NEAL STEPHENSON

413

Hong Kong franchulate on the other. The only way to escape is out onto the road-on the other side of the chopper. But the pilot and Frank and Tony have already jumped out and are blocking her exit out onto the road.

NeoAquarian Temple isn’t going to help her. If she begs and pleads, they might just include her in their mantras next week. But Mr. Lee’s Greater Hong Kong is another story. She runs to the fence and starts trying to climb it. Eight feet of chain link with razor ribbon on top. But her clothing should stop the razor ribbon. Mostly.

She gets about halfway up. Then, pudgy but strong arms are around her waist. She’s out of luck. L. Bob Rife lifts her right off the fence, both arms and both legs kicking the air uselessly. He backs up a couple of steps and starts carrying her back toward the chopper.

She looks back at the Hong Kong franchise. It was a close thing.

Someone’s in the parking lot. A Kourier, cruising in off the highway, just kind of chilling out and taking it real easy.

“Heyl” she screams. She reaches up and punches the lapel switch on her coverall, turning it bright blue and orange. “Heyl I’m a Kourier! My name’s Y.TJ These maniac scum guys kidnapped me!”

“Wow,” the Kourier says. “What a drag.” Then he asks her something. But she can’t hear it because the helicopter is whirling up its blades.

“They’re taking me to LAXI” she screams at the top of her lungs. Then Rife slams her into the chopper face first. The chopper lifts off, tracked precisely by an audience of antennas on the roof of Mr. Lee’s Greater Hong Kong.

In the parking lot, the Kourier watches the chopper taking off. It’s really cool to watch, and it has a lot of bumping guns on it.

But those dudes inside of the chopper were harshing that chick major.

The Kouner pulls his personal phone out of its holster, jacks into RadiKS Central Command, and punches a big red button. He calls a Code.