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.The streets were choked with people looking up."No," Remo told Smith.Smith groaned."Can you leave it safely?" Smith asked."Probably.""Do so.If KNNN is off the air, you may have crippled any jamming capability they might possess.It is time to regroup.""Gotcha," said Remo, dropping the phone.He made for the elevator, and before he could press the call button, every door on every elevator opened simultaneously and out came floods of cameramen.They were looking through their viewfinders and didn't notice Remo at all.Remo whistled.A baker's dozen lenses swept in all directions.They pointed up, down, up the corridor, down the corridor-in every direction except where Remo was standing.So Remo shouted, "He just headed down the stairs to the lobby."A man took up the cry."He's headed for the lobby!"Instantly, the cameramen ducked back into the waiting elevators, unaware that Remo was snugly in their midst.No one noticed that Remo was riding to the lobby with them.They kept their videocams on their shoulders, their eyes glued to eyepieces, fingers on triggers-ready to record whatever sight the opening doors revealed.They revealed, Remo discovered to his displeasure, a phalanx of Atlanta Metro Police in full riot gear.A cameraman shouted, "He headed back this way!"Bending his knees so no one could see his face, Remo rammed a pointing finger out of the clot of bodies and said, "There he goes now!"Immediately, the elevators emptied.The lobby was soon boiling with riot helmets and videocams bumping blindly into one another.Remo said, "What the hell," and abruptly pressed the Up button.The lift took him back to the top floor, where he made his way to the roof stairs in time to meet landing police helicopters.They were festooned with lights and M-16 rifle barrels prodded from the open sides of the bubbles.One sweeping light found him, and he heard someone yell through a bullhorn, "Don't move! We have you dead to rights."Remo moved anyway.The light tried to follow him.Each time, he eluded it.Once he inserted his hands into the beam long enough to make a hand shadow of a bunny rabbit nibbling a carrot.That brought a fusillade of bullets, and enough noise and confusion that Remo was all but invisible on the darkened tower roof.Moving with a self-assured calm, Remo took hold of the tipped-over satellite dish.It was as big as a swimming pool, but light in proportion to its weight.Not that its weight would have mattered to Remo.But there was a steady breeze out of the west and the dish was unwieldy.Using Page 51ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlhis sensitive fingers to find its center of gravity, Remo flexed his wrists.The dish, responding to an innate balance that was in all things, came up in Remo's hands and he caught the breeze.That helped.Remo walked to the helipad, not exactly propelling the dish so much as guiding it, like a great round aluminum sail.The police choppers were hovering there, preparatory to landing.Holding the dish over his head like a shield, Remo began fending them off.The ringing clash of the dish against landing skids spooked the first chopper pilot.He swung away.Remo slid under the next one and caught the tip of a skid with the joined points of the dish's emitter array.Walking backward, Remo guided the chopper along like a stubborn kite, then whipped it free.The chopper made crazy circles while the pilot attempted to being the ungainly bird under control.The third chopper pilot, seeing his comrades in distress but not what was causing it, orbited the tower warily.At the roof edge, Remo gave the dish a flip.His motion was short and economical, but the twenty-foot dish flipped out into space, hanging emitter side down like an umbrella with a snapped-short handle.Remo leaped into space and grabbed the emitter in both hands.The dish, which had been hesitating in midair, began to slide downward.It was not as good as a parachute, but it had nice gliding characteristics.Remo swung his feet, slipping a little air and the dish skipped past a nearby office tower.People in the lighted office windows waved to him.Remo ignored them.He was focused on his breathing.It took a lot of concentration to think like a feather.As the SWAT helicopters gingerly settled to the roof helipad on bent skids, Remo rode the dish over a mile outside the city, steering it toward the scent of fresh water that promised a safe landing.When he spotted the glint of moonlight on water, he dropped toward a soft, if wet, landing.When a caterwauling contingent of the Atlanta Metro Police arrived, all they found was the bent dish, floating in East Lake.Remo Williams floated beneath the cool water, holding his breath, untouched by crisscrossing police helicopter searchlights, and wondered what the Master of Sinanju would say to him when he learned that Remo had allowed kidnappers to abduct the mother of his child when she was about to give birth.As he waited for the helicopters to give him up for dead, Remo's lean body gave a great shudder that had nothing to do with the deep chill of the lake water and everything to do with the cold thoughts in his brain.Chapter 14News moves instantly in the age of satellite communications.In New York, the three major broadcast networks learned of KNNN's loss of signal at exactly the same time.So much had KNNN changed the way the world got its news that in every control room of each network there was a man whose job it was to monitor KNNN round the clock for breaking news.They were on the payrolls as "market research monitors."At MBC, the monitor saw his KNNN satellite feed go down.At BCN, the monitor gasped as the pair of KNNN anchors became a black square with the words NO SIGNAL in the upper right-hand corner.At ANC, they saw the same thing.At the three majors, the cry was the same."It's happening again!"But it wasn't.Line monitors were checked.And rechecked.All other transmissions were up."It's just KNNN," the news director at BCN said, relief washing along his vocal cords.Then it struck him."Get a team down to Atlanta.This is news!"Planes were charted.Equipment was hastily rushed to waiting hangers [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.The streets were choked with people looking up."No," Remo told Smith.Smith groaned."Can you leave it safely?" Smith asked."Probably.""Do so.If KNNN is off the air, you may have crippled any jamming capability they might possess.It is time to regroup.""Gotcha," said Remo, dropping the phone.He made for the elevator, and before he could press the call button, every door on every elevator opened simultaneously and out came floods of cameramen.They were looking through their viewfinders and didn't notice Remo at all.Remo whistled.A baker's dozen lenses swept in all directions.They pointed up, down, up the corridor, down the corridor-in every direction except where Remo was standing.So Remo shouted, "He just headed down the stairs to the lobby."A man took up the cry."He's headed for the lobby!"Instantly, the cameramen ducked back into the waiting elevators, unaware that Remo was snugly in their midst.No one noticed that Remo was riding to the lobby with them.They kept their videocams on their shoulders, their eyes glued to eyepieces, fingers on triggers-ready to record whatever sight the opening doors revealed.They revealed, Remo discovered to his displeasure, a phalanx of Atlanta Metro Police in full riot gear.A cameraman shouted, "He headed back this way!"Bending his knees so no one could see his face, Remo rammed a pointing finger out of the clot of bodies and said, "There he goes now!"Immediately, the elevators emptied.The lobby was soon boiling with riot helmets and videocams bumping blindly into one another.Remo said, "What the hell," and abruptly pressed the Up button.The lift took him back to the top floor, where he made his way to the roof stairs in time to meet landing police helicopters.They were festooned with lights and M-16 rifle barrels prodded from the open sides of the bubbles.One sweeping light found him, and he heard someone yell through a bullhorn, "Don't move! We have you dead to rights."Remo moved anyway.The light tried to follow him.Each time, he eluded it.Once he inserted his hands into the beam long enough to make a hand shadow of a bunny rabbit nibbling a carrot.That brought a fusillade of bullets, and enough noise and confusion that Remo was all but invisible on the darkened tower roof.Moving with a self-assured calm, Remo took hold of the tipped-over satellite dish.It was as big as a swimming pool, but light in proportion to its weight.Not that its weight would have mattered to Remo.But there was a steady breeze out of the west and the dish was unwieldy.Using Page 51ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlhis sensitive fingers to find its center of gravity, Remo flexed his wrists.The dish, responding to an innate balance that was in all things, came up in Remo's hands and he caught the breeze.That helped.Remo walked to the helipad, not exactly propelling the dish so much as guiding it, like a great round aluminum sail.The police choppers were hovering there, preparatory to landing.Holding the dish over his head like a shield, Remo began fending them off.The ringing clash of the dish against landing skids spooked the first chopper pilot.He swung away.Remo slid under the next one and caught the tip of a skid with the joined points of the dish's emitter array.Walking backward, Remo guided the chopper along like a stubborn kite, then whipped it free.The chopper made crazy circles while the pilot attempted to being the ungainly bird under control.The third chopper pilot, seeing his comrades in distress but not what was causing it, orbited the tower warily.At the roof edge, Remo gave the dish a flip.His motion was short and economical, but the twenty-foot dish flipped out into space, hanging emitter side down like an umbrella with a snapped-short handle.Remo leaped into space and grabbed the emitter in both hands.The dish, which had been hesitating in midair, began to slide downward.It was not as good as a parachute, but it had nice gliding characteristics.Remo swung his feet, slipping a little air and the dish skipped past a nearby office tower.People in the lighted office windows waved to him.Remo ignored them.He was focused on his breathing.It took a lot of concentration to think like a feather.As the SWAT helicopters gingerly settled to the roof helipad on bent skids, Remo rode the dish over a mile outside the city, steering it toward the scent of fresh water that promised a safe landing.When he spotted the glint of moonlight on water, he dropped toward a soft, if wet, landing.When a caterwauling contingent of the Atlanta Metro Police arrived, all they found was the bent dish, floating in East Lake.Remo Williams floated beneath the cool water, holding his breath, untouched by crisscrossing police helicopter searchlights, and wondered what the Master of Sinanju would say to him when he learned that Remo had allowed kidnappers to abduct the mother of his child when she was about to give birth.As he waited for the helicopters to give him up for dead, Remo's lean body gave a great shudder that had nothing to do with the deep chill of the lake water and everything to do with the cold thoughts in his brain.Chapter 14News moves instantly in the age of satellite communications.In New York, the three major broadcast networks learned of KNNN's loss of signal at exactly the same time.So much had KNNN changed the way the world got its news that in every control room of each network there was a man whose job it was to monitor KNNN round the clock for breaking news.They were on the payrolls as "market research monitors."At MBC, the monitor saw his KNNN satellite feed go down.At BCN, the monitor gasped as the pair of KNNN anchors became a black square with the words NO SIGNAL in the upper right-hand corner.At ANC, they saw the same thing.At the three majors, the cry was the same."It's happening again!"But it wasn't.Line monitors were checked.And rechecked.All other transmissions were up."It's just KNNN," the news director at BCN said, relief washing along his vocal cords.Then it struck him."Get a team down to Atlanta.This is news!"Planes were charted.Equipment was hastily rushed to waiting hangers [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]