Geek Mafia: Mile Zero

by Dakan

  17

  turning back out into the darkness. Lily and Winston looked around and stretched their backs and necks, as if they'd been sitting for quite a while. Or they might've been contorting themselves for show, giving them an excuse to look in every direction and take in their surroundings. Finally they started walking, heading toward Artist's Alley.

  "No sign of what boat they came in on?" asked Chloe.

  "I can look around, but probably not," said Bee. "They're most likely anchored out there somewhere, beyond my cameras. Of course, if we installed on the channel markers like I said..."

  "One thing at a time, Bee," said Chloe. "Great catch though. Did you use your facial recognition software on that?"

  "No," said Bee "I've just been watching the waterside cameras while I do some other stuff. You said he was coming in by boat."

  "And so he has," said Chloe. "We should go surprise him! Before he comes out of that place."

  "Good plan," said Paul. "I wonder though, how would Winston like the idea that he was being watched by a network of hidden cameras, à la Big Brother?" Paul asked. Winston wasn't his real name, of course. He'd taken the alias decades ago when he first went underground, naming himself after Winston Smith, the protagonist of George Orwell's novel 1984.

  Chloe stared at Paul for a moment, thinking about what he'd said. "Good point. Nobody mention the cameras."

  "Agreed," said Paul. "Now let's hurry. I know the old stoner who owns that place. If we leave those two old hippies alone, they'll talk for the rest of the night." He held out a hand and helped Chloe out of Bee's cushion pile.

  "We'll be back in a while, Bee," said Chloe. "You have the con."

  "Aye, aye, captain," Bee said. "I'll watch your back."

  And Paul knew that she would. Sadly, that's almost the only thing that Bee did these days - watch.

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  18

  Chapter 04

  OLD TOWN - the heart and soul of Key West and the place most visitors spend their time - is only one mile by two. The Crew's house by the cemetery was less than half a mile from where they'd last seen Winston.

  Walking, it might've taken ten minutes to get there, but on Chloe's Vespa it was a hair-raising three-minute ride away. When they got there, Paul saw no sign of either Winston or Lily, so he assumed they were still inside the rundown shack that passed for a gallery. They parked a block away and approached at a brisk walk, Paul almost jogging to keep up with Chloe's excited strides.

  Winston was Chloe's mentor in what they referred to as "The Life," this being a euphemism for a whole range of different activities, groups and lifestyles that fell under the general category of living underground and off the information grid. Paul, after defrauding his former partners and then running afoul of the law in a very public way, had been living The Life for almost a year and a half now. Chloe, as near as he could tell, had been doing it for almost a decade. Winston had started in the late '60s as a 16-year-old member of the notorious Weather Underground. He not only led his own Crew, he was also in contact with dozens, maybe scores of other such groups all over the world, including Chloe and Paul's little Crew of four. On top of all that, he'd once taken a couple bullets while helping Paul out, so, like Chloe, Paul had a soft spot in his heart for the old man.

  They hadn't seen him since that bloody night, but Chloe had been in communication with him off and on over the last sixteen months. Winston and his Crew were old school and didn't trust much in the way of electronic communications. Mostly it had been encoded, hand-delivered letters and arcane classified ads in various newspapers. Chloe found this particular breed of paranoia on Winston's part annoying, but Paul admired it. It reminded him of old John le Carré novels. Winston had sent them a particularly detailed and yet cryptic message just five days ago, telling them that he was coming to Key West and asking them to arrange a secure place for him and some of his Crewmembers to stay.

  The gallery door stood wide open, and Paul could see walls covered with pastel colors - watercolor and oil paintings of sunsets, palm trees, dolphins and more sunsets. Winston stood there talking to the owner, a worn, deeply tanned local who ran the gallery and sold paintings on behalf of a dozen different island artists. The two were deep in conversation about something. Beyond them he saw Lily, staring with bored eyes at a particularly pink painting of a dolphin splashing in the waves during a sunset.

  Paul glanced to his side at Chloe, who wore a mischievous grin. "You ready?" she asked.

  "Ready for..." But Chloe was already through the door, striding in with her chest puffed out, her right hand raised.

  "Everybody freeze! This is a raid!" she shouted across the small room. Lily reacted first, her head snapping toward the door and her hand darting into the pocket of her sweatshirt. Winston and the gallery owner turned as well, surprise on both their faces.

  "What the fuck..." said the owner, who didn't seem to believe Chloe was a cop at all. But then he noticed that Winston was laughing and started to relax. So did Lily. Winston stepped forward and swept Chloe up into a bear hug, lifting her off her feet.

  "Ha HA!" cried Winston. "You little vixen! Are you trying to give this old man a heart attack?"

  "Always," she said as he set her back down.

  Winston turned his attention to Paul then, embracing him in a hug as well. Paul was thankful the old man didn't try and lift him off the ground. "Good to see you again, brother. Good to see you."

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  "Same here," replied Paul. "Welcome to Key West." Looking over he saw Chloe and Lily hugging as well. He waved with a smile to Winston's right-hand woman. "Hey Lily, good to see you too."

  "Thanks, Paul," said Lily. "It's nice to be back on solid ground."

  "I'll bet," agreed Paul. He noticed the gallery owner had retreated a few paces and was watching the love fest that had suddenly taken over his shop.

  "Come on," said Chloe, linking arms with Lily and Winston. "We've got you a great place all lined up."

  But Winston wasn't ready to leave yet. "One moment, Chloe. I still have to buy a painting from this man." The gallery owner, who might have been worried about losing a sale, was visibly relieved.

  "Do you need me to wrap it up for you?" he asked Winston. "I've got today's paper around here somewhere."

  "Not necessary, friend. I'd like to admire it as it is," Winston said as he dug into his pocket and pulled out a worn leather wallet. "We agreed on $700?"

  "Sure...yeah, that sounds great, man," The gallery owner said, surprise in his voice. Paul guessed that this was more than he'd expected, but Paul knew that Winston had a generous heart, especially when it came to artists and musicians.

  The owner reached behind him to a large piece of plywood that was leaning against the wall. He flipped it around and displayed it to the room. The artist had used the same spectrum of sunset reds and oranges on display elsewhere in the room, but in this piece they came together to form a rather striking portrait of Hunter S. Thompson. Paul was actually a little jealous that Winston had snagged this piece - he wouldn't mind owning it himself.

  "Very nice," said Paul.

  Winston handed the owner seven wrinkled $100 bills and took possession of his new prize. "Quite good, isn't it?" he said to no one in particular. Then, to the owner, "Thank you again, brother. It was a pleasure meeting you."

  The two older men shook hands. "Yeah, man. Great meeting you. Enjoy that painting, and, uh ... thanks, man."

  "Be well," said Winston. "And try and spend that cash on something equally wonderful."

  Outside, the four of them walked in a line down the alley, Winston still admiring Hunter's portrait.

  "I can't believe you paid $700 for that," said Lily, although it was clear she was just teasing her friend.

  "I knew him you know," said Winston.

  "You did not!" protested Chloe.

  "I did indeed," Winston assured her. "I met him several times in the early '80s. And once more in '92 or '93. I ev
en sold him herb once."

  "What was he like?" Paul asked. He'd been a huge Thompson fan since he read Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas while in high school.

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  "Much like you'd imagine I suppose. I don't think I ever met the real Hunter - just the persona he showed the world. Or maybe that was the real Hunter. Maybe he did live a life without artifice. I'd like to think that's true.

  Certainly he was a great inspiration to me when I was getting started."

  "How so?" asked Chloe. "You never struck me as much for journalism. Even gonzo journalism."

  "Oh, I'm not. I'm not," said Winston, looking at the painting again. "But I loved his fearlessness in the face of convention. No, that's not right. Not his fearlessness - his eagerness. His eagerness to defy convention and just be outrageous, even as he did one of the most dangerous things a man can do in this society."

  "Ingest vast quantities of drugs?" asked Chloe.

  "No," Winston chided. "Speak truth to power."

  "Oh yeah, that."

  "It's a lesson we can all stand to learn again and again. An example we can all follow."

  Paul was surprised to find that Winston's elegy for Hunter S. Thompson had touched him on some level. He'd always just loved the sort of "wacky adventures" side of the gonzo journalist's work, but Winston's description of him gave Paul a new perspective to mull over. They arrived at Chloe's scooter and all looked at the painting for a silent moment.

  "Ok, did you guys have some bags or something?" asked Chloe. "The place is just a short walk away, but we could get a cab if..."

  "Pardon me, Chloe, but can you tell me where the La Concha hotel is?" asked Winston.

  "What?" she said. "Why?"

  "We have a meeting there, and I'm afraid we're already a little late."

  "You have a meeting at the La Concha?" asked Chloe.

  "Atop the La Concha actually," he said. "Apparently, what that means will become obvious to me once I get there."

  "Yeah, sure," said Chloe. "Ok. It's hard to miss." The La Concha loomed over the city on Duval Street and was also the tallest building in Key West. It had a bar and observation deck on its top floor that gave views of the entire island.

  "Would the two of you mind escorting me there?"

  "No prob," said Chloe.

  Winston handed the painting to Lily saying, "Can you get us set up in the house Chloe's provided for us? I'll go ahead to see Isaiah."

  "Of course," said Lily. Chloe handed her a key to the house they'd just cleaned and gave Lily directions. She offered the use of her scooter as well, but Lily declined. Paul wasn't sure how she'd have driven it with the painting anyway. She struck off to the north on her own while Winston, Chloe, and Paul headed for Duval, leaving the scooter locked up where they'd parked it.

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  Underground etiquette forbade them from asking Winston what the meeting was about or who this Isaiah was, but Paul could tell that Chloe was as eager to know what was going on as he was. Winston didn't make them wait any longer.

  "How far to this hotel?" Winston asked.

  "Four or five blocks," Chloe replied.

  "What if we take a slightly less crowded route?"

  "If we avoid Duval until the end, then it'll only add a block or two."

  "Good, that should be enough time to fill you in on what's going on."

  Chloe just nodded, but Paul said, "Great, I'm all ears."

  They turned up Simonton, which runs parallel to Duval but tends to be less thronged with foot traffic.

  Winston maneuvered between Chloe and Paul, putting an arm around each and drawing them close as he talked in a low voice.

  "The first thing you both need to know is that, as of right now, yours is not the only Crew operating in Key West. And I'm not just talking about me and Lily. There are others who've come to town as well, or who will be arriving soon."

  "Why here?" asked Chloe, concern in her voice.

  "Because I suggested it," replied Winston. Chloe started to say something, but Winston talked over her. "Let me explain everything first, then I promise I'll answer all your questions." He took a quick glance up and down the street. "As you heard, we're meeting with a man named Isaiah. He heads a Crew - a very large and experienced Crew - out of New York. He is, without a doubt, one of the more interesting and inventive men I've ever met, which is no faint praise. He's also very ambitious, albeit not in the traditional American sense of the word.

  "Isaiah's Crew has been active since the '80s. I don't know much about their early history or about Isaiah's background. As you both know, the secret to a long and happy life in our world is knowing how to keep your secrets. Isaiah has been more careful than most. While his own Crew has grown and prospered, he's kept apart from the larger underground society. I only got in contact with him recently, which should tell you something, no?"

  Paul thought about the implications of that statement. Winston had contacts all over the country - probably all over the world. That another large Crew could operate in his underground world for any length of time without Winston becoming aware of them was definitely an accomplishment. Winston seemed to know everyone, which was impressive in its own right, but what really impressed Paul most about Winston's network of contacts was that, according to Chloe, Winston kept all of the details and contact data in his head -

  he didn't trust computers and he never wrote anything down.

  "Are you sure he's one of us then?" asked Chloe. "Not mob or some other gang?" What exactly constituted

  "one of us" was open to interpretation, but generally it meant someone who lived a secret life, as outside the scrutiny of government and corporate power structures as possible. People who weren't afraid to break a law or three to live free, but at the same time weren't traditional, bloodthirsty gangsters either. Like art or pornography, it was something you knew when you saw it (although opinions varied depending on the viewer).

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  "He is one of us, yes," said Winston. "Indeed, his motives seem more pure than most of us. He was the one who first contacted me, and since then his and mine have cooperated on two separate projects and have exchanged useful information on several other occasions."

  "You've been feeling each other out," said Chloe.

  "Exactly. And so far, nothing has raised any alarm bells."

  "That's cool and all," said Paul. "But why is he here in Key West?" He was worried about having two such powerhouse organizations in his little slice of paradise. He and Chloe and Bee had just about got things running the way he wanted, and the thought of someone disrupting his life made him anxious.

  "Don't worry, Paul," said Winston. "It's just temporary, I assure you. I suggested to Isaiah that we meet here.

  And I did that because you two are here, and there's no one I'm closer to in this part of the country. Six days ago Isaiah contacted me, wanting a meeting in the Southeast US somewhere, and he suggested Miami. I've had some bad times in that city and wanted friends on the ground. I countered with Key West and he agreed."

  "Does he know about us?" asked Chloe. "Are we invited to the meeting?"

  "He knows I have a friendly Crew here. I didn't tell him anything about you, but I have no way of knowing what he's managed to learn on his own. He and his crew are all computer experts and I urge you not to underestimate them on any front."

  "Great," said Paul.

  "As for the meeting," Winston continued. "Yes, you are invited. At least to meet with Isaiah. There is a certain etiquette to these types of things. We live in a world without rules, but it's only polite to introduce yourself when you knowingly visit another Crew's turf. Especially if you're there to do business. So Isaiah has said he wants to meet you."

  "Which means he gets to learn what we look like, try and put a tail on us, and learn all kinds of things that he might or might not have known before," said Chloe.

  "The choice is yours of course," W
inston said. "You don't have to meet him, although I'd be surprised if you didn't. I think you'll like him. Besides, I know you're too curious to stay away." He paused and looked meaningfully at Paul. "Of course, I encourage you not to play all your cards at once. It never hurts to hold some options in reserve."

  "Oh no," said Paul. "I'm not skipping this meeting. I've never been to a gang summit before. Besides, we've got our other aces hidden in their respective holes." He looked to Chloe, and she nodded in agreement.

  "Fine, fine," said Winston. "I'm sure you'll both find the whole thing very interesting. As I said, Isaiah wants to be as polite as possible, but etiquette runs both ways. He'll expect some politeness from you in return."

  "Meaning it would be rude to spy on him while he's here," said Chloe.

  "Yes, well, you do have to admit. It would be rude," agreed Winston. "As would tapping his phones, hacking his computers, following him around or otherwise interfering in his business."

  "He has diplomatic immunity," said Paul.

  "Only as long as he doesn't fuck with us first," said Chloe.

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  "Of course," Winston said.

  Chloe thought this over for a moment and looked to Paul. He nodded his assent. He was more curious about Isaiah than he was nervous - but just barely. "All right," she said. "Sounds like a plan. What's this meeting about anyway?"

  Winston didn't answer right away, seeming to mull over his response. "I'm not entirely sure" he finally said.

  "Isaiah's been reticent to share any substantial details with me. But he has a proposition of some sort for me."

  "Some sort of con he wants help on?" asked Chloe.

  "No, no. Nothing that simple. Like I said earlier, Isaiah is an ambitious man. A dreamer. And whatever his plan is, I can promise you, it's no con. Or at least not just a con."

  "Didn't he give you some kind of hint?" asked Paul.

  "He did," said Winston. "He said he wants a revolution."