Cybernation nf-6

by Tom Clancy

  Still, she worried.

  Well, it was only temporary, after all. A few days, a week, until the crisis was over, that was all…

  “Boss still testifying?” Jay said from the doorway.

  “I think so,” she said. “Anything new on your front?”

  “Yes and no. I’m on the right track, I got ambushed in VR again. But this time, I surprised the sucker. Didn’t get a solid lead, unfortunately.”

  “Win some, lose some.”

  “Oh, this one ain’t won or lost yet. Too early. But I have some feelers out on the CyberNation gambling ship, down in the Caribbean, and I’m expecting those to come in later today.”

  “You think they are responsible?”

  “Gut-check? Yes. Proof? None.”

  “Lay it out for me.”

  “Sure.” He came in, flopped down on the couch. He started ticking points off on his fingers: “One, CyberNation has a lot to gain if people switch to them because of net woes. Two, CyberNation has the talent to pull this kind of thing off. I don’t have a complete list of their programmers and weavers, but I’ve seen their public face, and it is very slick, uses all the latest language. Three, their advertisements increased just about the time all this started, a vigorous campaign to sign up new members, stressing the integrity of their systems. Four, there’s that connection with the casino ship and the dead guy from Blue Whale. Five, I haven’t found anybody better, and I’ve been looking real hard.”

  “Circumstantial and iffy,” she said.

  “Hey, I got another whole hand of fingers here. Six, CyberNation is pushing on other fronts. They have a powerful lobby working in D.C., and in various major countries around the world. Isn’t that what the boss is over on the Hill about today? Problems with the net that CyberNation claims it can cure?”

  She shrugged. “So what are seven, eight, nine, and ten?”

  “I haven’t filled those in yet,” Jay said, grinning. “But I’m working on it.”

  “How are the wedding plans coming?”

  His smile faded. “Okay, I guess.”

  “Getting cold feet?”

  “What? No!”

  “Easy. I was just joking.”

  He didn’t speak for a moment. Then he said, “Did you? Get cold feet, I mean?”

  “Not really. Of course, I was pregnant, and I didn’t want to have the baby by myself.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Hey, look, it’s only natural to worry about making major changes in your life. I wanted to get married, but I did think about it. Alex was married before — what if I didn’t measure up to his first wife? And he’s got a daughter from that marriage, a great kid, but I had to wonder, was he going to be thinking about her when he looked at our child? It’s not like buying a new pair of shoes, is it?”

  “No.”

  “You should talk to Julio Fernandez. He got married after a lot of years on his own, he had to make some adjustments.”

  “I was thinking that. I mean, I want to be with Saji, no question, it’s just, I dunno, scary sometimes.”

  “Welcome to the human race, computer-boy.”

  “Thanks.”

  * * *

  John Howard looked at the computer log and stack of hard copy on his desk and shook his head. Forms and clogged e-file boxes were the bane of military officers everywhere. Yes, they had to be attended to for the command to continue working, and mostly, he managed to pass a significant amount of paper shuffling and signing off to senior officers on his staff, but if you missed a few days, your piece of it always grew, it never shrank. He’d been at it for an hour and a half, and hadn’t really made much of a dent.

  How important was most of this junk? An invitation to speak at an upscale military school in Mississippi? He knew the school. Enrollment was ninety percent white males, with a few women and minority students sprinkled in to keep things legal. Yes, he was the commanding military officer of Net Force, but they didn’t want him — he’d bet dollars to dimes they didn’t know he was black. It might be amusing to show up just to see the expressions on their faces. Then again, that wasn’t worth a trip to Mississippi, was it?

  Another e-mail was a cc notification from the NF Quartermaster from a military supplier in Maine that there was a recall on part number MS-239-45/A, due to possible stress fractures in materials that might lead to failure in critical situations. The Quartermaster would have already addressed the situation, but it still sounded worth knowing about. A man needed to see where his troops might be at risk.

  A check of the Net Force parts catalogue, which naturally changed the supplier’s part number to their own designation, NF-P-154387, showed the part in question to be the “flexible containment system locking device for a Model B dorsal-unit personal supply and equipment carrier.” After years of military jargon, that one was easy: They were talking about the plastic buckle on a backpack strap. The B-model had been in service for approximately three years, according to the computer file, and had been superseded by the C-model.

  If the buckles on the old packs hadn’t busted by now, then it probably wasn’t going be a problem that would bring the Net Force strike teams to their knees.

  And how many man-hours had been lost to this tidbit?

  Here was a directive from the U.S. National Guard regarding the directive from the General Accounting Office, regarding the directive from the Department of Defense’s Revised and Updated Guidelines for Officers Regarding Sexual Harassment.

  Oh, please. How relevant to anything was a directive about a directive about a directive about guidelines?

  His intercom chirped. “Yes?”

  “Sir,” his secretary said. “Lieutenant Fernandez to see you.”

  Julio had just left a couple hours ago, but anything to get out of this drudgery. “Send him in.”

  Julio arrived.

  “Yes?”

  “Sir. I’d hate to tear you away from all this excitement, but we’ve got a new shipment of goodies and there are a couple of things you might enjoy seeing.”

  “I really need to get this done,” he said. He waved at his desk.

  “You’re the general, General.” He started to leave.

  “Wait a second, I’ll go with you. This can wait.”

  Julio grinned. “I thought it might.”

  As they walked out, Julio said, “I ran into Jay Gridley out in the hall a few minutes ago. He seems to be a little nervous about his upcoming nuptials.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “That being married is worse than death by Chinese water torture, of course. That if I had it to do all over again, I’d jump in front of a speeding train before I said ‘I do.’ ”

  “You’re a braver man than I thought, Lieutenant. What if that somehow gets back to Joanna?”

  “I’ll deny having said it to my last breath.”

  “Which wouldn’t be long in coming if she thought you said such a thing.”

  Julio chuckled. “I’m a career military man, sir. Not much she could do would scare me.”

  “She could make you watch little Hoo on your poker night.”

  “I was only joking. I told Gridley that. I also told him it was natural that he should feel nervous about taking the big step. That everybody does.”

  “I never did,” Howard said. “Never crossed my mind.”

  “And you were what — twelve when you got married? Never had a room of your own, much less a life before you met Nadine. You didn’t have anything to give up, except your virginity, now did you, sir?”

  Howard laughed. “Unlike you, who lived alone so long that you had to relearn how to pick your socks up because you had never had to do that before? No, I knew Nadine was the best thing that was ever going to happen to me. Just like Joanna is the best thing that ever happened to you.”

  “Yes, sir. But don’t let that get back to her, either. I’d never hear the end of it if she knew that was true.”

  “She knows, Lieutenant, she knows.”

  *
* *

  If he had had time, Santos would have taken the train up from Florida to the District of Columbia. The East Coast trains usually ran pretty well, they were clean, and it was relaxing to watch the country roll past your window at a speed where you could see much of it. The trip would have taken most of the day, and he could have gotten up, moved around, stretched out, eaten, drank, enjoyed the drone of wheels on steel.

  But time was a luxury he seemed to have too little of, so he caught the jet shuttle, and what would have been a relaxing all-day ride became a two-hour hop. Not counting the forty-five minutes they circled the airport, waiting to land.

  He rented a car at the airport. The car was a full-sized sedan, as big as they had, and he took out full insurance coverage on it. The name on the card he used matched the name of his fake driver’s license, both of which had been issued to a man in Georgia a few weeks ago. The card and license had not been used before, and the man whose name was on them had not reported them missing, since he had been dead before they were issued. It was a wonderful way to move around semi-legitimately. Somebody in CyberNation’s computer hutch had figured this out, applying for credit cards and duplicate licenses in the names of the recently departed who already had such things before the family thought to let anybody know. The geeks rented post office boxes, applied under several different names, and had the cards sent there. Once they had been used for a few days, the IDs could be tossed into the nearest trash bin. Very neat, no way to trace them.

  He drove to a local hotel. He wore a suit and tie, carried a briefcase, and registered at the hotel, which catered to businessmen, looking as if he was one of them. Just another middle-class white-collar worker earning his living, no one to remember.

  The briefcase contained not papers, however, but the gold coins he had gotten at such a bargain rate. While the guards at the metal detectors in the airport had been curious, they hadn’t even bothered to open the case to look. And if they had, they could have done nothing, because there was no law against carrying such things onto a plane. It wasn’t as if he was going to beat somebody to death with them, although technically that was possible. Slip fifteen or twenty of them into a sock, it would make a nice, hefty blackjack.

  Once he was checked into the hotel, he took a stroll, ducked into a big drugstore, and bought a cheap disposable cell phone with thirty hours of credit on it. He used this to put in a call to his friend at the Brazilian Embassy. Morgan, who could always used a little extra money, was happy to hear from him, and they arranged to meet for supper at a restaurant not far from the hotel.

  Between now and then, Santos had plenty of time to study the information he had about his target. This one would be simple, nothing complex about it at all. As soon as he had the gold transported, he would locate his quarry, and then it was merely a matter of waiting for the proper moment.

  Hollywood, California

  Two tall and well-muscled black men in different NBA uniforms played one-on-one basketball in a gym bathed in supernal beams of sunshine pouring in from big skylights in the gym’s roof. There was just enough dust in the air so the beams stood out, hard-edged and brilliant.

  The men were the hottest small forwards from both teams in last year’s championship finals, all-stars, guys who routinely got triple-doubles when they played — ten or more shots, assists, and rebounds.

  The one with the ball was dressed in black shorts, shoes, and tank top, the other player in white-on-white-on-white.

  The offensive player jinked left, then right, dribbled behind his back, and stutter-stepped, trying to get into position to shoot at the goal.

  The defensive player stayed with him, slapping at the ball. Two fine athletes at their peaks, beautiful to watch, even if you didn’t follow the game.

  Both men sweated, fat drops that rolled and flew with their sudden moves.

  The offensive player faked right, then twirled around to his left and got past the player in white…

  Time slowed to a crawl. The ball bounced slowly, took two seconds to come back from the floor to the shooter’s hand. The sounds of heavy breathing grew louder, and when the ball hit the floor again, it sounded like a cannon—boom! — deep and vibrant. The ball bounced up. The shooter caught it, jumped for the dunk, moving in glacial slow-mo, as the player in white leaped to block…

  The pair drifted through the air, seemingly as weightless as the dust motes in the gym’s air, floating oh-so-slowly toward the basket…

  Time speeded back up to normal.

  The offensive player slammed the ball down, playing well above the rim, and the net ka-thwipped! in that way it does only when the dunk is perfect. The two players came down and smiled at each other.

  White Suit said, “Good move, brother.” He slapped the shooter on the shoulder, went to fetch the ball.

  Black Suit said, “Yeah, I still got a few. Here’s another one for you — who’s doing your Internet service?”

  White Suit shrugged. “Same provider I always use.” He tossed the ball to the other man.

  Black Suit shook his head. “Naw, you need to lose that, man. I’m tight with CyberNation, it’s the only place to be.”

  “CyberNation? I heard of them.”

  “I’m telling you, it’s the way to go. They got VR so good, it’d help even you with your defense.”

  “I got a cramp in my foot, is all. Try it again.”

  Black Suit laughed and walked away, dribbling. White Suit dropped into a defensive crouch as the other player turned and started back toward him.

  The words CyberNation appeared under the screen, with the URL. The scene faded to black, leaving the words alone on the black background with the sound of the dribbled ball echoing in the gym. The sound and image held for five seconds, then faded out.

  PART TWO

  The Butterfly’s Wings

  21

  On the Bon Chance

  Jasmine Chance liked to be in charge, a big part of the reason she had taken this job. Here she was, with a corporate budget as big as the treasury in some small countries, on a gambling ship she had named herself, and after a fashion, for herself. She could, literally, decide matters of life and death. If that wasn’t control, what was? But at the moment, with Jackson practically wetting himself, she felt a definite loss of mastery here.

  They sat on the bed in her room. She’d thought sex was going to be the main thing on his mind, but she quickly realized she was wrong.

  “He’s going to beat the crap out of me,” Jackson said. “I know it.”

  “Don’t be stupid.”

  “You didn’t see him, how he looked at me. I’m telling you, this is not somebody to mess around with. He might as well have sent me an invitation: You are cordially invited to a major ass-kicking — yours.”

  “Jackson…”

  “I’m not joking around here, Jasmine. This guy isn’t civilized. Yeah, he wears a suit and smiles and can make small talk, but that’s no thicker than a coat of paint. Underneath, he’s a savage. He’s a killer! He wouldn’t think twice about sending me to the hospital, or the morgue.”

  “He’s just trying to rattle you, hon, that’s all. He knows how much we need you. He’s playing with your head.”

  “And he plans to be playing soccer with my balls. I’m telling you, I know.”

  “You need to relax.” She put her hand on his shoulder. The muscles there and in his neck were bunched like wet, knotted ropes.

  “Easy for you to say. Listen, I want off the ship. Let me go to the train.”

  The train was one of the other two locations for CyberNation’s mobile computer centers. Currently, it was on a siding in Germany, somewhere near the French border.

  “Keller—”

  “I can take my team there. It won’t be any different. The hardware is the same, the software we built in the last day can be encoded and uploaded in a few hours. By the time it finishes downloading, we can be halfway there.”

  “What will you tell your team?”
/>   “No need to tell them anything except they should pack their bags. They do what I say.”

  “That’s not the plan,” she said.

  “Neither is getting my head stomped in by a jealous assassin!”

  She thought about it. It was the fight-or-flight syndrome. Maybe in his place, she could understand it. Still, it wouldn’t really solve anything. What was to stop Roberto from hopping on a plane and dropping round to see Jackson on the train? When he had time to settle down and think about it, he’d see that. There was no safety in distance, not if somebody like Roberto really wanted to do you harm. But no point in saying that now. He was rattled enough already.

  Of course, out of sight might be out of mind. She was sure she could divert Roberto’s attention. She could buy him a new toy, something to do with his fighting art. Sooner or later he would feel the call from her to find a place where they could get naked. Roberto was, after all, very primal in his urges. Maybe it would be for the best if Jackson wasn’t around.

  “All right,” she said. “Gather your team and make the arrangements. Roberto won’t be back before tomorrow at the earliest. You can be gone before he returns.”

  His sense of relief was obvious.

  “As long as we are here, why don’t you lie down and let me massage your back? You’re as tight as a violin string.”

  He started to protest. “That’s what got me in trouble in the first place.”

  “Relax,” she said. “ ’Berto is in Washington. You’ll be gone when he gets back, and we aren’t doing anything we haven’t already done a dozen times. What difference could it make now? Why not relax and enjoy it?”

  She didn’t give him time to think about it. She slid her hand down his chest and into his lap. After that, he had other things on his mind.

  Net Force HQ Quantico, Virginia

  Michaels was in the Net Force gym, dressed only in a pair of shorts and workout shoes, practicing his djurus. The short dances encompassed all the moves that serak teachers had developed for fighting, armed and unarmed. Somewhere in the djurus were all the tools you’d ever need, he’d been taught.