Geek Mafia: Mile Zero

by Dakan

  "Here we go," Winston interrupted. Paul got the impression that Isaiah and Winston had already debated this example a fair amount. "Why not model ourselves after the paragon of right-wing capitalist greed and exploitation?"

  "Why not, indeed?" Isaiah countered.

  "Because they got caught?" Paul suggested.

  "They got caught because they were tied into real world enterprises and stock markets. Because there were people, the SEC could make arrests and parade them in front of the TV cameras. But if you look at what they were doing - which is the same thing a thousand other corporations are still doing today - they had hundreds of fronts and holding companies and shell corporations, each nothing more than an account number and a file somewhere. They moved money and assets and God knows what else without anyone ever noticing what was going on. Sound familiar? It should. It's what all of us do all the time.

  "I'm not talking about going public and selling stock. I'm talking about a privately held, foreign-based holding corporation that can let us pool our resources, launder money, provide ready-made cover, establish untraceable lines of credit, even buy and sell real estate and big ticket property. Hell, even provide health insurance. All without any of it being traceable past the corporate façade."

  "You're asking us to give up and join the enemy," said Winston. "To become part of the establishment that we devote our time to subverting."

  "What better way to subvert than from within?" asked Isaiah. "I use the best, I use the rest. I use the enemy."

  "I use Anarchy," said Paul, completing Isaiah's quote from the Sex Pistols.

  "And make no mistake. This is classic anarchy I'm talking about. No government control, the workers - us -

  controlling everything from the ground up. No one telling us what to do. Better than that - no one even knowing what's happening."

  "Corporations are the traditional tools of Fascism," Winston intoned. "How can forming a corporation be a tool of Anarchy?"

  "Don't get caught up in the labels," Amelia chimed in from beside Isaiah. "When he first told me about this plan, I was as skeptical as you. But look at the reality, the essence of what's being proposed. A modern-day corporation has all the rights but few of the responsibilities that a person has. And a transnational corporation is a person without any steady lord or master. A person who can travel anywhere in the world in search of opportunity."

  "Or prey," said Winston.

  "Or prey," agreed Amelia. "That's exactly right. And what does that sound like? Who else in history have Chapter 06

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  enjoyed such freedoms?"

  "Pirates," said Paul, understanding dawning on him. "You're saying corporations are the modern pirates."

  "Exactly!" said Isaiah, pointing at Paul. "That's it exactly. We've modeled our crews after the Pirate Crews of old - democratic, beholden to no one, taking what we need and living free. But it's time to evolve. Time to become the true pirates of our age."

  "The corporation isn't what we are," said Paul. "It's just a new ship for us to sail in." He'd been entranced with the pirate mythos the Crews wrapped themselves in ever since he first met Chloe. The comparison added a veneer of romance and daring that helped mask the sometimes brutal and tough parts of living underground.

  But he knew that Winston had never liked the metaphor, and looking at him now, Paul didn't see anything in the old man's stern visage to make him think he'd changed his mind.

  "That's it," said Isaiah. "I'd never thought of it that way, but you're exactly right, Paul. It's just another kind of ship. A ship that's just as quick and dangerous, but with bigger guns and better armor that can slip in and out of any port in the world without being noticed."

  "Ok, ok, I get it now," said Paul. "But before we get pulled into a big philosophical debate, let's get back to the real point here. How did this plan of yours get Raquel killed?"

  Everyone stopped and stared at him. It was almost as if they'd all but forgotten about the dead woman in the guest house less than ten blocks away, or at least stopped worrying about her. He certainly hadn't, and of course they probably hadn't either. Paul found it more than a little disquieting that they could all talk business and theory with such ease after hearing about Raquel's murder.

  "We don't know that it did," said Isaiah.

  "But it seems rather likely, doesn't it," said Winston.

  "Yes, I admit that it does," Isaiah conceded.

  "Well, the first thing we need to do then is figure out what happened to her," said Paul.

  "I didn't tell anyone she was coming," said Isaiah. "Not even Winston."

  "I had no idea she was involved in this scheme until Isaiah told me earlier this evening," Winston added.

  "And of course we didn't know," said Paul. "What about this other Crew that called in late?"

  "I didn't tell them either. And as far as I know, Raquel never had any contact with them. But of course I have no idea who Raquel has worked with. They may be the best of friends or the worst of enemies for all I know. I mentioned them to Raquel, and she claimed not to have heard of them."

  "You told Raquel about them?" asked Paul. "Did you tell her about us too?"

  "I did," said Isaiah. "And about Winston. Part of what I wanted her to do was check up on all of you, to make sure that none of you had any law enforcement heat on you."

  Paul didn't like that he'd been secretly investigated. In fact, he did have some legal heat on him, although he didn't think there were any active investigations going on. "What did she find?" he asked.

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  "I don't know," said Isaiah. "She was supposed to give me a report tonight."

  "So, basically we don't know anything about who or what she knew," said Paul. "Other than the fact that she was digging around into other Crews, getting in touch with her law enforcement contacts and generally sticking her nose where it wasn't wanted. But since we don't know what she found, we don't know who she might've pissed off enough for them to murder her in her hotel room."

  "That seems to sum it up," said Isaiah.

  "What a fucking mess. Before we do anything else, I want to figure out what happened to her," said Paul.

  "We'll help you...." Isaiah started to say.

  "No, that's ok," Paul said. "We'll handle it to start with. It's our town, our responsibility. Chloe's already working on it. If we end up needing help, you can be sure I'll let you know."

  Isaiah was about to say something, but Amelia tapped her laptop screen, stealing his attention. He glanced at the display and narrowed his eyes slightly, then nodded. Amelia typed into the keyboard for a few seconds.

  Looking up from the screen, Isaiah said, "Well, it appears our fourth and final potential partner has arrived."

  "I thought they said their ship had been delayed," said Winston. Paul thought he detected a note of suspicion in his tone.

  "That's what they said when they contacted me," said Isaiah. "Either they found a way to get off the ship and to this island, or they misled me. Either way, they're here now."

  "Here in Key West?" Winston asked.

  "Here in this hotel. In the elevator by now I suspect."

  "Then let's pause our conversation until they arrive," said Isaiah.

  Paul looked around at the other three in the room and nodded. They were all very experienced, intelligent criminals, and now there were more of their kind on the way - men or women who might be murderers. He wished Chloe was there to help him deal with all this shit, but she had her own challenges. He needed to concentrate hard and watch out for anything and everything they might throw at him. Otherwise he was in dire danger of being swallowed by all these big fish he was suddenly swimming with. As Isaiah had said, time to evolve or die.

  Paul sat and reflected for a moment, wishing for a pen and paper to doodle on - anything to release his nervous energy. He had started to wonder if maybe Chloe should've stayed at the meeting and let him investigate the dead body with Bee. Chloe didn't have any more
experience investigating murders than he did.

  Less even, if only because he'd read more detective novels in his life than she had. But most importantly, she did have experience dealing with Winston and people like Isaiah. Paul most certainly did not have any expertise with people like Isaiah or Amelia or whoever these new guys were. On the other hand, at least he wasn't having to deal with a dead body, which was why he'd volunteered to return to the meeting in the first place.

  That things had gotten so serious and scary all of a sudden didn't surprise him. When they'd first heard from Winston about his visit, Paul had felt an anxious pang that he couldn't explain at the time. He imagined it's how he would've felt if he were married and he learned that his in-laws were making an unexpected visit - no Chapter 06

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  real reason to be worried other than wild fantasies about all the ways it could go wrong. Well, it had now officially gone more wrong than he had ever imagined. And as interesting as Isaiah's insane corporate/pirate ship scheme sounded, if he could've wished them all away, he would have.

  No one had much to say as they waited. Amelia typed into her laptop, possibly communicating with Crewmembers outside. Isaiah just watched as she typed. Winston, who might've offered Paul some support, had gotten up from the table and was now standing in the corner with his back to the rest of them, fiddling with something in his hand. A cell phone maybe? Paul couldn't tell.

  There was a knock at the door, and Paul twisted around in his seat to see who was there. He blinked once in surprise. It was as if a fraternity field trip had just walked through the door. Leading the way was a broadchested short man with wavy bleached-blonde hair tucked under a blue baseball cap. He wore red surfer shorts and a loose-fitting cream-colored shirt that was unbuttoned to halfway down his chest, revealing a gold chain nestled in tufts of brown chest hair. Behind him came another man who could've been his older, thinner brother, also blonde, in sandals and a throwback New York Knicks jersey with a laptop tucked under his arm.

  "What's up, guys," said the first one in a voice two levels too loud for the room. "Sorry we're late."

  Isaiah and Amelia stood up, and Paul followed suit, offering his hand to the man. "Hi," Paul said.

  "Hey," he said to Paul. The newcomer gave his hand a quick squeeze and a smile, but his attention was already focused on Isaiah.

  "And you must be Isaiah," he continued, pumping the older man's hand. "Great to meet you, bro. I'm Eddie."

  "I'm surprised to see you tonight," Isaiah replied, his voice revealing nothing as he reclaimed his hand from Eddie's grasp and took his seat.

  "Yeah, I know I said we'd be late, but I caught a different boat. It's f 'ed up, man. But anyway, we're here. Did we miss anything?"

  "As a matter of fact, rather a lot," said Winston from the other side of the room. He was heading back from his corner.

  "Really?" said Eddie. Following Isaiah's lead, he and his companion took seats at the table between Paul and Isaiah, across from where Winston had been sitting. I guess we don't get to know the other guy's name, thought Paul, as he sat back down.

  "There's been a bit of a complication," explained Isaiah.

  "That's an understatement," said Winston. "One of our fellow guests has died."

  "No way!" exclaimed Eddie, his face startled as he turned to look at his companion. "What the hell happened?"

  "We're not sure yet," said Isaiah. "It's being looked into."

  "Who was it?" Eddie asked, looking around the assembled group.

  "Her name was Raquel," said Winston.

  "You're shitting me!" said Eddie. "No way..."

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  "You knew her?" asked Winston.

  "Yeah. No. Not really. We just met a couple weeks ago, down in Jamaica. We were working this..." Eddie stopped, apparently realizing that maybe he'd revealed more than he meant to. Or maybe he just wants us to think that, thought Paul, reminding himself that everyone at this table was a shark.

  "She hadn't mentioned that she knew you." said Isaiah.

  "Really?" asked Eddie, a hint of annoyance. He leaned back in his seat. "Whatever. The point is, this is pretty fucked up. What did you say happened?"

  "We don't know yet," Isaiah repeated. "We're looking into it."

  "Looks to me like you're sitting around on your butts on top of this crappy hotel," said Eddie. "If she was murdered, then, well, I gotta know that shit."

  "What makes you think she was murdered?" asked Paul.

  Eddie turned toward Paul, seeming to only now really notice him. "Who're you?" he asked.

  "I'm Paul. Why do you think she was murdered?"

  "I don't," he said, smiling in a condescending way that Paul hadn't seen since college. "I was just asking if she was."

  "Well, we're looking into it," said Paul.

  "You're looking into it? Looks to me like you're..."

  "Sitting on my ass in this crappy hotel. So you've said. But hey, guess what? There are more things on heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy, Eddie."

  "Your point being?"

  "It's being looked into," said Paul.

  "Ok, ok, I get it. Sorry to be a pain in the ass," said Eddie, suddenly friendly as he leaned over and gave Paul a pat on the shoulder. "Just trying to get the lay of the land, you know?"

  "Ok," said Paul. He had to admit, if he walked into a room and someone told him that someone he knew was dead, he'd probably have asked the same questions as Eddie. Given the kind of people who were in this meeting, murder was the most likely cause of death. He decided not to think about what that meant for his own personal mortality statistics.

  "We're deciding how to proceed at this point," Isaiah was saying. "We have no reason to believe that Raquel's untimely demise is directly related to our endeavor here."

  "And no reason to believe it isn't," said Winston.

  "He's got a point," said Eddie. "It doesn't seem like a very fucking likely coincidence."

  "I agree," said Isaiah. "It is probably related in some way, but it may well be entirely tangential to our actual Chapter 06

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  purpose. As you know well, Raquel was a busy woman with a lot going on. We're not going to make any decisions in regards to her until we know more."

  "We're not?" asked Eddie, with a laugh. "So you're making the decisions about what we are and aren't going to do?"

  "Of course not," said Isaiah, although Paul thought that was exactly what he'd been doing. Despite himself, he was glad Eddie had called him on it. "We're all free to do as we please, but I for one plan to keep going, taking all necessary precautions, of course. I'm not going to panic."

  "Who's panicking?" asked Winston. "I just want us to be realistic and careful."

  "And we will be," said Isaiah.

  "Great. Sounds fucking great," said Eddie. "Now would someone like to tell me just what it is we're being so damn careful about? Isaiah, buddy, why'd you want to meet like this?"

  Isaiah paused and took a deep breath. "As the man said, I have a dream..." he began again, launching into the same speech he'd just given half an hour earlier. Paul sat back in his chair, prepared to be bored as he heard the spiel again. To his surprise, even knowing what was coming, Isaiah's dream sucked him right in. Maybe it was the pressure or the adrenaline or shock from finding Raquel's body, but Paul was starting to think that this scheme might actually be a good idea.

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  Chapter 08

  CHLOE watched Paul drive off on her scooter for La Concha. He drove it so much slower than she did. After he turned the corner, she dialed Bee, who picked up before the phone had a chance to ring.

  "What's going on?" asked Bee, anxious.

  "Lots and lots," said Chloe. "I need you to meet me at the place."

  "The place?" she asked. "You mean where you and Paul..."

  "Yeah," said Chloe. "And I need you to bring a forensics kit."

  There was a moment's pause. "Yo
u need what now?"

  "A forensics kit."

  "Like on CSI'?"

  "Yeah," said Chloe.

  "I don't have a forensics kit."

  "Sure you do," said Chloe. "You just haven't put it together yet."

  Another pause. Chloe knew Bee was running through her mental catalog of all the gear and gadgets in the house. "I can do a fingerprint powder I think. Some graphite. Tweezers, plastic bags, magnifying glass, a black light..."

  "What's the black light for?" asked Chloe.

  "I dunno. Don't they always use a black light for finding fluids and stuff? And those special orange glasses."

  "Do you have special orange glasses?"

  "No..." Bee admitted. "Ok, no black light."

  "Bring the good camera."

  "Video or still?"

  "Both I guess. Still for sure. And anything else you might find useful."

  "Ok, ok..." She heard Bee typing in the background, making her list and no doubt checking it twice. "I'll be there in an hour."

  "Hah! You're kidding. I need you now," said Chloe.

  "Ten minutes then?" said Bee.

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  "Are you pulling a Scotty on me again?" Chloe asked.

  "Moi? Never."

  "Ok," said Chloe. "I need to pick up a bottle of whiskey, and I'll see you there."

  CHLOE waited on the same street corner near where she'd found Paul a couple hours earlier. She called and gave San an update on what was going on. Sandee wanted to continue with party prep, and after a moment's consideration, Chloe agreed. They might well need the party later, and San was the queen of organizing good times in Key West. More importantly, they needed the revenue.

  She saw Bee come ambling up the street, a backpack slung over one shoulder and her ubiquitous laptop tucked under one arm. Chloe was momentarily surprised that she hadn't driven and then realized that the guest house was indeed uncomfortably close to her own home. Fuck, this is a small town, she thought for the million-and-first time since she'd moved here last year.

  Bee saw Chloe and hurried her pace, bouncing along the sidewalk as she trotted up to the corner. "Sorry I took so long," said Bee. "But I couldn't find the graphite powder for fingerprints."