Geek Mafia: Mile Zero

by Dakan

  1

  Chapter 01

  Chapter 02

  Chapter 03

  Chapter 04

  Chapter 05

  Chapter 06

  Chapter 08

  Chapter 09

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  GEEK MAFIA: Mile Zero

  2

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  GEEK MAFIA: Mile Zero

  by Rick Dakan

  Praise for Geek Mafia!

  "The story is gripping as anything, and the characters are likable and funny and charming. I adore caper stories, and this stands with the best of them, a geeky version of The Sting... this is one hell of a book."

  - Cory Doctrow, BoingBoing.net

  ***

  "Unputdownable...highly recommended" -Seth Godin, Bestselling Author

  ***

  "Twists and turns will leave you guessing many of the time who is really scamming who. Dakan is able to write a 320 page book that is over all too soon." -410Media.com

  ***

  by Rick Dakan

  3

  "Geek Mafia ain't just any book...the kid's got chops, the book's getting props, and the price is right. We bought one."

  -Vladimir Cole, Joystiq.com

  ***

  "A fast, fun novel from author Rick Dakan. One is reminded that living a sheltered, regimented life can be oh so boring and dull. It's time to get Off-the-Grid' and experience freedom in a whole new way! A highlyrecommended read!" USABookNews.com

  GEEK MAFIA:

  Mile Zero

  by

  Rick Dakan

  www.rickdakan.com

  GEEK MAFIA: MILE ZERO by Rick Dakan June, 2007

  This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0

  License.

  To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/ or send a letter to Creative Commons, 171 Second Street, Suite 300, San Francisco, California, 94105, USA.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters in this book are fictional and events portrayed in this book are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.

  Layout, design and illustrations: Austin McKinley

  Copy Editor: Anthony Salveggi

  ISBN: 0-9772649-0-4

  Acknowledgments & Dedication

  I dedicate this book to the memory of my uncle, Rick Nugent. Not only am I named after him, but he's also one of my biggest inspirations in life. He led the way, living life as a full-time artist on his own terms, giving me the confidence to do the same thing myself.

  I want to thank all the people who helped out in the early stages of this book by spending the time to read it over and give me some feedback. Karen Dakan, Stephen Dakan, Mark Friedman, Neil Hendrick, Austin McKinley, Sherrie McKinley, Brian Ries, Laura Roberts, Laurie Roberts Porter, Rebbecca Stults. And especially Judge Wayne Miller in Key West for giving me a guided tour of the city's seedier side.

  Prologue

  by Rick Dakan

  4

  SHE moved through the crowded streets like she owned the place. Hell, if things went as planned in the coming months, she might in fact own the place. Or some other place if that's what she wanted. If things went as planned, there was no limit to what she could have. She smiled to herself as a crowd of sunburned, middle-aged men broke ranks to let her pass on her way toward Mallory Square. They had no idea who she was, but she liked to think that they could sense her strength and that it intimidated them. Not enough to stop them from staring openly at her chest of course, but what did she expect? They were still men.

  Duval Street, Key West's main tourist drag, buzzed with early evening activity. The sun had set less than an hour ago, and the throngs moving up from the nightly sunset ritual in Mallory Square now wandered about, trying to choose between the dozens of bars and restaurants vying for their attention. She moved against the general flow and seemed to know exactly where she was going. She knew these streets well and had planned out her route ahead of time.

  But something bothered her. That nagging feeling in the back of her brain that she'd long ago learned to heed even though it was wrong as often as it was right. You couldn't survive in her world without learning to pay attention to such feelings, and she'd more than survived - she'd prospered beyond the dreams of any young hacker or con artist. Heeding the subliminal warning, she changed plans and stepped out into the crawling Duval Street traffic. A purple taxi honked angrily but she just smiled as she strode across the street and stared intently at a display of cheap, tasteless T-shirts in a storefront window.

  She had no interest in wearing anything with the phrase "Fart Inspector" on it, whatever that meant, but she did want a chance to get a quick 360-degree look at her surroundings and the people in them. A young couple, their baby strapped into a stroller and grabbing in vain at passersby. Four good-looking men in their 30s, probably gay, chatting amiably with one another. A pair of slightly chubby, badly sunburned young women headed into the bar next door. Dozens of other tourists and a few locals. Nothing out of the ordinary for... no, wait. There.

  An older man with a well-groomed beard, indistinguishable from the others except that he was alone. She'd seen him earlier, somewhere. She couldn't quite remember where, but he'd been alone then too. He was too professional to jaywalk after her, but he'd gone up to the next corner and was now crossing over to her side of the street. She let him finish crossing before she turned and started walking again, headed back up the way she'd come from. At the corner of Petronia she turned right, toward Truman Annex.

  Losing him now would be simple, assuming he was alone. But he could have help, and she wanted to string him/them along a little and see if anyone else had taken an interest in her. It didn't occur to her to be scared.

  She doubted that he/they meant her immediate harm, and besides she had plenty of friends in town if things got nasty. It was far from the first time she'd been followed by mysterious strangers, and she knew what she was doing.

  She continued south on Petronia for the next block, which soon took her out of the crowded restaurant and bar scene. She risked a glance to her left, which allowed her to catch sight of her new friend in her peripheral vision. He was still there, only now he was talking on his cell phone. Or at least pretending to talk on his cell phone. He could be calling for backup. She thought for a moment about making a call of her own, but his presence where she could easily spot him indicated that he was either unprofessional or working alone and afraid of losing her. If he had nearby backup, they should have taken over the tail once she doubled back. She decided to have a little fun with him and see just how afraid of losing her he was.

  They were now in Truman Annex, a small, upscale neighborhood of old-looking Key West style houses that had been built in the last twenty years. It was how Key West would look if designed by a corporate marketing team - neat and tidy and
perfectly pleasant but bereft of any soul or history. The tree-lined streets gave her some cover, so she took another sideways glance. He was still there, although he'd crossed to the other side of the street, perhaps hoping that it wouldn't be quite so obvious that he was following her. He had put away his by Rick Dakan

  5

  cell phone, so if he'd called backup they were probably on the way. That was ok. Soon he'd be forced to either expose himself or give up.

  She came out the other side of Truman Annex, her shadow still with her. The road continued south, where a pair of large Civil War era cannon guarded the way to Fort Zachary Taylor Park. The entrance was well lit, with a booth where a park ranger would take your five bucks and let you into the national park and beach.

  But that was during the day. After sundown, the park shut down and a chain-link gate closed the road off to all foot and vehicle traffic. She knew there might be a ranger or two inside the park and probably security cameras too, but she didn't mind the risk of getting caught. It would be edifying to see if her pursuer felt the same way.

  Breaking into a fast sprint, she dashed toward the gate and jumped up onto its side and then, agile as a monkey, clambered up and over the top, dropping down into a crouch on the pavement below. She looked through the steel mesh to see the man running toward her. It didn't look like he'd thought twice about it. She could probably keep him from getting over the fence, but that would attract a cop or a ranger for sure, and she didn't want that. She wanted some time alone with this creep. She smiled and winked at him before turning and dashing down the road deeper into the park. He didn't smile back.

  The road to the actual park was about a quarter mile of asphalt that curved through trees and brush, so it only took a few seconds of hard running before she was out of his line of sight from the front gate. She heard him slam into the chain link fence and what she thought might be the sound of him hitting the ground on the other side with an "oof." Up ahead of her was the main parking lot and beyond that the beach. Ideally she would like to confront him there, among the pine trees and sand where she had plenty of room to maneuver.

  Unfortunately, there were headlights headed her way from the parking lot - hopefully just a ranger leaving at the end of his shift and not responding to some alarm - but either way she had to get off the road.

  Ahead on her right was a dark hole in the tree line with a small sign marked " Nature Walk." She veered toward it and plunged onto the dim, overgrown trail. She slowed to a halt a dozen feet off the road and crouched down, waiting for the vehicle to pass. Peering through a break in the foliage, she saw a park ranger on an ATV speed by on his way to the front entrance. She wondered if her follower would be able to avoid capture. As loud as the four-wheeler was, he should be able to hear it coming. She shifted position and waited, watching to see what would happen next.

  She swatted a few mosquitoes and flicked a palmetto bug off her shoulder in the fifteen minutes it took for the ranger to drive to the gate and then drive back by on his way wherever it was he bided his time. He couldn't have caught the man who'd been following her, otherwise he would have stayed around and waited for the cops. She stayed put, and five minutes later her patience was rewarded. The stranger came creeping along the side of the road, hugging the shadows of the trees. She knew he was kicking himself, sure that he'd lost his prey. She decided to give him a ray of hope.

  Standing up, she purposefully kicked at a bush, causing a rustle of branches and dead leaves. She smiled as the man froze in place and peered into the darkness. She retreated down the path, headed toward the abandoned Civil War era fort that squatted another few hundred yards away. Like a good little dog, he followed after her.

  She found a convenient shadow behind a large pine tree and waited for him. He crept along the path, eyes darting every which way. She scooped some sand into her hand and pictured all the ways she could hurt him if it came to that. There were a lot of them. He moved past her and she counted to five before stepping out behind him.

  " Can I help you, motherfucker?" she asked, her fist cocked, ready to swing.

  by Rick Dakan

  6

  He jumped in surprise and whirled around to face her. He wore a T-shirt and shorts - no sign of a weapon of any kind.

  " Christ! You scared me!" he said, smiling.

  " Good," she replied. "Now what the fuck do you want?"

  " Actually, I just had a question for you," he said, anger creeping into his voice. " You don't mind answering a few questions, do you?"

  " As a matter of fact, I do," she snarled.

  " Oh, well, that's too bad," he said as he stepped forward. "Because I have to ask them anyway."

  Now it was her turn to smile. "Well, you can try, motherfucker. You can try," she said as she flung the sand in his face and charged.

  Chapter 01

  7

  Chapter 01

  PAUL Reynolds doodled idly on a bar napkin as he sipped at his margarita. All around him tourists of every size and shape were donning paper pirate hats and plastic eye patches. They were part of a relatively new Key West tradition called the Booty Hunt - a glorified bar crawl where participants followed a "treasure map" that led them from bar to bar, with occasional stops in private homes, and where the chief treasure to be found was the pleasure of being surrounded by fellow drunks and saying "Arrrr" a lot. Paul had participated a few times himself and was kind of embarrassed at how much fun it was. His pen drew a rough sketch of the crowd, although in his version they were actual pirates, in full dress with real swords and pistols and parrots.

  He took another sip and glanced around the bar, wondering where his drinking companion had gotten to. It was still early - just an hour or so after sunset, and Crooked Pete's was only half full. Located on Simonton, a block off the tourist-choked sidewalks of Duval Street, the bar hadn't hit its stride for the evening yet. The real crowd and the regulars would come later, once they had gotten a bite to eat and were ready for some serious, cheap drinking.

  He saw his friend Sandee emerge - finally - from the bathroom, smiling at Paul from across the bar while maneuvering through the gaggle of barhopping buccaneers. Thick, cascading black curls complemented Sandee's black sequined mini-dress that clung to every slim curve and emphasized shapely breasts. Sandee winked at one of the tourists, blowing the man a kiss as he ogled in naked admiration.

  "Did you miss me?" Sandee asked, sitting down beside Paul.

  "Of course," Paul replied, sliding another margarita to Sandee. "But your drink missed you more. All your ice is melting."

  "Oh, the poor darlings," Sandee cooed, licking the salt on the rim suggestively before taking a long swallow that emptied a third of the contents. "There, now they have some more room."

  "So where's The Party tonight?" Paul asked. "I assume you're going."

  "Of course I'm going, sweetie. You know I can't resist The Party two nights in a row."

  "And it's just not the same without you there."

  "Nothing's the same without me there, Paul."

  "Don't I know it," he replied as he made a show of looking Sandee up and down. "Rrrrow! You look amazing.

  I'm always impressed."

  Sandee gave him a playful shove. "You big tease. You better be careful, talking to me like that. I'll tell Chloe."

  "Like she doesn't already know. She probably had Bee bug this place too," he joked. He looked around the bar again. "Actually, that's not a bad idea..."

  "You crazy kids and your little spy toys. I swear! You won't be satisfied until there's a camera on every corner and a bug in every bar. But not Pete's, ok? He's got enough of the real live bugs already."

  "Good point," said Paul, taking another sip of his drink. "But there's no stopping Bee once she gets an idea in her head."

  "There's no stopping any of you three when you get an idea in your heads."

  Chapter 01

  8

  "Another good point." He finished his drink and smiled at Sandee. "But back to
my question. Where is The Party tonight?"

  "Have you really lost track of it? It's your party."

  "I know, I know, but I lost control of it long ago. Giancarlo said that we couldn't have upstairs at Vesuvio, but he said you had something lined up instead of the normal backup."

  "As a matter of fact, I do." Sandee smiled with pride. "I finagled us the house on Eaton."

  "The Crawford place?" asked Paul, surprised.

  "The very same."

  "That's great! God, I love it when we can get that place. How long?"

  "Thirty-six for sure, maybe as long as fifty."

  "Perfect. Who've you told?" asked Paul, standing up.

  "My kids. Jesse of course. I haven't hit the girls yet."

  "I was heading over there anyway. I'll tell them."

  Sandee winked. "I bet you will. Chloe trusts you more than I would."

  "Chloe trusts me with you, doesn't she? She's obviously not risk averse."

  "I'll bet no one ever accused her of that," said Sandee.

  "No one that's lived to tell the tale," Paul agreed. He caught the bartender's eye and waved, signaling him to put the drinks on his tab. The bartender smiled and nodded back at him. "I gotta get going then, make sure everything's set."

  "There is one more thing," said Sandee. "New place, new money."

  "New money?" asked Paul, surprised. He'd thought there was plenty in the party fund to cover anything Sandee might need for tonight. "Why..."

  "We had to pay for damages at Max's, and then there was the whole sordid affair with The Gringo. We're tapped out."

  Paul sighed and dug into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. "I've only got $600 on me," he said as he leafed through the bills. "That was going to be my bribe money for the night."

  "If you can spare it, it'd help. I've already doled out all my cash on hand to secure the place and get the liquor.

  But we still need..."

  "I know, I know," said Paul, handing the money to Sandee. "Let's just try and make tonight kick ass so we can earn that back as quick as possible."

  "We should be flush by dawn, my dear," Sandee assured him. "Just you wait."

  Chapter 01