Thomas Thorn was reviewing personnel files when his intercom lit up.
“Commander Thorn? I’ve got General John Howard on line one.”
Thorn looked at the speaker box on his desk. It still surprised him that Net Force, of all places, didn’t have something more high-tech — maybe even something virtual — in place of their old-fashioned intercom system. Maybe he would speak to Jay Gridley about that one of these days. “Thanks,” he said. “I’ll take it.” He waved his hand over the phone back and forth twice. The phone came to life.
“Commander,” the general said.
Thorn looked at the image of John Howard, a forty-something African-American who had run Net Force’s military arm since its inception. Howard had left to take a job as a consultant at the same time that Thorn had taken over the organization last year.
Howard was a good man, and a good general. Thorn had been sorry to see him leave.
“General. How are you?”
“Fine, sir.”
“Still enjoying consulting?”
“Yes, sir. Or at least I was.”
“Sounds like one shoe dropping, John,” Thorn said with a small smile. “Want to let the other one go?”
Howard’s image nodded. “Commander, I understand Net Force recently received a request by the Army for help regarding an unexpected problem with the military’s VR exercises.”
“That’s correct, General,” Thorn said. “We were up to our ears in work — somebody in the Internet Fraud Complaint Center and the National White Collar Crime Center dropped a ball and asked us to take up the slack.”
“Yes, sir. Well, the problem has gotten worse, and the Army’s experts haven’t been able to pin it down.”
“I’ve heard that, too,” Thorn said, frowning. After a moment he added, “So why are you calling about this, John?”
Howard hesitated, then said, “An old friend in the Pentagon thought I might be able to help.”
“Is lobbying part of your consulting now?”
Howard smiled. “Personal touch never hurts.”
Thorn smiled, too. “True,” he said. “I’ll see if I can shake some help loose to take a look at the military’s problem. I can’t promise anything — seems as if we are being nibbled to death by little fishes here lately.”
Howard didn’t reply, but he didn’t move to break the connection, either.
“Something more, John?” Thorn asked.
Howard nodded, all trace of humor gone from his face. “Sir, the powers that be at the DoD were concerned that Net Force might not consider this a priority item.”
Thorn sighed. “What can I say? You worked here, you know how it goes. Running errands for the DoD is not in our mission statement. We’re a civilian organization under the direction of the FBI, with a little National Guard in the mix.”
“Yes, sir, but the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs is involved with this. The man is used to getting his way.”
It wasn’t the most subtle threat Thorn had ever heard. He felt an immediate, almost reflexive, pulse of anger.
“Well, I appreciate the heads-up, and General Hadden certainly has the clout to make us dance. It wouldn’t be a good idea for him to thump us too hard with it, though. Unhappy workers don’t always do the best job.”
“No, sir.” Howard paused again, but not quite as long this time. “Commander,” he said, “I think it would be a good idea if we met. There are some things I know that you need to know — material I would rather talk about face-to-face.”
Thorn felt a sudden chill. That didn’t sound good.
“Okay. What’s good for you?”
“I can be there in an hour.”
“That fast?”
“Yes, sir. Some grains, the military grinds slow and fine. Some, they chop quick and coarse. Bread is about to be baked, and in your oven.”
“Come on in, General. And, John?”
“Commander?”
“Thanks again. I appreciate it.”
Howard discommed and Thorn sat back in his chair, staring at the blank screen. He didn’t like the sound of this at all. Maybe he had time to step down the hall to the gym and do a little epee work before the general arrived. Never hurt to be relaxed when problems arrived, and he had a feeling one was about to do just that…
Comrade General Wu stood in his office, staring out the window. From here you could see the lights of the casinos. Tonight’s rain turned them into blurry, distant smears of neon and glare.
A pretty sight, but Wu hated them.
Billions of dollars ran through those buildings each year. Like it or not, capitalism was here to stay. Even many of the hard-liners had agreed when the concept of property rights had been put into the Chinese constitution a decade ago. Wu shook his head. Only a fool could still pretend that Communism was going to win out in the end, and whatever else Comrade General Wu might be, he was
His secretary buzzed him on the intercom.
“Comrade General, Comrade Shing is here.”
“Send him in.”
Wu went back to his chair and sat, keeping his back straight, his posture that of a soldier. Shing was a civilian, and while he was Wu’s man for a number of reasons, not the least of which was money, civilians were unpredictable. Wu needed him, no question, but he didn’t have to like the man. Shing represented much that Wu detested.
Not that Wu would ever let even a hint of his feeling about this shine through.
“Comrade General,” Shing said, offering a cursory military bow.
“Comrade Shing,” Wu said, staying in his seat and returning the nod with just a hair less angle. “Please, have a seat.”
Shing sat. The chair facing the desk was comfortable, excessively so. Wu knew men of the old school who thought a hard wooden chair or even a backless bench was better for visitors, to keep them on edge, but Wu was not of that mind. A man who was comfortable and relaxed was more apt to reveal his true nature.
One did not have real power without access to truth.
Shing was a computer expert, in his twenties, educated at MIT in the United States, and as sharp as a master butcher’s favorite boning knife. Shing had gone to America young, learned the language, the culture, and, more importantly, as much about the computer business as anybody. Wu did not trust him as far as he could spit against a cyclone, but he needed good tools, and Shing at least was Chinese, of a good family, and somewhat loyal to the homeland. He was also a genius in the ways of modern electronica, and that was a prime consideration.
Wu hated computers and the cultures that had spawned them. The West was corrupt in so many ways a man could spend half his life just listing them aloud. They had no tradition, no honor, no
Wu intended to help China recover her glory and status. She was well on the way, but he would provide a small boost.
History was full of men who, when they acted at the proper moment with the proper motion, had swung the course of events in new directions. Wu would be one of those men. He had spent half his life gathering the proper tools, and if he had to use one such as Shing, so be it. There were times when you fought fire with water, and times when you did it with fire. However distasteful Shing’s manner and mores, he was what Wu needed to go up against
