Connected, Inc.

Prologue

Traffic slowed from a roll to a halt as the lights at Veterans and Clearview turned red. "No, I'm telling you, Quince, I won't pay for it," the driver said. "It was Gatreaux's loss. His bad bet."

"I don't care whose bet it was." A snarl slithered from the car's speakers. The cell phone was mounted on the dashboard and connected hands-free. "Now we're in debt, and oh yes, it will be paid. The firm will not suffer for your incompetence, or Gatreaux's. Make your arrangements and get me my money."

The driver tried again. "Look, Quince--"

"Damn it, Robert!" The phone erupted with venom and white noise. "You fix this mess or I'll tell your wife what you really did with your kids' college funds!"

A whimper sounded from the front passenger seat.

"Well, boss," Robert said, his tone dry, "you just spent your leverage on that one."

There was silence. Quince said, "Maria. She's there with you?"

Robert started to answer. Before he could, Maria flung out her hand and swatted the back of his head.

With a yelp, Robert shot forward and planted his feet. His right foot floored the accelerator. Their car surged across the solid white line and into the intersection, where cars were turning left onto Clearview Parkway. Robert slammed into two of the cars and spun a third at the fender. A truck making the left turn, unable to stop in time, collided with Robert's car and pushed it out of the intersection, where it folded around a telephone pole.

Every automobile and pedestrian stopped. The only sound was the whisper of metal against metal as the mutilated cars settled against each other.