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with the suspects’ likely behaviour patterns,” said Nero, his circuits checking against the information downloaded by Simon.
    They were twenty metres from the lock-up and closing in.
    “Widow, block the escape route,” said Chopper.
    “Logged,” said the clipped voice of the spider.
    Widow fired a thin strand of web ahead of her and swung at lightning speed, landing neatly on the wooden planks that formed the wall beneath the archway. Her legs gripping the wood with micro-hooks, she turned to face the wide, hefty door built into the wall.
    With rapid jumps and twists, she leaped back and forth from one side of the door to the other. Behind her, she left a continuous line of thread, narrower than a human hair, but twice as strong as steel cable. Within a minute, a perfect cross-hatchedweb had been formed across the door. Anyone trying to leave the lock-up would find their way barred.
    “Exit sealed,” she said.
    By now, the others had caught up with her.
    “Attack mode,” said Chopper. “Nero, remain on guard out here. Other agents, prepare for combat.”
    The robots quickly made their way round or through the wooden wall, creeping through tiny gaps and cracks. Hercules’s saw-like mouthparts cut a tiny tunnel at ground level. Morph squashed himself almost flat and squeezed underneath a large section of planking.
    “I hope they don’t try to stamp on me,” said the centipede.
    Seconds later, they were inside. The lock-up was cavernous and dark. The robots’ sensors picked up damp and decay.
    This was no hideout. It was empty.
    “Scan,” said Chopper. The night-vision filters in his eye cameras took in the dusty floor and the curved brick ceiling high above. Sirena’s antennae analyzed the air. Dozens of rats scurried about, their long tails scraping along behindthem, darting in an out of holes in the ancient brickwork.
    “Those rats were the life forms I detected,” said Sirena. “There was no electrical interference.”
    Chopper’s eye cameras zoomed in on the floor below. They flipped through night-vision, infra-red and ultra-violet modes. “There are marks in the dust everywhere. Rectangular shapes and lines.”
    Queen Bee stood at SWARM headquarters, eyes fixed on the data as it streamed across the screens.
    “Logically, I’d say someone was storing a lot of boxes here,” said Sabre.
    “The marks get disturbed when the rodents run across them,” said Chopper, watching a large rat cross the floor. “Since most of the marks are not disturbed, the boxes must have been here very recently.”
    Sirena took readings of the rats’ movements and made some calculations. “Based on the number of rodents present, the boxes were moved within the past two days.”
    “Have the suspects moved their hideout?” asked Morph.
    “No, the people who stole Whiplash were only storing things here temporarily,” said Chopper. “The theft happened nine hours, forty-three minutes ago. The thieves probably believe the police and secret service still don’t know who they are, or where they are, so they are unlikely to have decamped.”
    The robots scanned for forensic evidence: DNA, clothing fibres and other traces that might lead them to the gang. All that was found were some fingerprints on the door, belonging to Bullman.
    “He’s already a target,” said Chopper. “We’re no further forward in our investigation.”
    “And time is running out,” muttered Queen Bee, back at SWARM headquarters.

    Williams’s hand was gripped tightly around the collar of Fraser’s combat jacket.
    “Well?” barked Williams.
    “I’m sorry, boss, I just can’t do it,” whined Fraser.
    “Do you want me to lose my patience with you? Huh? Do you?”
    “The coding that protects Whiplash needs a mathematical genius to crack it. I’m the best hacker there is, you know that, boss, but this is Einstein-level. It isn’t possible for me, but … but … it might be possible for someone else.”
    Behind his thick spectacles,