Net Force

'Hello?'

'Commander Michaels? This is Christine Wesson, from Supply? I was working out in the gym and Deputy Commander Fiorella asked me to call you — this is her virgil unit. She's had an accident, Medical is on the way, but I think maybe she's got a broken leg.'

Toni was hurt? 'A broken leg?'

'One of the exercise machines fell over on her. She says she's okay, she just wanted to let you know she'd be late for her meeting. But between you and me, she's in a lot of pain.'

'I'm on my way,' he said.

The two men looked up at him, having heard his end of the conversation as they pretended to be busy.

'Is Toni okay?' Jay said.

'Apparently. Some kind of exercise equipment failure. Medical is on the way, but I want to check on her. You two put your heads together and see what more sense you can make out of this mess. I'll be back in a few minutes.'

'Sure thing, Boss.'

'Sir.'

Michaels started for the hall.

Friday, October 8th, 12:28 p.m. Quantico

Half in and half out of the shower stall, the Selkie held the gun aimed at the woman sitting cross-legged on the tile floor inside. If anybody came in, they would not see Fiorella, nor would they see the gun. The Selkie was tempted to shoot her, but she didn't want to risk the noise — or to waste any of her precious ammunition. If something went wrong, she might need the gun to escape. She also might need the woman to get the target in here; after that, Fiorella was as dead as Michaels. The Selkie would use the stubby ceramic knife strapped to her thigh under her skirt to do both of them. Shut them up in a shower stall, rinse away any blood spatter, and she could be halfway across Maryland before anybody discovered the bodies. A double deletion inside Net Force HQ — they'd be talking about that forever.

Fiorella twitched.

'Keep your hands on your head,' the Selkie said.

'You can't get away with this.'

'If you wiggle crooked, it won't matter to you.'

'We know who you are.'

'Uh-huh.'

'You're not as good as you think — Mora Sullivan.'

That surprised her. How the hell had they found that out? She had a quick spasm of panic, fought it down. Sullivan was just another name now, one more disposable ID. Still… 'We're going to have to have a little talk before I leave,' the Selkie said.

The woman was scared — and well she should be — but she said, 'I don't think so.'

Another gutsy woman. Damn. Too bad she had to kill her.

'Toni?' came a voice from outside the locker room's door.

'In here!' the Selkie said. 'Hurry!'

She heard the sound of fast footsteps. She grinned.

37

Friday, October 8th, 8:37 p.m. Grozny

Plekhanov didn't need to use VR to see that trip wires were broken all over his walkways. They knew who he was, and they were probing every aspect of his life they could reach. He didn't think they could find much, but he was worried a bit more than he had been. This damnable child who worked for Net Force might be faster than he was smart, but somebody brighter might take notice of some of the patterns and draw a conclusion Plekhanov did not want them to draw. Or they might feed all the bits they had to an Al-analog, and have the computer make a connection a human might not be clever enough to see. This was very much not to his liking.

And he was so close; it was but a matter of days until the special election was to be held. All he needed was to stall them just a little longer. Then it truly wouldn't matter what they knew. Even now, it was probably too late for anybody to thwart him, but he was a careful man. People had told him that he was too careful, that he lingered for another look when he should be leaping, but they were wrong. Those who had uttered such stupidities — where were they now? Not where he was, poised to control the destinies of millions.

No, he would add one more piece of insurance, something to make them think. One more obstacle to make certain they stumbled and could not recover in time to catch him.

He put in a call to the Rifle.

Friday, October 8th, 12:37 p.m. Quantico

Give him credit, the Selkie thought. As soon as he saw the gun, he knew what was going on. She quickly pointed it back at the woman in the shower. 'Move and she dies.'

The target nodded. 'I understand. I'm not armed.' He spread his hands wide, to show they were empty.

The Selkie shook her head. How stupid of him not to be armed.

'All right. Slow and easy, over here.'

* * *

Michaels felt the fear in the pit of his belly like shards of cold glass, but he knew he was going to have to go for the assassin anyway. He had to keep her from shooting Toni. And if he was going to die, he was going to go out on his feet, moving toward the threat and not away from it. He took a slow breath. Held it—

Toni sat very still, watching. She was going to have to make her move soon. She tried to keep her breathing calm and steady, but it was hard. This was the assassin, the woman who had erased Ray Genaloni, tried to do the same to Alex, and who might or might not have murdered Steve Day. For sure, if Toni didn't do something, the woman was going to kill her and Alex. The gun was one of those ceramic things, but that didn't make it any less deadly.

She could come up from a cross-legged sit, had done it in practice thousands of times. A silat player had to be able to work from the ground. If the woman was six inches closer, she could reach her with a kick.

If, if—

Alex said, 'Toni? You okay?'

'Yes,' she said.

Alex was getting closer. The gun was still pointed at her, and Toni knew if she moved, she was certainly going to get shot, but that would buy Alex a second or two. She had to do it.

Toni inhaled slowly, a long breath. Held it. Made herself ready—

'Don't move! FBI!' somebody yelled.

Toni looked at the reflection in the shower door.

Rusty—?!

The Selkie reacted without thinking, almost a reflex. When the man at the locker room entrance jumped into the room, pointing what looked like a gun at her, she swung her own pistol over and fired. The little gun bucked hard in her hand, light as it was, but she saw the man react as the shot took him in the center of mass. He went down. No vest—

The target lunged at her, screaming something.

Too fast to get to the knife. She thrust the pistol at him, fired—

'No!' the woman in the shower screamed. Then she slammed into the Selkie and they both went flying. She lost the pistol, hit next to a bench, managed to roll up as Fiorella also got to her feet.

The Selkie kicked away her shoes, ripped her skirt off, grabbed the knife and jerked it from the thigh sheath, gripped the blade in front of her to slash or stab. She glanced at the target — he was down, hit in the leg, it looked