by Tom Clancy
Andy gave a great shout of laughter. ‘Come on, Anderson, stop yanking my chain!’
But Leif seriously shook his head. ‘AL isn’t a person. It’s the two letters, A and L - and they stand for anarcho-libertarianism. From what I’ve been able to dig up, the Net site where this came from belongs to a small group in Idaho. They’ve broken with Elrod Derle to form their own splinter faction - or maybe heresy.’
‘I thought this “gospel according to Derle” stuff was for public-relations purposes only^’ Matt said. ‘You know, to get people’s attention.’
‘Maybe it is, but this particular group has a definite religious bent - a sort of messiah complex.’ Leif wiped the propaganda off the display, returning to the menu of mail items. ‘Derle may have planted the tree of anarcho-libertarianism and watered it with a lot of money—’
‘But it’s producing its own crop of nuts,’ Andy finished for him.
Leif nodded. ‘People with all sorts of extremist views have found they can get together under the anarcho-libertarian umbrella. Derle himself wanted it to be grassroots and free-form. That’s how they’ve wound up with sixteen-year-old legal drivers - and a push to institute the death penalty for causing accidents. Right-wing types who feel that the people have abandoned their rock-ribbed principles and old-fashioned leftists who believe that the people have been diverted from their historic struggle can march together - along with nudists, people who want nuclear weapons legalized, fundamentalists of all stripes, and folks who fear that every race but theirs is being favored.’
He looked around at his friends. ‘Does this begin to sound familiar?’
‘A hodgepodge of ideology like that … sounds like the C.A.’ Andy grinned. ‘Or the S.K., as I guess they call it in their own country.’
‘However, you spell it, the answer is the Carpathian Alliance,’ Leif said grimly. ‘Some of the more far-out fringes of Derle’s make a religion of “going it alone.” And what better real-world example can they find than the Carpathian Alliance?’
Matt’s face twisted. ‘Yeah, those guys have to go it alone.
They’re a pariah state - international criminals. No self-respecting countries will have anything to do with them.’
‘And they’re being punished by sanctions and embargoes,’ David added. ‘Part of that “monopoly of rules” stuff.’
‘Can these guys be serious?’ Matt demanded.
‘Who can tell?’ Leif said honestly, continuing to scroll upward through entries. ‘Serious or not, willing or unwitting, I think they helped sabotage the Corteguayan team.’
He suddenly paused. At the top of the listing was an address from the Carpathian Alliance - personal, not some government agency. It was a big file.
Those have to be Ludmila’s pictures:, Leif thought, his face going warm.
Andy must have caught something in his expression. ‘What’s that?’ he asked.
‘Nothing,’ Leif replied a little too abruptly. ‘Something Ludmila sent to Jorge.’
‘Feelthy peectures?’ Andy said, laughing. ‘Let’s see.’
‘I don’t - ‘ Leif was furious to find himself stumbling over his own words as he accessed the address and downloaded the file. He certainly didn’t owe anything to Ludmila. In fact, the thought had passed through his head to store that file for himself. If Ludmila wasn’t embarrassed to send stuff like that through the Net, why should it bother him?
But he was embarrassed. For her.
Matt gave a hoot as an image began to appear on the display - Ludmila, staring straight at them with a mischievous grin.
‘C.A. computers must still be in the stone age,’ David muttered. ‘Look how long it’s taking for the image to download.’
Leif almost laughed. Trust David to comment on the technical aspects of watching naughty Net pictures.
Ludmila’s bare shoulders swam into focus.
‘If she’s wearing a bathing suit, there can’t be very much of it,’ Matt muttered.
Leif was about to blurt out the order canceling the download when something weird began happening on the hologram. It wasn’t showing any more of Ludmila. Instead, a big virtual stain appeared across the display, a vile, toxic-looking, glowing green spill of something that seemed to eat away at the image.
‘Virus!’ David suddenly began snapping orders at the computer. It struggled to follow his commands, running more and more slowly.
Just as the Corteguayan team’s program seemed to falter during the race, Leif thought. He could almost see the scenario. Right before the race, Jorge downloads what he thinks are racy pictures of Ludmila. He opens the file, which slowly reveals her face. Jorge saves the file to enjoy later, not realizing he’s introduced a fatal virus into his team’s system.
Scratch one competitor.
The computer began responding again, picking up speed as David shouted more commands, his face tight with annoyance. ‘No good. It terminated and erased itself.’
‘Can we download another copy?’ Leif asked. ‘It would be a good idea to have some evidence when we call in Net Force.’ He glanced around at his fellow Explorers. ‘I mean, we are going to tell them about this, aren’t we?’
In the end, the other guys agreed with Leif, but they didn’t get any evidence. When they tried to access that address for another copy, the size of the file had suddenly shrunk to zero. That decided Leif on a voice-only call to Captain James Winters, the Explorers’ liaison to Net Force. As he input the number, Leif expected only to leave a recording in the captain’s office.
He was quite surprised when the phone call was picked up. ‘Winters,’ a gruff voice announced on the other end.
James Winters was not a glorified babysitter. He had been a combat Marine, leading troops during the last Balkans blowup. And then he had joined Net Force as a field operative.
After selling his superiors on the idea of the Net Force Explorers, he had shaped the organization with his combat-wise, hands-on style. When the kids had thought they could help out, they had gone out one hundred percent.
And Winters had backed them to the hilt - they were his people, as much as the Marines in his old combat team.
Even so, and what with the East Coast time being three hours later, it was a surprise to find the captain in his office.
‘It’s Leif Anderson, Captain. I’d expected to leave a message on your voice mail—’
‘It’s the burden of every organization to create paperwork,’ Winter’s disgusted voice told him, ‘even though we’ve supposedly created a paperless society. Virtual paper. Updating computer files. There are only so many hours in the day, and for some of them, I like to try and get some business done.’ His tone changed. Leif could almost hear the sound of Captain Winters shifting mental gears. ‘How are you and the others enjoying Hollywood?’
‘We’ve met a lot of people you’d find very interesting, one way or another,’ Leif said. ‘They believe there should be fewer rules and even less government.’
‘I thought that’s what we’ve been trying to accomplish for the last thirty years!’ Winters growled.
‘I guess it hasn’t happened fast enough for the anarcho-libertarians,’ Leif replied.
‘That bunchy eh?’ Now the captain sounded grimly amused. ‘Yeah, they’re the coming thing in California nowadays. Especially in Hollywood.’
‘I’m more interested in the ones in Idaho,’ Leif said. ‘They seem to be doing favors for the Carpathian Alliance.’
‘Why anybody would want anything to do with that bunch of dog-droppings in human form, I have no idea,’ Winters said. ‘But there are some anarcho-libertarian factions who believe the C.A. embodies their ideal of “power by struggle.” ‘
His voice was disgusted. ‘Dupes, but useful ones for our Carpathian friends. It gives them potential agents in the midst of the country they consider their biggest enemy. Agents of influence in the media … and remember, California is still one of the major centers for technological innovation. I don’t think they
’d get very many volunteers to help blow up innocent people. But if there’s something that’s not too difficult to help a state that’s going it alone …’
‘I expect you’re right, sir,’ Leif said. He quickly outlined what was going on in the Great Race - and the potential prize for the winners.
‘Espionage, hacking by foreign nationals into U.S. corporate systems, and sabotage,’ Winters said, summing up his report. ‘Or teenaged zeal, overly high spirits … and a girl fixing the wagon of a too-pushy Latin lover.’ He sighed. ‘I don’t mean to minimize what you’re telling me, just showing how Pinnacle Productions will present it when we ask to start looking into the matter.’
‘You really think they’ll try to stonewall you?’ Leif said.
‘Would your father’s corporation welcome a government investigation?’ Winters asked bluntly.
Leif didn’t answer.
‘Pinnacle is a big conglomerate, with a lot of pull. But I’ll start the wheels turning.’ Winter’s voice lightened. ‘The easiest way to deal with this would be for you to win this race and deny them any access to high technology at all.’
He laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to wave the flag at you. We’re all rooting for you, but just in case, I’ll go rattle a few cages at State and Customs. Embargoes are supposed to be enforced.’
Then the captain hesitated for a second. ‘Keep an eye out for any other interesting activity. But do me a favor. Don’t stick your necks out.’
‘Us?’ Leif said in his most innocent voice.
‘Yes, you. Listen, I was seventeen once, too. Long ago, it seems now. But I remember that charming illusion I had about being immortal. Lasted until my first firefight.’
When Winters grew concerned, he usually sounded his most ironic. ‘I mean it, Leif. Don’t put yourself in the line of fire. I’d like you guys to keep your illusions intact for a few more years.’
The next morning, Leif woke up to find the suite empty. He glanced at the clock and whistled silently. Had he overslept that much? The hotel’s restaurant would already be closing up for breakfast!
He was under the shower, hoping the water would revive his tired brain, when he heard familiar voices through the bathroom door. The guys were back.
A fist banged on the door. ‘Are you awake yet?’ Andy called.
‘No, I just decided to drown myself in my sleep,’ Leif shouted back.
He finished, dressed, stepped out, and found his friends all sitting in the living room.
‘You were up pretty late last night after you got off the phone with Captain Winters,’ David said.
‘It’s a case of “know your enemy.” ‘ Leif stifled a yawn. ‘I was sampling anarcho-libertarian Net sites. It’s amazing. Some of their points make sense. Others - looney tunes! Some of the nastier ideas show up in the slogans. The movement started by pushing the idea of being an individual - then came mass action and stuff about leadership - “the power of the will.” I followed that through a bunch of subreferences to an old propaganda flatfilm made ninety years ago.’
’ The Triumph of the Will’ Matt knew his history. ‘A love poem to Hitler and the Nazis.’
‘But all the references to struggle - those seem to be based on Marxist theory - socialism and communism.’
‘I thought all those were supposed to be dead issues,’ David said.
‘Now it looks as if they’ve found new life under other names.’ Leif frowned in distaste. ‘But things get worse when you hit the mumbo-jumbo about “avatars”.’
‘What are they?’ Andy wanted to know.
‘As far as I can figure, they’re supposedly great leaders who, through the power of the will, created mass action that either changed history or created history.’ Leif shook his head. ‘If it sounds weird, look at some of the people they chose! The twentieth-century collection includes Lenin, Mussolini, Hitler, Stalin, Qadaffi—’
David’s face was stiff with disgust. ‘Murderers’ Row.’
‘Most of the characters have places of respect in the
Carpathian Alliance,’ Leif went on, ‘although the racists don’t quite like Qadaffi. Not Aryan enough for them,’ he snorted.
‘Do they have others?’ Matt asked.
‘They have all sorts of characters. A guy called Proudhon. Napoleon, of course. There’s a lot of argument over Jefferson - most of them think he’s too namby-pamby. Alexander Hamilton has a lot of fans, but so does the man who shot him, Aaron Burr - mainly because of his plan to steal Texas from Spain and set himself up as the ruler of the West.’
‘You notice that a lot of these guys seem to have failed?’ Andy asked. ‘Not that I’m complaining about that.’
‘It doesn’t matter to the Carpathians - not as long as they fought for some of the ideals these crazies want to believe in,’ Leif said. ‘What interested me was one of the first avatars, a commander during the Thirty Years War back in the 1600s.’
‘Protestants versus Catholics in the German states,’ historian Matt immediately said.
‘There was a man who was born Protestant, turned Catholic, and became a mercenary general for the Holy Roman Empire,’ Leif said. ‘Through purchase of governmental control, he was running a large chunk of what’s now the Czech Republic, and he ran it strictly for war -sort of an early version of the totalitarian state. His dream was to create an empire from the Balkans to the Baltic Sea, but he ended up being assassinated. They guy was born under the name of Waldstein, but the Germans called him—’
‘Wallenstein!’ Matt shouted, a weird expression on his face. ‘Albrecht von Wallenstein!’
Chapter Fourteen
Matt strode over to the suite’s computer console. ‘Nice catch, Leif. Did you find out whether it’s a coincidence, or if our Wallenstein took the name?’
Leif hooked a thumb toward his bedroom. ‘It appears he was born with it. I’ve got it all on the computer - it had gotten a little late to share it with you guys, unless you like a three a.m. reveille.’
‘Let’s see what it came up with. Maybe I can spot something you missed. Computer,’ Matt addressed the suite’s system. ‘Wallenstein, Milos. Display files. Execute.’
‘Executing,’ the computer’s silvery voice announced as its search engines rounded up the results of its Net search for print and Holo News references to Milos Wallenstein’s life.
A large number of references appeared in the computer’s display, floating in midair. The likeliest looked to be a long profile in one of the Hollywood trade newspapers. Matt called it up.
‘I’ve already marked the relevant parts,’ Leif said. As the long article swam into focus on the display, several sections took on a reddish glow.
‘Born in a Bosnian refugee camp,’ David read. ‘Bosnian Croat mother, U.N. peacekeeper father. Naturalized U.S. citizen. Well, you’re right. It looks like the name is real.’ ‘What I wasn’t able to find out is what kind of anarcho- libertarian he is - whether he belongs to one of the factions that supports the Carpathian Alliance,’ Leif said, looking at his watch. ‘Shouldn’t we be assembling for that much-promised Los Angeles tour?’
‘We thought maybe you wanted to skip it,’ Andy said. ‘If I’d done as much research as you did, I’d just want to sack out all morning.’
Leif rummaged around and got his sunglasses. ‘Yeah, but there’s some more research I want to try - with Ludmila the Man-Eating Spy.’
They just caught the tour bus before it pulled out. A couple of contestants made sour cracks about ‘late Americans,’ but the mood aboard the bus was not the best for joking. These were not the happy campers who had assembled for the tour two days ago. Too much suspicion and anger had built up over the last couple of days.
The reason for the Corteguayan team’s crash-and-burn must have gotten out. The yoimg cadets sat in a grim-faced group. Two seats away sat Ludmila the spy … alone.
‘You know what they call girls like you in my country?’ Jorge asked in a loud voice.
From her red face
and tight lips, he and his teammates had been taking their disqualification out on her for some time.
Leif dropped into the seat beside the girl. ‘What do they call them, Jorge?’ he asked, responding to the other boy’s taunt. ‘Heroes of the revolution?’
The cadet’s face turned a sort of brick-red, and he leapt to his feet. Three steps, and he was looming over Leif. ‘You stupid American—’
‘You don’t need to be any particular nationality to be stupid, Jorge. It’s more a case of circumstances. For instance, giving away the means to access to your computer system when people are afraid of sabotage—’
The bigger boy’s hands closed into large, meaty fists.
Leif simply glanced at them. ‘Another sign of stupidity might be swinging on someone who’s carefully keeping his hands down. That would be looked on as assault, and could land you in jail - since I don’t think you can hide behind diplomatic immunity. How would a little jail time look on your military record, Jorge?’
‘You—’ The beefy cadet looked ready to explode with rage.
‘Yeah. I thought you could dish it out, but you wouldn’t enjoy taking it,’ Leif said. ‘Still, I’ve enjoyed our little chat.’
He actually thought Jorge might take a swing. But the Corteguayan team captain suddenly spoke up.
‘Jorge,’ the smaller cadet said in a warning tone.
Sure, Leif thought. If Jorge screws up, it probably goes down on his record, too.
Big Jorge opened his fists as if he were dropping a hundred-pound barbell. ‘No,’ he said, ‘she’s done enough to me. You sit with her, smart American. You deserve her.’
He stomped back to his seat.
Leif smiled at the girl beside him. ‘I’m Leif Anderson, by the way.’
‘Ludmila,’ she said. ‘Ludmila Plavusa.’
This one is someone you wouldn’t want to play poker against, Leif thought. Looking at her, he couldn’t be sure if Ludmila had been affected in any way by the little scene that had just been played out. Leif couldn’t tell if she was about to cry, or have a temper tantrum, or even if she was feeling much at all.