Net Force - Tom Clancy [19]
Here was VR power, the ability to create such visions, but VR power was but a small part of his talents.
He laughed aloud. It was good to be in control. And it was going to get better, very soon.
6
Tuesday, September 14th, 11:15 a.m. New York City
Ray Genaloni put the phones receiver down gently. Excuse me, but isnt this supposed to be a secure line? He did not raise his voice. He might have been asking about the weather. He pointed at the flashing red diode on the little electronic tap-detector connected to the telephones base. That doesnt look particularly secure to me.
Luigi Sampson, his enforcer, as well as the Vice President in charge of Security for Genaloni Industries-the more or less legal side of the operation-shrugged. The feds. They got stuff we cant get commercially.
Genaloni ground his teeth together. He mentally counted, slowly.
One two three
He had been working to control his temper for most of his forty years, and he was a little better at it than he used to be.
four five six
Twenty years ago, when Little Frankie Dobbs had given him a similar shrug for something that had pissed Ray off, he had beaten Little Frankies head in with a Louisville Slugger. Killed the idiot, ruined a nine-hundred-dollar suit with blood spatter, and had to beg his father for forgiveness because Little Frankie was almost a made guy and the son of an old friend besides.
seven eight nine ten.
All right, Ray said, feeling a little more in control, even if his anger was still hot and churning in his belly. As long as it didnt show, that was the thing. He had come a long way since Little Frankie. He wasnt going to fly off the handle and start doing stupid stuff, not now. He had a degree in business from Harvard. He was the CEO of a major company, not to mention head of the Family and all those businesses. Take it easy, find out whats going on.
He looked at Sampson, who sat on the couch across the desk from him. All right, Lou. Who is behind this? He waved at the phone.
Its coming out of the FBIs Net Force, Sampson said.
Genaloni adjusted the Windsor knot on his two-hundred-dollar silk tie. Calm. That was the way. Calm. Net Force? Thats computer stuff. We arent into that in any major way.
Sampson shook his head. Somebody knocked off their head guy in D.C. last week. Theyre looking at us for it.
Did we do it and somebody forgot to tell me?
We didnt do it, Boss.
Then why, pray tell, are they looking at us for it?
Somebody wants them to think its us. Whoever cooled the FBI guy used the same MO as our Ice Team.
Why would somebody want the feds to think we killed one of them? Never mind, I know the answer to that. So the question is, who is trying to put this one on us?
Genaloni leaned back in the massage chair, a four-thousand-buck unit full of motors and top-of-the-line electronics under a carefully distressed brown leather cover. The chair hummed and sensors measured and weighed and adjusted springs and cushions to support the small of his back. Hed injured his back on a dare when hed been fourteen, jumping sixty feet off a dock into the East River. That had been stupid two times: one, for the jump; two, for the polluted water. He was lucky he hadnt gotten hepatitis while hed been thrashing around in that crappy water, almost drowning from the pain. And his back had been giving him trouble on and off ever since.
I dont know, Ray. Weve got our people looking, but no leads yet.
All right. Keep at it. Find out who is trying to give us grief. Let me know as soon as you get it. And since I cant trust my own phones, get a message to the Selkie. Put him on standby.
Sampson said, We can handle this in-house, Ray. I got people.
Humor me, Lou. You know, me being the boss and all?
Sampson nodded. Right.
After Sampson had left, Ray touched a control on the chair and allowed the motors to rumble