Cybernation

10

Washington, D.C.

Toni was expecting the postman; the most recent order of faux ivory slabs for her scrimshaw should be here about now, so when the doorbell rang, that’s who she thought it was. Not that she had gotten much scrimshaw done since the baby was born, bits and pieces while he was napping, mostly. Nobody had told her what a full-time job one small human child was.

She opened the door, but instead of the postman, Guru stood there.

The old lady smiled at Toni’s startled expression. “Hello, best girl. Surprise.”

“Guru! What are you doing here!”

“Waiting to be invited into your house.”

Toni opened the screen door and held it wide. “Come in, come in!”

Guru—which in Bahasa Indonesian meant “teacher”—picked up her suitcase and moved past Toni into the house. She also carried a heavy, wooden cane.

The old woman, whose name was DeBeers, was coming up on her eighty-fifth birthday. She’d had a stroke back when Toni was five months pregnant, and was supposedly recovered completely. Toni had seen her when she’d taken the baby back to show off to her family six or eight months ago, and Guru hadn’t been using a cane then.

But before she could ask, Guru read her mind: “The stick is for defense, not for walking. Do you think I could come all the way from the Bronx on a train unarmed? Did I not teach you better than that?”

Toni laughed. Of course not. Pentjak silat was a weapons-based art. You only used your hands if you didn’t have anything else available. Guru used to say, “You are not a monkey, use a tool. You can fight with your hands. You can also butter your bread with your finger, but why would you if there is a knife handy?”

Toni waited until Guru had put her bag down and found a seat on the couch. “I’ll go make the coffee,” she said.

“That would be nice,” the old woman said. “You have any of my nephew’s Javanese beans I sent you left?”

“Sealed in a vacuum bag to keep them fresh,” Toni said.

“You are a good girl. How is our baby boy?”

“He’s terrific. Taking his nap right now, he’ll probably be awake soon.”

“This is also good.”

Toni hurried off to grind the coffee beans and put them into the gold mesh filtered drip pot. She used bottled water — Guru was particular about her coffee — and once everything was going, she hurried back into the living room.

“I am happy you are here,” Toni said. “You should have called. I would have come to the train station and collected you.”

“And miss the look on your face when you saw me? No.”

Toni smiled again. Guru had been family since Toni had begun learning the martial art of silat from her more than sixteen years ago. Toni had been thirteen when she’d seen the old lady, past retirement age even then, clean up her front stoop with four thugs brave enough to threaten an old pipe-smoking granny. Guru had come from Java with her husband as a young woman, raised a family, and been widowed before Toni had been born. Her husband had taught her the family martial art usually reserved for men, and she in turn had passed it along to Toni.

It would not be polite to ask the old woman why she had come nor how long she planned to stay, but as usual, Guru was ahead of her. She said, “I will take care of the baby while you work.”

“Thank you, but, uh, I wasn’t planning on going back to work,” Toni said. “Not for a while, at least.”

“Plans change, best girl. I think maybe you will go back very soon.”

“I don’t see how—”

The phone jangled. Toni was tempted to ignore it, let the computer take a message, but Guru waved at her. “You should answer that,” she said. “I will go and check on the coffee.” She smiled.

Toni shrugged. As she reached for the com, she saw the ID.

“Hey, Alex. What’s up?”

“Trouble here in River City,” he said. “Got a major blowout on the web. It’s like somebody poked a stick in a nest of fire ants, they’re running around, mad as hell, biting everybody close. You know, I wish your mother hadn’t gone home, I could sure use your help on this.”

Toni stared into the kitchen at Guru, who was pouring the coffee from the pot into a carafe, humming to herself.

It had to be a coincidence. Had to be.

But deep in her soul, Toni didn’t believe it. What she believed was, Guru had known!

She couldn’t have known that Alex would say that. And yet, there she was, making coffee, as if Toni had called and asked her to come up and watch the baby. She had come here, knowing Toni could use her help.

How was that possible?

“Toni?”

“Um. Yeah. Guru is here.”

“Really? That’s great. How is she?”

“Fine. She came to watch Little Alex so I could go back to work.”

Alex didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “Coincidence,” he finally said.

“She said I’d be going back to work sooner than I expected. She got here ten minutes ago.”

There was a long pause. “Coincidence,” he said again. “I have to believe that. It’s too spooky otherwise.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Coffee is ready,” Guru said from the kitchen. “Hello to Mr. Alex.”

“Guru says hello.”

“I heard.” Another pause. “Well, you might as well come on down here. I really do need all the help I can get.”

Net Force HQ Quantico, Virginia

Michaels cradled the receiver and shook his head. Someday, he was going to have to sit down with that old lady and ask her how this tenaga dalam, the “inside magic” she claimed to know, worked. There was probably some scientific explanation, but damned if he could figure out what it was.

Meanwhile, he had bigger problems. He voxaxed Jay Gridley.

“Talk to me, Jay.”

“We got it tracked to Blue Whale,” Jay said.

“Which is?”

“Major West Coast backbone server. Couple-three big nodes there.”

“What happened?”

“Don’t know yet, boss.”

“Go find out.”

“I’m gone.”

Michaels stood and headed for the door. His phone was going to ring in a minute or two, and the director of the FBI would be on the other end of the connection, wanting to know what the hell was going on. Since he didn’t have anything he could tell her, he wasn’t looking forward to the conversation.

His secretary looked up at him as he passed her desk. “I’m going to the bathroom,” he said. “When the director calls, tell her I’m indisposed.”

Becky said, “Take your virgil with you. I don’t want her yelling at me.”

Virgil was short for Virtual Global Interface Link, a device slightly larger than a cigarette-pack that was a phone, modem, computer, weavewire fax, GPS, credit card, scanner, clock, radio, TV, and emergency beacon all in