ICE AGE CRYOGENICS INSTITUTE, LONDON
The air ball spiralled towards the ceiling, shedding layers like an onion.
â€˜Jon Spiro. I am the boss, so open up quick.â€™ Four things happened. A retinal scanner filmed his left eye and fed the image into the computer. A print plate scanned his right thumb, and a vocal analyser scrutinized his voiceâ€™s accent, timbre and intonations. Once the computer had verified all this information, the alarms were deactivated and the secondary door slid open to reveal an expansive vault.
â€˜Yeah, wait, I got it. Twenty grand for a metal man and fifteen for a monkey.â€™
Artemis was all business. â€˜How did you fare, Butler?â€™
Mulch tutted as Loafers disappeared beneath half a dozen security guards.
â€˜You like the shoes, Inky?â€™