Net Force - Tom Clancy [72]
The masked man got the jump on him, though. He pulled away from the curb, leaving rubber as he upshifted.
All right, all right, it didnt matter! The Vette was fast, but it couldnt touch the Viper, through the gears or topside-it didnt have the guts, no way!
Gridley stomped the gas pedal, felt the Viper surge as if it was goosed. Gained on the Vette. Aloud, he said, Might as well shut it down, pal, you aint goin nowhere!
The narrow street hadnt been designed with muscle cars doing eighty in mind. A curve to the right burned more tire rubber on both vehicles, but Gridley kept the Viper on the road, shifting, tapping the gas, still gaining. He was a hundred feet back and hed eat that space in five more seconds-
The driver of the Vette threw a handful of shiny dimes into the air.
At least that was what it looked like at first. It wasnt until the dimes hit the street that Gridley saw they werent coins at all, but some kind of spiked things.
Caltrops!
He stood on the brake pedal. The Vipers brakes locked, the car skidded and slowed, but not enough. The left front tire went first, made a noise like a firecracker going off. The Viper lurched to the left. Gridley jerked the steering wheel, partially straightened the car out, almost had it-then the right front tire blew. The Viper spun into the new flat, lost traction as it hit the curb, popped both rear tires and slammed into a storefront. Glass exploded as the Viper smashed through a big window and into a small bakery, shattering display cases. The car slid backward, knocked over a table and came to a stop against a counter. The impact tumbled the old metal cash register onto the Vipers trunk.
The Viper was going to need some major repairs.
Covered with glass and pastries, Gridley looked up at a startled baker in a white apron and hat standing a foot away from the Vipers door.
Gridley shook his head. The guy had suckered him, trashed his ride and gotten away clean. He looked at the baker, who stared at him wide-eyed.
Hi there. Say, are your donuts, uh, fresh?
23
Friday, October 1st, 1:32 p.m. Washington D.C.
Standing at his locker, waiting for the thumbprint reader to open the door, Tyrone Howard heard the Voice of Doom. It didnt sound the way he thought the Voice of Doom would have sounded. Instead, it was soft, throaty, sexy, not a hint of disaster connected to it.
Hi. Are you Tyrone?
He turned and saw Belladonna Wright, all fourteen years of her, standing there, the most beautiful girl in Eisenhower Middle School, probably the most beautiful girl in all of the District. She was smiling at him.
Smiling at him.
He was a dead man.
What did she want with him! If anybody said anything to Bonebreaker LeMott, he might as well kiss his ass goodbye now and avoid the rush later. Jee-sus!
Uh, uh, yeah? To his horror-and burned forever into his memory-his voice cracked.
Sarah Peterson told me you were pretty good with computers, that you could make it so simple even a doof like me could understand it. I have to get at least an eighty in Basic Cee or Im in trouble. Could you maybe help me?
The voice of self-preservation screamed-from behind the big mind rock where it had run and hidden as soon as it realized who was talking to them:
No! Danger! Danger, Will Robinson! Warning, warning, run, flee, the dam busted, the volcano blew, the aliens are coming! No, sorry, no, cant do it, uh-uh, negative, negative, zipper-roo, count zero!
Uh, okay, sure, came out of Tyrones mouth.
Who said that? Are you insane? Death! Dismemberment! Destruction! Aaiiee! screamed the voice of self-preservation as it tried to dig a hole under the rock.
Oh, thank you. Okay, here is my number, Bella said. Call me and we can set up a time, pross?
Oh, yes, we pross! Bonebreaker LeMott taking us apart like an overcooked chicken, thats what we pross!
Tyrone took the slip of paper from her and smiled reflexively. P-p-pross.
She smiled, turned and walked away. Well, she swayed away, something like a Polynesian princess on a white sand beach in the hot