Net Force - Tom Clancy [91]
Plekhanov shook his head at his paranoia. It was nothing. A Kaffir boy, showing off for his pretty friend by blowing past the fastest vehicle on the road, risking the dangers of oncoming traffic. He had been that young once, although it had been aeons ago. He would not go back to those days, exchange his hard-earned knowledge and wisdom for the hot hormones and reckless carpe diem philosophy of youth. Teenagers thought they would live forever, that they could do anything in the world. He knew better.
Always, there were limits to such things. Even the richest and most powerful men who ever lived eventually went the way of all flesh. Another fifty or sixty years, and his time would be up. But at least in his case, it would be quality time. Quality time indeed.
28
Sunday, October 3rd, 2:20 p.m. Quantico
Jay Gridley was on the net, piloting the Viper at high speed through the middle of Nowhere, Montana, when the override cut into the scenario. What he heard was the chirp of the unlisted landline phone in his apartment. He did a cycle-and-bail from the VR program, degeared and voxaxed the incoming call.
Yeah?
Mr. Gridley? said a young womans voice.
Jay frowned. Nobody who had his private code for the landline should be calling him Mister. He said, Who is this?
My name is Belladonna Wright. Im a friend of Ty Howard.
Before Gridley could wonder too much about that, the girl said, Ty is on-line in a scenario. He said to call you and give you the coordinates. He thinks he might have found the blue Corvette youre looking for.
Jesus! Where?
She rattled off the coordinates. Gridley had the computer feed the numbers directly into his VR program. Thanks, Ms. Wright. Tell him Im on the way. Discom.
Gridley immediately started back to VR, but as he was about to initiate mode, he stopped. Probably it wasnt, but if it was the right car, the driver would surely be suspicious of the Viper. Better switch programs, no point in taking any chances. Something not so flashy.
Gridley called up the gray Neon.
The most common car on the RW roads was a two-year-old Neon, and the most common color of such automobiles was gray. For newbies and people who didnt care what they drove on the net, it was the default vehicle. No doubt Dodge had paid the big servers a whole bunch for that default setting. A Viper was a standout ride, stylish, classy, you got noticed in one. But another gray Neon? Driving such a car made you more or less invisible. And if you knew what you were doing, you could hide something more powerful than a stock engine under the plain-vanilla hood. It wouldnt be as fast as his usual mode of choice, but it would trade off speed for anonymity. If this was the guy, he most definitely did not want him to spot him too soon.
He cranked the program and set it for the coordinates.
The coordinates turned out to be a truck stop-style service station in western Germany. As Gridley pulled the car into the parking area, he saw a pretty girl walk from the public fresher toward Tyrone, who stood by his parked Harley, next to a big Volvo electric van sucking a torrent charge. This was a realistic scenario. Tyrone didnt see him as he drove up; he was looking at the restaurants parking area.
Gridley glanced at the restaurant, and saw the Vette parked next to the building. It was the right model and color, but that didnt mean much by itself. He pulled the Neon to a stop close to Tyrones bike, getting quick notice from the boy and girl. He killed the engine and stepped out of the car. It was cool, crisp, a perfect fall day. The smell of diesel hung in the air, along with the ozone odor of the big step-down charger feeding juice to the van. This was a very realistic scenario.
Hey, Tyrone.
Hey, Jay Gee. Uh, this is, uh, Belladonna. Bella,