Free Net Force by Tom Clancy

digital world, and it sure looked like one of the old hot rods. Drove nice, too, though Michaels hadn’t gotten a chance to do much of that yet. Several parts of the engine were on the workbench, including the electronic fuel-injection unit, which was much in need of work or outright replacement. The last guy who’d owned the car had apparently tried to fix it on his own, and just as apparently, had not known which end of a screwdriver was which.
        Michaels wiped much of the grime from his hands on a red shop rag, tossing the cloth into a steel rag bin when he was done. His grandfather had been a bug about spontaneous combustion, though the idea of a hand-cleaner rag bursting into flame seemed far-fetched to Michaels. The rest of the grease should come off just fine in the shower.
        The doorbell rang. Hmm. Must be his driver. He was early; he wasn’t supposed to show up for another half hour. The assassination protocols were still in effect-for another few days, anyhow-so one of the guards posted out front would have intercepted anybody who didn’t have clearance to approach his house.
        Michaels reached for the intercom. “Larry?”
        “Not that I noticed,” a woman’s voice said.
        “Toni?”
        “Yep.”
        “Come around to the garage, I’ll let you in.” He hit the control for the electric gate lock that allowed access into his yard, then tapped the garage-door opener as Toni rounded the corner.
        “Wow. So this is the new car?”
        He grinned. “This is the beast.”
        She stepped into the garage, and put one hand on the right rear fender. “It looks great.”
        “I’d offer to take you for a ride, but she’s not on-line at the moment.” He waved at the part on the workbench.
        “Fuel injectors clogged?” she said.
        That surprised him. It must have shown in his face.
        Before he could say anything, she shrugged. “I grew up with a house full of brothers. Cars were big status symbols in our neighborhood. The boys always had one beater or another up on jacks, trying to keep it running. I picked up a little bit about them on the way. This a V-Eight?”
        “A V-Six,” he said. “A 3.5 liter, 24-valve single overhead cam, but it’ll develop just over two hundred horsepower at 5900 RPM. It’s not a muscle machine like the Dodge Viper-one of those will blow the doors off a Corvette-but it’ll scoot right along.” Toni was tough, beautiful-and she knew about cars. There was a combination a lot of men would appreciate in a woman, him included.
         Dangerous road, Alex. Better stay off it .
        “Let me know when you get it running,” she said.
        “I will. So, what brings you here so early?”
        “We’ve had some developments.”
        His house phone rang. He nodded at Toni. “Just a second.” He walked to the wall, intending to get rid of whoever it was.
        “Hello?”
        “Hi, guess who!”
        “Susie! How are you?”
        “Great, Dadster. Mom said I should call and thank you for the skates.”
        For a moment, he went blank; then the empty spot was filled with panic. Her birthday was yesterday! Jesus, how could he have forgotten that? And what skates was she talking about? Had Megan covered for him? That would be a first.
        “How was the party, hon? I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for it.”
        “It was terrif. All my friends came, except Lori, but she’s got the flu, so that’s okay, and even Tommy Jerkface Stupid Dumb Head came.”
        Michaels grinned. At seven-no, eight, now-Susie had never been shy in expressing herself. Tommy must be the new boy she liked. The worse the names, the more the like. He felt a pang of sadness, another stabbing sensation in his gut. It was a long way from Boise to Washington, D.C. He was missing all of Susie’s best moments.
        “How’s your mother?”
        “She’s fine. She’s making breakfast. We got to sleep in because