13
JVet Force HQ Quantico, Virginia
“How’d the demonstration go?” Jay asked. It was good to see the boss and Toni working together again.
The boss said, “I believe the FBI recruits learned a certain amount of respect for small women with extensive martial arts training.”
“And men in skirts, too,” Toni said.
Jay missed the byplay on that, but both Michaels and Toni thought it was funny.
“So, what do you have for us?” the boss said.
Jay looked up from his flatscreen. It was just the three of them. General Howard’s son, Tyrone, had busted his leg pretty good in a car wreck, so Howard was out at the hospital. Tyrone had his leg in traction-a pin through his shin hooked to a sandbag over a pulley. He was gonna be there a few more days, at least. Jay had dropped by to see him. He was a good kid. Lieutenant Julio Femandez was out testing some new piece of equipment.
Jay said, “Well, not that much. After that hit on Blue
113
CYBERNATION
, everything died down again. But I started follow: lead I got on CyberNation.”
Nation? Are they still around? ‘Information I be free?'”
s looked at Toni. “Oh, yeah, they’re bigger than ever. I Ihey have a point, you know. That genie is out of
, it ain’t goin’ back in.” i-huh.” She didn’t sound convinced, shrugged. “And every time the net jigs instead of they get more subscribers. Makes a good motive.” : of people could have motive,” Michaels said. “All of things thrive in chaos. Have you got anything 5 them a better suspect than a thousand other ; whose stock went up when the net stuttered?” not that I can prove. I’ve got one interesting might be a coincidence.” i k f”
1 “O < i fou know the vice president, the security guy for Blue who got killed?" fes. Something more on the cause?" Still an accident, far as the cops are concerned, they are checking into it further. If somebody the guy, he was good. But here's the thing: A days before he died, our VP went on a cross- ntry trip and did a little offshore gambling off the coast on one of those international water floating "" he lose more than he could afford?" Toni asked, iy trying to collect?" f "Not according to his coworkers. When he got back, fe was up six grand, a happy man." then?" gambling ship where the dead guy won his y? The thing is refitted, was formerly some kind of registered out of Liberia, and is now called Ban ce. The ownership of this beast is real muzzy when to pin it down, runs through a fistful of dummy 114 NET FORCE corporations. But at the top of this chain of hide-the- owner razzmatazz? A corporation called InfoMore that belongs lock, stock, and barrel to-tab dah!-our friends at CyberNation." The boss raised an eyebrow at that. Toni jumped in. "So you're saying that maybe somebody from CyberNation picked up on who the Blue Whale veep was, followed him home, and extracted security codes from him before they drove him off a cliff?" Jay shrugged, though he was glad to see Toni hadn't lost too many steps and could see where he was going. "Naw, I'm not saying that, that's too big a stretch given what we got. (My that it seems like a coincidence that needs to be checked out, is all. If the guy was murdered, and if it was for what he knew, then you have to at least think maybe there is some connection. Last place I tried to run it down was booby-trapped: The information I went after self-destructed when I got to it. That makes me suspicious, too. You don't booby-trap info unless it's something you want kept private." Michaels said, "You think you can find a connection?" "Hey, that's why you pay me the big bucks. Well, okay, the medium bucks. Which I've been meaning to talk to you about. I'm getting married, don't you think I deserve a raise?" Michaels chuckled. "You already make as much as I do, Jay. You want to embarrass me by making more?" "I could force myself to live with it, boss." "Not for a while, you won't" Jay laughed. "So you're going to follow up on this?" Toni said. "Yep. I haven't found anything pointing anywhere else, so this is as good a direction as any. And you got to figure, if CyberNation is involved, they'll have pirate servers set up somewhere to make it harder to trace 'em. Mobile is better than stationary, and a ship on the high seas is worldwide mobile." rays. CYBERNATION 115 Michaels said. "Keep us apprised." I in Colorado had just gotten more interesting than Santos had I for. Setting up the fiber-optic cable attack had been r enough. Six cuts, ranged at odd intervals over a two- -mile section, all made at about the same time- ; that that mattered. Once cut in one place, the thick wasn't transmitting anything, so they could take i to do the other five breaks. The idea, however, was : in, do the job, and get out. If anybody spotted one cutters in one place, by the time they got police 1 him, the attack would be over, the phone company n't be able to set up extra security in time to do i any good. had assigned himself the most remote of the : sites, where the cable was strung out over a gorge, where in cowboy country. He was fairly high up in (bills, five, maybe six thousand feet, he guessed, from thin the air was in his lungs. Even so, the air did a clean and fresh, pine-treelike scent, and it gusted i swirled in a fairly stiff tum-your-head-around breeze and then. It was cold up here, dark and crusty old ' piled in shady patches everywhere. It was clear and ny, though, and warmer near the larger rocks where it \ protected from the wind. It had taken him three hours IhUce in from where he'd parked his four-wheel SUV, he'd worked up a sweat under his warm clothing, ugh he'd kept his gloves on. His hands never seemed festay warm when the thermometer's reading dropped to freezing. He liked climates where you could run i with no shut on if you wanted, tropical heat, with seldom, if ever. IWhen he had gotten close to the spot where he intended 116 NET FORCE to burn through the protected cable, using a few coils of Thermex welding cord he carried in his pack, he ran into unexpected company. He thought this strange, since the place was in the middle of nowhere, a long way on foot from the nearest road. There were two of them, big men. They wore backx country cold weather clothes-dark wool trousers and hiking books, plaid wool shirts and heavy Gore-Tex parkas, and orange caps with state logos on them. The logos indicated that the pair were game wardens. Bad luck. For them. Santos was not carrying a gun, and thus shouldn't be thought a hunter, unless they thought he was chasing mountain goats and throwing rocks at them, but the two men decided to give him a hard time anyway. Santos figured out why in a few seconds when one of them said, "Well, well, whadda we got here-a hiker? Hey, Jerry, you ever hear of niggers hiking?" "Can't say as I have, Rich. They only have two forward speeds-cock-stroll and feets-do-your-stuff! But they show up nice against the snow, hey?" Both men laughed at the lame humor. That made it easier, not that it was necessary to be easier. He would have had to take care of them anyway, since they'd seen him, but it made him feel better that they weren't nice men. Santos waited for the two to get closer. Both men wore sidearms in holsters, visible under the unzipped jackets, the guns being Clocks, probably in 9mm or .40. The one named Jerry had a scoped bolt-action rifle slung over his shoulder on a hand-tooled leather strap. Looked like a Winchester Model 70, no way to tell the caliber. A good weapon, the Winchester. "Colorado game wardens. Let's see some identification, boy," Rich said. "Am I doing something illegal?" Santos said. "I thought this was public property. I'm not hunting or fishing." "Ooh, listen to that accent, we got us a foreign nigger. 117 CYBERNATION from Mexico, boy?" That from Jerry. "Habla Spif" We want to take a look in that backpack of yours," i said. "See if you have a gun you might be using to lly hunt with. Hand it over." ay," Santos said. "You're the law." i men smiled, glancing at each other, secure in their to whipsaw this one black man into subservience : in the cold mountains. s swung the backpack into Jerry's face, hard, and be- i could react, Santos did a cartwheel and kicked I man flush on the mouth. Yes, it was a flashy , one his Mestre would have slapped him for trying ckly in even a street match, but these were not play- ey were white racists. He wanted to bash them with