At the least, the e-mail would buy the rest of the day. Which should be more than enough.

Friday, October 8th, 12:18 p.m. Quantico Toni went through her djurus, djurus, pausing after each one to do the corresponding pausing after each one to do the corresponding sambut sambut. She was the only woman working out. There were a few other men in the gym today, but Rusty was not among them. When she'd told him she wasn't going to be sleeping with him anymore, she thought he'd taken it rather well. No obvious anger, no tears, just a kind of surprised acceptance. "Oh?" It had gone much better than she'd hoped or expected.

Except that she hadn't heard from him since. She'd said she was going to try to be in the gym today and she expected him--he hadn't missed a cla.s.s before--to show up.

Surprise. So maybe it hadn't gone as well as she'd thought.

She came up from the squat in Djuru Three, Djuru Three, threw the right-vertical-forearm strike, then punched, continued to rise, alternating the next two punches. threw the right-vertical-forearm strike, then punched, continued to rise, alternating the next two punches.

She hoped Rusty wasn't going to quit cla.s.s. She had been enjoying having a student, and learning a lot in the process of teaching.

But of course, it was his choice.

What was it with men that they could be your friend, then your lover, but they couldn't go back to just being friends if the other didn't work out?

She finished the series and shook her hands out. She was still tight.

A brunette in office clothes walked to the water fountain and smiled and nodded at Toni. Toni didn't recognize the woman, but she nodded absently back. Solving the Rusty problem didn't solve the Alex problem. How was she going to get him to notice her?

The brunette went into the locker room. Toni dismissed her from her thoughts, but a moment later, the brunette came out, all upset.

"Excuse me, miss," she said. "There's a lady having some trouble in there--she looks like she's having some kind of seizure! I called Medical but, oh, I'm afraid she's going to hurt herself! Can you help?"

Toni nodded. "Sure."

She followed the brunette into the locker room.

Friday, October 8th, 12:18 p.m. Quantico Jay Gridley and John Howard had joined Michaels in the small conference room. He knew protocol said he should keep these two meetings apart, the need-to-know business the spooks were always hammering at everybody, but he figured his top people needed to know what each was doing. Besides, if he happened to feel like it, there wasn't much Jay Gridley couldn't find out from a computer system he'd helped design and install.

"Jay?"> "Okay, Boss, here's the way it lays out." He waved the presentation computer to life. "We've been able to piece together some of Plekhanov's itinerary over the last few months. I can give you the details and show how brilliant we were in making some connections, if you want."

"I'll stipulate to your brilliance," Michaels said. "Let's hear a bottom line."

"All right. This is iffy, you understand, but what it looks like is, he's trying to buy himself a government or two."

Michaels nodded. Lobbyists did that all the time, and as long as they kept within the legally established limits, that was acceptable.

"Some of the people he connected with are less careful than Plekhanov. We think he's got a good chance of deciding who the President and Prime Ministers for two, maybe three CIS governments are going to be in the next elections, including those in Chechnya, where he lives. We don't have any direct proof, of course. We'd need his files for that."

Howard said, "What do you suppose our chances are of getting him turned over to us if the head of the government we ask owes Plekhanov big-time?"

It was a rhetorical question. Michaels said, "I don't much like this, Jay."

"Well, then, you're really going to hate this next part. Some of those people we were able to put in Plekhanov's vicinity? There are a couple of generals in there."

Howard looked at Jay. "Great."

Michaels said, "You think he's planning some kind of coup?"

Jay shrugged. "No way to be sure. But given the way this guy moves, yeah, I'd have to say it's a possibility."

Michael turned to Howard. "Colonel?"

"It would make sense, sir. Getting himself elected into power would be easier, but if I were him and willing to stage big-time computer theft and sabotage, maybe worse, I'd want a backup plan. Sometimes when ballots don't work, bullets will. A key military commander on your side, control of the media, n.o.body knows what's going on until it's too late--it would be good insurance."

Michaels stared at the other men, each in turn. "So, even if we could come up with proof that this guy was about to buy himself an election and then get somebody in power to believe us. . . ."

"He'd probably bag the election and start a civil war instead," Howard said. "By the time anybody from outside got there, the party would be over, a done deal."

"s.h.i.t."

"Yes, sir," Howard said. "I believe that about sums it up."> Michaels blew out a big sigh. Jesus. What a can of worms this was turning out to be!

"Okay, Colonel. You have some happier news for me?"

"Relatively speaking, sir. My best-case scenario for the operation to, ah, collect collect Mr. Plekhanov comes in at seventy-eight percent." Mr. Plekhanov comes in at seventy-eight percent."

"That's good, isn't it?"

"I would prefer a higher percentage from the S&T computer, but anything over seventy percent is considered militarily acceptable. Although no battle plan survives first contact with the enemy."

"I'll want to see it," he said.

"Sir. Right here."

Alex's secretary came in. "Commander? Toni Fiorella on the private line."

He waved her out. "Gentlemen, let me take this call."

The colonel and Gridley nodded, and went back to looking at their presentations.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"Commander Michaels? This is Christine Wesson, from Supply? I was working out in the gym and Deputy Commander Fiorella asked me to call you--this is her virgil unit. She's had an accident, Medical is on the way, but I think maybe she's got a broken leg."

Toni was hurt? "A broken leg leg?"

"One of the exercise machines fell over on her. She says she's okay, she just wanted to let you know she'd be late for her meeting. But between you and me, she's in a lot of pain."

"I'm on my way," he said.

The two men looked up at him, having heard his end of the conversation as they pretended to be busy.

"Is Toni okay?" Jay said.

"Apparently. Some kind of exercise equipment failure. Medical is on the way, but I want to check on her. You two put your heads together and see what more sense you can make out of this mess. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Sure thing, Boss."

"Sir."> Michaels started for the hall.

Friday, October 8th, 12:28 p.m. Quantico Half in and half out of the shower stall, the Selkie held the gun aimed at the woman sitting cross-legged on the tile floor inside. If anybody came in, they would not see Fiorella, nor would they see the gun. The Selkie was tempted to shoot her, but she didn't want to risk the noise--or to waste any of her precious ammunition. If something went wrong, she might need the gun to escape. She also might need the woman to get the target in here; after that, Fiorella was as dead as Michaels. The Selkie would use the stubby ceramic knife strapped to her thigh under her skirt to do both of them. Shut them up in a shower stall, rinse away any blood spatter, and she could be halfway across Maryland before anybody discovered the bodies. A double deletion inside Net Force HQ--they'd be talking about that forever.

Fiorella twitched.

"Keep your hands on your head," the Selkie said.

"You can't get away with this."

"If you wiggle crooked, it won't matter to you."

"We know who you are."

"Uh-huh."

"You're not as good as you think--Mora Sullivan."

That surprised her. How the h.e.l.l had they found that out? She had a quick spasm of panic, fought it down. Sullivan was just another name now, one more disposable ID. Still . . . "We're going to have to have a little talk before I leave," the Selkie said.

The woman was scared--and well she should be--but she said, "I don't think so."

Another gutsy woman. d.a.m.n. Too bad she had to kill her.

"Toni?" came a voice from outside the locker room's door.

"In here!" the Selkie said. "Hurry!"

She heard the sound of fast footsteps. She grinned.

Friday, October 8th, 8:37 p.m. Grozny Plekhanov didn't need to use VR to see that trip wires were broken all over his walkways. They knew who he was, and they were probing every aspect of his life they could reach. He didn't think they could find much, but he was worried a bit more than he had been. This d.a.m.nable child child who worked for Net Force might be faster than he was smart, but somebody brighter might take notice of some of the patterns and draw a conclusion Plekhanov did not want them to draw. Or they might feed all the bits they had to an AI-a.n.a.log, and have the computer make a connection a human might not be clever enough to see. This was very much not to his liking. who worked for Net Force might be faster than he was smart, but somebody brighter might take notice of some of the patterns and draw a conclusion Plekhanov did not want them to draw. Or they might feed all the bits they had to an AI-a.n.a.log, and have the computer make a connection a human might not be clever enough to see. This was very much not to his liking.

And he was so close; it was but a matter of days until the special election was to be held. All he needed was to stall them just a little longer. Then it truly wouldn't matter what they knew. Even now, it was probably too late for anybody to thwart him, but he was a careful man. People had told him that he was too too careful, that he lingered for another look when he should be leaping, but they were wrong. Those who had uttered such stupidities--where were they now? Not where he was, poised to control the destinies of millions. careful, that he lingered for another look when he should be leaping, but they were wrong. Those who had uttered such stupidities--where were they now? Not where he was, poised to control the destinies of millions.

No, he would add one more piece of insurance, something to make them think. One more obstacle to make certain they stumbled and could not recover in time to catch him.

He put in a call to the Rifle.

Friday, October 8th, 12:37 p.m. Quantico Give him credit, the Selkie thought. As soon as he saw the gun, he knew what was going on. She quickly pointed it back at the woman in the shower. "Move and she dies."

The target nodded. "I understand. I'm not armed." He spread his hands wide, to show they were empty.

The Selkie shook her head. How stupid of him not not to be armed. to be armed.

"All right. Slow and easy, over here."

Michaels felt the fear in the pit of his belly like shards of cold gla.s.s, but he knew he was going to have to go for the a.s.sa.s.sin anyway. He had to keep her from shooting Toni. And if he was going to die, he was going to go out on his feet, moving toward the threat and not away from it.

He took a slow breath. Held it--

Toni sat very still, watching. She was going to have to make her move soon. She tried to keep her breathing calm and steady, but it was hard. This was the a.s.sa.s.sin, the woman who had erased Ray Genaloni, tried to do the same to Alex, and who might or might not have murdered Steve Day. For sure, if Toni didn't do something, the woman was going to kill her and Alex. The gun was one of those ceramic things, but that didn't make it any less deadly.

She could come up from a cross-legged sit, had done it in practice thousands of times. A silat silat player had to be able to work from the ground. If the woman was six inches closer, she could reach her with a kick. player had to be able to work from the ground. If the woman was six inches closer, she could reach her with a kick.

If, if if.

Alex said, "Toni? You okay?"

"Yes," she said.

Alex was getting closer. The gun was still pointed at her, and Toni knew if she moved, she was certainly going to get shot, but that would buy Alex a second or two. She had to do it.

Toni inhaled slowly, a long breath. Held it. Made herself ready-- "Don't move! FBI!" somebody yelled.

Toni looked at the reflection in the shower door.

Rusty--?!

The Selkie reacted without thinking, almost a reflex. When the man at the locker room entrance jumped into the room, pointing what looked like a gun at her, she swung her own pistol over and fired. The little gun bucked hard in her hand, light as it was, but she saw the man react as the shot took him in the center of ma.s.s. He went down. No vest-- The target lunged at her, screaming something.

Too fast to get to the knife. She thrust the pistol at him, fired-- "No!" the woman in the shower screamed. Then she slammed into the Selkie and they both went flying. She lost the pistol, hit next to a bench, managed to roll up as Fiorella also got to her feet.

The Selkie kicked away her shoes, ripped her skirt off, grabbed the knife and jerked it from the thigh sheath, gripped the blade in front of her to slash or stab. She glanced at the target--he was down, hit in the leg, it looked like--no threat to her. The Fiorella woman was the danger. She was up, trained, prepared.

The Selkie turned to face her, knife held ready. She would have to hurry. The shots would draw attention.

She had first learned street fighting from her father, who had survived several hand-to-hand encounters. She had trained with half-a-dozen fighters since, including a couple of Filipinos who were experts with a stick or blade. She would cut the woman down, finish the target and run. If she hurried, she could still get free in the confusion.