by Mike Gomes
“Ok man. I trust you but as your friend I have to bring this stuff up. If I didn’t I would not care about you.”
“Thanks man. I know you just have my best interest at heart” said Falau reaching out his hand and shaking his best friend’s hand.
Flopping back against the sofa Falau stared up at the TV seeing the game had ended. Grabbing the remote control he started to scan through the channels looking for something to watch.
“Wait! Turn It back!” exclaimed Grady. “It’s that rich kid in New York.”
Falau clicked the channels back to the 24 hour news “What rich kid?”
“You know the kid. His name is Duke. He is like 30 years old and a multi-billionaire. Problem is he was ripping off all his clients. Rich people, poor people, companies, 401k’s and pension funds. The prick is an equal opportunity slime bag.”
“Did he just try to run with the money or what?”
“No, he was printing up fake information and giving it to the clients. They were thinking that they were going to a great investor but he was just a schmuck. He would get new investors and take their money and give it to the older investors who then were happy to just hand the money back to him for reinvestment. Best salesman in the world is what they keep calling him.”
“Did the people get the money back?”
“A little, but most of it went to the big companies that lost money with him. The people with the pensions got nothing. Most of them now have less than half of what they thought they were going to have to live on. FBI was thinking he hid the money but nobody can find it. Wonder who he is paying off to make sure nobody finds it?”
“Check it out!” Falau said pointing to the TV screen that hung on the wall across the room. A banner headline ran across the bottom saying “Tristan Duke found guilty and sentenced to 18 months in prison possible parole after 8 months.”
“That is un-fucking-believable!” shouted Grady. “Dudes on the street get more time for smoking a joint. This asshole ruins the lives of hundreds of people and gets a weekend at Club Fed.”
“I can’t watch this shit any more. Let’s see what else is on. These kinda guys make me sick.”
Falau picked up the remote control and aimed it at the TV changing the channel to ESPN showing a college baseball game. “That’s more like it. The other stuff is just too depressing. Sports okay with you?”
“Sure. By the way, don’t think that I forgot about you getting us that pizza.”
Chapter 5
Night had fallen over the streets of Boston. The streets were covered with a slick wetness caused by the rain. Street lights reflected off the wet pavement adding glare to the road. The city lights blocked out any chance to see the stars with its extreme light pollution. The streets were alive with activity despite the late hour of 2:00 am. People hustled about crossing the street against the light. Traffic had no break even at this late hour. The bars closed at 2:00am pushing the college kids, hipsters and middle aged drunks to the streets looking for cheap food and a ride home.
It was prime time if you owned a cab like Michael Falau. Despite the clear dangers of picking up fares who just came out of a bar, he liked the conversation and making sure they got home safe. The occasional vomit or sloppy lust was a small price to pay for helping people out and putting a little money in his pocket at the same time.
Falau sat inside the comfortable interior of his 2012 Jeep Grand Cherokee waiting for his phone to send him a text from the social transportation site that he was working with. The ability to be a cab driver and not to be held into driving a yellow car and have to get a medallion, that other cab companies needed, made this the perfect choice for a guy in his other line of work. Grady had been right when he said that Falau needed a normal stream of income to make the money he was getting from the judges seem more legitimate.
The judges and Tyler had been slow to contact him. It had been over six months. The last job went smoothly and there were no significant problems so he was puzzled as to why they were doubting him. He knew that the judges were not happy with his inability to control his drinking. They found it weak. They could not deny his skill but the drinking would get in the way and they all knew it was just a matter of time.
The judges were taking a massive risk in bringing people back in for unauthorized and illegal trials. The people who ran free after corrupt trials and manipulation. The judges were assembled from around the world. They were unknown to anyone. Their only contact was Tyler. He would forward the messages from them and help select who should get each mission. Falau enjoyed thinking he was doing the right thing with the targets he brought back for justice even if the ultimate justice in each case was death. He did not have to kill the people himself and that made the work all the more tolerable. Losing this job would not just be a financial loss, it would be an emotional one as well.
Falau reached for the pint of whisky he had been sipping off throughout the night. He tucked it up under the seat to hide it from the police should he be stopped. Holding the bottle in front of his face the light from the street shined through it. He inspected it and shook it back and forth. The sweet brown alcohol called to him from inside the bottle. It begged to be finished sending him a siren song of temptation. Falau unscrewed the top of the bottle releasing the scent of the elixir. The moisture had still held at the top rim of the bottle from where the cap sat. Feeling the temptation overcome him he started to lift the bottle to his mouth knowing he was putting himself at risk for arrest and total loss or confidence from the judges. Turning his head hard and to the right he closed his eyes tight and held his breath. Forcing his arm and hand to do what his mind and dark side wanted, he snapped his arm and threw the bottle out the window shattering it on the street. Looking back the whiskey seeped into the road mixing with the rain and grime that covered the street. Falau let the breath release from his body but felt no pride or happiness in his actions. He felt lost and dejected. The alcohol was getting to be far too much and he knew it.
A firm vibration pushed against his chest from the inside pocket in Falau’s jacket. It was the unmistakable feeling of his cell phone. The big man reached inside his jacket and removed the phone pressing the home key lighting up the display. It was a new text that had come in. Inputting the password the text screen came to life. The number sitting at the top of the list of all the recent texts he had received was unfamiliar. Falau let his finger hover above it wondering if he should press it and open it. There had been numerous stories in the news about hackers using texts to gain access to people's cell phones. Since working with the judges Falau would find himself being followed by different men on and off. This could be their way of making access into his phone. Falau deliberated the best move in this situation and rested on clicking the button. If worst came to worse and he did not know who the person was he could get rid of the phone and start fresh with a new one.
His finger hit the text and it opened in a flash. The message was simple but unmistakable. It said “T”. Falau smiled knowing that Tyler was back and if history had showed him anything it was that Tyler was back at his house waiting for Falau to return.
Dropping the Jeep into gear Falau left his post waiting for the next drunk looking for a ride. He cut through the streets trying to not draw attention to himself in any way. He strained to keep his speed under control. The anticipation of seeing Tyler again and knowing he held another mission for him was causing his mind to race. Within ten minutes he pulled around the back of his brownstone that he called home bringing the Jeep into its normal parking spot. Moving toward the entrance to the back lot he pulled the chain link fence over and clipped the padlock onto the thick steel chain that wrapped around the poles. If any kids were looking to take the jeep for a joy ride they would need to cut the chain or crash through it with the Jeep. Either way it would create a hell of a lot of noise and they would be caught before they could get very far.
Falau entered the building through the rear door unlocking it with a slight shake in h
is hand eager to see Tyler again. The past had shown that Tyler made few social visits and work was the main thing in his life. At this time that was fine Falau though knowing that his money was coming to an end. He had asked Tyler to relay a message to the judges that he wanted to work for them full time and Tyler said he would. But that was six months ago and he had never heard a word after that.
Pushing the door open he locked it behind him and climbed the short flight of stairs that led into the grand room on the first floor. A set of steps climbed up the right side of the room leading to the other floors. Falau looked around and saw no sign of his friend. He walked to the base of the stairs and listened to see if he could pick up on anything.
“Tyler are you here?”
“Ya, I am up in your TV room on the third floor.”
Falau raced up the steps in great anticipation. Getting to the third floor he went to the end of the hallway and walked through the open door.
Tyler sat on his new sofa with a beer in one hand and a slice of pizza in the other. As usual he was impeccably dressed in a suit and tie. The time of day never seemed to matter for his style.
“Tyler, great to see you man!” exclaimed Falau rushing over to his longtime friend looking to hug him. Tyler unable to pull himself up from his seat made the hug impossible and Falau begrudgingly pushed out his hand for a shake but was met with the pizza in Tyler’s hand.
“Sorry. You caught me just before I was going to take a bite. I got you a slice too. It’s in the refrigerator.’
“Thanks.” said Falau opening the refrigerator and removing the slice. “I appreciate it.”
“So, how has it been?” asked Tyler taking another bite.
“Good. I was beginning to think you forgot about me.”
“What? Never!”
“I know I am not the number one guy but I thought I would get another chance. But, hey, no hard feelings. I just like having my old friend around.” Trying his best to diffuse an uncomfortable situation he knew was going to come, Falau felt if he said these words first he could break the tension and they could simply move on without Tyler having to fire him.
“What are you talking about? The judges have been watching you and they hate the drinking but you're still one of the best we have. I am here to let you know they agreed to take you on full time.”
Falau pumped his fist in the air “yes!”
“Calm down, big guy. This just means the stakes go up with everything. Your assignments get harder and the pay gets better.” Tyler cut off his sentence and looked hard to Falau. His face having distress fall over it like a mask.
“You’re not telling me something. Out with it.”
“The drinking. You need to stop or have control of it. The judges are not big on telling the people who work for them how to live their life but they have concern that you might need to detox on the job or you might get drunk. Can you get control of this?”
“Yes. I have been doing better. I put together twenty four days at one point. Might not sound like a lot but it is the longest I have gone other than that time in the joint.”
“Just take care of it and everything will be fine. How about your other issue. The thing about Jennifer and the car accident.”
Falau felt the words cut through him like burning sharpened steel. Her name and her memory haunted him like nothing else ever could. Anger rose up inside him and his fist tightened. He turned to Tyler and breathed hard. Tyler held concern and sympathy on his face and was asking as a friend not his boss. Falau let the anger subside and a wave of sadness filled him that he struggled to suppress.
“I have good days and bad days. She was the love of my life. We were going to get married. It’s all gone now.” said Falau choking back the tears. Wiping his eyes he blinked quickly and took a bite of the pizza. “So what’s the mission?”
“You’re going to like this one. Dirt bag billionaire thirty something!”
“Don’t tell me it's Tristan Duke.”
“You got it. The little slime went to one of those rich boy prisons. Did eight months and walked out the front door.”
“Eight months for screwing people out of millions of dollars?”
“Yup. They never found all the money. He probably has it stashed in banks all around the world. Intelligence tells us that his people worked hard to keep his release quiet, but he will be going public any day.”
“Public? Why do that? Just lay low and drift away to your money.”
“That’s what you would think, but this guy takes the eight months in the jail and uses them to write a book on how to train great sales people. He got over a million dollar advance for the book. Who the hell comes out of jail making a million dollars?”
“So you guys need me to bring him in?”
“Yes. But it is not as simple as that. This guy has guards and a team of people around him. We want him alive. No money for dead.”
“Understood. When can I start.”
“Hold on. There is more. The judges also want as much of the money back as possible. They will get it sent into the old accounts if possible. If they can’t do that then it will go to charities.”
“Tyler, I can’t do that. I don’t have any skills like that. I am a field guy not a technology guy.”
“That’s why you’re going to need a team for this one.”
“A team?” questioned Falau raising one eyebrow.
“Yes. A team.”
Chapter 6
Tyler unzipped the bag containing the laptop he got from the side of the sofa. The laptop was larger than most and was equipped with an enormous antenna on the back that was used to directly connect with a satellite. The system that Tyler worked for would never leave transmission of information to something as easily hacked as WiFi or cell phone lines. Encrypted satellite communication that took the time to bounce itself around the world several times made interception or tracking of the signal nearly impossible. At a time like this where he needed to share information of the most sensitive nature, this level of technology was not just a convenience, it was a necessity.
Tyler grasped his strong hand to the top of the screen and flipped it open. Without striking a key the screen flickered to life. A series of numbers and letters flashed across the monitor in rapid succession for 30 seconds before the screen settled on the image of a black and white mask spinning in the center of it. It resembled the kind of mask that party goers would wear at Carnival in Venice, Italy. The face being completely covered ensuring that the occupant was totally hidden from those around him or her. It was also strikingly similar to the masks the judges would wear when they assembled to hold trial. No expression from them could be seen. No strip of skin exposed. No hint of emotion given. They were totally anonymous in every way and now the simulated face of them was spinning on the screen.
“That’s a bit on the money.” said Falau sitting down on the sofa next to Tyler. “With all the secrecy I would think you would put something more generic on the screen.”
“I see what you mean but considering there are only a handful of people in the world that know about the system, I think that I am okay on this one.”
Tyler drifted his hands over the keyboard and pecked out ten keys in rapid succession.
“Looks like your first time using a keyboard.”
“Very funny.” said Tyler looking out the corner of his eye with a grimace crossing his face. “The keyboard is especially designed to read my fingerprints. If these two fingers are not the only ones typing, the computer will not work.”
Nodding his head approvingly Falau felt he should have known that Tyler would have his own particular type of security on the system. The standard password of his birthday or a pet's name would never do. Tyler was an artist with technology and this was another item just to prove it.
Examining the keyboard Falau could see nothing that looked like it could scan his fingerprint. Tyler must have found a way for his print to be read by feeling or the imprint of his finger pushing the ke
ys allowed the computer to take his fingerprint.
“What happens if another person tries to use it?”
“It just goes blank. Just as if someone turned off the power on the laptop.”
Falau watched Tyler make his way through a succession of screens each one looking more confusing than the last. Opening what looked like websites he would enter into different screens and type without placing the cursor into any specific location on the screen. His head never lifted from the job he was set on. Time appeared to be of the essence and Tyler never broke stride to say a word.
“OK, we are in.” said Tyler smiling and turning the laptop to face Falau. “Just a reminder and know that you have heard it all before but what you’re going to see is top secret and for your eyes only.”
“I got it.”
“You’re the point person on this mission so you can pick the team but I get veto power. I know every operative we have inside out. You ask me the questions and we will come to an agreement on who the best team is.”
“Sounds fair to me. What are you thinking for size of the team?”
“Three total, including you. You’re going to need a technology guy and someone who has more...specialized skills.”
“What do you mean by that?” asked Falau drawing his eyebrows down in the center.
“We will get to that. First let’s take a look at some of these tech guys.”
Tyler scrolled through several screens showing the pictures of different highly skilled operatives who had been recruited by Tyler and the judges. None of them seemed to jump off the screen to Falau. Their information was all too typical from one person to the next. They were all connected to high level universities like Harvard, Yale, and Oxford. They honed their skills in the corporate world before developing software on their own that caught the eye of one of the judges or someone in the government of their country. The story was always the same, that they were reluctant to take a chance on moving into underworld justice. They felt they would get too close to the bad people of the world and be placing themself in danger.
