by Jacob Whaler
“Does she have a secure datasite?”
“It took Kalani only two passes with the decryption protocol to find it and get in.”
“Anything interesting?”
“Not exactly interesting. But strange. There’s pages and pages about how she dreams of having her own family someday. Like her parents, she wants six kids. You’d think such a privileged girl would have more ambition.” Alexa taps out more ashes onto the floor. “And of course she gushes about her love for this mysterious, accident-prone boy, if only she can persuade him.”
“Persuade him to do what?” Ryzaard says.
“Believe in God. According to her, God has a plan for everyone. Very quaint, but apparently he isn’t buying it.” Alexa rolls her eyes.
“Anything else?”
“Let’s see. Yes, there was another item of interest.” Alexa puts out her cigarette and pops a mint in her mouth. “She’s tried for two summers in a row to get an internship with Redrock Heavy Industries, one of our competitors. They have offices here in Manhattan, and she’d love to come here. It hasn’t worked out. Apparently, the recession’s gotten in the way. That’s why she still works for her dad.”
Ryzaard looks at Alexa and smiles. “Excellent idea.” He picks up his jax and walks over to the window.
“What idea?” Alexa says.
“Hello, Van Pelt? I understand you have an opening for a summer intern in your office.” Ryzaard pulls the Stone out of his pocket with his free hand and holds it in front of his eye. “You don’t? Well, you do now. Alexa will give you all the details.”
CHAPTER 41
Kent walks into a large tan tent, followed by the young man with the stick and a few other ill-kempt youth. They all reek of campfire smoke and burnt plastic.
A bald man sits in a camp chair with his back to the entrance. Kent sees the shiny head with a gray fringe around the rim. The toes of his exposed feet barely touch the ground. A large black book is open on his lap.
“What is it, Zach?” The bald man speaks without looking up.
The young man glances at Kent and takes a step forward. “This guy came up from the West just now with a small truck-load full of Abomination. A curious mix of communication and spying equipment. Hi-tech sniffers. Universal interfaces. Some other stuff I haven’t seen since my Mesh-running days. I thought you might want to meet him. Says he’s going East to fight The Complex.”
The man’s head looks up from the book as soon as the last word is spoken.
Zach stands to one side with arms folded across his chest. His eyes flit back and forth between Kent and the bald man in the chair.
“Someone with a truckload of Abomination fighting The Complex.” The voice comes from the sitting man. “Now that’s interesting, isn’t it? Doesn’t really make sense does it?”
“No, Little John.” Zach wipes his nose on a sleeve and narrows his eyes as he stares straight at Kent.
“Thanks, Zach. I’ll need some time alone here. You can go back to the road and finish unloading the offering we received today. It’s been a while since we had fresh fruit. Make sure everyone eats it before it spoils. I don’t want any of you getting scurvy.” Little John shuts the book and drops it into a box next to the chair. Then he pushes himself forward and stands up. He still has his back to Kent and the others.
“And what about the transport driver?” Zach says.
“Treat him in the usual manner.”
“Got it.” Zach turns to the other youths. “Let’s go.” They all move out of the tent, taking the odor of sweat and burnt plastic with them, leaving Kent to stand alone as he looks down at the back of Little John’s bald head.
Little John slowly turns around and stares forward, his gaze moving up Kent’s chest until their eyes meet.
It’s a struggle for Kent to keep a smirk from crawling all over his face. As soon as he heard the name Little John, he expected to meet a hulking man. In this case, it looks like the name fits perfectly. He wonders where Robin Hood is.
“So, what can I do for you today?” Kent says.
“I’m not sure, but let’s find out.” Little John walks past Kent to the entrance of the tent and pokes his bald head out. Then he pulls the flap of the tent shut and returns to his chair. “Please, sit down.” He motions toward a plastic chair opposite his.
Wedging his body into the small chair, Kent crosses his legs out in front. Little John offers him some water in a thin bottle.
“Thanks.” Kent takes it and presses the open container to his lips.
“You might say it’s one of the few luxuries we have out here.” Little John settles back and brings a hand up to his chin. “Any idea what a freedom camp is?”
“I’ve seen a few things on the Mesh. From the looks of it, you folks don’t like modern technology, so you’ve gone out into the wilderness to be free of it.” Kent eases the water bottle back again and raises it to his mouth, keeping his eyes on Little John.
“You’re almost right about Abomination, what you call modern technology. But I’m afraid it’s you who lives in the wilderness.” He puts his hands together and lets them drop to his lap. “Forced upon you and everyone else by The Complex.”
Kent nods and drains the bottle. Cool water runs down his throat.
“The time has come to destroy Abomination. We’re here to free the world from the cancer that’s infected it. Little by little, we’ll turn the tide and show the world how to walk away from technology and live without it.”
“Yes, I see that, and I see the transport out there your people are stripping.” Kent leans back as the chair strains under his weight. “I may be stupid, but destroying other people’s property doesn’t seem like the best way to make converts or friends. Aren’t you afraid the Army or the National Guard will come after you?”
Little John shakes his head. “It’s much easier for them to ignore us. Jails and prisons are overflowing as it is. Besides, a messy roundup of a few end-of-the-world freaks wouldn’t play so good on the Meshnews. It might bring us more followers. That’s the last thing The Complex wants.”
Kent crushes the empty bottle in his fist. “You and I have more in common than you think.”
“Tell me about it,” Little John says.
“Well, for starters, I went off grid over a decade ago, before there were any freedom camps. I’ve vanished as far as The Complex is concerned. They’re still looking for me, scouring every corner of the Mesh, ready to pounce if and when I pop up.”
“What do you do now?”
“I’m a gadfly. I collect evidence of their abuses, prepare the legal cases for prosecution, drop it off on a silver platter at the NFA’s doorstep. And leak it all anonymously on the public Mesh-points. You’ve probably seen some of my work.”
“Try me.”
Kent stands up and walks around the tent, gesturing with his hands. “Ever heard of the Bynar sulfur mines in the Congo? Or the scandal over Farrcore’s slave labor in the highlands of Nepal. J-Tep’s illegal extraction of silica zilithamide under the arctic tundra? Perhaps you read about SynLife’s bioengineered algae that’s overrunning the Indian Ocean.”
Little John puts down his water “You were the one that exposed them?” His eyes open wide.
“As they say, the best disinfectant is sunlight. Over fifteen corporate officers went to prison over that last scandal alone. All made possible by a careful use of technology. Fighting fire with fire.”
“Perhaps.” Little John pushes himself up out of his chair.
“I’d love to stay and chat, but I need to be on my way.” Kent stands squarely in front of Little John, looking down, hands on his hips.
“Which part of The Complex are you targeting this time?”
“Why do you need to know?” Kent says.
“Just curious. It sounds like we may be in this fight together.” Little John walks to the back of the tent and picks up a wooden box from a pile of pallets.
“Intercep Dynamics. In North Carolina.” Kent spe
aks slowly.
“Really? Sounds interesting. I’d love to come along for the ride, see how you do it.” Little John smiles and shows two rows of perfectly aligned white teeth.
“I always work alone. It’s safer and more effective.”
Little John sticks a key in the wooden box and opens its lid. He pulls out a jax. “For emergencies only. Don’t tell any of the kids out there about this. I know how to fight fire with fire, too.” He laughs and slides his finger along the side of the jax. A thin blue line lights up. “You’ll find my ID here, and a link to a secure datasite. It might prove useful in a bind.”
Kent fingers the jax in his pocket that he hasn’t turned on since leaving Colorado. “Very kind of you to offer.” He pulls it out and presses the power pack into place, causing it to tremble in his hand. Swiping the back, the green strip along the side lights up. It automatically captures the information from Little John’s jax. “Got it. Thanks for the contact info.” He returns the jax to his pocket and cuts the power. Two pulses shake as it goes dead.
“Let me escort you back to your vehicle and speed you on your way. I’ve found our conversation enlightening.”
Kent follows Little John outside the tent, and they walk together back to the road. A dozen dirty teenagers follow behind as they walk past black, smoking piles.
After a quick check under the tarp to make sure all the gear is there, Kent jumps into the cab and waves goodbye. His eyes move to the rearview mirror. Little John stands there, hands on hips, towering teenagers behind him, watching Kent as he and the Chikara move away.
Gliding past the stranded transport truck, Kent lets out a long exhale. The truck’s been stripped clean and looks like an empty carcass, side panels hanging open and exposing open space inside. The Chikara heads up a long hill to the rising sun. Rounding the top, Kent sees a man walking on the side of the road.
The man raises his thumb.
Kent slows the Chikara and eases the window down as he moves alongside the man.
“Mind if I hitch a ride to the next town?” The man has a smirk on his face.
“Sure, get in.” Kent pushes the slate, GPS and water bottles out of the passenger seat and on to the floor with a sweep of his arm. “Sorry for the mess. This is my mobile office.”
The man opens the door and slips in. “How’d you do it?” he says, turning to Kent.
“Do what?”
“Get past the freedom camp with all your stuff, your Abomination, intact.”
Kent shakes his head. “Told them I’m on my way to save the world.”
“I should have thought of that. My boss is going to kill me.”
CHAPTER 42
Little John watches the old pickup truck glide away into the morning sun. His eyes narrow, and an unsettled feeling descends upon him.
“Who was that?” Zach asks.
“No idea.” Little John turns back to see a crowd of a hundred youth gawking at him.
Zach moves closer and bends down. “Why’d you let him go with all that Abomination? Do you think he’s telling the truth, about fighting against The Complex?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Sometimes you just have to trust your feelings. And I don’t need any advice from you.” Little John looks at the white boxes strewn around the truck transport. “Now stack those up in neat piles. Make sure everyone gets their fill of the fruit before it spoils. You look like you need the vitamins.” He walks through the dust and sagebrush, past smoldering piles of plastic and glass, and back to the tent.
A tall man with aviator sunglasses stands inside.
“Did you get the link attached?” Little John says.
“I tried, but it wouldn’t take. He’s got repel-ware on his jax.” The tall man sits down, pulls up the lid of a plastic box and takes out a beer, dripping with beads of water. “No way I can get past it. Must be military-grade.”
“What about the truck he was driving? I tried to give you time to check it over. Any clues?”
“Well, the car-com navcell is set for New York City.” The tall man takes a long drink from the bottle, emptying half its contents. “There’s a slate in the front, but it wouldn’t let me through the encryption lock. No doubt about it. He’s good. Real good.”
“What about the equipment in the back?”
The tall man grins. “Now that was interesting. I found a CV observation unit back there, the kind used by government types for hi-tech eavesdropping. Its memory crystal had electronic ghost prints all over. Looks like he’s already selected a target and set it up for data sniffing.”
“Who is the target?”
“MX Global Corporation.”
CHAPTER 43
After lunch, Matt spends the early afternoon registering for a Chinese Han Dynasty history class, touring the campus library and indulging in more savory delights at the 7-Eleven outside the front gate. He arrives in Professor Yamamoto’s first-floor office just before 3:00 in the afternoon and pauses at the open door.
“Gomen kudasai.” He knocks on the door and pokes his head in the office.
“Please come in,” Professor Yamamoto says.
Matt walks through the open door and props his backpack against a bookshelf just inside the office. A square table with two chairs stands in the middle of the room. The unique pattern of the floor tiles, white octagons held together with blue diamonds, catches his eye. The office is square. Gray metal bookshelves line three walls from floor to ceiling. Professor Yamamoto sits at a small desk facing a window that looks out on a green courtyard crossed by sidewalks and cherry trees.
“Irasshai, Matt. Good to see you again. I have been looking forward to speaking with you.”
“I know you’re busy, and I’m grateful you’d make time to see me.” In perfect Japanese form, Matt bows from the waist in the professor’s direction.
Professor Yamamoto nods his head and motions to a chair at the table in the middle of the room.
“Dozo, have a seat.”
After a proper amount of hesitation, Matt walks to the table and sits in the chair facing out through the open door.
The professor turns back to his small desk and pulls a game board and a round container out of the bottom drawer. “I’ve been looking forward to working with you.” He walks to the table opposite Matt and places the items between them. “Have you ever played the Japanese game called Igo?” He drops into a chair.
“I used to play with my mom. She always beat me.” Matt touches the game board. “This is called the goban, right?”
“Very good.” Professor Yamamoto unfolds the goban board with its grid of thin black lines and places it on the table. He takes the lid off the container and carefully pours out a mound of small game pieces, half of them black and half of them white. Each one resembles a flattened sphere smaller than his thumbnail. “Igo is a good game to play while having a relaxing conversation. It helps your concentration and focus.” He begins to separate the black game pieces from the white ones, piece by piece. “I’ve been wanting to talk with you about your research this summer. I am sure there is something you must be interested in studying.” Professor Yamamoto leans back in his chair.
“Good question.” Matt helps the professor separate the rest of the games pieces into two groups. “I’ve read your work on Japanese and Chinese history. I find the myths and folk legends the most compelling.” Matt braces himself. He already knows how the professor will react.
Professor Yamamoto breathes in sharply between his teeth and cocks his head to the side, looking first at the goban board and then directly at Matt. “Matt-kun, you saw from the reaction of the students in the classroom and the other professors in the cafeteria that most people have no interest in fables and fiction any more. You should take my advice and stay with real history.” He shakes his head and stares down at his feet. “You have a bright future. It is my wish that you not do anything to kill your career before it gets off to a good start. This is especially true in light of the past that you and your father share.”
The professor’s head comes up.
“What do you mean?” Matt’s eyes narrow.
Professor Yamamoto purses his lips. “What I mean is that you will draw less attention to yourself and your father if you stay away from anything too exotic. Researching folk tales and mythology is not in favor at the moment. It will only draw unwanted scrutiny. I’m sure you would rather avoid that.”
An image of the two Yakuza goons hangs in Matt’s mind. He blinks it away. “You’re right, of course.”
“That does not mean you cannot pursue your interests in private.” The professor smiles and lowers his voice. “Take my advice. Avoid publishing on ancient mythology, at least until you have tenure at a university. I will do all I can to help you find a new identity and a bright future. It’s the least I can do to honor the memory of your mother.”
Matt bows his head in genuine gratitude. “Domo arigato gozaimasu. Thank you for understanding.”
“Now, let us turn to the game.” The professor exhales, and tension flows out of the room. He pushes a pile of the small game pieces in the direction of Matt. “You will be black and go first. Put five stones on the goban board.”
“Isn’t it supposed to be one at a time?” Matt says.
“Yes, but I will give you the advantage. It would not be much fun if the game ends right away.” A mischievous grin tips up the corners of his mouth.
Stretching out his legs under the table, Matt picks up five black pieces. “I read one of your papers on the Mesh before my flight here. A Comparative Study of Ancient Mythologies and Creation Myths.” He drops the pieces randomly around the goban board.
“You play with confidence and quickly seek to dominate a wide territory.” The professor picks up a single white piece and puts it down near the edge. “You must be careful.”
Matt reaches for a black piece and studies the board. “You concluded that, when read correctly, a common thread runs through the myths of all ancient cultures and that this common thread must be based on fact.” Matt places the stone near the middle of the board.
