Point of Impact

“There’s a pleasant thought.”

“You are worried because you cannot train,” Guru said.

Toni shook her head. How could she know exactly what was going through her mind?

“I had four children,” Guru said. “All after I began my training. Each time, I had to alter my practice.”

“So I’m discovering.”

“You can do djuru-djuru sitting down,” she said. “Your langkas will need to be sharpened, but there is no reason to stop upper body movements.”

Toni nodded. The Indonesian martial art forms Guru taught were divided into two parts, upper body, or djurus, and lower body, or langkas. You usually lumped them together and called the whole thing a djuru, though that was not technically correct.

“I have some things in my house for you to take home with you when you go. I have packed them into a big box by the front door.”

Before Toni could protest, Guru continued, “No, it is not my time yet, and I am not giving you your legacy before I go. These are merely things I think you will enjoy and that I no longer have a need for.”

“Thank you, Guru.”

“I am proud of you as a student and as a woman, best girl. I expect I will live long enough to cuddle your child.”

Toni smiled. She certainly hoped so.

11

Quantico, Virginia

The woman was young, maybe twenty-two, twenty-three, and dressed in jeans, a black T-shirt, and running shoes, nothing that unusual about her appearance. She was nobody you’d cross the street to get a better look at, but nobody you’d cross the street the other way to avoid because she was hideous, either. Average-looking.

The woman approached an automated bank teller, put in her card, and stood back. Apparently there was some malfunction. The woman smiled, then, without preamble, drove her fist through the teller’s vid screen. Shattered glass flew every which way, and even before it finished falling, the woman was grabbing at a garbage basket on the sidewalk. She picked up the basket and began hammering at the teller, smiling all the while.

* * *

Alex Michaels leaned back in the chair and said, “There’s something you don’t see every day.”

Jay Gridley said, “Actually, it happens quite a lot, according to Bureau agents I’ve talked to. Although the level of violence is usually much less. People tend to spit at the screen or camera, slam it with the edge of their fist once or twice, even kick at it. Sometimes they scratch the glass with their car keys. Nobody’s ever seen one quite this… ah… active before.”

“What happened after she trashed the videocam recording it?”

Jay said, “According to witnesses, the destruction continued until she really got pissed off, whereupon she somehow managed to rip the machine free of its mountings, scattering several thousand dollars in twenty-dollar bills all over the sidewalk. A small riot ensued as concerned citizens sought to… ah… recover the money for the bank.”

The boss laughed. “I bet. How much of it was turned in?”

“About fifteen percent.”

“Well, at least there are still a few honest citizens left. So we have another drug berserker who destroyed a bank machine. Why is this more special than the others?”

“The woman is Mary Jane Kent.”

“Related to the arms and chemical companies Kents?”

“Yes, sir. She’s the secretary of defense’s daughter.”

“Oh, my.”

“Slumming in those clothes,” Jay said. “Way I hear it, she could paste her diamonds all over herself and show less skin than in jeans and a T-shirt. With enough left over to make a cape.”

“The family has a bit of money.”

Jay nodded. There was an understatement. The Kent family had become modestly rich during the Spanish Civil War in the ’30s, running guns into Spain via Portugal. They made out like bandits in World War II, and had done quite well in assorted revolutions and border wars, since. The men in the family generally took turns managing the family fortune and tended to became ambassadors, cabinet officers, or U.S. senators; the women did charity work, ran foundations, and tended to marry badly. Every now and then, a couple of the scions would switch roles, and the girl would manage the company while the boy ran a foundation.

Certainly, the rich had their problems, too, but Jay couldn’t feel too sorry for somebody with half a gazillion dollars tucked away waiting for them to come of age. It was one thing to start poor and earn your way to luxury, another thing to be born with a platinum spoon in your mouth.

He said, “She beat the crap out of four of LAPD’s finest before she ran out of steam. A passing doctor happened along during the struggle and sedated her. Hit her with a hypo full of enough Thorazine to knock out a large horse, according to the reports, and it slowed her down, but not completely. She isn’t talking about what drug she took or where she got it, but she was apparently on a shopping trip, and she used her credit card until it maxed out. That was why the bank machine wouldn’t give her any cash.”

“Ah,” the boss said. He thought about it for a few seconds, then said, “Just how much does a billionaire’s daughter have to spend to max out a credit card?”

“Take a look.”

He handed Michaels a ROM tag, and the boss thumbed the pressure spot and looked at the number that appeared on the tag.

“Good Lord!”

“Amen. Enough to buy a yacht and an island to sail it to,” Jay said. “I got most of the credit card company’s tags. If we can backtrack her and find out how and where she spent her money, the DEA guy you sicced on me says they are willing to put more bodies on the street to check everything out. It’s not much, but it’s what we have.”

Michaels nodded. He looked at the tag again.

“Never fear, boss, Smokin’ Jay Gridley is on the case.” He gave Michaels a two-finger Cub Scout salute and headed for his office.

Michael’s com chirped, and the caller-ID signal told him Toni was trying to reach him. He grabbed the headset. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“How’s Guru doing?”

“Doing okay,” Toni said. “Doctor says she’s gonna be all right.”

“Good. I know you’re relieved to hear that.”

“Yes, I am. Anyway, I’ll be catching a shuttle back this afternoon. I should be home when you get there.”

“Great. You want me to stop and pick up something for supper?”

“Nah, we can just call the Chinese place when you get home, if that’s okay.”

“If you promise not to get the octopus/squid special again,” he said.

She laughed. “I get cravings, what can I say? It’s part of the pregnancy.”

“Me eating in the other room is going to be part of the pregnancy, too, you keep slurping that slimy stuff down.”

She laughed again. “How’s work?”

“The usual. Got a lead on that drug thing we talked about. It’s not much, but Jay is running with it. Other than that, it’s pretty quiet around here. A yawn in the park. Be nice if things picked up a little.”

“Careful what you wish for. I miss you.”