Death In The Diamond Lane

Mrs. E.J. DeLong is found nowhere on the World Wide Web. She also keeps to herself in person and flies private once a week from the Silicon Valley to a dirt airstrip in a remote corner of Utah. I've been picking her up and dropping her off at San Francisco International Airport for four years now. How she caught the attention of my other passengers - all high-octane tech types - only became clear after somebody tried to kill me - for the third time. From patent trolls and VC's, to the FBI and the Red Chinese, everyone's in a bloody hurry to get their hands on the next big thing. And all they had to do was ask their driver - the insider no one notices.