Breaking point - By Tom Clancy & Steve Perry & Steve Pieczenik Page 0,3
men took care of business and soldiered on. That was the way his father had taught him, and that was how he’d lived his life. Wailing and wringing your hands was not what a man did. You screwed up, then you took the heat, and you got on with your life, period, end of story. What was that old saying: You can’t do the time, don’t do the crime? That was pretty much it.
In theory, anyway.
Thursday
Sperryville, Virginia
“Ow,” Jay Gridley said. He slapped at his bare arm, and when he pulled his hand away, there was a splotch of liquid red surrounding the crushed body of a mosquito. At least he thought it was a mosquito—it was hard to tell.
“Murderer,” Soji said. She smiled.
“Self-defense,” he said. “If I’d known I was gonna be attacked by all these itty-bitty vampires, I’d have thought twice about going for a walk in the woods with you. Or maybe brought a bunch of matches I could carve into wooden stakes. This would be so much more pleasant in VR.”
“My father used to say that God made two mistakes,” she said. “Mosquitoes and politicians. Of course, he was an alderman, so he could say that. But he was wrong—both mosquitoes and politicians have their places.”
Jay shook his head. “Sounds like more Buddhistic smoke and mirrors to me. You got to go some to justify mosquitoes.”
“Really? Tell that to the bats who eat them.”
“They could eat something else. Plenty of bugs that don’t bite people. They could double up on gnats or something.”
“Come on, Jay. If you take away everything that causes you discomfort, there’s no way to measure your pleasure.”
They were on a narrow dirt trail that wound through a section of mostly hardwood forest. There was enough shade so the day’s heat didn’t lay too heavy a hand on them, and the air was rich in oxygen, the smells of warm summer vegetation, and decades of damp humus. The backpack was a lot heavier than anything Jay was used to carrying, but since Soji’s was every bit as heavy, he could hardly complain. He had the tent, but she had the cooking gear.
He shook his head. He couldn’t successfully argue philosophy or religion with Sojan Rinpoche. She could talk circles around him. Though only in her twenties, she was much more educated in such things than he was. They had met after the on-line injury he’d got stalking the creator of a quantum computer that had caused Net Force all kinds of problems. Since they had come together initially in VR—virtual reality—via the internet, they had been in persona, and hers had been that of an aged Tibetan monk. She was a lot better looking as a young woman than she had been as an old man. And she had been instrumental in helping him recover from a brain injury that theoretically wasn’t even possible.
“See, that’s the problem with you, Jay. You spend too much time on-line. You need to get out more.”
“I could put mosquitoes in a scenario if I wanted.”
“You could. But have you ever?”
“Well, no.”
“And without experiencing real bugs sucking your blood and going splat when you slap them, you wouldn’t be able to do it accurately. And even then, it would only be an imitation, and not the real thing.”
“But isn’t this all just an illusion?” He waved one hand to encompass the wooded hillside.
“Wrong religion, white boy. Try the Hindus or the existentialists. Buddhists aren’t into denying reality. We like to get down and roll around in it.”
“What about that old man persona of yours on the net?”
“A tool, that’s all. Got me past a lot of preconceptions, and made my patients relax. Besides, an illusion is by definition not real, so altering it one way or the other doesn’t make it any more or less real, now does it?”
He chuckled. Boy, he liked being with her.
“So how much farther is it to this secret place of yours?”
“Not far. Couple more miles.”
He gave out a theatrical groan. “You didn’t tell me I was going to have to hike halfway around the planet carrying a house on my back. This better be worth the walk.”
“Oh, it will be. Guaranteed satisfaction or your money back.”
Well, that sounded promising. He slapped at another mosquito, and was inclined to agree with Soji’s father on at least one point, despite what she’d said.
2
Quantico, Virginia
When John Howard walked into the range, he heard, “Tens-hut! General in the house! Morning, Brigadier.”