Thomas pointed to the woods just beyond the picnic area. “Regarding your ideas. I totally agree. I’m a fruit man myself. What makes you want to search for fruit?” He handed a cigar to Maxime.
Maxime took the cigar and let Thomas light it for him. He considered the words.
Fruit. What the hell? He’s pointing at the woods. Is he talking in code?
“Uhh,” Maxime hesitated to answer. “Yeah, I like fruit.”
Maybe fruit equated to something outside the camp? Thomas is a smart guy. Seems like he’s talking in code to prevent the monitoring system from flagging our conversation.
“I work on a fruit farm,” Thomas said. “Love the stuff. Makes me think of the outdoors.”
Is this code?
Maxime gave Thomas a questioning look, and Thomas again pointed toward the road.
“You ever have any fruit from Brazil?” Thomas asked.
Yeah, this is definitely code.
It was unlikely that the microphones could even hear their conversation, but better safe than sorry. Maxime played along. “I hear there is a lot of fruit in DC, since all the big wigs live there. I was going to order some for delivery.”
“DC, huh?” Thomas asked. Now he looked confused.
Maxime smiled and nodded his head toward the woods and road beyond.
“I met a guy from DC,” Maxime said. “Told me the fruit there is excellent. Said I can order it online and have it here, maybe in a week.”
Thomas was processing the words and looked startled.
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Thomas blurted out.
“Do you ever watch really old 2D movies?”
“Definitely.”
“Did you ever see the one called ‘Mr. Smith Goes to Washington’?” Maxime smiled.
“Never saw that one.”
“Well, I’ve always loved that movie. They have a VR version where gamers can play a role in the movie. You have to memorize all the lines and the blocking, be prepared like an old Hollywood actor. Next week, I’m scheduled to play Mr. Smith. It’s a live performance. Different gamers in different roles.”
Thomas considered his next words carefully.
“In the movie, did he have a brother named Thomas?”
“No, but I’m sure I could find you a role. You’d have to learn your lines though.”
Maxime was studying Thomas’ eyes. Were they getting the message across or was this just a really stupid conversation?
Does the AI software flag stupid conversations?
Thomas continued. “You know, I love when they remake classics into VR experiences. I’m in.”
“Let me find a small part for you. Like I said, it is one of my favorite movies. I can come find you online. Do you still hang out in Resort World at Bikini Island?”
“I didn’t realize my habits were so well known,” Thomas replied.
“Everybody hangs out at Resort World.”
Lightning struck again. The rain started pouring.
“Let’s go back inside, Maxime. Too much rain for my tastes.” Thomas went back inside and then continued, “Tomorrow, assuming the power is back, I’ll be in Resort World, at the Casablanca bar at 2 pm.”
“Casablanca - another of my favorite 2D classics,” Maxime said. “Thomas, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
Thomas replied, “Here’s looking at you, kid.”
With that, the lights came back on.
21
CARDINAL MARK PREPARED for his call with the group in Cuba. He inhaled two hits from his vaporizer. The cannabis strain it contained was specifically grown for reducing anxiety. Ever since his chat with Victoria, he caught himself worrying about the mission.
Sitting in his office at the Vatican, he closed and locked the door. Right on cue, the wall screen lit up with Tito’s face. Mark made a hand gesture to answer the call.
“Tito, buenos dias,” Mark said.
“Buenas tardes,” Tito replied.
Since Mark had exhausted his knowledge of Spanish, he turned on the translation device for the rest of the conversation.
“You have news?” Mark asked.
“Yes, sir. We may have a problem. Or, maybe it’s a good thing. I’m not sure.”
“Please, go on,” Mark said, in the tone he used when taking a confession.
“Julia, who works on the team here, has found an ideal extraction. The guy desperately wants to get off the grid. He knows multiple US systems, including key systems at the department of energy and the IRS.”
“How old is he? How long has he been on the grid?”
“He’s 45 and has been on the grid over 20 years. He’s at a camp in Tennessee. Minor security. The difficulty is to get him from there to Cuba.”
Tennessee, Mark was thinking. Good old Debbie. I should look her up after this call. She was living in some small town outside Chattanooga.
Debbie was a long-time friend, an Episcopal priest. They had attended the same college as undergraduates. The last time they had spoken was after the FPA passed, when Debbie had vowed to fight it.
“Yes, this will be our first real extraction,” Mark said. “We have to fine tune everything. Are we ready?”
“That’s what I ask myself. I would have preferred to do the first one in Florida somewhere. Closer to our agents in Key West and Miami.”
Only 90 miles separated Cuba from Key West, Florida.
Cuba, Mark lost himself in thought. This little island isolated from the world. Fifty years of a communist dictator cultivated an underground group of truly religious people. The US lifted their embargo in 2015, and Cuba slowly came out of the shadows of poverty, but the rebellious tendencies remained. Tito’s group of high tech hackers were willing to risk their lives for truth and justice. Gotta love ‘em.
Mark realized that Tito was waiting for him to respond. He had a tendency to get lost in thought, especially during a confession. Luckily, he knew how to recover. Three simple little words.
“Please, go on.”
Tito obliged, “Well, I guess my point is, we don’t have any trusted contacts on the path from Miami to Nashville. Plus, my colleague wants to travel there personally to navigate with him.”
“Wow! Your team is, like, fully committed,” Mark said.
“That’s one way to say it.”
“What do you mean?” Mark asked.
“Uhh, my fault. Lost in translation, I guess. What you said is exactly right. This is the first major extraction and we want to do everything possible to make it a success. I need your help on several items.”
“Please, go on.”
“First with Julia, who is the agent here. She wants to travel from Caracas as a Venezuelan citizen. She has all of the documentation needed, including credit cards and bank accounts established under a fake name. But she is no international spy, and I worry about her ability to pull off this kind of real-world mission. We were thinking of a cover story as a Catholic nun who is traveling through different parts of the southeastern US to understand the women in America.”
“No way, man. Don’t do that. That story would get her the wrong kind of attention: an extra dose of NSA surveillance.”
“OK. That makes sense. That’s why we’re talking. I need your advice. We’re a team of hackers.”
“Right, so why is Julia making the trip at all?”
“She says that the Lord has compelled her. That she has to see it first hand and take the same risks that we are asking campers to take.”
“Nice.”
Mark was moved by the words. But something about how Tito said them, the tone and his facial expressions, didn’t seem right. Was it the translation software? Tones don’t translate well. Maybe it was the words conflicting with the body language.
“Seems like you aren’t sure if the trip makes sense,” Mark probed.
“I think this is a completely unnecessary risk, Cardinal, if I may be so bold.”
“Please don’t call me Card
inal. Makes me sound so old. Call me Mark. Marky Mark, even. Anything but Cardinal. And please, be bold, man.”
“Julia is as stubborn as a mule and I can’t talk her out of this trip.”
Mark smiled at the idiom.
Stubborn as a mule. I wonder what he said in Spanish?
I dig this translation software. I like its style…
Dude, get back on task! He’s looking at you funny.
“So, you prefer that she doesn’t go?” Mark asked, abruptly.
“Yes, Cardinal, er, Mark, sir.”
“But, she is going anyway?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Then there is only one thing left to do, man. We must protect Julia in every conceivable way. Let me make some calls. You and Julia come up with a better back story.”
“OK,” Tito replied.
“Can I ask you one more thing? A promise?”
“Anything, Cardinal. Sorry. Anything, Mark.”
“Can you promise me that Julia can get in and out of the US without causing an international incident? No violence, man. I’m feeling a lot of pressure around here.”
“Of course. Our mission is one of peace and freedom.”
“You know, I looked it up. It’s been 113 years since the Cuban Missile Crisis. It’s like Deja Vu all over again. I read about how much Kennedy sweat the whole thing. That’s kinda how I feel.”
“You don’t need to sweat, sir. Our team is committed to non-violent tactics. Julia will not be armed. If there is violence, it will neither be started by us nor reciprocated by us.”
“OK. Thank you, Tito. That’s good.”
“Thank you, Mark.”
“When should we talk again?”
“Tomorrow - same time?”
“Agreed. Peace be with you.”
22
JOEY WAS ON A ROLL.
Bada-bing.
Ba-da-fucking-bing-bang-bing.
He had the new cube setup for Maxime. Not exactly the Hilton, but it was good living and it was free.
Well, not exactly free either.
He knew that Maxime loved Soldier World, and the cube was all setup for that, with an ability to hack into any Soldier World avatars whenever he was off-duty. Maxime would no longer be in the middle of the pack. He could play with the big boys. This was a motivation that Joey’s AI had dug up.
Joey had 60 hours of grueling training lined up - everything from finishing school basics like where the dessert fork is placed on the table to polite phrases and dinner conversations. It was all set up for the first date - he would have another 40 hours of training just for the second date. This kid would be polished until only the diamond shone. Luckily for Joey, the first date was very regimented, for the security of all parties. Since it would all take place at his diner, and he already knew what was on the menu, he didn’t have to train Maxime for thousands of unlikely scenarios. He could focus on the exact sequence of events that was likely to make the Madame Secretary smile and beg for more.
Joey lived for this; it was his favorite part of the job. He fancied himself as a modern day Cyrano de Bergerac, turning attractive young men into mental giants capable of mesmerizing powerful women. Perhaps mental giant was too much, since all of it was scripted at first and the environments were very controlled. But some of Joey’s guys had continued their studies and become quite thoughtful as they grew older. Once they reached a certain age, though, almost all of them asked to be smuggled to South America.
Madame Secretary was a little different than his normal clientele. She had higher expectations and was harder to figure out. Joey had read all of the articles about her and gotten the opinions of his AI software on what she seemed to like and dislike, but he felt he was missing important details. Margaret Lane had kept her records much cleaner than most. To rise so high in power, you need connections that can expunge digital records. Usually Joey could use the dark webs to find archived stories that the official version had long ago cleaned out. But no such luck with our dear Margaret.
If I didn’t know she was corrupt, I would think she was the cleanest politician ever, Joey thought.
Then the fear. Was this a setup? Had Joey’s luck finally run out? Maybe she really was this clean and the whole thing was just a way to expose Joey and the operation. Maybe he’d be awaiting execution this time next month?
Naw. She’s corrupt, just like the rest.
She’s just the best I ever seen at burying the past.
So, I gotta be that much smarter to understand this broad.
If he couldn’t go by her record, then he could use the other clues. What was missing from the record? What was the opposite of Margaret Lane’s record? These are the questions where his AI software was useless. Using the patterns of deception spread over years to accumulate some kind of truth. What did he know about her?
Tough on crime? Absolutely. Tough as nails.
Except that she’s committing a crime by going out with escorts like Maxime.
A man-hater. A real man-eater.
Wasn’t there some song about that from a long time ago?
That’s our Madame Secretary. A man-eater.
Except that she has some unfulfilled fantasy to be with a blonde-haired, blue-eyed man half her age.
Smart, security driven. The smartest secretary of defense in the history of the US. IQ, standardized tests, college boards, everything off the charts.
And yet she is risking her entire career to have French cuisine with Maxime at this rinky-dink diner.
Plus she basically told Linda she can help us break Maxime out of the camp.
She likes French food, French history, wrote a paper on Joan of Arc in college.
She hates the Catholic church and everything remotely religious, including those religious aspects of Joan of Arc.
Her entire public persona fits neatly into a cluster of smart, tough, American, and military. There isn’t a single isolated incident after college that doesn’t fit into this cluster.
JOEY TOOK a deep breath. This woman - at least the public persona - isn’t real.
If I met her in VR, I would think she was some kind of algorithm.
She is more likely the opposite of every public persona feature. She’s like the stereotype of a preacher’s daughter in the front row pew on Sunday mornings and breaking all of daddy’s rules every chance she gets.
“I need to throw her a real party,” Joey said out loud.
Maybe Maxime needs to be aggressive. Forget about French culture references, maybe he needs to slap her around or threaten to tie her up.
Joey slowed down. If he gets this first date wrong, the whole plan falls apart. This is critical.
I can’t take too many chances.
Maybe we’ll just hint at aggression.
Give her the ultimate man, dressed to the nines, whispering French poetry in one ear while subtly letting her know that he is prepared to get rough if she is.
Just the right amount of “caged” and the right amount of “animal”. And all of the sophistication and good looks and charm of a prince from a Disney movie.
Joey smiled. He knew what the training agenda would be for his finishing school.
Maxime would be his greatest creation yet.
23
IT WAS HIGH NOON at the Casablanca bar on the northeast region of Bikini Island. Airplane jets could be heard above, as fellow patrons of the establishment took wing and flew, sometimes with parachutes, sometimes without. Thomas had always loved this place.
“Is that our song,” she whispered. Thomas turned and saw Julia and smiled.
“If it’s not,” Thomas replied, “then ask Sam to play it, for old times sake.”
Julia smiled. “Will you still be so cheesy in the real world, Thomas? Without all of these props?”
“Do you like it? Do you like cheesy?”
“I like the word ‘cheesy’. There isn’t really a good translation in Spanish. And I like how you are cheesy. I’m not sure if I would
like the same jokes from somebody else. They might be a little lame.”
“There is a fine line between cheesy and lame,” he said. “No woman ever thought that I was on the right side of that line.”
“I don’t believe you. Perhaps you gave up too quickly on real women.”
Perhaps I did, Thomas thought.
He needed to get serious though, so he asked, “Can we talk here safely?”
She looked at him and smiled. “Follow me,” she said, waving her finger.
Thomas had never been so happy to have a finger waved at him.
They walked back to the secret rabbit hole, which was like a magic trick that only Julia knew how to perform. She opened her purse and pulled out a black scarf. Laying the scarf next to an isolated palm tree, she then pulled the scarf away like a magician pulling the table cloth from under a furnished table. And, voila, a black hole in the middle of the ground. A hole which apparently disappeared as soon as Julia jumped through it.
Thomas jumped in, and again found himself in the staging area. Julia soon appeared next to him.
Today, all her screens were turned off except for one that said “Thomas” and showed the exact spot on Bikini Island where they had just jumped. The hole had returned to being normal sand.
Well, digital normal sand.
“Did you have something confidential to talk about?” she asked.
“Only that I’m so excited and that I think about you all of the time and that I feel like I’m 18 again, or 16, or whenever I first felt like I was in love. I am so crazy about you and I can’t wait to get out and see you.”
She radiated joy. “I feel exactly the same way. I’m making plans to come. I have my passport and will be flying to the US from Venezuela.”
“But I thought that you weren’t really from Venezuela?”
“At this point, it is best if I don’t share too much with you. For your own safety.”
“Please tell me your real name at least.”
Escape The Grid: Volume 1 Page 10
