"Clancy, Tom - Net Force 06 - Cybernation" - читать интересную книгу автора (Clancy Tom)

6 NET FORCE Dry Wells, North Dakota

Chief of Police Steve Gotten stared through his window at the icy morning outside. The new power grid had just up and shut down. With the temperature at minus fourteen and the windchill factor pushing minus fifty, the lights, electric heat, and all phone and net service simply stopped.
The citizens of North Dakota knew how to deal with cold, and usually had enough wood stockpiled for such emergencies. The chief himself had six split cords under a tarp next to his garage, but there were people old enough so that splitting and then hauling in firewood would be a hard chore. Four men had already had fatal heart attacks; two others injured themselves badly enough to require hospitalization. Chief Gotten knew there would be another group unable to heat their homes who were likely to die from hypothermia.
The chief sighed. It was turning out to be an all around, in the toilet, crappy morning here, oh, yeah.

On the Gambling Ship Bon Chance Somewhere in the Caribbean

Alone in his cabin, Jackson Keller slipped the headset up, pulled the earplugs loose, shucked his haptic gloves, and grinned at the holoproj's test pattern. "Way to go, team," he said. "Let's see how they like thatl"
They weren't gonna like it at all. Jay Gridley especially wasn't gonna like it.
He laughed. Ah, this was going to be so much fun!

1

Net Force HQ Quantico, Virginia

Alex Michaels, Commander of Net Force, swore softly at the empty computer screen on his desk. He picked up his phone and said, "Jay Gridley."
The voxax circuit made the connection, but internal corns were pictureless. The voice on the other end said, "What? I'm kind of busy here!"
"Jay. What the hell is going on?"
"Oops. I didn't check the ID sig, sorry, boss. We got problems."
"Really? You think so?"
"I guess you wouldn't be calling if you didn't already know that."
"What's up?"
"I don't know. Our main server is off-line, and all wireless external phone lines are bollixed. My virgil's emergency circuit says there are outages like this everywhere, all over the country."
"Great."

8 NET FORCE

"I'm trying to run it down, boss."
"Don't let me keep you. Call me back when you get something."
Michaels put down the phone. Well, wasn't this just peachy? A few minutes ago, he'd been patting himself on the back, telling himself how great things were going. Business had been slow, Net Force had been on top of computer crime like never before, even the director had called to congratulate him on how good a job they'd been doing. He should have known better than to feel good about this. It was as if while God was having his morning coffee, Michaels had strolled by, full of hubris and proud of himself, and bumped God's elbow, sloshing hot coffee into His divine lap.
Oops.
Here, son, let me show you what goeth before a fall...
He should have known.
He was paying for it now. Because he knew that whatever the problem was with the net and phones, it was going to be Net Force's responsibility. No question about it.
"Sir?" His secretary.
"Yes?"
"The director is on the intercom. Line one."
Michaels nodded. Of course she was. He sighed and reached for the phone.

Helsinki, Finland

Jasmine Chance walked down the hall toward the office Roberto had cleared of furniture and made into a workout space. Music drifted out of Roberto's makeshift gym, drums and the singsong twang of berimbau, an instrument that looked vaguely like an archery bow strung with a metal wire, and with a gourd attached to one end. Roberto had explained the workings of this device in much greater


CYBERNATION 9

detail than Chance had ever wanted to know. The instrument was played by hitting the wire with a little stick while rattling a gourd filled with pebbles in the same hand, and the musician could alternate between two notes by touching the wire with a coin or not. Santos liked to have his players use a Krugerrand, gold giving the best tone, so he said. The simple rhythms produced were part and parcel of the acrobatic African/South American martial art of Capoeira that Roberta Santos-a black, Brazilian master of the dance who bore the title of Capoeirista Mestre-practiced for hours every day.
Chance stepped into the doorway just as Roberto leaped into the air and turned a back somersault, landed neatly on the balls of his feet, then dropped into a spraddle-legged posture, sweeping one foot along the floor in a broad half- circle. Only the palm sides of the hands and soles of the feet were ever supposed to touch the ground, he had told her, that was part of O Jdgo, The Game. Capoeira was a fighting system developed by slaves, and while one school of history had it that it had been disguised as a dance so as to fool the white masters, Roberto had been quick to point out that such thinking was simplistic.