Net Force - Tom Clancy [48]
15
Tuesday, September 21st, noon Quantico
Toni Fiorella was practicing sempok and depok, moves that allowed a fighter to go quickly from standing to sitting positions while keeping a defense. To do these properly required a fair amount of balance and leg strength, and she tried to include them in most of her workouts to maintain both. Silat had a lot of ground-fighting techniques, but being able to spring to ones feet in a hurry from a seated position was also part of the training. It was hard on the knees, however.
She was breathing hard and working on a pretty good sweat when Jesse Russell came into the gym. No spandex this time. He wore faded black sweat pants, an oversize black T-shirt and mat shoes.
Hey, he said.
Mr. Russell.
Rusty. Please.
All right. Rusty.
What, uh, do I call you in class? As a gesture of respect? Sensei? Sifu?
The term we use for teacher is Guru, she said.
He smiled. Really?
Indonesia got a lot of its culture from the mainland, some from the Hindu and Moslem religions.
He laughed.
She raised her eyebrows.
He said, I was just thinking about telling my friend Harold about this: I went to see my guru today. Yeah? You learning how to meditate?
Actually, shes teaching me how to kick some serious ass.
Toni smiled. Are you serious, Rusty? About learning?
Yes, maam. I trained five years in taekwondo, and Im pretty sure I can handle myself in most situations, but its mostly outfighting, long range. This in-your-face stuff sorta came as a surprise. Id really like to learn it.
All right. There are three things you want to remember: base, angle and leverage. And one of the most basic principles works on taking the center line-you want to control the area in front of your head and body, and in front of an opponents head and body. Im going to demonstrate the first djuru. Watch me, and then well break it down.
He nodded. Yes, maam.
Tuesday, September 21st, noon Quantico
When Alex Michaels bothered to eat lunch, he usually ate it at his desk. The unit secretary would get his order, put it on the list and fax it to the deli guy, who would deliver the food to the reception guard just after noon. Before the deli had been approved as a supplier, Net Force had run a background on the delis owner, his wife and grown kids and the guy who brought the orders. Even so, when the assassination protocols had been in place, if anybody wanted to order out, an agent had to hand-carry the order to the store, then stand and watch the food as it was prepared. Security was tight, and rightfully so-why bother to shoot somebody if you could poison his lunch?
Michaels was partial to the Reuben sandwich and potato salad, and the crunchy dill pickle, quarter-sliced lengthways, that came with it. That was what he usually ordered.
On days when he just had to get out of the unit for a few minutes, he skipped the deli order and the Net Force cafeteria and went to the new restaurant row a couple miles away. In good weather, he took his recumbent trike, a low-slung sixteen-gear three-wheeler he left parked in the covered bike racks.
Today, the weather was a little crisper than it had been, not quite so warm and muggy, a good day for pedal power. He could legally take the trike on the roads, but there was a jogging/bike path that wound from the edge of the fence, and while it was twice as long, it was a much prettier and safer trip. It had been two weeks since Days murder, and since there had not been any more assassination attempts on federal officials-if you didnt count the Ninth Circuit Court judge whose wife had beaned him with a fishbowl during an argument about his alleged extramarital affair-the assassination protocols had been downgraded. Now, it was basically pay-attention-to-things, but not an active alert with bodyguards, at least not at his level.
He changed into bike shoes and shorts and a T-shirt in his office, stuck his taser into a small fanny pack with his ID and virgil and put his foam helmet on. He walked outside to the bike and trike racks, unlocked his trike and wheeled it out into the parking