Springboard by Tom Clancy

and a dark-skinned, curly-haired brunette without any clothes at all covering her perfect breasts. The trio looked out through the window, smiled, and waved.
    The hammock was strung between two sycamore trees; next to the hammock was a small table upon which was an ice chest full of bottled beer, an appetizer pizza piled high with three kinds of meat and two cheeses, and a humidor full of good Cuban cigars.
    Mounted on the tree above the foot of the hammock was a holoproj set, and the images of the players in the championship American-style football game danced in the shade. Fourth quarter, two minutes to go, and the score was tied, 28-28.
    The cheerleaders, young women, all of them flawless—and bare from the waist up—were going wild. Now and again, the camera would show them in slo-mo, so the bouncing was particularly interesting. . . .
    Man. Was this heaven, or what?
    Bam!
    The house, lawn, dog, beer—all of it—vanished. The idyllic scene went black, in the blink of an eye. A moment later, the blackness was replaced by flames, and a scene right out of Dante’s Inferno. Tortured souls writhed in the eternal fires, screams of pain filled the air, and everywhere was smoke and stinking sulfur. . . .

CyberNation HQ
Paris, France
    Charles Seurat shook his head. “Quite a shock,” he said.
    Georges, the programmer, shook his head. “The kind of man—or sometimes woman—who usually elects this particular cottage scenario is generally working-class, what the Americans call ‘blue-collar,’ and the abrupt shift from paradise to inferno is particularly scary. Most of them have had religious upbringings, and in that teaching, the scenario they picked is not, ah, consistent with Heaven. To have the fantasy replaced with Hell is not only a jolt, it is, on some level, what many of them believe they deserve. Despite our assurances that it was a glitch, and even offers of free time, we have lost customers because of it.”
    “How many?”
    Georges shrugged. “Hard to say for sure. We know those who complained numbered only in the dozens. How many just dropped their service and left without saying? Who knows? Not everybody responds to the exit survey.”
    Seurat shook his head. “And you have not found the source?”
    “Just like others. The trail bounces from several satellites and then vanishes. He is very good, this hacker.”
    “Well, we ought to have somebody who is better. This kind of attack is unacceptable. One man!”
    Georges was quiet, but Seurat sensed that he had something to say. “Yes?”
    “Two things, mon capitaine. First, CyberNation is not the only target. We have heard from reliable sources that the United States military’s war scenarios have likewise been attacked with some success.”
    “I have heard these rumors. What of them?”
    “It means that we may have a common enemy. And thus, perhaps, an enemy of our enemy who might be of some help.”
    “And what is the other thing?”
    Georges hesitated.
    “Go on, spit it out.”
    “We cannot assume that our hacker is alone. He may be part of a cabal. Or worse.”
    Seurat thought about that for a moment. “Sponsored by a government, you mean.” It was not a question.
    “ Oui . CyberNation offers a threat to traditional geopolitical entities. If we succeed in our aim— when we succeed in them—our power will rival that of nation states. No one ever gives up that kind of power willingly.”
    Seurat nodded. Yes. Georges had a point. A hacker backed by a government would have many more resources than one sitting alone in his room using his personal computer. Now that he thought of it, such a premise made more sense, that the attacks were backed by such resources. But—who? Which country?
    The most adept would be, of course, the United States. But if they were being attacked themselves, unless it was a clever feint designed to throw CyberNation off their trail, then that would seem to rule them out. They could be very devious, the Americans, but