Net Force

It looks like this is some kind of mob thing, and while I regret the loss of Commander Day, I can't see that national security is at risk here.' He glanced at Reed, who shook his head.

Or their own asses, Michaels thought.

'Okay, Walt, I would like to see this cleared up. Keep me apprised. Gentlemen. Mrs. Upton.'

With that, the President and his Chief of Staff left.

Carver moved over to where Michaels stood near the computer. 'Well, that wasn't so bad, was it?'

'No, sir.'

'All right. We'll start some heat Genaloni's way,' Carver said. 'The man won't be able to pee without somebody watching him from inside the bowl. I want you to get your computer people digging.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Talk to Brent Adams at OC. He'll be told to cooperate. We aren't going to have a turf war here — I'm giving this one to you. The President of the United States has just told us he wants to see this cleared up, and it did not sound like a request to me.'

'No, sir.'

'That's it. I want situation reports daily, sooner if anything breaks. Anything else you can think of?'

'No, sir. We'll keep you in the loop.'

'Good man.'

Not until he was back in his car and well away from the White House did Michaels allow himself to relax. This high-level stuff was risky. He would rather be in the field, training new agents, anything, than playing with politicians and security advisors. Here, a misstep, one word out of place, and you'd be counting paper clips the rest of your career. So now, aside from his personal agenda, he had it straight from the top: Find out who killed Steve Day.

Find out — or else.

Fine. No problem. That was exactly what he planned to do, and he had the resources to do it.

4

Wednesday, September 8th, 9:30 a.m. Quantico, Virginia

Toni Fiorella was in the small gym practicing djurus when two members of the newest class of FBI mainline recruits came in. There were maybe a dozen people already working out — lifting weights, using the flywheel bikes or punching the heavy bag, but most of them were regulars, instructors or people assigned to Training HQ. The trainees tended to stay in their own gym, which was just fine with her. Newbies, most of them fresh out of law or accounting schools, tended to think they knew everything, and that the Bureau should feel honored they had chosen to grace it with their wonderful presence.

She shifted into a right-front stance, most of her weight on her forward foot, knee bent, did the windshield- wiper-like two-handed block to control the center, left, right, then shot her right elbow upward in a short, tight strike to an imaginary opponent's head. She slapped the elbow with her left hand to simulate the hit, slid the left hand under the right arm, where it stood ready to sweep away an opponent's return punch, then shot the straight right and left punches that followed.

This was the first djuru, and a very simple sequence.

One of the newbies, a tall, muscular man in blue spandex bike shorts and a matching FBI-trainee T-shirt, looked at Toni, then chuckled and said something to his buddy.

The second newbie was a short and compact man, a bit on the pudgy side, with a thick bar of eyebrows. He laughed in return.

Toni ignored the two, did the left punch and chambered that arm by her hip, then stepped forward with her left foot, to mirror the moves she'd just done.

Day's death had affected her more than she would have thought, and Alex's state of mind was also weighing heavily on her. She'd come to the gym to burn off some of her frustration at not being able to reach out to Alex the way she wanted. The workout wasn't helping much, and she wasn't feeling particularly charitable just now.

She finished the series of steps and strikes, made the backfist turn and started back the way she'd come, starting into the second djuru's pattern. In Bukti, there were eight short forms, or djurus, that many sambuts—prearranged fighting sets — and techniques beyond counting based on those few simple routines.

Spandex and Eyebrows had faced off against each other; they danced back and forth, sparring. Even though she knew she should have been concentrating on her form — her guru would have frowned at her lack of attention — she watched the two men peripherally. Spandex threw a lot of high round and spinning kicks, most of them to the head, while Eyebrows barked several kiais, the karate-style guttural yells used for focus, as he backpedaled and ducked or blocked the kicks.

She figured Spandex for one of the Korean styles, Eyebrows for a Japanese or Okinawan fighting form. Both men looked fairly adept, though Spandex was better.

She saw Spandex grin, then launch a flying-spinning back-kick.

Right out of a bad action movie, she thought. She kept her pace even, trying to pretend she didn't notice them. Her expression gave her away, though — she couldn't stop the smile completely.

Spandex caught it, and he was not pleased.

He did a quick bow to Eyebrows to show he was done, then turned to face her. 'Something funny, ma'am?' He had a strong Southern accent. Alabama, Mississippi, maybe.

Ma'am. Well, he wasn't paranoid, because she was laughing at him, however hidden she tried to keep it. And, truthfully, she hadn't really tried very hard to hide it. She had to watch this, the feeling of superiority she got when she saw one of the other Oriental fighting styles. Everybody thought their own system was better; she knew hers was.

Toni was about to the end of her set anyhow. She stopped. She knew she didn't look particularly imposing in her old black sweats, wrestling shoes and sweaty headband. And at five-five and a hundred and thirty pounds, she was almost a foot shorter and probably seventy pounds lighter than Spandex. But his tone irritated her.

'No,' she said. 'Nothing funny.'

'Really? I thought maybe you were, you know, amused by my form or something.'

'No. It's not amusing,' she said. She started to turn away.

Eyebrows decided this was a good time to jump in. He said, 'My friend here has a second-degree black belt.' He waved at her, as if to take in the form she'd been practicing. 'I bet he could teach you some things.'

'I'm sure he could,' Toni said. Yeah, how to move wrong. But she kept her mouth shut as she headed for her towel. Might as well shower. She wasn't going to be able to concentrate with these two bozos flexing and being macho. She'd grown up with a houseful of brothers; she knew once the testosterone got to flowing, it was like the full-moon tide, there was no stopping it. Pretty soon, these two would be spitting on the ground and adjusting their crotches, or as close as they could get to it indoors.

Manhood was a tricky business. She ought to know better than to mess with it by now.

'So, what is that little shuffle thing you were doing?' Spandex said. He and Eyebrows grinned at each other.

Little shuffle thing. Oh, boy.

She turned back to face the pair. 'It's called a djuru,' she said. 'The style is Pukulan Pentjak Silat Bukti Negara — Serak.'

Spandex gave her a big grin. 'Sounds like some kind of Thai food with peanut sauce. You, uh, have any rank in it?'

'We don't have belts. You're either a student or a teacher. I'm a student.'

'Well, it looks very nice,' Spandex said. 'Even though I never heard of it.'

Nice.

Toni smiled. There were a lot of things she generally let pass when she heard them from obnoxious men, and