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Zach, his Uncle Mike, the Chief of Security, the Assistant,
and the Director were seated around the large wooden table in the Agency’s
conference room. At the far end of the table, a short woman with gray hair and
thick Coke-bottle glasses was debriefing the group.
The badge on her white lab coat read simply, Examiner.
“What we’re looking at here is some sort of incredibly
advanced robot,” she began. “Its ‘skin’ is a kind of flesh-like plastic,
its ‘eyes’ are miniature video cameras, and its ‘brain’ is some sort of
computerized artificial intelligence processor. Incredible work, actually—good
enough to fool practically anyone.”
“It fooled security, anyway,” the Chief commented.
“It's easy to see why,” the Examiner responded. “The
‘skin’ on its fingertips was molded into the shape of actual fingerprints,
and the video cameras were set behind a set of optical implants. The implants
were detailed enough to pass your beloved retina scan.”
“The Six-Million Dollar Man,” Zach said, under his
breath.
“Not very likely,” the Examiner said. “Six billion,
perhaps. This is extremely sophisticated technology—technology that I didn’t
even know existed, until today.”
“That technology also gave it tremendous strength,” the
Assistant commented, “and made it almost totally impervious to both small and
large arms fire.”
“But not impervious to a sudden jolt of electricity,”
the Examiner responded. “Like any electrical device, too much electricity
overloaded its circuits.”
Zach nodded his head, knowingly.
“That explains why that little zap from Agent LeBonde’s
necklace knocked him out the other night.”
“Precisely,” said the Examiner. “But the big question
I have is, who could have built something like this?”
“Probably the same person who’s been kidnapping all
those scientists,” Zach offered.
“Good guess, kiddo,” Uncle Mike responded.
“Whoever it is,” the Assistant said, “he or she has
to have superior scientific knowledge, as well as access to vast financial
resources.”
“Dr. Killjoi.”
Everyone at the table turned and looked at the Director.
“Dr. Killjoi,” he repeated. “Miss April, call up the
file on Dr. Rudolph Killjoi.”
The Assistant pressed several buttons on her electronic
clipboard. Then she walked over to the wall display and pushed a single button
on the nearby touch panel. She held her clipboard up to the touch panel, and
‘beamed’ the information from her clipboard into the wall unit.
Beside her, the map of the world that was displayed on the
giant video monitor faded to black. The map was replaced by a large
head-and-shoulders picture of a severe-looking man with slicked-back black hair
and a thick black goatee. The man had dark, angular eyebrows that met in the
middle, icy blue eyes, and a white streak running down the right side of both
his beard and hair.
Onscreen, next to the photograph, was a detailed data
listing. The Assistant began to read this information to the group.
“Doctor Rudolph Killjoi,” the Assistant read out loud.
“Born forty-five years ago in
Lucerne
,
Switzerland
. Height, six foot one inch. Weight, two hundred five pounds. Attended several
prestigious universities and medical schools in Europe, as well as in the U.S. He is fluent in French, German, and English. His field of specialty is applied
robotics, and he is the foremost expert in his field. Current residence is in Switzerland, in a mountaintop chalet in the Alps. Just outside Geneva.”
She paused for a moment, then continued.
“Although Dr. Killjoi participates in several
international consortiums, he prefers to work alone. In the past, he has worked
on several projects for the Swiss, British, and German governments. His last
government work was over five years ago, however. Since then, he has been
concentrating on the development of fully bionic artificial limbs.”
“There are several details not listed in the report,”
the Director interjected. “First, Dr. Killjoi was seriously injured in an
explosion while working on his last government project. That explosion resulted
in the amputation of his right arm, as well as that rather unique-looking white
streak in his hair. It is fair to assume that the Doctor’s emphasis on bionic
limbs is a direct result of losing his own arm, hmm?”
Zach looked back up at the picture on the wall display. The
white streak helped to make Dr. Killjoi look extremely intense, highly
intelligent, and slightly evil.
“Second,” the Director continued, “the Doctor has a
noble heritage, and inherited a vast fortune from his family. His paternal
grandfather had something to do with cuckoo clocks, hmm?”
Zach tapped his fingers on the conference table.
“So he has the technical knowledge, and he has the money,”
Zach commented. “But does he have a motive?”
From the end of the table, the Director smiled.
“Excellent
question, Agent Zed. Ever since his accident, the Doctor’s work has
been shrouded in secrecy. I’ve had my own suspicions, certainly. Several years
ago the Swiss government tracked down a well-known international terrorist. The
terrorist was killed while resisting arrest, and the Swiss found several papers
on his person that were later traced to Dr. Killjoi’s chalet. The Doctor had
no comment, and the Swiss government did not pursue the matter further.
Interesting, hmm?”
“Sounds like we need to investigate Dr. Killjoi,” Agent
Z said.
The Director nodded in agreement, then turned to the
Assistant.
“As soon as you've cleared the rest of the staff, Miss
April, make arrangements for yourself and Agent Zed on the next flight to
Switzerland. I want you to pay Dr. Killjoi a visit — personally.” |