Clancy,Tom - Net Force - Cybernation.txt

by Cybernation(lit)

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  rise her, and he'd forgotten to cover high-line while was busy blocking a kick. For his inattention, he'd Light a right overhand smack in the left eye. Even with ; glove, he'd worn a mouse and shiner for a week after e'd punched him. Of course, he had felt a certain ount of malevolent glee when he explained the shiner: y, what happened to you, you run into a door? No, actually, my wife punched me in the face. She beats me all the time.

  People who didn't know about Toni and silat hadn't lieved him. Of course, they'd thought he was joking. "All right," the FBI combat teacher said. "Everybody what just happened there?"

  : recruits looked puzzled for the most part. Well, no, ey hadn't seen it.

  Duane Presser, the big Hawaiian said, "Don't let that ay-looking sideways stance rattle you-watch his feet, he angles in and sectors off. You concentrate on his you're gonna get tripped. You watchin' his feet, i's gonna whack you wid dat elbow. Watch alia him. watch the distance-this stuff assumes a knife in nd, so you got dat extra half-step to worry about. You see what I mean?"

  "I see it, Chief," one of the recruits said, his voice full H*f confidence.

  Michaels looked at the man. He was young, maybe ^Jirenty-five, tall, and fairly muscular in his sweats and TIshirt. He had a couple inches in height and maybe fifteen, .twenty pounds in weight on Michaels. He also had a buzz ; "ut, and what was left of his hair was so still so black it oked like a raven's wing. His skin tone and facial features indicated some Native American background in his ethnic tap. He'd been watching, not volunteering, and Michaels figured that meant he was smarter than some of the first gung ho chargers to step up. It was a good idea to see what an enemy knew before you risked an attack. That could be a bad sign for Michaels.

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  "So, you think you can get past his defenses?" Duane asked.

  "Yes, sir, Chief, I believe so."

  Duane nodded. "Show us."

  When the big recruit stepped up to the mat, Michaels saw Duane flash his big grin at Toni, where Raven couldn't see it. He wished he had Duane's confidence.

  When Raven got closer, he said, sotto voce, "Nice skirt, sir."

  Michaels smiled. SOP, trying to anger an opponent. He said, quietly, "Yeah. Don't look up it while you're down on the mat, son."

  "Not gonna happen. Sir."

  "Okay. Let's see. Show me what you got."

  Raven slipped into a side fighting stance, left foot forward, circled his hands over his face and groin. From the smoothness of the movement, Michaels realized the kid had brought this with him when he joined the feds-it was too slick to come from the Hawaiian's six-week self- defense course.

  Raven said, "What I got is a black belt in taste kwon do, sir." He sneered, bounced around a little, and edged toward Michaels. "But I won't hurt you too bad."

  Oh, good. A martial arts jock who wanted to prove his stuff was superior. Michaels was, he had to admit, a little nervous. He'd been studying silat pretty extensively with Toni for more than a year, working out hard, practicing pretty much seven days a week, rain or shine, and he was far from a finished student. Still, he was improving. Toni didn't pull her punches, and she'd had a few people she knew dance with them at the gym a few times, to make sure Michaels had different-sized and skilled opponents, to help teach him distance and timing. He wasn't great, but he was not a total dweeb anymore. He hoped.

  The kid had just made a mistake-he'd bragged about his black belt, which, like the skirt comment, had been to

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  nidate Michaels, to make him nervous, but he'd given much away in doing that. If you thought you might I- facing a tiger, that could be a problem. If you knew

  were facing a lesser cat, that made things easier. |TKD was mostly a sport these days, though there were old-style guys around who were excellent fighters, ; to Toni. The sport guys liked to kick, they did to score points, and they liked to kick high, to the Standing sideways like that, Raven was going to ; to use his front foot if he wanted any speed. A spinor round kick from the rear leg was going to take long to get there. J All of this flitted through Michaels's brain fast, a sec.

  or two, then the attack came. ; Raven danced in and threw a high roundhouse kick at

  els's head.

  He was limber, and he was very fast. Michaels ducked, the kick sailed harmlessly over his head. As Raven down, Michaels tapped him lightly on the ribs, no to see what the kid would do. Raven sprang back, out of range. "That punch wouldn't

  ; done anything," he said. r If he really knew how to fight, then that tap should have avinced him he'd made a mistake. If he was rattled, vever, it didn't show. Michaels glanced over at Toni. She shook her head.

  kid didn't have a clue. He came in again, twirling and throwing a quick com- tion of kicks-a front snap, roundhouse, and axe- ck, intending to bring his heel down on the top of chads's head or shoulder with the last technique. It was t good sequence, fast and well-executed. He must have expected Michaels to back up and block, that was probably what he was used to seeing, and that happened, he would tag him. Michaels didn't back up. Instead, he dropped low as he stepped in and caught

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  Raven on the hamstring of his kicking leg with his right shoulder. No punches, no counterkick, no sweep, just a step and the shoulder-

  The kid flew backward, lost his balance, and fell. He managed to turn the fall into a diving half-twist and roll, and came back up. "No problem!" he said, too loud and too fast.

  ' Now he was rattled. A smarter, more experienced fighter would have backed up and thought about it, gotten cautious, but Raven hardly paused. He knew this stuff, he was gonna make it work!

  The third time he came in, he threw a powerful right punch and right snap-kick at the same time, and if he was pulling either, Michaels couldn't tell. The kid wanted to whack Michaels, for embarrassing him, and he wanted it to hurt. He was extended, balanced on the ball of his left foot, his supporting left knee almost locked.

  Michaels slid in, blocked the punch with a left heel- hand to the kid's face while scooping the kick aside with the back of his right hand. He pushed with his left hand and lifted hard with his right, palm toward the floor like he'd been taught, and Raven went back and down, stretched out horizontally. He slammed into the mat flat on his back, and the impact knocked the wind out of him. Before he could move, Michaels dropped next to him, swung his right fist up and over and down in a hammer blow that landed smack in the middle of Raven's chest. He pulled it some, but it still hit hard enough to make a nice thwock! on the sternum. Then he opened his fist, slid his hand up to the kid's throat, and pinched his windpipe. With any pressure, he could break Raven's voicebox, and the kid knew it.

  Raven slapped the mat, to show he was done, but Michaels kept the pressure on the throat pinch. He said, "On

  throaty

  the street, you can't tap out. If

  man.

  The look of panic on Raven's face was what Michaels

  squeeze, you're a dead

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  . He relaxed his grip, rocked up onto his feet and away, turned in a half-circle with a crossover si- k-step, and looked for more potential attackers.

  weren't any. He relaxed, moved back to where still sprawled, and put out a hand to help him up. id waved him off.

  wanted to make sure the lesson stuck, so he .quietly, "Thanks for not hurting me too bad, son." aven shook his head. Youth would be served-but not

  Hawaiian grinned real big again and said, "Okay, at'd he do wrong?" short redheaded woman with freckles said, "He got ' bed this morning?" Everybody laughed-well, except for Raven there, just

  ; up-

  aven came to his feet, gave Michaels a choppy nod, S said, "Okay, it works pretty well for a fairly big guy i the commander. But how about somebody like little . Riding Hood there against somebody my size?" He

  at the woman who'd spo
ken, [ichaels looked at Toni, and shook his head as she

  onto the mat.

  me show you," she said.

  kid just had to learn things the hard way, didn't

  i the Bon Chance

  as thought about gold.

  %Quro, the shining yellow metal that was the real mea- of wealth. Missy was talking about fiber optic trunk crossing rivers underneath rail bridges, but Santos i wondering when he could get to a coin dealer to buy : Maple Leafs. He could do it on-line, of course, but

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  he didn't trust computers. Too easy for them to crash, especially now. He grinned a little at that.

  No, he would rather get to the Mainland and one of the dozen or so dealers he used, each who knew him under a different name, none of which were his own.

  The spot price was down a little from last week, only ten or twelve dollars, and the coin prices were higher than spot prices for bullion, of course, to cover minting and such, but still, this would be a good time to buy. Missy said, "-the main cables cross here, and here-" as she pointed at a map of the United States.

  Canadian Maple Leafs were the standard for gold coins. They were pure-99.99 percent gold, unlike the, American Gold Eagles, which were only 22-karat, alloyed with a few grams of silver and copper. Krugerrands were only 90 percent gold, even more alloy in those, though they were good for working the berimbau string. Chinese Pandas were so-so. The Australian Kangaroos and Koalas were better, nearly as good as the Canadian, but the Maple Leaf was the way to go, for gold. Everybody in the world knew this.

  Platinum? That was different. The American platinum Eagles were okay, and this metal was harder and worth almost twice as much as gold at current market prices. He had a few of those, but (he white metal seemed colder, more... sterile than gold. He had nearly two hundred one-ounce Maple Leafs now, and in a few months, he would have three times that many. A year from now, maybe a thousand altogether. Paper came and paper went, especially back home, but gold was forever. When he had a thousand coins, then he could go home. It would not be enough to make him a millionaire, but still, he would be a man of substance. Worth more on the black market there than here, too. He could teach his art and not worry about the rent. If he had students who were adept but poor, he could carry them, as his Mestre had carried him. Then he could get serious about his art, study all day, every day-

  "Are you listening to me, Roberto?"

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  smiled at her. "I am listening, though I do not see I should bother. A trained monkey with a stick of lite could do this."

  he'd be cheaper and would eat less than you," I. "But we aren't going to blow up anything. We i out a section, no matter how big, they can fix it in a of hours. Even if we took the bridge down, a boat lay a temporary cable in a day or less. No, we cut six places, each break many miles apart They fix still doesn't work. They find the second one and it still doesn't work. By the time they find the eak-which will be in a remote area and booby, tempers will be very short at the phone company, y'll have to hue more inspectors, more security. We a week, then do it again, in six different places, y'll be tearing their hair out" good plan," he said, more to keep her happy than he really cared. Cutting plastic cables was no for a fighter. A man needed challenges, real chal- from other men. Facing off, one-on-one, or one- it-many, that was worthwhile. But such work ved him to amass wealth, and that was a goal to be I for the long run. followed her with half his attention, nodding or tig now and then so she would see that he was but considering with more of his thoughts the ; important question of acquiring more gold...

  i Francisco Bay

  t Francisco, California

  Howard's assault team swam through the cold and waters, using rebreathers instead of scuba to better 1 their exhaust bubbles. The wetsuits and gloves were best quality, but the chill still seeped in around the

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  seals. They used flippers and muscle power, no sleds or scooters, to make sure they didn't make any noise a sound sensor listening for motors might pick up.

  The target was two hundred meters ahead, and they wouldn't be able to see it until they were almost there. Not that they would miss it-an oil tanker almost as long as three football fields and riding deep and heavy in the water wasn't something you were going to swim around or under with it laying broadside to you-it drew more than ten meters. At five-meters approach depth, what they would see would be a wall of steel plates above and below.

  The tanker had been hijacked in Indonesian waters by Tamil terrorists and sailed to a spot just outside San Francisco Bay to draw attention to the terrorists' cause, whatever the dickens that was. If their demands were not met, they would, they threatened, blow the vessel to kingdom come, allowing hundreds of thousands of gallons of crude oil to escape along the California coast

  Such an event would be an ecological disaster, not to mention very bad for tourism from Big Sur to Santa Barbara, at the least.

  This wasn't going to be allowed to happen. While authorities negotiated and delayed the terrorists, Howard and his team moved. The plan was simple: Get to the ship, scale the hull, prevent the terrorists from rupturing the bays holding the cargo, by whatever means possible. They would have to be quick, and they would have to be perfect -one psychotic with a fast hand would be disastrous.

  They weren't expecting enemy frogmen, but they were prepared, just in case. Their dive suits were equipped with the latest high-tech toys. They had LOSIR corns, infrared sensors, and bubble comps that fed heads-up displays in their full-face masks. Aside from that, each member of the six-man team carried weapons that would work in water or in air. Primary defensive arms were the Russian 5.56mm APS underwater assault rifles. These were

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  :-fire, gas-operated weapons. The firing mecha- ; for these were based on the Kalashnikov rotating em, and except for the oversized magazines that ^twenty-six rounds, they looked a lot like an AK ast rifle. The projectiles were drag-stabilized darts, the based on 5.56 X 45mm NATO rounds. The i were twelve centimeters long. The effective soft tar- ng range in air was slightly over 100 meters. The water range at this depth was about thirty meters. In this murky, if you were close enough to see an ' diver, you would have more than enough punch to out-the flechettes would blast through a face or wetsuit, no problem.

  i of Howard's divers also carried 7.62 X 36 H&K : pistols, five-barreled weapons with sealed cham- |The effective'range of these was much less than the assault rifles, about thirty meters in air, half that underwater. Furthermore, once you'd fired your to reload the weapon you had to send it back i armorer-it was a factory-only procedure. Howard 1 if it came to that, things would be pretty bad-if * dozen-plus rounds from the Russian weapons weren't to do the job, another five from the handguns "ly weren't gonna help too much. Still, it was better it and not need it...

  iy Howard got a shimmery red sig on his heads- play. His team's transponder-coded heat-sigs were olored blue, so red meant company. A beat later, a red image came into view. His display told him were thirty meters out, right at the limit of their as. guns. The pair of reds moved slowly from east to

  t patrol, he figured. And they haven't seen us yet.

  sibility was no more than seven or eight meters in

  old water, with nightfall coming on fast and about to

  i that to almost zero. They wanted to be at the tanker

  f soon, where they'd use the gecko-foot climbing pads.

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  As soon as it was dark, they'd ascend. Timing was critical; they couldn't afford to mess around out here.

  Howard stopped swimming forward and used hand jives to signal his men, all of whom but the tail were in visual range. He could have used the line-of-sight infrared corns, but it was possible the enemy had LOSIR, too, and even though his transmissions would be coded, the unfriendlies might pick up a stray signal. They wouldn't know what
it said, but that it was there at all would let the cat out of the bag.

  Howard pointed into the murk, held up two fingers, then pointed at his eyes, ending with the jive for a question.

  / see two enemy frogs ahead. Everybody see them?

  He got affirmative hand signals from everybody.

  He pointed at his two best men, in the direction of the enemy divers; he pointed at his watch, then made the classic fingertip drag sign across his throat.

  His two men affirmed the order and quickly swam off into the gloom.

  Howard turned to watch them go, following them visually for the few meters he could still see them, then with his sensors.

  The two blue forms slowly closed on the two red ones. When they were within visual range of each other, the enemy divers apparently noticed his men. They took evasive action-

  It seemed as if it took a long time, but in reality it was over in a couple of heartbeats. He didn't hear it, and he couldn't see it, except for the sensor images, but the two red forms stopped moving. The blue forms approached, merged with the red, and formed an odd-looking purple as his suit computer tried to figure out what color to paint. Then the two red forms began to sink, vanishing from the sensor's range in a few seconds.

  Howard waved at the rest of his team. Time to move in...

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  I Force HQ

  o, Virginia

  priority call bell chimed and automatically cut the ; scenario as it had been programmed to do. Since only people had that priority code number-his wife and i boss-Howard was quick to answer. He did so with| checking the caller ID. fes?"