The Throne Under the Starry Sky Chapter 52: The Gate of Hell (Part 2)

Bartholomew did not read this material, staring calmly at the paper industry spit out by the printer, "My child, is it safe."

"Of course, dear father." The male voice replied, "No trigger is activated, and the result is output as a paper print. Without reduction, 1048 sheets of a4 paper are required. Regarding the abnormality in the result, Do you need me to help you point it out."

"No, erase your relevant memories. I don't want anyone to grasp this information in any way." The old man gave instructions in a calm tone,

Without any hesitation, the male synthetic voice sounded again: "I miss you very much, dear father, your heart rate is 15% higher than normal. Do you need me to call a doctor? Your current condition is slightly beyond the safe range."

"No need, boy, goodbye." Bartholomew snapped his fingers.

"Goodbye, dear father." After saying goodbye without any emotion, the voice disappeared,

Muhammad put the results of the second query on his desk and replaced it with new printing paper. This time less than half a pack of a4 paper was used. The working light of the printer went out, and the bound material of the third book looked very Thin, 1048 sheets of a4 paper full of data piled high in front of Brandon Bartholomew. The old man sighed: "Which operator found the abnormality."

"No. 3." Muhammad ignored the sweat from his forehead, bowed slightly to the doctor, and replied, "A very smart Arab girl, Lebanese, who has been employed for 4 years and 2 months and has no relatives in Europe. ."

Bartholomew stared at each other tiredly: "Make the necessary sacrifices, remember Zola's famous saying."

"Like a mother sometimes sacrifices for the beloved creature she gives birth, we should not cherish ourselves, but should be prepared to give up our lives for its success." Mohammed recites politely, "I know what to do Do it, Doctor."

"Very well, I'm going back. I will be responsible for this matter. You don't need to follow up." The old man stood up and patted the stack of printing paper: "Is there a suitable container."

The head of the Alien Intelligence Section nodded, opened the closet, took out a Glenfiddich single malt whisky case, and showed it to Bartholomew: "Look, the inside of the case has a lead coating to isolate it from detection. It can ensure that you return to the office safely, but the weight of the paper is very heavy. The weight detector in the main building requires you to find a solution."

The doctor did not speak much, put the information into the wine box, sealed the box, lifted the heavy box and walked out. Muhammad opened the door for him, and suddenly a bright smile appeared on his face: "Very good Whiskey, yes, doctor, these two bottles are my last stock, and it will be your turn to prepare the wine next time."

"After all, I'm still a Macallan fan." Bartholomew turned his head and smiled, "I am used to the aroma of sherry in whiskey, and I am a bit uncomfortable with oak barrels."

Mohammed laughed loudly: "Okay, well, 20 years of McAllen will be the theme of the next party. It's not far away. Goodbye, Doctor."

"Goodbye."

Brandon Bartholomew waved his hand, walked alone through the quiet corridor, and when he came to the elevator door, the special elevator prepared for the important figure of gtc has automatically descended to the 28th floor underground, opened the door and waited for the VIPs to arrive. , The doctor stepped into the well-decorated elevator room, pressed the button on the 5th floor, the elevator door slowly closed, the old man closed his eyes and tried to slow down his heartbeat,

When the elevator reached the 13th floor underground, it decelerated and stopped. A thin and dry old man with eagle-like sharp eyes walked in and looked a little surprised when he saw him: "Brandon, you are a rare visitor to hell. Come down to play."

The last person Bartholomew wanted to see at this time was Guy Kukri, the director of the gtc ninth office in front of him, and the Gestapo inside the gtc, who compared the underground building of the "Genesis" headquarters building to hell. This is The old joke of the gtc high-level, the doctor smiled slightly: "I can't refuse Mephisto's temptation." He raised the wine box and showed it to the other party,

Bartholomew was talking about the allusion of the fallen demons in "Faust." Cooke didn't think he grinned, showing bright red gums: "Twelve years of Glenfiddich, a funny choice, I Guess it’s Mohammed from the communications office. The chocolate-colored guy likes old world things the most. I suspect that there’s a Persian magic lamp in his little closet. Hehe, this is a two-bottle wine box. Do I have a bottle?"

The white-haired doctor smiled frankly: "Of course I don't mind. Come back to my office with me and find a handbag for you."

"Then sell your Wagner arias and ugly black earl grey tea." The director of the ninth department wrinkled his entire face, as if he was afraid of Bartholomew's taste. "If you want me to say, the music has to be metal. The band is active. If you drink tea, it is better to drink cold beer. You should leave your aristocratic problems to the older **** to enjoy."

At this moment, the elevator stopped slowly, and the hall on the first floor arrived. Cooke walked out with his hands behind his back. The sliding door slowly closed. Bartholomew exhaled a long breath. "Grasping the elevator door, preventing the elevator from continuing to rise,

"I said, Brandon..." Cooke stared at the people in the elevator with eyes sunken in wrinkles, his pupils so shallow that they were nearly colorless revealed the fierce light of predators when they prey:" I heard that you have a good relationship with Muhammad."

"Occasionally drinking together, he also likes jazz." Bartholomew replied calmly, with a smile on his face: "You are also interested in listening to Diana Crowe's first vinyl record."

Kukri closed his knife-cut lips and looked up and down the white-haired doctor. For a long time, he left a sentence: "Stay away from him, there is a problem in the communication office. When I find everything out, no Hope to see your old face standing among the suspects holding a sign."

The dry claws were pulled back, the elevator doors closed, Bartholomew tried to calm his pounding heart, handed the wine box to his left hand, and rubbed his sweaty right palm on his pants.

The fifth floor arrived. As soon as he got out of the elevator door, Dr. Bartholomew exclaimed and staggered and almost fell. The full-time secretary behind the desk at the door immediately left his seat and came forward, "Doctor, are you okay."

"I'm okay. I just got rheumatism. Push my wheelchair." The doctor waved his hand and leaned on the elevator door to take a break. The secretary quickly pushed in the wheelchair and helped Dr. Bartholomew to sit down. The old man hugged the heavy wine box in his arms and ordered: "Push me into the office."

"Are you sure, in this case, you should go home and rest." The secretary said with concern,

"I just have a pain in my leg, and I'm not too confused. Go ahead." The doctor stretched his finger forward,

There are only two offices on the fifth floor of the gtc headquarters building. The east wing belongs to Brandon Bartholomew, and the owner of the west wing is the current gtc executive chairman Dr. Mark Thompson. Like the director of communications, Thompson also I flew to Malaysia early, and I was struggling with the East Asian core route.

The secretary's footsteps and rubber tire rolling echoed in the quiet corridor, "Wait a minute." The doctor suddenly raised his hand and signaled a timeout. Before the secretary leaned down to ask the reason, Bartholomew issued the next command. : "Nothing, sorry, go ahead."

The two well-decorated doors opened automatically, and the secretary stepped on the fluffy and soft wool carpet with the secretary’s toes, and stopped consciously, "Doctor, you are sure there is no problem."

"Of course, thank you." Bartholomew nodded gratefully to him, pushed the wheelchair into the office, the oak door slowly closed, "If you need anything..." The secretary bowed respectfully and was isolated by the two-foot-thick door Outside,

The doctor stood up, took the wine box and walked to the desk, fell into his comfortable swivel chair, he was completely relieved, his office is his refuge, his shelter, his fortress, in With the help of Genesis, there is no known sound and light detection method that can snoop into the information in the east wing office on the fifth floor of the gtc headquarters. In the whole world, he can put down his disguise and rest completely. This is the only place in the world.

The first move taken by the executive chairman of gtc, Mark Thompson, was to start the "Senior Personnel Security Plan", which included 49 senior gtc managers including Brandon Bartholomew and himself under surveillance. Scope, under the guise of counter-terrorism threats and protection of the high-level security of gtc, the plan has been unanimously approved by the twelve gtc executive committees. Since then, no matter where they are, the doctor has been exposed to countless cameras, sound probes, and heat radiation at any time. Sensors are heavily surrounded, and even the corridors of the gtc headquarters are equipped with various detection equipment such as audio, image, body temperature, heartbeat, perspective, weight, air composition, and attitude determination. The office is built into a fortress with copper walls and iron walls. I am afraid that every move now is also in the hands of the Director of the Ninth Division.

Pretending to be sick in a wheelchair, being pushed through the corridor by the secretary, and pausing at the position of the weight sensor are all means to interfere with the weight detection. As long as the increased weight and volume are logically reasonable, the abnormal alarm will not be triggered.

"Endless struggle..." The doctor leaned back in his chair and muttered to himself, grabbing half a glass of whiskey on the table, and drank it. "The greatest success of my life is also the last regret. , After a lifetime of hard work together, countless people of us finally opened the door to **** for mankind..."

Bartholomew recites the famous words of Weiner von Braun, the father of the rocket, the inventor of the German Nazi v1 rocket, and the creator of the long-range nuclear strike concept. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyebrows tiredly. The action triggered an automatic mechanism in the office, and a nice synthetic male voice rang: "You are tired, dear father."

Bartholomew nodded,

The internal phone on the desktop automatically lights up the red light of the hands-free call. After a second, the secretary answers the phone: "What's your order, doctor."

Dr. Bartholomew’s voice synthesized by a quantum computer instructed on the phone: “Cancel all schedules. No one except Mark will answer. I will not leave the office within three days. Call my apartment and let them Take care of my dog."

"Okay, Doctor,, please don't forget to take the medicine."

The call is over, Bartholomew sighed, opened the wine box and took out the thick data report, put on his glasses, and began to read it slowly,