The Drucker Proxy

by Lior Samson

  As she opened the door, the man took a step to the side, leaving the stern-faced woman facing Dana. “Are you Dana Carmody?”

  “Yes, I am. What’s this about? What happened?”

  “We have a warrant for your arrest.”

  “On what charges?”

  “Obstruction of justice, interfering with a police investigation.”

  — —

  It had been a very long day, long and humiliating. Dana hugged Barbra when she arrived. “Do you know what they do? They make you remove all your metal, every piercing. Every. Fucking. One.”

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that. If I could have gotten here earlier …”

  “At least I’m out, and there’s still a couple hours of the day left. Thanks for lending me your lawyer.”

  Leah Goldstein smiled as she shook her head. “Oh, I’m not on loan. You’ll get my bill by the end of the month.”

  Barbra put her hand on Leah’s arm. “No, I’ll cover it. In a sense, Dana got into trouble on my account, so it’s only fair.”

  Dana protested. “I really couldn’t …”

  “You really could. Trust me.”

  Leah looked from one to the other. “Are you sure, Barbra. The will is being contested and assets in the estate have been frozen. You could find yourself pinching pennies.”

  “I’ve had practice pinching pennies, Leah. But I’m all right. I have some pennies socked away.”

  “And I could, I suppose, ask Freddie and Aileen,” Dana added.

  Leah raised her eyebrows in inquiry. “Freddie and Aileen?”

  “My parents.”

  “Look,” Leah said. “I’m not going to get into the middle of this. I’ll have my invoice sent to you, Dana, and you all can figure out who pays what. As long as I get my three hundred an hour, I don’t care where the money comes from. And now, I should get back to the office before you two run up any more five-dollar minutes. Bye.”

  “Before you go, can I ask you about what happens next?”

  Leah looked at her watch. “Sure, shoot. The next five minutes are on me.”

  “Am I going to be tried? Will I go to jail? What?”

  “I am pretty confident you’re not going to jail—not over this—and you probably won’t go to trial, unless you do something stupid, like violate the conditions of your bail. So, that means absolutely no contact with anyone connected with the murder investigation. Nobody is going to cuff you again on account of Barbra standing here after bailing you out, but you had better hail a rent-a-ride home. And no travel farther than a one-mile radius from your apartment. Got it? Their case is weak. I think the DA’s office is just trying to get you out of their hair until they can finish their work. You snooping in the wrong places or maybe scooping them could jeopardize their case. Once they solve the case and make their move, I can probably get your charges dismissed.

  “So, enjoy your lovely new jewelry.” She glanced down at the GPS bracelet on Dana’s ankle. “Stay out of trouble and stay put. Now, goodbye. Again.”

  — —

  On her way back to her apartment, Dana had the driver stop at an all-night CVS where she picked up a burner phone. As soon as she closed the door of her apartment, she rang Geraldo Potts’s personal cell number. “Hi, it’s me. I just got out on bail. Please come over. When you pick up your messages, ring back and I’ll explain what it’s all about and how to get here.”

  She fell asleep on the sofa with the silent phone face down on the coffee table.

  For the second time that day, Dana was not expecting the door buzzer. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she dragged herself to the door. It was Geraldo. “What are you doing here? I said call back.”

  “You called. I had to come. An invitation to your place. Wow.”

  “No wow. I need some help, that’s all. You’re not on the no-contact list because you’re not on the murder investigation. And how the fuck did you know where I live before I even gave you the address. I mean, you didn’t call me, you …”

  “My phone was off. I was doing some work for CoderMonkeys. And it wasn’t that hard getting your address. You have a Web footprint like you was Bigfoot, ya know.”

  “What the hell are you doing gig work for a schlock outfit like CoderMonkeys? You work for Tensora Motors. Don’t tell me you blew your paycheck on Internet poker or something?”

  “Please. No. I got fired. They discovered I had cloned the SD card. They don’t know what I did with it, so you’re safe, but they weren’t taking chances with any embarrassing leaks. So, I’m between, as they say. I thought of selling the story of the Tensora hacks to one of the webloids, but I’m not the type to tattle. So, I cut code for CoderMonkeys and that Australian outfit, SubRooTeam. Just until I get a new permanent, ya know.”

  “Well, come in, and I’ll fill you in.”

  Geraldo stepped over the threshold as if it were a booby-trap tripwire. “I almost didn’t pick up your voicemail. I didn’t recognize the number.”

  “Burner phone. The police are tracking my smartphone. That’s my assumption, anyway. The terms of my bail prevent me from having any contact with anyone connected with the investigation.”

  “I see. So I’m safe on a technicality, since I was working on the accident case for you. Have you ever tried talking technicalities to a judge? I have, and let’s just say it was not an entirely convivial conversation. Maybe I should go.”

  “No, stay. Just be careful about leaving any breadcrumbs of our contacts.”

  “If you want to avoid leaving a trail, you better be ready to buy a lot of burner phones. And be careful where you go. I see from your new hardware” — he looked down — “you’re being tracked.”

  “Speaking of which, what do you know about my new jewelry? Sleek, fashionable. Black is the new platinum.” She stood like a stork, with her left ankle at her right knee.

  “If you’re asking me what I think you are asking, they’re not too hard to hack, but they’re the devil to slip off without setting off an alarm.”

  “How do you hack them, oh god of embedded programming.”

  “Well, they can be reprogrammed through the wireless port if you know enough about the particular model, but the easier way is to spoof the GPS.”

  “Tell me.”

  “The simplest way is just to carry your own satellites, a little transmitter whose signals mimic the actual GPS satellites with a signal that overwhelms the real ones. Wherever you go, it reports back that you never left your apartment. Of course, you can still get caught by surveillance cams, which are everywhere now, and which feed face-recognition AI that is getting hella good these days.”

  “That I know about. A wig and some stage makeup will handle that. I have both. Can you get me one of those GPS boxes?”

  “No, but I can make one. Can you sit tight for a couple of days?”

  “I’d rather be out and about by morning, but I can adapt.”

  “What scent is my magenta-haired newshound following.”

  “The scent of lust and avarice wafting off one pony-tailed equestrian. She denied knowing Cole Drucker and dodged my questions. She may not be a ‘person of interest’ yet, but I’m guessing she has a direct line to somebody in the investigation. No sooner do I get back from talking with her and the cops are at my door. Coincidence? I think not.” She absentmindedly walked over to the breakfast bar between the living room and the kitchen, then stopped as if she couldn’t remember what she was after. “Could you also rig me a secure Wi-Fi that goes through a different ISP? I’m not supposed to go on the internet.”

  “Sure, I can do it off your burner phone right now, turn it into a hot spot.”

  “Shit, I can do that. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.”

  “Because you’re rattled, and with good cause. If there is some conspiracy here, the co-conspirators maybe have the police in their pockets and are prepared to smash skulls. Would you like me to help you unrattle?” He let his tongue dart out for a flash as he did a lit
tle dance.

  “No, my randy Geraldo, not tonight. I have work to do as soon as I set up my new hot spot. And you need to get cracking on that GPS box.”

  He looked crestfallen as she ushered him out of the apartment.

  Dana poured herself a glass of sauvignon blanc from the refrigerator before remembering that random drug and alcohol testing had been included among the indignities of her release. “Shit.” She was about to dump the wine down the drain when the thought occurred to her that she had just been let out. “They’re hardly going to send in the storm troopers with a drug kit in the first hours.” She took a sip. “Mmmm. Love that cat-pissy, fruit-forward New Zealand style. I should get back into doing some wine and food writing again. And maybe I should stop talking to myself. Except, girl, you are going to have plenty of time for nothing else.”

  She dug an old WinTel tablet computer out of her closet, changed the settings on her burner phone, and set up a secure browser through a layered protocol. She was hours into some highly focused digging when she was startled by the door buzzer. She looked at her empty wine glass. “Shit. What now?” The tablet wasn’t set up to talk with her security camera, so she went to the door and slipped the safety chain in place. She opened the door a crack but kept behind it, just out of sight. “Yes? Who is it?”

  “Geraldo.”

  “What the fuck are you doing back so soon.”

  “I brought you a present, a little black box. Except it’s white.” He slipped his hand through the door opening and waved a plastic case the size of an energy bar. “So, you going to let me in?”

  “Is that what I think it is? How did you manage so …”

  “Let me in, and I’ll tell you.”

  She closed the door, undid the chain, and reopened it. Geraldo was grinning in triumph as he entered. “Turns out I already had everything I needed. I cannibalized some borrowed test equipment used for calibration and … Voila!” He waved the small case like a flag.

  “You are amazing.” She slipped her arms around his neck and grinned up at him.

  “That I am. So let me show you how to use it. This button grabs the local GPS coordinates wherever you are to start, and this button starts spoofing the location. The range is very limited, so you should, like, tuck it in your socks or maybe the lower pocket of cargo pants or something so it can trick your ankle bracelet. And check the batteries. But this will do the trick.”

  “How can I thank you?”

  “Oh, I can think of a few ways.” He licked his lips.

  “You never give up, do you. But this is not your lucky night. I gotta do some planning before morning, and you gotta get back to your CoderMonkeys or whatever.”

  “This time of night, I’ll probably log off and then jerk off. While drooling over your picture from the last Comicon.”

  “Ewww, yuk. Get out of here, you perv.” She grinned as she pushed him backwards toward the door. As she was resetting the security chain after he was gone, she thought how lucky she was that Geraldo was so easy to push around.

  — 26 —

  “Thanks for coming, Tonika. You’re probably wondering why I asked you over. Well, you’re not on the list, which is why. Plus, you know something about pricey cars and the road to Topanga, or so Barbra told me.”

  Tonika Warner looked around as if confused. Finally, she spoke. “Back up girl. What list? Cars? Road? Perhaps we could go somewhere we can talk, if you are allowed to leave your apartment, that is.”

  “No, I’m not allowed to leave.” She pulled up the left leg of her slacks. “We could walk around the block, but not much more. And there’s a good chance we would be under surveillance. So, let’s just go into the living room for coffee and some music.”

  In the living room, she told the sound system to play something from the Poo Fritters, an indie neo-punk band, then kept upping the volume until they were immersed in an angry wave of sound. She leaned close to Tonika. “A friend gave me this.” She slipped a small plastic case from her cargo slacks. “It’s a work of techno abracadabra. I’ll show you out in a few minutes, change, and then slip out by the back stairs. No security cam there.”

  It took Dana longer than expected to do her makeup and change. By the time she arrived out front from around the block, Tonika was sitting in the Tensora, checking messages on her phone. Dana opened the passenger door, and Tonika jumped. “What the hell?”

  “It’s me. Chill.”

  “I didn’t recognize you.”

  “That’s the idea.” Dana checked herself in the visor mirror.

  “You know, you look good as a brunette.”

  “Don’t insult me. Let’s head for a mall. We’ll shop for hats. You like hats? We’ll get a couple of nice old-fashioned floppy ones.” She winked. “I never wear them, but perhaps it’s about time I changed the look. Know what I mean?” She patted the leather seat. “Nice wheels, Tonika. You must be doing okay.”

  “Not mine. It’s on loan from Barbra. It’s quiet, clean, and green. Even though it’s blue. And it’s safe as long as we don’t play music. I’ll explain on the way to the mall.”

  — —

  The Mall of California was a megafauna throwback to an era before the “Do Downtown Again” movement sought to revitalized city centers across America. California developer Reuben Lefcovitz had been determined to reclaim the title of the world’s largest shopping mall from the Chinese and succeeded with a seven-million square-foot monster with enclosed water park, zoo, roller coaster, day camp, and ninety-one restaurants. Two years later, the Chinese reclaimed the title—with a mall that remained mostly empty ever since. So much for national pride.

  The sections of the Mall of California were named for famous streets and urban locales around the world. Dana chose Fifth Avenue because it represented a stratum that was out of her league and anathema to both her aesthetics and her culture-of-choice. Who would expect her there?

  “What do you think of this one?” In a shop called LidsOn, Dana modeled a woven wide-brim sun hat that would have been perfect for a royal wedding and was priced accordingly.

  “It’s you, at least the you of the moment.”

  “You should get one too. Maybe something in white.”

  “I’m afraid that anything in here would max out my credit card.”

  “Which is why we’ll pay cash. My treat.”

  “Did you rob an ATM when I wasn’t looking?”

  “No, just hit up my parents. Well, tapped my rainy-day fund, the result of years of hitting up those two. We’re in the seventh month of a record drought here in SoCal, so I figured it was about time to turn to the rainy-day fund.”

  Another twenty minutes of modeling outrageously overpriced hats and the two women were ready to wander the mall. “Eyes forward and don’t look toward the upper floors. We should be good. All the security cameras here are well above eyelevel and aimed downward. We should be safe from face tracking and the new lip-reading AI.”

  “What about your GPS bracelet?”

  “Hacked. Their monitoring system thinks I am just sitting tight in my little apartment.”

  “Impressive. So, will you finally tell me what you want from me?”

  “I want you as a my two-legged fiber-optic link, my go between. We’re going to become fast friends, and you are going to visit often. I need you to be my eyes and ears as well as my shopping assistant and my telecoms channel. You good for that?”

  “Why? Why am I going to do that? Why are you doing this?” Getting into the cloak-and-dagger role, Tonika kept her eyes forward as she walked, talking while trying not to appear to be having a conversation.

  “I don’t know about you, Tonika, but I’m doing this for Barbra and Becca. And for truth, justice, and the American Way. Cole Drucker was murdered for his money. I saw his body right after; it wasn’t pretty. Follow the money, they taught me in Journalism 101. Well, the money trail tracks back to Existendia and the crew of fantasists there who stand to gain control and drain the wealth that Drucker
created. I knew him only briefly, and frankly, he was a self-centered, skirt-chasing jerk in many ways, but he wasn’t evil.”

  “No, he wasn’t, but that doesn’t mean he was one of the good guys either.”

  “No, you’re right, but as I’ve grown up I’ve learned to settle for the ‘not bad’ guys or ‘mostly harmless’ type.”

  Tonika pretended to be interested in a shop selling nothing but toney torn jeggings. “I don’t want to settle. And I don’t think that’s a good thing for any of us to do. If we settle for jerks, the jerks keep winning and perpetuating their jerkiness.”

  “That’s an okay tactic if you’re willing to live alone and leave no one to the future. What about you? Are you happy going through life alone?”

  “No. But there are good men out there.”

  “Where? Have you found one?”

  “I have.”

  “Then why is there no ring on your finger?”

  “You know, wedding bands have fallen out of fashion. You can’t judge a missus by her left hand. But Tyrell loves me.”

  “From that, I read that he won’t commit.”

  “You’re well read, Dana, but that doesn’t mean he won’t come around eventually.”

  “Maybe he will, but how old will you be when he does? And who says it will be with you when he’s finally grownup enough to commit?”

  Tonika turned away. “I’m a woman of faith. I believe the Lord has a plan for me. I just have to trust that He will show me the way.”

  “Well woot and ta-da for you and your Lord. Forgive me for being crude, but I look around and I don’t see a lot of His work evident in the modern world.”

  “I do. Look at you,”—she grinned—“risking everything to do good, championing justice and all.”

  “Self-interest. I’ve hitched my wagon to Barbra’s star.”