tewart George Jackson, the once red-haired but now bald and gray junior senator from the great state took over the microphone. Jackson liked to “Stonewall,” after the Southern Civil War hero, usually called “SJ” by his staff. While these were l-fnitials, somebody had told Michaels that they also for “Strawberry Jell-O,” due to his extremely flex! ethics. Jackson had all the backbone of a baby squid, sometimes switch sides on an issue faster than a ding bullet. General Jackson must be spinning in his I like an atomic-powered gyroscope every time some’ called Jell-O “Stonewall.”
ps Commander Michaels can explain to this aittee why this latest round of attack on the Internet : has continued despite Net Force’s efforts to stop
hat Michaels wanted to say was “Because I am here aing to the senatorial windbags blow warm hurricanes of at the office helping diem?” That would have very satisfying. Stupid, but satisfying. He had this every time he testified, and he had never acted on till, he thought about it.
on’t do it,” Tommy said under his breath. It didn’t much of a mind reader to glean what Michaels was ing.
Sfo, he’d better not say anything nasty. Not only would be career suicide, his agency would suffer, and he a’t want to cause that.
Qmmander?”
I’m sorry, Senator. I didn’t realize you were asking speak.”
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That earned him a glare from Jell-O, and grins from three of the other senators.
“We are following up leads on the attacks,” Michaels said. “Our operatives have narrowed down the suspecis and are getting closer to a resolution.” You could always say that and it would be true enough.
“Would you care to give us more specific information. Commander? Who, where, and when?”
“I am sure you realize that this is an ongoing investigation, Senator. I would not wish to compromise it by releasing details in public. If you would like a private briefing, I will have my staff follow up.”
Of course, Jell-O didn’t care about the investigation, and would no more want to spend his time going over the details of it than he would want to give up cigars and whiskey. This was a piddling committee, and one had to milk what one could from it. Scoring a few points for law and order was always good for the voters back home to see. He would have a staffer listen to the report and boil it down to half a page or so, highlighting key words to be spoken in his syrupy Foghorn Leghorn drawl next time Michaels had to show up and sit in the hot seat.
The senator droned on, and Michaels listened with half an ear. This was the part of the job he hated most, the sitting in front of a bunch of old farts and being treated like a grammar school boy by men and women who, for the most part, couldn’t understand what it was he did. They were mostly lawyers, half of them were technophobes, if not Luddites, terrified of anything more complicated than a phone or television set, and their main strengths seemed to be the ability to get reelected.
Face it, if they had anything on the ball, they wouldn’t be stuck on this committee, now would they? The only one here who had more than two neurons to spark at each other inside his hollow head was Wayne DeWitt, the recently elected junior from West Virginia. He was young, sharp, and technically educated, with a degree in engineering. He was one of the few senators willing to stand
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[ say that the idea of CyberNation was stupid in the e. He was a fairly right-wing Republican, but even chads was willing to cut him a lot of slack-better
It-winger with a brain than anybody without one.
; very charitable of him, those thoughts, but, hey, if “true, it was true.
i glanced at his watch again. Another two hours of
” i he’d never get back.
be Bon Chance
> had left his most recent coin buy in a safe-deposit a bank in Fort Lauderdale. They’d be secure there, but he would prefer to have them in his He had worked out an arrangement with an at ambassador in Washington who flew home to [; now and again, and who had access to diplomatic w. For a healthy fee, he would transport whatever gave him back there, where Santos’s cousin Esf would collect it and take it to the branch of the Wizinho where Santos did his business. He had an nt with a bank officer there to make sure his Pwere well-cared for.
was blood, and the bank official was also re- by marriage, to another cousin. Both were well- f and both knew what would happen to them if they dy and decided to pocket a few of the coins. Once, ‘they were much younger, Estaban had seen Santos | out a crooked policeman who tried to shake him ‘ too hard. Crooked or not, killing a puno, a “fist,” were sometimes called in the shanty towns, was 1 of a man with bolas grande. Those who dealt with at home knew his reputation. He was not a man f fooled with-aside from his own skills, he had a i of paid friends in high places, always necessary in
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Brazil, and he was protected, at least to a degree.
Once his gold was home, it would be safe enough.
When Missy ordered him to take care of some business in Washington, D.C., this was perfect. He would stop at the bank in Florida and retrieve his Maple Leafs, speak with the diplomat once he got to the capital, and all would be well.
The business Missy wanted him to handle? Well, that was of small importance. One man who needed to have a bad accident. He didn’t even have to die, merely be put out of commission for a month or two. Easy as falling out of a tree.
He made a point of swinging by the computer rooms just before lunchtime. He saw Keller with two of his people as they headed for the private cafeteria. Keller was laughing at something one of the others said.
Keller looked up, saw Santos.
Santos gave Keller a quick two-fingered salute, a how- you-doin’-amigo? gesture, nothing the least bit threatening in it. He smiled.
Keller went pale, as if somebody had just punched him in the belly.
Santos didn’t stop. He turned away and ambled off down the corridor. All he’d wanted to do was make Jackson aware that he knew. That was enough, for now. Let him sweat a while, worry that maybe something hard was coming. Because it was coming, no question. There were some lines you did not cross, and Jackson had crossed one. He knew it. How much it would cost, when, where, he did not know. And that was part of the payment, too.
Santos hummed to himself as he headed for the helipad. Good day, so far. Real good.
20
Force HQ co, Virginia
i sat at Alex’s desk, going over operations reports. She I to be back. She’d forgotten how interesting this ; was in the time she’d been away. As Alex’s assisIshe had been privy to the inner workings of the na- jp computer business, all kinds of information the : citizen didn’t even know existed had come across sk. When she’d quit-over a mistaken supposition had been too idiotic to correct-she hadn’t work, because almost immediately she’d had an from the director to start a job for the mainline FBI. ^pregnancy, then the baby, had stopped that. It had f the better part of a year, and she’d lost a few steps, fit was like riding a bicycle-the basic balance was = there, and with a little practice, she’d be rolling tily again pretty fast.
felt a quick stab of guilt. Did that make her a bad that she wanted to work? Shouldn’t she be at doing mommy things, putting all this away until
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Little Alex was old enough to go off to school? It wasn’t as if they needed the money. And she did miss the baby, that was true. But her husband needed her, too, and what’ was she to do? Guru had showed up, and that had seemed j like some kind of sign.
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.”