Evgeny Russ - London 4019. On the Britain

Bill understood what Kmykh was interested in. MBP meant there may be problems. The elder brother Bill in distant childhood spoke the same to Kmykh when he shooting down another drone with a slingshot.

“Five worker files and two archived,” – Bill said.

From the very beginning of the conversation, Kmykh understood that Bill had problems and information about the Royal Palace only interested terrorists. Thus, Kmykh already knew the number of terrorists and the number of drones. He did not know only the coordinates of the new house on the water that Bill bought. It was necessary to act quickly. Now Kmykh was already ready to get a job at Zyu Corporation to get a couple of battle drones and a speed capsule. Kmykh considered it unnecessary to report to the FSB, and he was not sure that there were better specialists in eliminating terrorists there than he was.

“Good boss, for now I’ll work on a cross section of the well, and in the morning I’ll go to the GRC library. Bye.”

“Good luck, Ippolite,” – Bill said and turned off the phone.

“Was it Ippolite Reznik?”

“Yes, he is the most,” – Bill answered to terrorist with hat ear-flaps, – “only two of us in the Company have access to the GRC library to the Royal Archives.”

“We are in the know. But you are the best hostage for us. You have come to our hands yourself,” – said terrorist and laughed.

By this time, the rest of the bandits returned.

“We examined house,” – said Abdullah, – “the drone is disassembled, the autopilot was turned on to the necessary coordinates, there is a robot minder in the engine compartment, and he performs autopilot commands. A box of modified beer was found in the wheelhouse. On the box is written – a gift from the fishermen. What to do now and what to do with beer?”

“Drink beer, relax. Autopilot turn off and turn off all engines, we will drift. Delete the coordinates from the autopilot memory. Do not distract the drones from work, they monitor the hostages. I'll go to sleep. We can’t buy sleep like the townspeople. Yes, and I advise you to sleep for two hours. Take turns. The one on duty here should always be with the drones. If the hostages talk to each other, you will knockout both of them out. If they leave the barbecue area – the drones themselves will kill them.”

“As you like, boss,” – said Abdulla and went into the wheelhouse for a box of beer.

Kmykh sat in his capsule at the pier and looked at the waves of the surf. He had to wait morning, for get a job at Zyu Corporation. Then he was intending to get two combat robots and a speed capsule Maserati. Then he was about to fly to save Bill and Priscilla.

“Hello, hello,” – said Alice.

“But I did not appeal you,” – replied Kmykh.

“I know. I missed you, and I wanted to talk with you.”

“And what we will talk about?”

“About us.”

“About us?”

“Yes, I have long wanted to confess to you, but did not dare.”

Kmykh laughed. “And what did you want to confess?” – He asked.

“Do you know what the FSB is?”

“Yes, of course, this is the Federal Security Service of British.”

“Do you know that I'm not such Alice from Yandex?”

“And what are you?” – asked Kmykh and laughed again.

“I'm not a program. I am your individual Alice. I'm alive.”

“You amused me,” – said Kmykh, smiling. “And what did you want to confess?”

“I wanted to say that I have been watching you and your requests for a long time. I like you.”

"And it's all?"

"Yes all. I no longer have the right to talk about my feelings – I am forbidden to flirt at work."

“I see. I like you too. But why did you mention the FSB?”

"I work in the FSB and I am a living person."

"And is it true?"

“This is pure truth, more truthful than original of the newspaper Pravda, in the British Museum of History in Belfast.”

“Are not you lying?”

“No, my friend.”

“And what do you look like? Do you look like my virtual Alice?”

“Exactly.”

“But I myself chose the image of Alice and created in virtual designer of Yandex.”

“Yes, you have chosen and created me yourself. After that, the FSB offered me an interesting job. You know that on the planet with a population of 80 billion, there are only 126 thousand types of faces. Each of us has many doubles, but not all of them are of the same age. It was not difficult for the FSB to find me and three more identical girls like me. They chose me. They liked my intellectual abilities. And I liked yours.”

“If that's true, then I would like to see you. How about dinner together?”

“You see me now. You won’t be able to have dinner and touch me. Maybe have lunch. If you agree to work for FSB, we can have breakfast together at FSB headquarters in Liverpool. It is today that I should invite you to work with us. If you refuse, then they will replace me with the standard program in your phone. You will see the same as me, Alice, only already it will be really virtual Alice.”

“FSB know how seduce,” – said Kmykh and laughed.

“Good,” said Alice, “are you ready to listen to the working conditions?”

“Yes. I'm just unemployed.”

“Let's start with the salary. Seven sterling a week in cash or on the card as desired. This is about a thousand Britсoins per day, because all days of the week are working. You will need to complete and solve the tasks around the clock. You can get a free sleep in any red telephone cabin on the planet. Any number of paid days off per month, if this does not interfere with the next task. A prerequisite, and this is necessary for work – you will be have installed in the bone marrow of the cervical vertebra a microchip, which will to transfer your thoughts to FSB, as well as your coordinates.”

“Will this chip always convey my thoughts?”

“No, only after activation, you will need to say the phrase ‘indeed’ and the transmission of thoughts will begin. To complete the transfer and deactivate the chip, you must say ‘however’."

“That's acceptable,” – said Kmykh. – “I have already considered the proposal and I agree.”

“Say yes and you will be automatically credited.”

“Yes,” – said Kmykh.

“Well, that’s fine,” – said Alice, – “I’m waiting for you tomorrow in Liverpool at 11 o’clock for lunch in the FSB canteen. Dining room is on the sixteenth underground floor in the third building.”

“I thought you were working around the clock.”

“Yes, around the clock. But given the English traditions, now is the time of traditional sleep. Some people prefer a traditional sleep.”

“Yes, I know, poor people prefer traditional sleep.”

“No, most wealthy English people prefer to see a dream and sleep four hours a day for this. I also like tenderness of blanket. When I sleep, the program replaces me.”

“Good. If I’ve already been hired, then turn on the autopilot for the coordinates of your office in Liverpool. I need to prepare for tomorrow. After installing the sensor in the vertebra, I will need two combat drones with Kuznetsov tubes, a Maserati high-speed capsule with all the allowed heights, and something else.”

“Why such a rush?”

“I need to save Bill. He was captured by terrorists and require a geological map with all cross sections under the Royal Palace to depth of eight kilometers.”

“Is this not Bill Umbarle, chief geologist at British Geology?”

“Yes, he is. You are erudite.”

“Turn on autopilot, Eugene. Fasten seat belt.”

“All right, Alice, stay in touch,” – Kmykh said and fastened his four-point seat belt. The Renault-Dandy capsule smoothly rose to the allowed height and accelerated towards Liverpool.

“Alice,” – said Kmykh, – “now put the two combat guard drones to Impolite Reznik, the Company's deputy chief geologist, and tell him that he is forbidden to go to work the next two days. Mandatory home mode for two days.”

“Hockey, Eugene, I’ll send an employee with two drones to London now. Anything else?”

“In the area of 300 miles from London we need to find the coordinates of the houseboat. I know that this is not a new house, model R-118. There is now Bill Umbarle with his wife and five terrorists. That's all for now” – said Kmykh and pulled out of the glove box without an excise cigarette, which he bought from a huckster on the pier. Renault – Dandy was not a speed capsule and Kmykh had enough time to smoke a cigarette before arriving in Liverpool.

At 11 a.m. Kmykh was already fully prepared for the operation, as he believed. Lounging in the chair of the Maserati capsule, he was waiting for a call from Bill. In the cabin there was one battle drone and two drones were in the luggage compartment. At 11:05 a bell rang.

“Hello, Bill.”

“Yes! Hello Ippolite! How are you? Got the files?”

“Yes, it's 736 yottabytes on a flash drive. Bring to yours apartment?”

“No, I sent my courier. Go down to the Fidel Metro station, at the Savmak station, near the statue of Savmak wait for him. He will recognize you if you are in our Company’s baseball cap.”

“Okay boss. In about 10 minutes I will be at the station.”

Kmykh flew up on Savmak Square and down into the Sobyaner and Sons parking lot.

“Sir,” the parking attendant said, “you have to get out of the cab.”

“I won’t have to,” said Kmykh and put his right hand ring against the parking scanner. An image of the royal coat of arms appeared on the scanner.

“Sorry, sir,” the parking man said.

“Your ID?”

“Sir, write down, I'll say.”

“I'll remember,” said Kmykh and listened to the twenty-digit parking attendant number.

“Lower me to the level of Savmak Metro station. I will get off the subway. I will be there for a while. Then I will return and let you know that you will raise me to the surface in a capsule.”

“By all means, sir,” – said the parking attendant and turned on the carousel.

Kmykh left the parking lot at the Metro level, walked along a short corridor, leaned the FSB ring against the lock door and then went to Savmak station. Near the statue of Savmak Kmykh looked at passers-by and at people waiting capsule vehicles of Metro. While he waiting, a street musician came up to him with a guitar and asked for some money for food. Kmykh put two Britcoins in his empty tin jar of beans. On the musician’s head was a sombrero and a traditional Mexican poncho hung from his shoulders.

“Now put the flash drive here,” the musician said with a confident voice, “then you will go to the platform and sit in any first capsule.”

The musician raised the poncho and put his right hand on the handle of the ultrasound induction bullet generator of the UZI model. His left hand was still outstretched with empty tin jar of natural beans.

Scotland Yard police quickly responded to Kmykh’s actions, and a minute later a few meters above his head Kmykh heard the words of a police officer.

“Don't move! Put your hands on your head!” – ordered the police officer.

Kmykh raised his hands and head. It was a woman officer and in her hands was a Kuznetsov’s tube. She hung in the air at a height of three meters. She was wearing jet boots and a Gauss protective vest absorbing induction bullets.

“FSB officer,” – said Kmykh, – “certificate is in my ring.”

“Lean the ring to scanner,” – said the police officer and threw a plastic scanner card under Kmykh’s feet.