The young well-dressed man strolled up the building's front steps. He opened the door while inconspicuously pressing a small device to the lock. He walked down the hall past numerous surveillance cameras to the bank of elevators and waited until one of the doors opened. He commanded the voice-operated elevator to go to floor 9. He scrutinized the display showing the floors it was passing. As the number switched from 4 to 5 he pulled a long-range magnetic scanner from the inside of his jacket and passed it across the wall. The device copied data from the computer behind the wall and stored it in its memory. He slipped the apparatus back into his jacket and nonchalantly walked down the hallway to his office. Once inside he locked the door, walked to a potted plant, moved it out of the way and opened a small hatch. Underneath was a small number pad, like one on a calculator. He entered a 12-digit code and pressed another button. The system beeped and a panel opened in the wall behind him. Out slid a compact computer terminal. A small pole emerged from the floor, the top part unfolding into a comfortable seat. As he sat down, the computer-generated voice said, "Identify yourself." He placed his thumb on a small pad beside the monitor and said "Hello, Mitch." The electronic equipment scanned his voice pattern and thumbprint before allowing him access to the computer.
He accessed a secret web page to reread his mission briefings.
As Michael returned the computer to its hidden niche he pondered the dangers of his mission. Then he calmly walked out of his office and left the building.
His watch alarm woke him at 2350 hours. He dressed in black and climbed out his hotel's fifth floor window and down the fire escape. He dropped to the ground and slipped into the shadows.
A security guard at the country's national defense headquarters was on duty outside the front doors. Suddenly, he saw the reflection of someone behind him in an office window opposite. He began to reach for his gun but a dark hand covered his mouth while he felt a slight zap on the back of his neck. He dropped unconscious to the ground. The shadow slipped on the guard's clothes, dressing the guard in his own. He dragged the unconscious form into the shadows.
Michael sauntered toward the doors impersonating the routine step of a security guard who had worked in this job all his life. He pressed a newly made microchip key, copied from the print he made yesterday, into the socket on the door. It slid back noiselessly. He entered, flashed a forged identity card to another guard and took the stairs to his left labeled "No Entry". He climbed several flights with the agility of a cat, using a remote control to deactivate the surveillance cameras. Hearing a guard above, he pulled a tiny gas grenade from his belt pouch. This he threw around the corner of the stairs. With little more than a snap, it burst, instantly immobilizing the guard. Beyond the prostrate form stood a solid steel door with apparently no lock whatsoever. Michael knew it was voice pattern locked. He swiftly pulled the magnetic scanner from his pocket and connected it to a small yet powerful speaker. Using the data he had scanned from the computer before, it created several sound patterns. Hearing a metallic click he knew he had fooled it. Inside, all the sophisticated equipment amazed him. He began a systematic search for his objective. There they were - detailed plans too complicated for him to decipher. All he had heard was that they were blueprints for a robotic espionage agent. This would be the ultimate spy. It would never double-cross and would have incredible hiding abilities, being so small. He folded the blueprints and dropped them in his belt pouch. As he turned to leave he heard something rustle behind him. At first thinking the effects of the sleeping gas had worn off on the guard, he pulled out a gun. Then he realized it was one of the spy robots. The contraption pulled out a small canister and began advancing toward Michael. Our hero backed away, out the door, where he tripped over the guard. He tumbled down the stairs noisily. He heard an alarm blaring and not only that, the blueprints had fallen out of his pouch and the robot had grabbed them. He vaulted back up the steps, hearing guards in pursuit. He snatched up the robot before it could hurt him, disarmed it and slammed the steel door behind him. He locked it from the inside, disabling entry from outside. "That should give me some more time," he thought. He began to search through the other items in the lab and came upon one interesting find. According to the research paper beside it, it was a rudimentary attempt at a beaming machine. It locates the paths of atomic particles in an object and sends them in a highly concentrated beam before reassembling them into the object. It had only just been created and would just as likely blow him up as get him out of this mess. But what other choice did he have? He pointed the unit towards him and held his breath. Flipping a switch, he waited. A feeling like he was being ripped apart rushed through his body. Everything went black and he felt cold...
Then, he heard an "ORK!" and looked up into the face of an angry penguin! "Well at least I'm all in one piece," he thought, "even if I am in Antarctica!" He soon saw an American Naval vessel passing by. He yelled and waved until he caught someone's attention on board. The ship began to turn towards him...
Two days later, Michael landed in Canada and handed over the blueprints and the working surveillance robot to the Canadian RCMP.