He pressed the button for the tweh floor. The lifts in Hong Kong were way too fast. It took all of eight seds for the bell to sound and the puterized voice to say “Tweh floor”.
Caldwell walked out into a huge hall lit with purple halogen like a nightclub. There was a metallic designer receptioo one side at which a mosquito-thin ese girl with a cute face was also enjoying the tents of a Styrofoam rice box. She didn’t pay him the least bit of attention, fog all her energies on lunch.
There was a sunken area in the middle of the hall with a glass floor. Expensive-looking blad gold goldfish swam lazily in a lit pool below the glass. Just beyond the underground aquarium was a reinforced steel door and a large window showing essentially the same view as the monitor downstairs in the lobby. This was the trol room. The cameras must have been ihe trol room because Caldwell could only spot one camera outside in the hall and it ointing at the reception desk, making sure the skinionist didn’t fall asleep on the job. Caldwell spotted a lit Gents and Ladies sign and walked casually towards the washrooms. The lack of security was frightening. In the hag age, eleic security was deemed orders of magnitude more important. Criminals the world over had realized that valuable data was locked up inside puters aworks not in the physical premises.
Caldwell ehe men’s toilet. It was empty except for a solitary closed cubicle. The oct was making enough noise, from both ends, to suggest that he had made the wrong choice for lunch. Caldwell ehe cubicle along and waited. He still had not heard from Mei Lin. The AR Unit was now telling him that ower was built just two years ago and was annifit tribution by the powerful Lee family to Hong Kong’s vibrant world-class ey. It was even going into how many tons of crete, steel and glass were used and how many stru workers had worked oe. “Talk about useless information,” Caldwell muttered quietly to himself. The entire building <samp>..</samp>re-wired for cyberspace. The AR went on to explain that it was in fact a node in cyberspace. The last piece of information grabbed Caldwell’s attention. If ower was a node on cyberspace, theire building could be hacked but only if he could gain high-level access into the work that ma. As it happehat was exactly what Caldwell was trying to do.
The toilet door flushed and Caldwell heard the cubicle door open. He walked out of his cubicle. A<big>９9ｌib?</big> balding middle-aged ese man wearing the shiny purple and silver windbreaker was washing his hands at the sink. The man he windbreaker because the temperature oweh floor of ower was close to freezing. This was to prevent the puting equipment from overheating. A thousand puters gee a lot of heat. ower had to have ten times more than that judging from the rows and rows of server soles visible behind the trol room and there were several more floors full of servers acc to the marketing blurb downstairs.
“Dodgy lunch, eh? ’t be too careful,” Caldwell said in what he figured was Mandarin as he stood at the sio the employee. The balding man turned round slowly.
“Who the fuck ...”
Caldwell didn’t give the man time to finish. The back of his right arm, the muscled bit just above elbow, made tact with the bridge of the tei’s he man’s head snapped bad he slumped to the floor. Caldwell allowed his breathing to slow. He was nervous but the adrenalin umping.
“You’re not having a good day are you,” Caldwell said as he dragged the tei into the same cubicle he had been using earlier. The cubicle smelled of something rotten. Caldwell stripped him of his fancy windbreaker and put it on. Underh the windbreaker, the ei was wearing a black t-shirt with f.c.u.k. printed on it in white. Caldwell locked the door from the inside and started climbing over the partition. There was a sound of somebody entering the toilets. He slid back down and crouched ooilet bowl. The atose tei was mumbling something unintelligible. He was still out in mumbo jumbo land.
“Ah Wah, you have a phone call. What the hell are you doing in there? Having a baby?” a deep baritone voiquired in guttural tohe door closed shut. Caldwell figured whoever owhe voice had gone. He climbed over the partition into the adjoining cubicle.
The only way he was going to gain access to the system was to take a gamble. Caldwell was betting that if he walked up behind one of the teis in the windbreakers just as they were going through the door into the trol room, they would let him in without ahought. They would be so caught up in their post-lunch schedule that they wouldn’t even bother to pute whether he was one of them. And he was wearing the AR glasses. The visual cue of the atose tei’s windbreaker would be enough.
Caldwell stood in the corridor leading to the washroom hoping that the tei called Ah Wah would not suddenly bee reacquainted with his surroundings. The elevators chimed and a couple of similarly-dressed teis strolled across the hall chattering about something unintelligible. He waited until they reached the sunken aquarium then made a beeline for them. The tei in front was having the palm of his hand sed and laughing at something the other tei had said. He then peered into an iris ser. Caldwell could see the beam from the ser making passes over his left eye. He was so close to the other tei that he could smell his hair gel.
Then the worst thing that could happen did.
“Ah Fai, you have a package,” the skinionist shouted across the hall. Her voice was so shrill that both teis turn round in surprise. So did Caldwell behind them, who also whipped round to look in the dire of the receptionist and avoid his face being scrutinized by the two teis. The girl was too far away to notice that he was not one of them. He could feel the two teis looking at the receptionist past the back of his he<u>９9ｌib?</u>ad. Caldwell hoped he could pass for an oriental for the brief few seds that they were looking at him. Many Hong Kong youngsters dyed their hair brown or blonde as part of the prevailing fashionable. Caldwell was more worried that the headphone plugged in his ear and the AR glasses wouldn’t give him away.
Ah Fai slid past Caldwell without even a sideways gland headed towards the reception desk. The other tei keyed in his code. The massive door slid open aered. The door closed shut. Caldwell was ihe trol room. He was relieved to notice that ing out of the room was much easier than ing in. You just pushed a button in a square recess beside the door. The tei walked to his terminal without paying him any attention. The AR display shuddered and an image appeared superimposed over the view of the trol room. Mei Lin had hit pay dirt. It was a stack of blueprints for ower stacked one on top of ahe readout said there were fifty-six in total. How the hell was he going to find the right one?
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