"S. Andrew Swann - Zimmerman's Algorithm" - читать интересную книгу автора (Swann S Andrew)

The Colonel checked his watch and looked back toward the Peterbilt. The other team from his truck
was on time. Two men handled a pair of bolt cutters and an acetylene torch, busily removing the barriers to
the rear of the Peterbilt's trailer. The area between the two trucks was awash with the orange light and the
twisted shadows cast by the torch. The Colonel could already smell the acrid smell of burnt paint and
molten metal. It was harder to open than a standard semitrailer, both because of the heavy insulation, and
the fact that there was some nominal security on it. Its cargo was worth fifty million dollars.
Not that Infinity Microsystems had ever expected anyone to steal it.
By the cab of the Peterbilt, the Colonel saw the IMS driver and security guard, facedown on the road,
handcuffed and shivering. The guard looked to have taken a slug in the shoulder; there was a steaming
black puddle under him.
Colonel Ramon thought things were going better than expected.
Behind him, the Bobcat rolled out of the trailer as the doors to the Peterbilt's trailer popped open. The
men who had broken open the door, rolled their tools away and set up a portable ramp.
The Colonel walked up behind the Bobcat as it maneuvered itself to drive into the trailer. As the little
forklift mounted the ramp, Colonel Ramon looked past it to get his first view of their objective.
He stood next to the swung-open door of the trailer, and could feel hot, dry air blowing past him. Some
of the heat radiated from the sputtering remains of the trailer's lock, but most came from vents in the sides
of the customized trailer.
Past the Bobcat he could see the Daedalus, the only cargo. It sat braced in the center of the rear half
of the trailer. Cables led from it to a wall that blocked off the forward half of the trailer, and a series of
ducts emerged from the upper portion of the Daedalus to merge with the vents in the ceiling of the trailer.
The Daedalus resembled an industrial refrigeration unit. With the exception of the processing unit,
which was a small box the size of four briefcases, that's what it was. From the exterior, all that was visible
was the stainless-steel skin of the state-of-the-art refrigeration units which were needed to keep the core
processor at twenty degrees below freezing.
Colonel Ramon could hear the Daedalus humming from where he stood.
Inside the trailer, two men carefully disconnected the vents from the Daedalus, and the sound of the
refrigeration unit briefly intensified, accompanied by a dry, transformerlike smell. Then the noise died as the
cables were detached from the unit.
The Daedalus was silent.
They were now in a race against time. Once the refrigeration units were cut from the power supply,
the core temperature of the Daedalus would start rising, despite the near-impenetrable insulation around the
superconducting core of the machine. When it reached five degrees below freezing, the ceramic processors
in the machine would cease to function; if the core ever reached a temperature above twelve degrees
Fahrenheit, the million-dollar chips that formed the heart of the computer would be irreparably damaged.
That would take about twelve hours.
Colonel Ramon watched as the Bobcat rolled up to the Daedalus. The forklift strained to get the
machine a half-foot above the floor of the trailer. The vents above didn't allow a greater clearance. It took
about ten minutes for the Bobcat to move the Daedalus from the IMS trailer to the refrigerated trailer
attached to Colonel Ramon's Mack. It was the longest part of the operation, and the time they were most
vulnerable.
The computer was halfway home when Colonel Ramon heard a sound he'd been dreading. The whoop
of a siren, back beyond the barricades his men had set up.
Ramon turned and started walking back in that direction. The blue flashers of a Virginia Highway
Patrol car were drowning out the red glow of the flares. The officer had already gotten out of the car. He
had the radio microphone in his hand and was trying to yell at his dispatcher and Colonel Ramon's men at
the same time.
". . . Accident, the first thing you do is call emergency services, the second thing you do is report itтАФ"
"Just happened, Officer." One of the men in the hard hats was saying. "We have a call inтАФ"
Ramon rolled up his ski mask. As he approached, he smiled and asked, "What's the problem, Officer?"