The thermal paper tape spilled over the edge of the brass binnacle like a white paper ribbon.
Lin Mei caught the spool between two fingers before it could drop into the grease tray below the steering console. Her thumb pressed the paper flat against the cold wooden wheelhouse dashboard, holding it taut against the vibration of the twin marine diesels.
The Casio pocket register was chattering at ninety baud.
Chr-chr-chr-click.
Every line of black thermal print came through in crisp ASCII characters. The ninety-nine-cent printhead, salvaged from the cash register in Store Number Four, was singing its familiar mechanical song.
Inside the small plastic circuit housing, Arthur Pendelton--Clerk Zero-Three--was working the utility band like an old telegraph operator who knew every telegraph key in the state.
[CARRIER FREQUENCY: 156.800 MHZ -- MUNICIPAL TELEMETRY SUB-BAND B] [ENCRYPTION: 1996 PROJECT NIGHT-LEDGER DUAL-NOTARY ROTOR] [DECODING... ERROR CORRECTION APPLIED VIA UNDERWOOD RIBBON HASH]
“He’s routing through the Uptown municipal water-tower repeater,” Lin Mei said. She pushed her cracked tortoiseshell glasses up the bridge of her nose with the side of her wrist.
