Cybernation

“I really need to get this done,” he said. He waved at his desk.

“You’re the general, General.” He started to leave.

“Wait a second, I’ll go with you. This can wait.”

Julio grinned. “I thought it might.”

As they walked out, Julio said, “I ran into Jay Gridley out in the hall a few minutes ago. He seems to be a little nervous about his upcoming nuptials.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That being married is worse than death by Chinese water torture, of course. That if I had it to do all over again, I’d jump in front of a speeding train before I said ‘I do.’ ”

“You’re a braver man than I thought, Lieutenant. What if that somehow gets back to Joanna?”

“I’ll deny having said it to my last breath.”

“Which wouldn’t be long in coming if she thought you said such a thing.”

Julio chuckled. “I’m a career military man, sir. Not much she could do would scare me.”

“She could make you watch little Hoo on your poker night.”

“I was only joking. I told Gridley that. I also told him it was natural that he should feel nervous about taking the big step. That everybody does.”

“I never did,” Howard said. “Never crossed my mind.”

“And you were what — twelve when you got married? Never had a room of your own, much less a life before you met Nadine. You didn’t have anything to give up, except your virginity, now did you, sir?”

Howard laughed. “Unlike you, who lived alone so long that you had to relearn how to pick your socks up because you had never had to do that before? No, I knew Nadine was the best thing that was ever going to happen to me. Just like Joanna is the best thing that ever happened to you.”

“Yes, sir. But don’t let that get back to her, either. I’d never hear the end of it if she knew that was true.”

“She knows, Lieutenant, she knows.”

* * *

If he had had time, Santos would have taken the train up from Florida to the District of Columbia. The East Coast trains usually ran pretty well, they were clean, and it was relaxing to watch the country roll past your window at a speed where you could see much of it. The trip would have taken most of the day, and he could have gotten up, moved around, stretched out, eaten, drank, enjoyed the drone of wheels on steel.

But time was a luxury he seemed to have too little of, so he caught the jet shuttle, and what would have been a relaxing all-day ride became a two-hour hop. Not counting the forty-five minutes they circled the airport, waiting to land.

He rented a car at the airport. The car was a full-sized sedan, as big as they had, and he took out full insurance coverage on it. The name on the card he used matched the name of his fake driver’s license, both of which had been issued to a man in Georgia a few weeks ago. The card and license had not been used before, and the man whose name was on them had not reported them missing, since he had been dead before they were issued. It was a wonderful way to move around semi-legitimately. Somebody in CyberNation’s computer hutch had figured this out, applying for credit cards and duplicate licenses in the names of the recently departed who already had such things before the family thought to let anybody know. The geeks rented post office boxes, applied under several different names, and had the cards sent there. Once they had been used for a few days, the IDs could be tossed into the nearest trash bin. Very neat, no way to trace them.

He drove to a local hotel. He wore a suit and tie, carried a briefcase, and registered at the hotel, which catered to businessmen, looking as if he was one of them. Just another middle-class white-collar worker earning his living, no one to remember.

The briefcase contained not papers, however, but the gold coins he had gotten at such a bargain rate. While the guards at the metal detectors in the airport had been curious, they hadn’t even bothered to open the case to look. And if they had, they could have done nothing, because there was no law against carrying such things onto a plane. It wasn’t as if he was going to beat somebody to death with them, although technically that was possible. Slip fifteen or twenty of them into a sock, it would make a nice, hefty blackjack.

Once he was checked into the hotel, he took a stroll, ducked into a big drugstore, and bought a cheap disposable cell phone with thirty hours of credit on it. He used this to put in a call to his friend at the Brazilian Embassy. Morgan, who could always used a little extra money, was happy to hear from him, and they arranged to meet for supper at a restaurant not far from the hotel.

Between now and then, Santos had plenty of time to study the information he had about his target. This one would be simple, nothing complex about it at all. As soon as he had the gold transported, he would locate his quarry, and then it was merely a matter of waiting for the proper moment.

Hollywood, California

Two tall and well-muscled black men in different NBA uniforms played one-on-one basketball in a gym bathed in supernal beams of sunshine pouring in from big skylights in the gym’s roof. There was just enough dust in the air so the beams stood out, hard-edged and brilliant.

The men were the hottest small forwards from both teams in last year’s championship finals, all-stars, guys who routinely got triple-doubles when they played — ten or more shots, assists, and rebounds.

The one with the ball was dressed in black shorts, shoes, and tank top, the other player in white-on-white- on-white.

The offensive player jinked left, then right, dribbled behind his back, and stutter-stepped, trying to get into position to shoot at the goal.

The defensive player stayed with him, slapping at the ball. Two fine athletes at their peaks, beautiful to watch, even if you didn’t follow the game.

Both men sweated, fat drops that rolled and flew with their sudden moves.

The offensive player faked right, then twirled around to his left and got past the player in white…

Time slowed to a crawl. The ball bounced slowly, took two seconds to come back from the floor to the shooter’s hand. The sounds of heavy breathing grew louder, and when the ball hit the floor again, it sounded like a cannon—boom! — deep and vibrant. The ball bounced up. The shooter caught it, jumped for the dunk, moving in glacial slow-mo, as the player in white leaped to block…

The pair drifted through the air, seemingly as weightless as the dust motes in the gym’s air, floating oh-so- slowly toward the basket…

Time speeded back up to normal.

The offensive player slammed the ball down, playing well above the rim, and the net ka- thwipped! in that way it does only when the dunk is perfect. The two players came down and smiled at each other.

White Suit said, “Good move, brother.” He slapped the shooter on the shoulder, went to fetch the ball.

Black Suit said, “Yeah, I still got a few. Here’s another one for you — who’s doing your Internet service?”

White Suit shrugged. “Same provider I always use.” He tossed the ball to the other man.

Black Suit shook his head. “Naw, you need to lose that, man. I’m tight with CyberNation, it’s the only place to be.”

“CyberNation? I heard of them.”

“I’m telling you, it’s the way to go. They got VR so good, it’d help even you with your defense.”

“I got a cramp in my foot, is all. Try it again.”

Black Suit laughed and walked away, dribbling. White Suit dropped into a defensive crouch as the other player turned and started back toward him.

The words CyberNation appeared under the screen, with the URL. The scene faded to black, leaving the words alone on the black background with the sound of the dribbled ball echoing in the gym. The sound and image held for five seconds, then faded out.