DiMarcio was breathing heavy. His pulse rate was way up also. Having
someone holding the sharp tanto point of a samurai sword at his
neck was bound to cause some anxiety.
had heard a slight noise downstairs and went to investigate, but
not before grabbing his auto Glock and an extra thirty-three-round
clip. He thumbed the firing selector to full auto. Quietly he crept
down the stairway. Luckily there was a solid wall all the way down
the staircase and his socked feet on carpeted stairs went undetected.
Peering cautiously around the corner at the bottom, he was able
to make out five armed females, one with only a sword, advancing
slowly through the living room. He jumped out quickly from the landing
and managed to pepper four of the armed intruders with several rounds
apiece due to the rapid firing rate of the Glock. At thirteen hundred
rounds per minute, you were hosing your target with lead. They had
got off two-three rounds at the most, but luckily they had missed.
But the fifth female had gotten the drop on him with her sword,
coming in from his left.
other end of the sword was being held by a beautiful, half-Asian
woman who definitely knew her sword skills. She was applying just
enough pressure to show she was serious, and this after fighting
Tony with the help of her four now-dead comrades who were lying
in various positions of death on the living room floor of his house.
It had happened fast; the blood was still spreading from the bodies
onto his hardwood floors. He had emptied his Glock during the fight.
He could swing up and hit her in the head with it, but he didn't
bother trying. She was giving him her full attention, as any professional
would do. Any sudden movement on his part and he was dead.
slide is locked back, so thumb your magazine release and let it
fall free. Then drop the gun to the floor, Mr. DiMarcio, and you
get to keep on living for the moment."
did as she asked, letting the Glock slip slowly out of his fingers,
clattering to the floor. She quickly picked it up without changing
the pressure on his neck from the sword.
have another magazine. No one who shoots like that would be unprepared.
pulled it from his back pocket and handed it to her.
backed up quickly and sheathed her sword, inserted the magazine
in the pistol, and thumbed the slide release to chamber a round
in one smooth motion. She was now pointing the Glock at him.
felt good to have the sword off his neck, he thought. Those swords
are just too damn sharp. He was bleeding! It wasn't much, just a
few drips from the skin being broken.
bitchyou cut me!"
mouthing off and you'll have a few holes to match," she said,
gesturing with the Glock. "Now Mr. DiMarciowhere is the
worked with the NSA, one of the most secretive of government agencies.
Some of the stuff they pulled off made the FBI's antics look like
a bad day at an amusement park. He worked on the programming staff
writing some of the most interesting code he had ever had a chance
to come up with. They touted him as a programming genius, but with
an IQ of 161, it all just came naturally. They had loved the program
he put together called 'Cipher'. It could take any code a nation
or entity was using and crack it within five minutes. He was golden.
the NSA, he was able to use some of the most sophisticated computer
equipment he had ever seen. They let him write programs for spy
satellites, eavesdropping devices, network sniffers and firewall/port
crackers that would let the NSA cull any information they wanted
from a variety of sources: wired or wireless computer connections,
cell phone connections, city-wide broadband, other countries' satellites,
etc. There was not a scrap of information they couldn't retrieve,
given the chance.
lived the golden lifestyle. They bought him an ornate house in upper
class DC, gave him a fast car and paid him a six-figure income for
what he was able to do. Tony also knew it wouldn't last forever,
unless he moved up to the higher ranks in the NSA. But you always
needed a backup, trump card, etc. to use if trouble came along.
trump card was a super virus he had put together himself. He had
made sure the threat was solid. If it was ever introduced into the
computing world, it would render every piece of computing hardware
and software world-wide absolutely useless. You would have to talk
by old school crank up phone after that. He had a copy that would
go out from a hidden server if he didn't check in once every ninety
days. The original DVD he had hidden in the house.
mess with me, Tony. It's either the virus or your 9MM punctuated
head. Your call."
he thought, 'I haven't told anyone about the virus. A secret's a
secret if only you know it. Must've gotten drunk somewhere and said
the wrong thing to the wrong person.'
okay. Just what are/were you girls anyway?"
just say we're entrepreneurs, and leave it at that. Your virus would
be worth a lot of money to, shall I say, the wrong person?"
can call me Jezebel. Now let's get moving.''
your sword sheathed."
could tell she was a professional. The gun was kept just out of
arm's reach, and she kept Tony in her sight every second.
here in the study, behind the bookshelf."
pushed a book about a quarter inch. The bookshelf receded about
stepped between the bookcase and wall. The space always smelled
a little musty with being closed off most of the time. It was filled
with boxes of notes, programming and script printouts, along with
a PC work area on a desk at the end.
the disk, now!"
it is." He pulled it off a shelf.
handed the case to her.
go to the far end of the room and sit down with your hands under
your buttand don't make a move."
it." He headed to the far side and sat down.
took the disk to the other side of the room to examine it.
have no way of knowing if this is the true virus disk or not; it's
too dangerous to run it and find out. But a paying customer should
have the tech savvy to know the genuine article. If it's not, I'll
be paying you a return visit, one you won't live through."
would I give you a fake? I have a hidden version that will go out
on the network if I'm dead. Just make sure you and any customer
knows that if I die it would ruin any blackmail attempts on their
opened the case to examine the contents and a small amount of white
powder puffed out onto her hands.
hands began to mottle and pustules were forming almost immediatelyand
it was starting to spread up her arms as she watched. And it burnedlike
she was on fire! She could feel the skin underneath the surface
begin to disconnect from bone and muscle.
dropped the gun to the floor.
is this?" she screamed.
wanted a virus, you got it. Meet a little friend of mine, compliments
of the NSA. A fast-spreading, flesh-destroying viral agent. I've
been immunized, so no worries. It's my fail-safe in case anyone
tries to get the disk. The virus has a very short half-life, so
that it will die shortly after you do. In fact, it will decompose
all flesh and blood down to dust with no smelly decomposition aftereffectsmore
aesthetic that way. DNA is destroyed in the process so that no one
will ever know who you were. All I have to do is bring in the vacuum.
I'll be using the virus dust on your dead friends in the living
room also. Great way to clean up."
kill you, bastard!"
tried to pick up the Glock, but her hands were too much of a mess
to hold it.
viral agent was up to her shoulders now and she was still screaming.
It worked its way down her throat and across her face and the screaming
stopped. All that was heard now was a harsh bubbling. The agent
was covering her completely, her body twitching in the throes of
picked up the virus disk, reloaded the booby-trap, and placed it
back on the shelf. He also picked up the auto Glock, his other lifesaver.
this is grossI'll come back and clean up later."
walked out through the opening between the bookcase and the wall,
shutting it behind him.
ya later, Jezebel."