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It was almost like film noir: dark and moody with stark contrasts everywhere.
The ceiling fans twirled slowly, barely stirring the warm air. The piano player worked on some heartbreaking torch number, and a native bartender cleaned drink glasses behind a long, curved mahogany bar that had been age-polished to a dull gleam. A mirror behind the bar reflected the racks of liquor bottles: scotch, bourbon, gin, vodka, absinthe…
Standing at the bar drinking scotch neat was Jacques, Jay’s contact. Jacques wore a double-breasted ice-cream suit with a red handkerchief in the coat pocket, spats over his white leather shoes. He had slicked-back black hair and a pencil-thin mustache. He was a spy, of course, Algerian, and probably too long out in the cold. Or the heat, as it were.
“Eon your,” Jacques said as Jay approached the bar. “Emile, a drink for my friend!”
The bartender gave Jay a fish-eye look. “What may I serve you, friend?”
“Absinthe,” Jay said. What the hell, it wasn’t going to drive him mad here.
The bartender shook his head and went to fetch the bottle.
“Hot day, no?” Jacques said.
“Hot enough.”
The bartender returned with a dark green glass bottle. He poured a small bit of the liqueur, which was also as green as an emerald, into a glass. Then he poured a shot glass of cold water over a perforated teaspoon full of sugar and allowed it to drip into the container. The absinthe’s green turned a smoky, opaque white as the sugared water mixed with it. Without the sugar, it would have been too bitter to drink, and even so, it still bit the tongue pretty hard.
Jay knew from his research that the drink, which was partially made from wormwood, was illegal most places, and was traditionally used by artists and writers. Van
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[had used it, and the theory was that absinthe was 1 driven him mad enough to lop off his own ear. supposed to eat holes in your brain with regular
charming.
I raised his glass to Jacques. “Good fortune,” he said. chance,” Jacques replied. They clinked glasses,
have some information for me?” Jay said, after
: their glasses down.
my friend. I believe I have exactly what you |At a price, of course.” |raised an eyebrow. “Whatever it costs, I’ll pay it.
|fcrt. W
I before he could speak, there was an explosion. A Jay realized, as he saw the blood blossom on s’s chest, over the heart. ; the hell-? This wasn’t part of the scenario-.’ œ dropped to the floor in a deep squat and looked in time to see a native dressed in one of those Shriner hats and a white-and-blue striped robe run ‘the club.
| got up and sprinted for the exit, chasing the man. i this? How had he breached Jay’s VR construct? “the alley, Jay saw the assassin running away.
t\
itook off. Whoever he was, he wasn’t nearly fast i to outrun Jay Gridley in his own damned scenario! t even as Jay gained on the running man, he realized n’t going to catch him. The reason-reasons, ac, at least six of them-appeared right hi front of him. a dozen men, bare-chested, in basketball shorts , holding baseball bats, chains, knives, and what like a pitchfork, stepped out of the shadows be- i Jay and his quarry, yo,” one of the basketball players said. “What’s
baby?” guys were anachronisms-they didn’t belong
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here, weren’t right for the time, even if they’d been Jay’s constructs. And they weren’t.
What the hellll
As they moved toward him, Jay realized he didn’t belong here, either. He didn’t have time to come up with any kind of effective defense. The scenario was blown.
He bailed.
Net Force HQ Quantico, Virginia
Jay pulled the sensory gear off and threw it at the computer console.
There hadn’t been any real danger, of course, only to his construct. After the business with the mad Brit, he had made damned sure there was no way to turn his computer into what was effectively a capacitor that might be able to deliver an electric charge through the sensory connections. But it was galling anyhow, to be forced out of your own scenario!
How had this happened? Somebody would have to know where he was, be able to get past his wards, and be good enough to reprogram the input without Jay spotting him. For all practical purposes, it ought to be almost impossible -well, at least with a player of Jay’s skill it ought to be. That it had happened was irritating-and scary.
It had to be one of the guys who had bollixed the net and web. They’d already shown how good they were, and now they were putting it right in his face.
Now it was getting personal.
He swore again. He needed to figure this out. And, as much as he hated the idea, he also needed to let the boss know. If nothing else, it meant they were getting closer. You didn’t get that kind of response if you were wandering around in the woods lost somewhere. He must be
CYBERNATION 143 ng awful close to somebody’s hidden marijuana
, D.C.
to the music with one ear, and Alex’s con- with the other. It didn’t take long for her to |out it was Jay Gridley on the other end of Alex’s
a minute, Alex broke the connection. it’s up?”
ok his head. “Jay thinks he’s getting closer to I guys who screwed the net.” t’s good.”
; not. He says they must have set him up. Gave that he thought he could get some informa- when he went in, they jumped him-electron- ng.”
$r
explained it to her. Apparently Jay had been from his own scenario. Which must have really out of shape, Toni knew. She’d never met a r geek who didn’t think he was God’s gift to elec-
: other than a bruised ego, no harm done, right?” nodded. “That’s how I see it. But as he pointed ever did it must know he’s looking for them. And where he might be apt to look. Which means aybe on the right path.”
^nodded. “Maybe. Or maybe they just set a whole I of snares and one of them snagged Jay. He gets t out, goes charging down the trail, and maybe he’s ; exactly opposite of where they are.”
be. I don’t have Jay’s expertise to say.” : it sounds as if the bad guys do. Not good.”
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“Do we need to go home? Or to the office?”
“No, no reason for that. Jay was just giving me a heads- up. I asked him to keep me in the info stream.”
“So, you wanna dance?” She nodded at the band.
A few couples were up, moving to the music.
He grinned. “Might as well. Can’t get any work done here, can I?”
On the Bon Chance
Keller leaned back in the form chair, stretched his neck and shoulders, removed the sensory head- and handsets. He smiled. “Well, Jay, old son, that must have been a shock, hey? About to download a juicy bit of information and blap! your source gets potted and the alley is full of NBA villains.” He chuckled. “I hope you had autosave on. You’ll want to go back and look at it again, I am sure.”
He stood, bent at the waist, touched his toes, bounced a little. He straightened, sat back in the chair, took a couple of deep breaths, and let them out, then reached for the wireless headset. By now, Jay would have had tune to think about what had happened, figured it out, and gotten pissed off enough to jump back into the net to hunt down whoever was responsible. Keller knew he would have done the same thing in Jay’s shoes.
So. Now we give old Jay a new place to look. But carefully. He won’t hit the next trap as easily. It needs to be… more subtle.
Keller slipped the gear on. Boy, this was gonna be fun.
Jasmine Chance was not a fanatic about it, but she did do enough exercise to stay in shape. It was harder to be a femme fatale if you were built like an overripe pear-a size six on top and size fourteen on the bottom. She used the stairclimber and the weight machines in the ship’s
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forty-five minutes a day. She wasn’t going to be ; any Olympic events, but she was tight enough to : twenty-five-year-old women jealous. Not bad dy past forty, (.leaned against one of the mirrored walls and took j from her water bottle. She was hot, and sweaty so her headband wasn’t stopping it all from run- i her eyes. She wiped her face with a towel. An- minutes and she’d be done. Then she could and maybe have ‘Berto help her stretch some cles. Yes. She’d give him a call, have him meet her cabin in half an hour or so. That would be Bt. : when she punched in his name on the ship’s inter-