by Hunt, Jack
“Liam.”
“Hey,” he said, hardly any expression to his face.
He was on his butt, back against a wall. Like him, her hands were tied behind her back and her ankles were bound. She brought her knees around and propped herself up against a barrel.
The smell of alcohol hit her and she took in the small room. On either side of them was a line of oak barrels, old, huge.
“Where are we?”
“Below a bar in town.”
The echo of footsteps above.
It came back to her. “Where are they?
He raised his red eyes. He’d been crying.
“I’m sorry about your parents,” she said.
He didn’t reply.
“Any sign of Garcia?”
He shrugged. “We’re still alive, so I guess not.”
In front of them at the far end was a thick door with iron hinges. A quick scan of the room and it was clear there was no way out. A small thin window that let in daylight looked too narrow for either of them to squeeze through. She tugged, trying to free herself but it was impossible especially since they’d looped the rope around her cast.
“Don’t bother.”
“It’s pinching into my skin.” She looked around for anything that she could rub up against, a sharp piece of metal, glass even. “How long we been here?”
“No idea. Couple of hours I guess.”
Above they heard someone shouting then it went quiet.
“Were you conscious when they brought you in?”
He rubbed a goose egg on his forehead. “I saw a few of them. There were three upstairs.”
Elisha got up and toppled over.
“The door is locked. Already tried.”
“I wasn’t thinking about that.” She made a nod toward a metal foundation beam. It didn’t look sharp but it was worth a try. She got up and hopped over to it, turned and began rubbing the restraints along the edge.
“Even if you get out. What can you do?” He asked.
“Break that glass up there, use it as a weapon. When they come down we jump them.”
He chuckled.
“What?”
“And how far do you think we’ll make it before they put a bullet in us?”
“It’s better than just sitting here. Once they get Garcia we are as good as dead. At least if I die trying to get out, I tried.” She continued moving her wrists up and down to no avail.
“You were right. We are going to die.”
“What happened to the glass is half full, Liam?”
“That was before they killed my parents.”
“You didn’t even like your father.”
His eyes widened. “Wow.”
Elisha closed her eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“He was an asshole. I hated him most of the time but I wouldn’t have wished that upon anybody.”
A bit more rubbing back and forth and she felt the restraints break away. They dropped to the ground and she smiled. “See. Don’t give up.”
Moving quickly, she untied the ankle binds and then went over and began to release Liam when she heard voices. “Shit.” She quickly scooped up the restraints and moved back to where she was sitting. Elisha put her hands behind her back and waited as the door groaned open. A tall man observed them from a distance before he walked in with two steel trays of food. He slid them across the floor.
It was a bowl of soup.
“How are we meant to eat that?” she asked.
He replied with a grin. “How does a dog eat?”
As he turned to leave, Elisha considered rushing him but Liam shook his head, indicating no. The door closed behind the man and she got up and untied him. “I could have taken him.”
“Without me?”
“Maybe.”
His binds came loose and he rubbed the red marks around his wrist. “Maybe leaves too much room for error. No, if we do this, we do it right. It’s all about timing.”
29
North Carolina
Travis Delmar, known to friends and business partners as Cowboy, stepped out of the police cruiser and spat a thick wad of tobacco on the asphalt. He wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his sleeve before setting a hat on his head. Raised in Asheville, he’d never been one to conform to the system. After he was expelled from multiple schools, his single mother had no other option than to homeschool him, which meant spending his days growing weed outside the trailer while his mother sucked dick for a living. Men would come and go like clockwork, grinning at him as they left. The decent ones would throw him a buck or two but they were in the minority.
He came to learn at an early age that life showed no preference. Bad shit happened to good people. By the time he was fourteen, his mother had died from an overdose and he was sent to live with his abusive uncle.
While the frequent beatings from that drunken asshole were harsh, he learned a lot about business and life when the man was sober.
“Unless you take, others will. You understand, boy?” his uncle said.
By age sixteen he had his own small-time drug business, and by eighteen he’d got away with murder. He still recalled the look on the guy’s face when he dug a knife into his throat. He and a few pals buried the body in the Pisgah National Forest. Getting away with it taught him that the police weren’t as smart as most assumed. It also allowed him to see the value of fear. Acting unpredictable kept everyone on their toes, and those around him learned that it was better to have him as a friend than as an enemy.
“Should we go after them?” Otis asked.
He tossed a cigarette on the ground and squished it below his boot. “No. They aren’t going anywhere. Stay here with the others just in case they circle back. We’ll cruise into town and see if we can’t spot them. I have a few friends who might help. I’ll take the truck.”
“Cowboy. Why don’t we let this go?”
His eyebrows raised. “Let it go?”
“Yeah. Even if he has the cash, it’s no use to us now.”
Cowboy turned and placed a hand against Otis’ chest, pressing him firmly up against the cruiser. “If I let this slide, people around me will think they can get away with anything. It’s not about the money or the blow. It’s the principle.”
“I get it but…”
Cowboy grabbed him by the throat. “Are you hard of hearing?”
“No.”
“Do I need to spell this out for you?”
“No.”
“I want his head. Right now, there has never been a time like this and there never will be. We have an opportunity to take what we want, when we want, how we want, and I plan to take advantage of that. You saw those cops. Did you see the fear in their eyes? No amount of cash can buy that. I want him, you understand?”
“I do but do you plan on tracking him across the country?”
He cast a glance at the SUV. “Does it look like it?”
“What about her?” Otis asked giving a nudge to Raven in the back seat.
“She’s been very helpful. I’ll let you know when I’m done. Now stay with the cruiser.”
He gave a nod and Cowboy straightened out his shirt and patted the front of his jacket. “You’re a good friend, Otis, but don’t step over the line, you hear me?”
Cowboy had Raven get in the truck, then gave his girlfriend Lyla a nudge. “Let’s go.” In the rear cab, Raven sat quietly looking out the window.
“I don’t think they’re following,” Ryan said peering back through the trees as they trudged through the tall underbrush. Alex slapped the side of his neck, swatting a mosquito. The damn things were eating them alive.
“We’ll head into town and see about getting a new ride.”
“No, I think we should circle back to Asheville,” Thomas said. “Raven could probably find us a vehicle.”
“What was the deal with all those boxes and tech in her house?”
“Stolen. She sells locally and on eBay.”
“Yo
u two really are a lovely couple,” Sophie said jokingly.
“Hey, we have to make a living.”
Alex slapped him on the back. “Glad you didn’t say an honest living.”
“It’s honest. Honest in the sense that I’m not lying about who I am. Look, the way I see it, if people are willing to pay us money for holding their computers ransom, where’s the harm in that?”
“Seriously?” Alex replied.
“What? You think I’m the only one who steals? Large corporations do it all the time but because it’s not so direct and out there, people don’t bat an eye. It’s not like I targeted blue-collar workers. We only went after government, businesses, corporations. Tell him, Ryan.”
Ryan looked back at him but said nothing.
“Besides, what we have done is nothing compared to Project Thor.”
“Project what?” Sophie asked.
“Thor. You want to tell them or should I?”
Ryan shook his head. “Give it a rest.”
But he didn’t. He got all theatrical like he was wired on too much caffeine. “Okay, so six months ago, myself and your boy here hacked into the Pentagon’s computers. You know to nose around a bit and see what havoc we could raise. Anyway, we came across folders full of projects that the military was actively involved in and one of them was entitled Project Thor. Fancy name, right?”
Alex looked over his shoulder nervously.
“So we snoop through this file and come across information about the 107-country Outer Space Treaty which was signed back in ’67. Seems it was something to do with prohibiting nuclear, biological or chemical weapons from being placed or used in Earth’s orbit. Well, like you do, our great nation and many others found a loophole in that. Enter stage left, the Tungsten rod, otherwise known as the Rods from God. Picture this,” he said leaping out in front of them, his hands raised as if he was performing a game of charades. “Multiple satellite dishes orbiting the Earth holding bundles of telephone-pole sized tungsten rods which they can drop at any moment. When instructed from the ground these rods can enter the atmosphere and travel 36,000 feet per second. We’re talking about a rod that could penetrate hundreds of feet into the ground with the explosive power of a nuclear weapon but with none of the fallout. Those explosions, and quakes that rocked the nation and took down the grid—”
“That’s what it was?” Alex asked.
Thomas jabbed a finger. “Bingo! The only question is… was it Iran, Russia or China? Or… someone in our own government.”
“Shut up, Thomas,” Ryan said.
“No. No. They need to hear this. They need to know the truth.” He turned back to them even as Sophie and Alex continued to scope out the forest to make sure they weren’t being followed.
“These rods can take down the grid, destroy deep bunkers or wipe out entire cities. Like a pebble into the water, the impact ripples out affecting the structure of buildings, creating fissures in the earth, more explosions and basically causing untold havoc. How many dropped? Hard to know for sure but if you want to know who had the code, the means, look no further than your…”
Ryan turned and threw a right hook knocking Thomas to the ground. He dived on top of him and began raining down punches.
Alex yanked him off and shoved him back. “Stay back.”
Thomas chuckled as he spat blood on the ground. His lip was split, and his nose trickling blood. “The truth hurts, doesn’t it, Ryan?”
“What is he talking about?”
Thomas wiped his lips. “C’mon, Ryan. They say confession is good for the soul.”
He sneered at him and turned to walk away but Alex was done having him turn his back. He grabbed him and pulled him around. “Answer the question.”
“What? What do you wanna know? Huh? It’s not going to change anything.”
Alex stared at him.
“Were you behind this?”
“No. I wasn’t.”
“Not even a little,” Thomas added as he rose to his feet and brushed dirt off his jeans.
“Shut up, Thomas.”
“I want the truth,” Sophie said. “The feds pulled you in to find a hacker, someone you said that could have started this. Did you find him?”
Ryan bit down on his lower lip and stared back.
“DID YOU FIND HIM!” Sophie bellowed, losing her cool.
“No. Because if I gave up that name, they would have put me away forever.”
They all stared at him with a look of astonishment, though Thomas was grinning and shaking his head. “I knew it.”
“You were behind this?”’ Sophie asked.
“Not directly. I…” He took a deep breath and ran a hand over his face. “I sold the flaw in the computer code.”
“To who?”
“I don’t know. It’s not like they advertise their real names online, is it? And it’s not like this is new. Hackers have been doing this since the ’80s. There are governments who would pay thousands of dollars to learn and exploit a flaw. I sold the technical details of the vulnerabilities on the dark web. That’s it. There you go. You wanted the truth. That’s it.”
“Did you tell the feds this?”
“If I did, do you think I would be standing here?” He sighed. “Look, it’s not like we set out to harm anyone. Hackers have sold knowledge of coding flaws to companies like Apple and Microsoft for years so they can fix them. Companies like that will pay upwards of $150,000 for this kind of stuff, so you can imagine what kind of money there’s to be made in giving access to NASA, military bases and the Pentagon.”
“It starts a bidding war,” Thomas added. “Hell, the USA used this same approach when they attacked an Iranian nuclear enrichment program with a worm called Stuxnet. They’re called zero-day exploits because there are zero days to fix them before the vulnerability is exploited.”
Feeling some support from Thomas, Ryan continued. “Hell, even Snowden leaked that the United States was buying programming flaws. But they’re not the ones who offer the most money. Russia, Iran, Israel, are some of the biggest spenders. It’s so prevalent that there are even brokers that will take a cut for making a connection between a hacker and a buyer. How they use that flaw is up to them.”
“How much did you get paid?” Alex asked.
“Three hundred and sixty thousand.”
Alex nodded as he looked at him in disbelief. He walked over to Ryan and grabbed him by the collar and slammed him up against a tree. “You’re telling me you sold the means for this shitstorm to happen? If my daughter is dead because of you, I swear I will…”
“Alex. ALEX!” Sophie yelled, struggling to get between them. “Let him go!” She pushed him back. “Enough! He’s just a teenager. He doesn’t know any better.”
“Well he should.”
“Did you at that age?” she shot back.
Alex scowled at him.
“I’m sorry. Okay?” Ryan said, his hard demeanor melting away.
“Listen, this isn’t getting us anywhere. We need to find a ride and get back to California.”
He nodded in agreement. “I’ll find a ride but I’m not taking him with us.”
He shrugged his backpack and pressed on leaving them behind.
“Then I won’t be going with you,” she said before he got too far.
He looked back at her. “He’s not Michael, Sophie. Okay? Don’t you get that? He might look like him but he’s not him.” He looked at Ryan. “You wanted to know what happened to our son. Ask her. But know this, you’re not Michael and you’ll never be my son.” He stood for a moment as Sophie glared at him before taking hold of Ryan’s hand. She pulled him, then pushed Ryan forward as they walked past Alex. Even the smile faded from Thomas as he looked at him. Alex bit down and adjusted the rifle in his hand before turning and following them out of the forest.
30
California
Garcia knew it could be the mistake that would end his life but Mayor Fischer had given him few options. The Petaluma Ci
ty Council had no answers, no solution; they had all but shrugged when asked how he could get more support. If he could have done it another way he would have. The fact was Petaluma residents were on their own to weather the storm. Throughout the twenty-minute trip into the city of Santa Rosa, Andre had tried to talk him out of it, to get him to see reason, but he refused to listen.
Even as they rounded the final bend into the notorious South Park neighborhood, a place that had been dominated by the Norteño street gang for more than decade, Andre persisted.
“Please, Garcia. This will only end badly.”
“It already has. Marco owes me and he knows that. There might be bad blood between us but his word is golden.”
“That was before.”
“It changes nothing.”
“It changes everything,” Andre shot back.
Apartment blocks, convenience stores, graffiti, the heavy presence of Norteño gang members on the street corners brought back a flood of memories. Like many, Felix was born into the gang life. His father, and his father before him had risen through the ranks, made their mark and found their way into prison and eventually an early grave. Although the gangs vehemently protected the very young from that way of life, it was a given that he would enter the world of drugs, violence and prison.
For a gang member to become a police officer was unheard of, not just because a criminal record prevented it, but the distaste for authority among gangs was so prevalent that the very thought was blasphemy.
From age thirteen, Garcia’s life was drenched in illegal activity but none of that appeared on paper, none of it had found its way into a police database. In their eyes he had no criminal record. His mother had seen to that. Although his father would have turned over in his grave to know what his son had become, he had to believe that change started somewhere.
And his mother knew that.
That’s why she’d protected him. Had certain people watch his back, and ensure that he didn’t get arrested. She wanted something better for him, a way out from the gang life, but it wasn’t easy.
