Free Night Moves by Tom Clancy, Steve Pieczenik Page B

but the flight control systems and auto nav landing beacons as well. A quick check showed problems in Los Angeles, New York, Dallas-Fort Worth, Denver, Sydney, Auckland, Jakarta, New Delhi, Hong Kong, Moscow, Paris, and London. Passenger air travel at major terminals around the world had been brought to a virtual halt in a matter of minutes.
Airline personnel were trying to manage, but without computers, the process was next to impossible. In many places, you couldn't buy a ticket or get a seat assignment. If you could, there wasn't likely to be plane waiting--assuming you could find the proper gate--and if you did find a plane, it wasn't going

anywhere any time soon.
Today, at least, man was apparently not meant to fly. "Jesus," Michaels said.
"It's a mess, all right. And you know what?" Michaels nodded sourly.
"Yeah. Somehow, it's going to become our mess." He knew he shouldn't have said that, knew that the bored god who stood watch for fools was ever alert for just such comments. The response wasn't long in coming. "Commander Michaels?"
Michaels found himself staring at a tall, green-eyed woman of maybe thirty. She had short, dishwater-blonde hair, and was dressed in a dark, conservative suit, with a skirt almost to her knees, and sensible flats. When she took a step toward him, he figured she was a gymnast. Or a dancer, maybe. Very nice ... "Yes?" "My name is Angela Cooper, I'm with MI-6." She pulled out a wallet with a holographic ID and showed it to him.
"Would you and Ms. Fiorella be good enough to accompany me? Minister Wood and Director-General Hamilton would like very much to have a word with you." "We're supposed to catch a plane," he said. Cooper nodded at the television, then gave him a small smile. "I'm afraid that's unlikely in the near future, sir. And if we are going to repair that problem, we could use your help. We've cleared it with your director." Michaels looked at Toni. She raised her eyebrows in a what-the-hell expression. Well, why not? It would probably beat sitting in a crowded waiting room at the airport. Besides, he had heard a lot about the MI-6 building; it would be interesting to see it, if nothing else. Something about Angela Cooper grated on Toni. As Cooper drove the three of them through the London streets in the big right-hand-drive Dodge toward Vaux-hall Crossing, Toni tried to pin it down. The woman was attractive, polite, and well-spoken. She was probably about the same age as Toni, give or take a year, and if she was an agent with MI-6, they probably had a lot in common. On the face of it, there didn't seem to be any reason to dislike Ms. Cooper. Maybe it was chemistry. Or maybe it was the expression on Alex's face when the woman had accosted them. That quickly veiled look of male interest. Alex said he was in love with her, and Toni believed him, but men were hard to fathom at times. If she hadn't been standing there, what would Alex's response to the tall dirty-blonde have been?
Would he have flirted? Done more?

She didn't like herself for feeling jealous. There was no reason to believe Alex was unfaithful to their
relationship, even in his thoughts, but it was how she felt. Nobody ever said love was logical. Or if they did, they lied. "This is Vauxhall Bridge Road," Cooper said. "It's a straight shot across the Thames from here. You'll see our building coming up on the left, just there. It's right off the tube station." She pointed, and Toni leaned forward from where she sat in the rear to look.
The MI-6 building was an imposing and--for London--quite unusual-looking structure. The stone appeared to be cream-colored, there were lots of windows, and there seemed also a bunch of green on it--glass, Toni assumed.
Seated in front next to Cooper, Alex said, "I thought internal security was Mi-5's responsibility, that MI-6 handled matters in foreign countries." "Rather like the FBI and CIA?" Cooper said. "Well, to a degree, yes. But there is some overlap. Over the last few years, MI-5 has