by Tom Clancy
Howard shook his head but didn’t interrupt.
“So on this particular Sunday, the minister stood in front of the congregation and said, ‘You all have heard about the possibility that we might have a visit from our Negro brothers and sisters in the next week or two. I think it would be appropriate for us to discuss how we might deal with such a situation.’ ”
Abe paused again, his eyes staring over Howard’s shoulder, but he wasn’t seeing the sparse pub crowd. He was seeing that day long ago. “Now I was just a kid, John, but I knew what Christ’s message had been. Love thy neighbor, turn the other cheek, and all that, and I expected that the congregation would hold to those principles. That they would, even if they were a little uncomfortable, welcome anybody who came in — even if they had to sit in the back — to worship in God’s house. I was young and unlearned in the ways of the world.”
“Let me guess,” Howard said. “It didn’t go down like that?”
“Fifty-odd years ago, and I still remember it vividly.”
The minister, a thirty-something balding man in a dark suit, standing up front, listening to his congregation.
“No way!” a tall, white-hair man in a blue suit had said. “If they want to worship, they have their own little church down the road!”
“I say we lock the door,” said a red-faced fat man. “We got enough men here to take care of anybody who tries to force their way in!”
“God doesn’t want the races to mix,” said a gray-haired woman in a black dress, wearing a little hat with a black veil.
Abe drew in a deep, ragged breath. “It went on like this for what seemed like a long time. Violent action was the predominant voice. If the coloreds came, they’d, by God, be sorry. Even at that age, I knew that this was where the minister was supposed to step up and deliver the lesson. What Christ would do in these circumstances. How a Christian should behave. He was supposed to be the sheriff with only a double-barreled shotgun standing against a lynch mob, do or die. But he didn’t. He just stood there, pale, listening, and let the congregation work itself up.”
Kent paused again, then gave a little half smile. “As it turned out, our little church wasn’t on the list. Nobody ever showed up, so it was all moot. But that’s when I stopped going to church. When my grandmother and my parents tried to make me, I refused. I was punished for it — they grounded me, my father took his belt to me, but I wouldn’t go. I didn’t know jack about integration, but I knew what was right, and this wasn’t. I didn’t want to belong to that group.”
Howard shook his head sadly. “That’s a terrible thing for a child to see and hear. But you know, there’s a difference between the message and the messenger. Sometimes the man carrying the Word misinterprets it. That doesn’t mean the Word itself is wrong.”
Kent nodded, frowning. “I know that, John. But look around. There are a lot of bad messengers. More people have been killed in holy wars, in God’s name, than for ambition or territory. Christianity against Islam; Islam against Hindu; even Catholics against Protestants. Yes, Jesus threw the money changers out of the temple, but he didn’t start a war with the Romans. He never killed anybody.”
He paused and sipped at his beer again. “It’s just that I don’t need somebody explaining things to me that I can read for myself, and I sure don’t need somebody getting it wrong. I think the churches have screwed up what was a fairly simple message. ‘Churchianity’ is a different thing, it has a life of its own. God isn’t about buildings and Sunday-go-to-meeting Christians.”
Howard started to speak, but Kent cut him off. “I expect you are about to say that it isn’t that way at your church. I believe you. But at my age, my connection to God is personal. I believe He hears my prayers just as well on the battlefield as he does in church, and I’m too old to put up with the other bullshit.”
Now it was Howard who paused and sipped at his beer, an uncomfortable look on his face. “Abe,” he said after a moment, “I appreciate you telling me that. I have the feeling it wasn’t easy for you, and that it’s a story few have heard.”
Kent nodded.
Howard tipped his glass at his friend in a small salute. “Which makes it my turn, I guess. I’m only ever going to say this to you once. What you do with it is up to you. The thing is, Abe, I’m very comfortable in my own faith, and I’m comfortable sharing that faith, but I’m not comfortable preaching it, if you know what I mean.”
Abe smiled and nodded but didn’t say anything.
“You say that you believe, my friend, and it makes me happy to hear that. But belief alone is not enough.”
Kent frowned at that. “But the Bible says—”
“I know,” Howard said. “John 3:16, ‘… whosoever believeth in him shall have eternal life.’ ” He grinned. “I’ve always been partial to King James.”
Kent didn’t smile in return. “It also says that ‘not through acts shall a man enter the kingdom of heaven, but through faith alone,’ or words to that effect.”
Howard nodded again. “Yes, but the question is, what do those words, ‘believe’ and ‘faith,’ mean? You see, if that’s all it is, a belief alone, then it’s sort of a get-out-of-jail-free card, isn’t it? And that’s the way, I’m sorry to say, that a lot of Christians view it: ‘I believe in Jesus, I’m going to Heaven, so it doesn’t matter what I do here on earth,’ and that’s both true and false. You’re right that our acts here don’t earn us any points with God. On the other hand, if we do truly believe in him, if we truly believe in his Son and his Word, then we are compelled to do certain things, to live our life a certain way. We are compelled to acts of mercy and kindness. We are compelled to charity and to a Christian love for our fellow man, to ‘love one another as ourselves.’ And we are compelled to join others in worship, for as the Bible also says, ‘Whenever two or more gather in my name, I am with them.’ ”
Howard paused for a sip, draining his beer. “I won’t preach at you, my friend, and I won’t pressure you to come to church. But I will ask you to think about it. And while you’re thinking about it, you can still eat lunch with us, can’t you?”
Abe smiled and drained his own glass. “Oh, yeah, John. No problem there. As long as Nadine doesn’t sneak some widow in on me.”
The two smiled.
12
Net Force HQ
Quantico, Virginia
Chang was not impressed. Certainly not with the security at the facility, at any rate. Yes, there had been armed guards at a gate, who had come out and inspected Chang’s chauffeured car, looking into the trunk and opening the hood, with a dog sniffing about the tires, presumably one trained to detect bombs.
The guards had directed Chang’s driver to a lot several hundred meters away from the building, one surrounded by a tall chain-link fence topped with razor wire.
A small electric cart was waiting to take Chang to the building. The driver looked at Chang’s ID, and matched it to a handheld flatscreen before starting off.
At the entrance, more armed guards checked Chang’s identification again, and inspected his briefcase. They asked him if he had any kind of computer recording media with him. He did not. He knew that there were computers in this complex that were not connected to any network, inside or out, and that the only way material from those could be transferred was manually. He expected his case would be searched more thoroughly when he departed.
Still, the look into his case seemed cursory, and the guards did not pat him down.
He was issued an identity badge with his picture and a retinal scan pattern upon it. He guessed that if he went anywhere he was not supposed to go, an alarm keyed to his badge would trip.
An armed guard took him to an inner waiting area, where a receptionist placed a call. A few minutes later, a man arrived.
“Mr. Chang? I am Commander Thorn’s assistant, Dylan Lacey. Please come with me.”
Chang followed the man, looking around carefully as they walked. Yes, he saw carefully placed sensors mounted on the cei
ling. No doubt there was some kind of reader there scanning his ID badge.
Still, they had not body-searched him, so he could have smuggled a weapon into the place. Even if there had been a hidden metal detector to ferret out guns, he might have a fiberglass or ceramic knife or pistol. Chang knew there were handguns that contained no more metal than a couple of teeth fillings, and even the cartridges were ceramic and plastic.
As if reading his mind, the assistant said, “Commander Thorn asked me to fill you in on our security systems. Aside from the guards and metal detector built into the door frame, we have IR card scanners in every and all rooms. Our house computer keeps track of everybody’s badge. If you remove the ID card and try to move around without it, a silent alarm goes off, and you will find yourself facing some edgy armed guards.”
Chang nodded.
“In addition to those, we have also installed the new Bertram Hard Object Scanners at various places — I’m not at liberty to say where.”
Chang frowned. “I had thought those were not yet in production.”
“You are correct. They are not yet commercially available. But we have a relationship with the maker — Commander Thorn is a major stockholder in Bertram Systems.”
“Ah.”>
That put a different spin on security. The HO scanners used harmless ultrasonic pulses to scan subjects, and worked on density. Anything hard enough to take an edge, or that would withstand the pressure generated by a bullet being fired, would show up, and that would include ceramic guns and plastic knives.
But it wouldn’t stop a chemical or biological attack—
“And we have also recently installed sniffers set to detect chemicals used in explosives, plus one of the new Morton bioscanners that can pick up certain substances, like, say, anthrax, down to a few parts per billion.”
Chang smiled. Ah. Better and better. Would that his government had such devices. At the offices and plant that he ran? They had some old men waving people in and out at the doors, and one old metal detector in the most sensitive areas.
Of course, terrorists had not targeted his industry in China, and anybody who wanted to steal the latest technology wouldn’t be looking for it there, either. You could pick up more advanced hard- and software in an Apple store than you could at most military computer centers in China…
“Here we are, sir. Commander Thorn is expecting you.”
“Thank you,” Chang said.
Thorn was a tall, well-made fellow, dressed in a business suit that was equally well-made. He stood, came around his desk, and extended his hand for a shake. “Mr. Chang. Welcome to Net Force.”
Chang recognized the Native American aspect of him — his coloring and cheekbones, mostly.
“It is my honor to be here, Commander Thorn.”
Chang bowed slightly, and they shook hands.
“Please, call me Tom. We aren’t big on formality here.”
“Thank you. Then you must call me Han.”
“Dylan filled you in on basic security?”
“Indeed. Most impressive.”
Thorn shrugged. “Would that it was not necessary. We live in interesting times.”
Chang smiled. “One of our proverbs.”
Thorn complimented him on his English; Chang filled him in on his college, days in the U.S. They visited for a few minutes about people and places they had in common. Someone brought black tea in heavy white mugs. They engaged in small talk, polite, and as much a part of every social function in China as whatever business lay behind those.
After a few minutes, Thorn said, “I know you came here to get an idea of how we do things, and I will be happy to pass along what I can. Our governments seem to get along pretty well these days, and we are always glad to help our friends. But something has come up that we could use your help on.”
Chang kept his face impassive, though this was a surprise.
“My help?”
“Yes. Let me explain… ”
Chang listened while Thorn — who seemed very candid and forthcoming — laid out the problem. He did not get into deep detail, and Chang did not expect to hear those specifics, but even so, even saying this much was astounding. Attacks on a secure network? And from within China?
It was not something from which Chang could turn away. If somebody good enough to attack a closed network — Thorn had not specified what kind of network it was, but had given the impression that it was a significant system — and not be caught by Net Force actually was in China and not just spoofing? Chang needed to know who that was. And if he somehow managed to help Net Force solve its problem? They would certainly be grateful. And that gratitude could translate into all manner of things that Chang would give his back teeth to get his hands on.
When Thorn was done, he said, “I would be most happy to offer any small assistance I can.”
“We greatly appreciate it, Han. I have another appointment soon, but if I might, I’d like to have my assistant introduce you to our head of computer operations.”
“Jay Gridley?”
“You know of him?”
“Commander, everybody in the computer world knows of Mr. Gridley. He is the top dog.”
Thorn grinned. “Well. Welcome to our pack.”
Washington, D.C.
Seurat drove the Porsche — a new one, with far too many bells and whistles for a man who preferred seat-of-the-pants driving — out of the city and toward Net Force HQ. There had been some changes, or so he had heard, and maybe they could no longer help him — or maybe they wouldn’t offer their help even if they could. But he would see what he would see.
It was a beautiful country, he had to admit. So huge. The drive to Virginia was short, and traffic heavy much of the way, but there were millions of miles of road in this land, some of which ran through areas where you might not see a house or person or another car for hours. There were states here that still allowed high speeds on highways out in the middle of nowhere, where a man could open up full-throttle and roar along at velocities closer to those of an airplane than an automobile. Too bad he did not have the time to drive across this land — such would be a memorable trip, he was sure.
A slow-moving truck blocked his land, and there was just enough room to whip around it without causing a traffic accident. Seurat gunned the engine and swerved around the truck.
The car in the next lane over honked its horn, and the driver raised his hand and extended his middle finger in Seurat’s direction. One did not need to be a lip-reader to see that the man was cursing at him.
Seurat smiled. He’d had plenty of room for the maneuver — at least two or three meters away from hitting the other driver’s car. It was the other driver’s problem if he could not see that, no?
He upshifted into fifth, and even in that gear the car surged forward. Ah, the Germans. Savages, brutes, but they did know how to make fine vehicles — you had to give them that.
Looking at the tracker’s map, Locke naturally speculated on Charles Seurat’s possible destinations. Where could he be going outside the city?
The map was a good one, and it wasn’t long before Locke had an excellent idea where the head of CyberNation was heading. The Marine base, the FBI, and Net Force lay only a few miles ahead.
Of course. Net Force was the world’s standard when it came to catching cyber-criminals and — terrorists. Surely the U.S. military would have consulted them about its problems, and it made perfect sense that CyberNation would, too.
Was this something about which Locke and Wu should worry?
Locke was not familiar enough with the organization to know the ins and outs of it, but it certainly bore further study.
If that was indeed where Seurat was heading.
Maybe he was just going for a ride in the country.
Locke smiled. Always assume the worst — that way, anything lesser was a gift.
He would see, soon enough.
Net Force HQ
Quantico, Virginia
Jay had
a few minutes before he had to deal with the Chinese guy. And after him, the CyberNation creep.
Might as well keep busy, no point in sitting around stewing.
He reached for the colorful box on his desk, thinking that there should really be a warning on all packaging for new VR tech: Danger! Sharp edges inside!
He’d lost track of the number of times he’d crashed his systems with new gear, but playing with bleeding-edge equipment was often worth the risk. This was why he always had at least two computers in his office: one for testing new gear, and one that was a couple months behind the leading edge, but with a stable OS. Should the test box crash, he’d switch, and have one of his guys reformat the crashed one.
He grinned. There were some advantages to being in charge of things, after all.
The box showed a close-up of the head of some bird of prey with tiny ones and zeros reflected on the predator’s yellow-amber eye.
Raptor 9000X! Soar VR with the Highest Resolution Eyes in Cyberspace! read a yellow banner running diagonally across the face of the box. New LED scan technology! announced another.
Well, he’d see. He’d heard something good about this new technology from one of his techs and had arranged to get a working sample. Even though Net Force employees were not allowed to make official endorsements, VR companies back-channeled info to each other and dropped rumors for street cred.
Our gear is used by Net Force VR jockeys. What’s on your desktop?
The rest of the world wouldn’t see this gear for at least another three months — not long in the RW, but sometimes a three months lead could be a very big advantage.
