She glanced between Rachel and me. The nervousness in her expression was palpable, but my offer was more than tempting to her. This wasn’t the greatest neighborhood, and for an ex-con who wanted to better her life, 350K could get her a lot.
“Okay. I’ll do it. I’ll help,” she conceded.
“Yay!” Rachel hooted. “Gracias, amiga, muchisimas gracias!”
I waited until the girls calmed down to say anything.
“Briana, thank you. I really appreciate it.”
“You can thank me later,” she laughed. “When you’re out of the country.”
Out of the country…
The words stung. Rachel’s plan was necessary. She was right, I couldn’t stay in the States much longer. Eventually the FBI and CIA would have us cornered. Once arrested, my voice would be silenced, and so would Rachel’s. Our hopes of uncovering the truth would be but a failed attempt. That was something I couldn’t stomach thinking about.
“So, what now?” Rachel asked.
Briana shrugged. “You guys said you were hungry. Want some breakfast?”
Rachel and I both nodded quickly in response.
“Great. I still have some arroz con leche from this morning.”
“Mi favorita,” Rachel added.
Before Briana could walk to the kitchen I stopped her.
“Briana.”
“Yes?” she turned back to me.
“Do you have a laptop? Or a desktop?”
She seemed confused by my request.
“Yes, I have a laptop. Why?”
“I need to contact Grey.”
I could still taste the sweet, milky flavor from the arroz con leche in my mouth. The meal was simple and filling. It was great, considering we hadn’t eaten in so long. The girls were sitting on the barstools that lined the kitchen counter, catching up with each other. I had shut down the computer, and when I restarted it, I immediately pressed F2. When the USB option did not show up, I quickly pressed F12.
Whew, it appeared. Grey’s flash drive he gave me was blinking red every second, already ready to go in the USB port. When I chose his drive to load the OS from, the startup screen was plain and simple.
There was one icon on the desktop. Bitmessage.
I made sure I was connected to the Wi-Fi and clicked it. It loaded a login screen, and I fumbled to get my wallet out of my pocket. From inside one of the slits, I pulled out the piece of paper he had given me the morning I robbed the bank.
I typed in the username, anonymoususer159753258.
The password was a lengthy thirty characters. I nervously pressed the button to log in. It took a moment to load, but when it did, I was looking at an extremely rudimentary email inbox. No fancy colors or designs, just two tabs to click on. Inbox and Sent. There was no trash. I assumed that with Bitmessage, if you were to delete a message, it was gone permanently.
I noticed there was the number one next to my inbox. I had a message. The received date was two days prior when I was last at Grey’s.
From: intheshadows842679513
Body: Respond to this message to reach me.
I smiled. Typical Grey—vague, cautious, but yet the message was enough.
I hit reply and began to type.
My phone beeped. I pulled it out of my pocket, and my eyes lit up from what I saw. It was a notification from Bitmessage. Owen finally messaged me.
That fucker is still safe. What a lucky dog.
I glanced over at my friend. He was still asleep on the futon. Daylight spilled through the cracks in the blinds. He had one too many shots at the bar last night, and it would be hours before he woke up.
I stood up, went to the desktop in the corner of the living room, and logged into Bitmessage.
There it was. A message in my inbox from anonymoususer.
I laughed at the simplicity of the name. I opened the message and began reading.
Come to 2700 Conway Gardens Road Apt 1A. Orlando, FL 32806.
We have a plan.
Damn. I was proud Owen didn’t use my name or wasn’t outspoken with any other details. He wrote, we have a plan. Who was we? I recalled the newscast from yesterday. Perhaps it was the hot brunette he hitched a ride with. I was still surprised they survived the crash on the bridge. I stood up, walked to the kitchen, and grabbed a pen that was sitting on the counter. I began to write a note to my friend who was sleeping on the couch, expressing my thanks to him for letting me crash here for the past couple nights.
He had no idea that I was involved in the bank robbery. I just showed up, bought a few rounds of drinks every night, and treated him to dinner. It was money well-spent for a safe place I could pass the time in. Logically speaking, I knew the chances of Owen ever contacting me were slim—almost nil. The government’s arsenal of technology was nothing to sneeze at. Advanced facial recognition, phone taps, access to security cameras—the list was endless. By some miracle, he had yet to be captured. I hoped this plan was a solid one.
I unplugged my charger from the living room wall and grabbed my belongings. I walked back to the desktop and typed a quick message before removing my jump drive.
Body:
Leaving now.
The bloodcurdling scream of a younger Jamie Lee Curtis filled the living room. We were watching the original Halloween on Briana’s Netflix. Rachel shifted her feet and they dug into my hamstring. I flinched in reaction.
“My bad,” she said and pulled her feet back a little.
“You’re good,” I replied, smiling and gave her a wink.
She rolled her eyes, but still revealed a half-smile.
Rachel and I were sitting at opposite ends of Briana’s couch. Each of us with our backs against the armrests and our legs interlaced. We had two separate blankets, but after hours of lying here they had merged into one messy bundle. Briana had made us lunch. It included rice, tortillas, and heavily-seasoned flank steak…and although I couldn’t pronounce it, it was still delicious. She brought us Chinese take-out for dinner, and was still noshing on the remainder of hers, sitting in a large, puffy recliner.
Eating only temporarily suppressed the anxiety I felt from waiting. Grey’s response was in and out of my mind every few minutes. ‘Leaving now’, he said. I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost midnight. I vaguely remembered the last time I spoke with Grey. He had mentioned something about a friend in Virginia Beach. If that was where he went, it would be a little over an eleven and a half hour drive. I used Google Maps to plot his route. He should have been here by now. Maybe there was traffic, or he stopped and ate dinner. The possibilities in my mind couldn’t be silenced. They worried me because with Rachel’s plan, Grey was an indispensable player. We needed him.
Another yelp from Jamie Lee Curtis on the screen. She had tripped and was shimmying backward down a wood-floor hallway. Michael Myers lumbered towards her slowly, step by step.
“Please! Please!” she begged and trembled as she cried. “Leave me alone!”
She stood up and pounded on the windows. “Somebody help! Help me!”
Michael moved closer with every step.
Suddenly, my mind drew a parallel from the movie. Would that be what it was like if I had nowhere to go? If I was cornered, would I beg them to leave me alone? Would I sob in defeat?
I got chills just thinking about it. I prayed that moment would never come.
The doorbell rang.
My heart sped up drastically and my stomach quivered. Rachel and Briana stared at me with wide eyes.
“Is it him?” Rachel whispered.
I shrugged, clueless. It had to be him. We were watching a scary movie…but in our situation, it wouldn’t be Michael Myers at the door—it would be the FBI.
And the FBI doesn’t ring the doorbell.
“It’s your house. Answer it,” I said to Briana.
She cautiously stood up and set her take-out box on the cocktail table. She tip-toed to the door and glanced through the peephole. The doorbell rang a second time.
“What does he look like?” she asked just above a whisper.
“Black hair, and a big, scraggly beard.”
“I think it’s him.”
“Open it then.”
I heard the door creak open and then shut. I couldn’t see anyone yet. They were still in the foyer.
“Uh…hello, um. Well, this is awkward. My name is Grey.”
I felt the biggest wave of relief I’ve had in days.
“Briana,” she introduced herself.
Grey came around the corner into the living room, looking just as he had when I saw him last. Except now he appeared well-rested. He grinned as he saw me on the couch.
“I never thought I would see you again,” he motioned for a hug as I stood up.
I patted him on his back roughly.
“I understand why,” I laughed.
“No shit,” he slapped my shoulder, roughhousing me. “You two have some incredible luck.”
“I guess that’s what you can call it,” Rachel answered with a small smile.
“Owen, how rude of you not to introduce me,” he winked at me.
“Rachel Flores, this is Grey Maxwell.”
He leaned over the cocktail table, and she delicately placed her hand in his.
“I’ve heard a lot about you, Grey,” she announced. Her expression was somewhat flirty.
“Oh really?” he turned to me. “What kind of things have you been telling this beautiful lady? Let me guess. That I’m dashingly handsome, intelligent, and can grow a real beard.”
“Something like that,” I played along.
“Actually,” Rachel began, “he informed me that you assisted him in the bank robbery…and you stole 1.4 million dollars from the VP, who is apparently a thief.”
“Indeed he is,” Grey nodded.
“That’s quite a feat,” she complimented. “Owen says you are an IT genius.”
He shrugged, cockily.
“Something like that,” he winked at me.
Briana stood beside Grey, glancing around at all of us. She pressed her lips together. She seemed annoyed she had been overlooked.
“So,” Grey split the silence. “What is this plan?”
“On that note,” Rachel raised her hand. “Grey, this is Briana Pittman. My childhood friend. She is the first piece of the plan.”
They shook hands and introduced themselves.
“Enlighten me,” he said, and sat down on the ottoman.
I didn’t say anything. It was Rachel’s idea.
“Grey. We need to get Owen out of the country.”
Grey’s face was deadpan. He didn’t even blink, just let out a loud laugh.
“You’ve got to be joking.”
Rachel opened her mouth and tried to form words.
“No, I’m not,” she replied flatly.
Grey’s eyes darted to each of us. His expression indicated that he thought we were all crazy.
“Okay, so let me get this straight. You want to get Owen, the most wanted fugitive in the United States, on a plane leaving the country?”
Rachel pursed her lips. Her face flushed. She wasn’t enjoying Grey’s mockery of her plan.
“Yes,” she forced the word out.
“Well, first off, let me make something apparent to you. Bringing Owen into any international airport is a deathtrap. I don’t even know where to begin. There are hundreds of cameras, not to mention getting through security. If the CIA were watching, they would have ample opportunity for facial recognition. It would be a shit-storm in minutes—complete chaos.”
Rachel shook her head, glancing at the ground, and let out a chuckle so small it was exhaled sharply through her nose.
“That is why Briana is the first piece of the plan.”
Grey’s brow quirked and he turned to Briana.
“What? Don’t look at me like that,” she sneered in response to his surprised demeanor. Her dyed, golden-blonde ringlet curls bounced around from her ponytail as she shook her head in disdain.
“I just—I,” Grey stammered.
“What?” Briana cut him off. “Just because I’m not some white boy nerd who went to college, you’re surprised I have something to offer? Let me make something clear to you, gringo. I learned my skills in the streets of Miami, and my teachers were harder on me than any one of yours could have been.”
“I’m sorry, I just didn’t expect—”
“Is it because I’m black?” she raised her voice and cocked her head towards Grey.
“Ay, Briana, por favor!” Rachel interjected. “Stop with that shit. Your dad’s black. You are mixed.”
Briana huffed as if she was going to say more. She bit her bottom lip and stopped herself.
“Look,” I began. “We are all here for a reason, to make this thing work. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
The tension in the air lessened. Rachel was quick to pick up where I left off.
“Grey, Briana was the best at what she did. She made fake documents…a lot of them. One of those documents was connected to a massive insurance fraud here in Orlando. She served three years.”
“If she was the best then how did she get caught?” Grey mumbled.
My eyes grew wide.
“You know what? Fuck you!” Briana shouted. “Fuck this shit!”
She stood up and Rachel grabbed her wrist. “Please, don’t leave.”
Briana’s lower lip trembled. Her anger exuded from her.
“Grey, that was a little uncalled for,” Rachel said.
“A little?!” Briana snorted.
“Come on, dude,” I added. “That was fucked up.”
His expression remained nonchalant. Briana was still standing from when she tried to leave the room, and she turned to face Grey sitting on the ottoman.
“Unfortunately for me, Grey, my line of work dealt with things that were real. Paper, IDs, legal documents—all real evidence a court could use against me. Let’s say, when a middle-aged man was facing fifteen years in prison for a huge insurance fraud, he decided to rat out the person who made him the documents for a lesser sentence. And that’s how I got caught. I couldn’t just hide behind a computer like you, and when this is all said and done, and I do make Owen a passport that gets through unnoticed, three hundred and fifty thousand of those dollars are mine. Or, if your abilities fall short of what is needed to help him leave, and we all get caught, then I’ll see your ass in prison. Because even the best get caught. I wouldn’t be so damn cocky if I were you. I did three years—try a lifetime.”
Briana stopped pacing and sat back down on the edge of her recliner. Grey finally didn’t look so smug anymore. Her words had sunk in.
“So, Briana…” He began humbly. “How are you going to get a valid passport?”
“The Darkweb,” she answered. “Do you know what that is?”
Grey’s eyes grew wide. “I do, but they don’t.”
Briana glanced over at Rachel and me.
“Have you gotten one off of there before?
“No. I’ve actually never made a fake passport before.”
All three of us turned to her, surprised.
“What? I know what it takes to make one. The hard part is getting it.”
I could tell that Grey was intrigued. He might have doubted Briana upon meeting her, but when she mentioned the Darkweb, his eyes lit up in interest.
“How do you plan on doing that? The websites on the Darkweb are on the internet, it’s just essentially they are invisible—hidden in plain sight. You have to know exactly what you are looking for.”
“I know,” Briana rolled her eyes, but smiled instead of getting upset with him. “I still have connections…people I used to do work with that might be able to get us what we need.”
“How certain are you they would still do business with you? I mean, after your charges and all. Maybe they wouldn’t trust you.”
She shook her head. “They will. I used to pay good money for the things I needed. They know
I take my work seriously.”
“I can tell you do,” Grey complimented.
Briana laughed. “Thank you. So, I was thinking. By the looks of Owen’s hair, I should try to find him a European passport. He needs something that gives him access to the rest of the world. I was thinking, Sweden.”
“He sure looks like a Swede,” Grey went along and laughed with her.
“I know I do,” I said. “Having these blonde eyebrows is killing me. They are practically invisible.”
“You look like a grown up Macaulay Culkin,” Rachel giggled.
I shrugged and nodded in agreement. We all laughed together.
“So, I was just curious, what airport would he leave from?” Grey asked as the laughter subsided.
Rachel and Briana looked at each other.
“Well…” Briana began. “It would have to be Miami International.”
“Why?” Rachel questioned, her eyebrows quirked. “Orlando is international too, and that way we could stay local. After what we went through yesterday, we don’t want you guys to have to go through something like that.”
“No shit,” I added.
Briana’s expression was as if she had just eaten something sour…like she had bad news to deliver.
“That’s the thing, I don’t have any of my old stuff I used to make fakes with. When the cops searched my house before I was arrested, they kept it all as evidence. Since I’m on probation, I would never risk having something related to my old life in this apartment. My friends in Miami, they are still involved in some shady stuff. Whatever they don’t have, I will have to purchase. I’ll start from scratch.
“After seeing the news yesterday,” Grey looked at Rachel. “I’m assuming we are taking Briana’s car?”
“Yeah, I’d say so.” Rachel smirked, unamused.
“I will call my work now and tell them I’ve come down with the flu. I will use my sick hours,” Briana said.
“Well then,” Grey smiled behind his scraggly beard. “Tomorrow, we go to Miami.”
- 9 -
I could see light from the dozens of screens along the wall through my eyelids. It annoyed me. My nerves felt frayed. They were shot. My elbows were propped on the cold metal desk, and I cupped my forehead with my hands.
The Gambit Page 18
