Vigilantes and Lovers

by Charles Dougherty

"Yeah," Aaron interrupted. "Don't even say it out loud, man. I don't know how, but they gotta know I was checking stuff for you. Maybe I got a microchip implanted in my ass or something. Or you do."

  "You're reading too much sci-fi. The boss probably pulled my 201 to see who I might be connected with from way back when. When she went looking to see who was in our unit, there you were."

  "Maybe. But I'm not sure how she could have done that. Doesn't really matter. My source called again this morning, right before the visit from HR. That audit deal I mentioned? Turns out they ran it, and this time there was no trace of either of our 201s being accessed."

  "But wait," I said. "Your source — "

  "Yeah. Saw my damn file with his own eyes yesterday. Saw the digital sign-out for it yesterday afternoon, too. Guess he was hallucinating, because there never was such a file. Now we're both in limbo, you and me."

  "Shit," I said. "I'm sorry I got you into this."

  "No, man. I owe you my life. And I'm not through with these assholes yet. I'm just getting started. They've pissed me off, now."

  "But you're out, right? You took their deal?"

  "Yeah, sure. I took their deal. I'm angry, not stupid. Live to fight another day. Now I'm takin' the gloves off and goin' after them. They're gonna think they're surrounded before I get through with 'em."

  "What are you going to do?"

  "I'm goin' in business with a few friends. You need intel now more than ever, man. You know they got their sights on you and your lady. If you need to know shit, just ask me. Same as always."

  "But how will you get access to their data?" I asked.

  Aaron laughed. "It's not their data. It's just data. They only think it's theirs. Anything I could get before, I can get now. My friends and I, we help one another out, just like you and I always have. We trust each other — not the damn bureaucrats. I'm still working on the Phorcys thing. I'll be in touch tomorrow on that, probably, but expect me to call from a different number. This one's gonna be history as soon as we hang up."

  "Thanks," I said. "If you need anything from me, let me know."

  "Yeah, man. Stay cool. Talk with you tomorrow."

  8

  "Hey, sailor! You in pain?"

  I was wide awake the instant I heard her voice. It was one in the morning when the iPhone woke me, and I groaned when I answered it.

  "Hey, yourself. What time is it?"

  "One o'clock. What was that groan for?"

  "Just my excitement bubbling over. Your flight just get in?"

  "I'm at the hotel. Sorry if I woke you, but I couldn't resist hearing your voice."

  "Mm. I know what you mean. Glad we didn't end up waiting two weeks. What time do you figure on getting to Guánica?"

  "The shuttle's picking me up at 6:30. Look for me around nine. Where's a good place to meet?"

  "The waterfront; there are a few little fishing boats on moorings. Island Girl's about a mile to the west. So far, we've got this little cove to ourselves."

  "Good. Sounds perfect for what I have in mind."

  "Oh?" I asked. "What's that?"

  "You'll see. Now go back to sleep. You're going to need your rest."

  "Wait. You have any news?"

  "Yes. But not now, okay? It'll take a while to tell you, and I'm beat from the trip. It's nothing that won't keep, anyway."

  "Okay. Glad you're here."

  "Me, too. Can't wait to see you."

  With that, she was gone, and I was wide awake. My body clock was out of whack after three days of round-the-clock sailing, snatching 10-to-15-minute naps when I could. After five hours of sleep, I was ready to go — except there was nothing for me to do at this time of night.

  Rather than lie in bed and fret, I got up and went up into the cockpit. It was deathly quiet outside except for the occasional pop of a fish striking some hapless insect on the water's surface.

  The moon was new. There wasn't much moonlight, but the lights from the houses along the south shore of the cove cast a dim glow over the water. I could see occasional ripples on the glassy surface from feeding fish. The north shore was mostly parkland; it was dark in that direction.

  I wondered what news Mary would have, and that reminded me that Aaron expected to have information about Phorcys tomorrow. I should have warned him that I would have company; I wasn't ready to tell Mary I was investigating her friend. She might be offended by that.

  Or maybe she wouldn't; after all, it was the kind of thing people like us did. Trust didn't come easily to people in our line of work; staying alive required constant vigilance. And that made me wonder what Mary's news might be.

  We discovered a few days ago that someone was trying to fill the power vacuum left when Mary killed a mobster named Rory O'Hanlon. O'Hanlon was Mary's client; he hired her to kill his money guy, who was skimming while laundering O'Hanlon's illicit cash.

  Part of her job was to recover the files that were the root of our problems. The guy who was skimming maintained the files; he was like O'Hanlon's chief financial officer. F.X. Dailey was his name; his wife was in it with him.

  Mary followed through on her contract with O'Hanlon, but he thought she knew too much about his business and tried to kill her instead of paying her. That didn't end well for him, and Mary kept the files. But that wasn't the news; it was background.

  When I met Mary, O'Hanlon was trying to retrieve the files and do away with her. At that stage, we thought the files contained lists of his suppliers and distributors. Since then, we learned that the files included lists of corrupt politicians. Now we knew that O'Hanlon was only a cog in an extensive, corrupt enterprise that reached the highest levels of our government.

  When my daughter was kidnapped to force me to give up Mary and the files, Mary and I tracked down the man who ordered the kidnapping. We interrogated him before we helped him commit suicide.

  We learned two things from him. One was that the person who told him to go after us was taking over O'Hanlon's empire. The man we questioned didn't know more about him than that. He never saw the mystery man. He met the mystery man once, but was blindfolded for the encounter. After that, he took orders over the phone. The mystery man's voice was distinctive, perhaps with a slight accent.

  The second, and to me, the more disturbing thing we learned, was that my boss told them about my daughter. My daughter was born while I was in the Army. I was out of the country, serving in one of those places the government won't talk about. I was officially missing in action for over a year. Before I even knew about my daughter, her mother divorced me and remarried. Her new husband adopted the girl, and they lived normal lives.

  I kept my distance, for several reasons. One of them was the fear of exactly this kind of thing. My boss shouldn't have even known about my daughter; that whole part of my life was buried in ultra-secret files from my military days. As Aaron Sanchez discovered, the corruption in our government reached levels that had access even to files like mine and his.

  While Mary was killing time in the States, she was going to try to find out more about the mystery man. We agreed that I would focus on how my boss discovered the existence of my daughter. My other task was to find someone who could crack the encryption that protected the files Mary acquired from O'Hanlon.

  By now, Aaron and I knew as much as we were ever likely to learn about how my daughter's existence was disclosed. But I still needed to talk with him about decrypting the files. That was something Aaron would farm out to one of his "friends." His abrupt termination wouldn't stop us from that, but it might slow us down.

  I would call him in the morning before Mary got here. I could explain the delicacy of the Phorcys research and discuss the decryption of the files at the same time. Then I would have progress to report to Mary.

  And now I was sleepy again. Not wanting to know how late it was, I went below and crawled into my berth without looking at the clock. Soon, I would be with Mary again, and we could sort all this out.

  9

  The sun st
reaming in through the portlight over my berth woke me up; a glance at the clock on the bulkhead told me it was a few minutes before 6 o'clock. I went in the head and splashed water on my face. Then I put a pot of coffee on the stove.

  Given the one-hour time difference, it was too early to call Aaron. And he said he was ditching his burner phone. I couldn't call him anyway, until he gave me a new number.

  That made me think I should replace my burner phone; I could do that here while I was waiting on Mary. The notion of buying disposable phones made me chuckle.

  I remember when cellphones were horrendously expensive. But $25 cellphones that came with $15 worth of talk-time were available everywhere, now.

  As I waited for the coffee to perk, I got out my laptop and the burner phone. I plugged the phone in to charge, and when the screen lit up, I saw the indicator for a new text message.

  Unlocking the phone, I scrolled through the menu and found a message from a strange number in the 301 area code. The message was short. "Using this, now." That would be Aaron's new number, a Maryland number instead of another Virginia one. He was being extra careful.

  Looking at the clock, I decided if I waited an hour, I could find somewhere in Guánica to buy another throwaway phone. That way, I could call him from a new number, further reducing the chance of our exposure to Nora's spies.

  I poured a cup of coffee and took the laptop up into the cockpit. Getting lucky, I found an open Wi-Fi network from a bar in Guyapao Barrio, which was close to the west end of the cove. I could have used my satellite hotspot, but Wi-Fi was faster. Using my VPN, I set up a free cloud storage account and uploaded the encrypted files that the crooks wanted so badly.

  I would share the login credentials for the cloud account with Aaron later in the morning. He could download the file and then close the account. It wasn't the most secure arrangement, but it wasn't too bad, and the files were encrypted to begin with. Besides, the files would only be there for an hour or two.

  The upload took several minutes. Leaving the laptop running in the cockpit, I shaved and got dressed. By the time I finished my coffee and scarfed down a quick breakfast, the upload was done. I put the computer in my canvas briefcase.

  It was a little after 7 o'clock. Inflating the dinghy, launching it, and mounting the outboard took another 20 minutes. By the time I got ashore, it would be 8 o'clock, and the stores in town should be open. I locked Island Girl, leaving a short length of transparent monofilament fishing line caught between two of the drop boards in the companionway.

  If anybody came aboard in my absence, I would be able to tell. They couldn't get below without moving that scrap of line. Even if they were careful enough to notice it, they wouldn't get it back in exactly the same place.

  It was a few minutes after eight when I locked the dinghy to the seawall along the boardwalk in Guánica. I climbed out and ambled around town until I found one of those stores that are ubiquitous in the Caribbean. It sold a bit of everything from clothing to groceries to building supplies. And prepaid cellphones.

  With my new phone and a foam-plastic cup of sour coffee, I walked back to where I left the dinghy. There were park benches looking out over the water. Surprised there were no people hanging out there, I sat down and called Aaron.

  "Yeah?" he answered, not recognizing my new number.

  "Is Elena there?" I asked.

  "Elena? Elena who?"

  "Elena Howard."

  "Okay. I see you got my message."

  "Yeah. Figured it was time I got a new phone, too."

  "Good for you. Glad you did. Can't be too careful. But I don't have anything for you yet. It'll be later today."

  "That's okay. That's why I'm calling; I'll have company here in about an hour, so I won't be able to talk about Phorcys."

  "Company, huh? Your friend? The one who knows him?"

  "Yeah. That one. I don't want her to know we're checking up on him. Not just yet, anyway. This phone will be turned off while she's around."

  "Can't say as I blame you. Want me to just leave you a voicemail?"

  "Sure. Or a text. But I've got something else to ask you."

  "No problem, man. What do you need?"

  "Those files I mentioned…"

  "Yeah, I remember. What about them?"

  "The names are encrypted. You got somebody who can help?"

  "Damn right. How's the best way for me to get the files?"

  "Write down this web address." I rattled off the URL of the cloud storage service.

  "Got it. User name and password?"

  I gave him those, and he read them back. "Once you download the files, erase them from the cloud and close the account, okay?"

  "You got it. Not sure how long this'll take, but I'll be in touch later today on the mystery man thing. I'll have a better idea on the files then. Enjoy your guest, and take care, man."

  "Thanks. I'll owe you."

  "No way. Later."

  "Hey," I said, "can we talk about something else?"

  "Yeah, sure. I didn't mean to cut you off."

  "You didn't cut me off, but given your situation, and mine, I think we should quit using the phones, unless it's an emergency."

  "Okay, but how do you want to communicate, then?"

  "I'll set up an email account on a secure server and share the login credentials with you. You can access it over a VPN. It'll work like a virtual blind drop. I'll leave a message for you in the drafts folder. When you get it, delete it and leave your response in the drafts folder. I'll delete it when I've read it. We'll each check it as often as we can."

  "Cool. That's way better than the burner phones, as far as security."

  "Yeah, and besides that, I bought myself a satellite hotspot. Now I can go online when I'm out of sight of land — out of cellphone range. Check email, do a little online research, whatever."

  "Okay. That's great. Just let me know how to work the email drop, okay? Guess I'll just need the email address and the password?"

  "Yep. And the web address for online access to the server. I'll send it all in a coded text."

  "Okay. You gonna send a key for the code? Like separately? That's what I recommend."

  "No," I said, remembering how Mary set up the blind drop she and I were using. "Nobody but you will figure out what the text means. It may take you a couple of tries, but I doubt it. Just think about the shit we did when we got leave way back when. It'll fall into place."

  "Okay, then. I'll look for it. Stay safe."

  "Yeah. You too. It'll take me a little while to put it together. Probably about an hour. Thanks again."

  "Sure, man." Aaron disconnected the call, and I powered my new burner phone off and put it in my canvas briefcase with the laptop. I sipped my coffee and watched the colorful little outboard-powered fishing boats bobbing on their moorings.

  It was almost 9 o'clock. Mary would be here in a few minutes. I got busy and set up the blind email drop for Aaron and sent him a text with the information he would need to access it.

  10

  I was finishing my coffee and watching a two-foot-long iguana sunning itself on the edge of the seawall when the shuttle van stopped near the little gazebo. By the time I got to the gazebo, the driver was opening the side door. Mary, her backpack on one shoulder, stepped down and handed him some folded bills. She grinned, throwing her arms wide for my hug.

  "Thank you, ma'am," the driver said, closing the door and pocketing the money. "Enjoy your holiday."

  She was still in my arms when the shuttle drove away.

  "I've missed you," I said.

  "I missed you, too."

  "Had breakfast yet?" I asked.

  "No, just coffee. But I'm okay. A snack would be good, though, unless you're in a hurry to get to the boat."

  "I thought we could pick up a few groceries. I haven't stocked the galley since I got back."

  "Really? What have you been doing all this time?"

  "Sailing. I've been to St. Martin and back."

&n
bsp; "That's a lot of miles in three days. When did you get here?"

  "Last night. First full night's sleep I've had in days."

  "What took you to St. Martin?"

  "There's a hole-in-the-wall place there that sells exotic electronics. I had a little shopping to do."

  We were walking and talking; Mary pulled me to a stop at an open-air café. She led me to the counter and ordered coffee and a fried saltfish patty. I settled for coffee, sure it would be better than the swill I got from the convenience store earlier. Mary set her food on a table and dropped her backpack in one of the extra chairs.

  "What kind of electronics?"

  "Security scanning stuff — to detect bugs, spy cameras, tracking devices. Plus a sackful of spy stuff for us to use if we want. And a satellite hotspot, so we have internet access anytime, anywhere."

  She nodded. "Any special reason for all the spy stuff?"

  "Well, after your friends planted that tracker on the boat right after we met, I thought it might be a good idea. We're up against the professionals, now, too. Not just regular crooks."

  "What do you mean, 'professionals?'"

  "I told you Nora was alive."

  "Yes, but that's about it. What's going on?"

  "She called me when I was about to board my flight in Miami. Spun me a yarn about how the whole Kelley thing was a setup."

  "No shit. Tell me about it."

  "She tried to convince me that 'they' — that would be her team, they're the good guys, of course — were planning to record Kelley trying to force me to hand over you and the files. Then they were going to bust him, try to get him to flip on somebody higher up."

  "What did you say to that?"

  "I played along. At that point, she didn't know about the senator's suicide, so she thought I was in the dark about her betrayal."

  Mary took a bite of her saltfish patty and nodded. "She called you on that dedicated sat phone?"

  "Yes. After that, I sanitized it and got rid of it before I left Miami."

  "Who was that woman they killed, then?" she asked.