Geek Mafia

by Rick Dakan

  They went back at 11:00 PM, a half hour after the maid service's scheduled clean up was finished. Everything looked clear, so they pulled the van around behind the building and unloaded the boxes of fake comics. Then Chloe came around front and used Bee's new security card to open the door. The alarm code worked, and they were in. She opened the loading door out back and Raff and Filo started carrying boxes back towards the sealing room.

  Paul had wanted to go with them into the building to help put the fakes together, but both Chloe and Raff had vetoed this plan. He'd done well earlier, definitely, but this was precision breaking and entering work they were doing now. They couldn't afford any screw-ups. Besides, they needed a lookout, and that meant Paul. He drove the van to the other side of the street where he could see anyone approaching and begrudgingly stood watch.

  In his head he imagined what was going on inside. They'd have made their way into the sealing room by now.

  The room had no windows that faced the street, so he couldn't tell if they were set up and running or not. The CRG guy had told him that they locked up the valuable comics in safes each night, so there wasn't much chance that they'd be tempted to steal anything. Not that he thought they would. This whole plan centered on the idea that no one would ever realize that a crime had been committed. The hacker team had already gone in and changed the inventory numbers in CRG's computer to account for the missing plastic cases and sleeves.

  They'd even accounted for the ink the Crew would be using to print their forged rating inserts and the holograms that marked them as official CRG graded books.

  Paul had Chloe's cell phone on speed dial, ready to make the call as soon as anything happened that looked like it might blow their cover. He had a moment of panic three hours into the operation when an old-school Camero he'd seen on his earlier visit pulled into the parking lot. He was about to make the call when he saw the driver go into the office next door. He called Chloe anyway, just to let her know.

  "Go," she said as she answered the call.

  "You don't need to get out or anything, but I thought you should know that there's somebody at work in the office next door. I don't know what he's doing in there, but make sure you keep quiet or whatever."

  "Thanks. Make sure you let me know if he's still there when we're ready to leave."

  "How's everything going in there?"

  "Good. Gotta go." And she hung up. Definitely all business when it came to pulling these jobs.

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  Paul waited for several uneventful hours, sitting in the van and trying to stay awake. He must have drifted off to sleep at least once because he woke with a start to the sound of the Camero's throaty engine firing to life around 2:30 in the morning. The excitement of the entire venture had begun to wear off by this point and he was just feeling totally exhausted. He was tired of sleeping on couches and in the backs of vans. He'd never tried a waterbed before and wondered for a sleepy while what that might be like.

  In order to stay awake he turned on the map light and started thumbing idly through a copy of Wizard Magazine he'd brought along. Devoted to comics news and collecting, the magazine also contained a price guide in the back of every issue. He flipped to the section on indie publishers and found the entry for the comic-book that had defined his career - Metropolis 2.0. Issue 1 in top condition was going for $12. Up a few dollars since the videogame had been announced. Paul sighed and turned off the light, realizing that with it on, he could be seen from the street.

  He'd been working as a freelance artist in the comic book industry for just shy of three years when he had the idea for Metropolis 2.0. Inspired by the Fritz Lang movie rather than Superman's fictional home, the comic told the story of alienated robotic workers fighting against a tyrannical utopian system in their quest to gain equal rights. This quest involved a great number of epic, robot vs. cyborg battles, elaborate twists and turns, and as much dark humor as Paul could reasonably cram into each twenty-two page issue. But since he could only work on it in his spare time, he was having trouble just finishing that first issue.

  Paul had built up his portfolio working for various second and third tier publishing companies. He'd drawn a lot of comics based on movies and TV shows and even some video-game tie-in work. After thus establishing himself, both of the big two comic book companies, Marvel and DC, expressed an interest in hiring him, a break that was almost every penciler's dream. But Paul had become obsessed with seeing Metropolis 2.0 in print, and so he pitched the book to the two comics companies. Both publishers turned him down, and in the process he managed to lose his chance to work for them as well. They wanted eager young artists whose sole ambition was drawing the X-Men or Batman, not a headstrong would-be auteur who just wanted to work on his own projects.

  Frustrated, Paul did the only thing he could to get the damn comic printed - he applied for as many credit cards as he could, dropped his other freelance gigs, and threw everything he had into publishing his comic book on his own. After a year of eating Ramen noodles and oatmeal every day, no one was more surprised than Paul when his comic became a hit. It never did X-Men numbers of course, but he got a lot of good buzz as he went out on the convention circuit to pimp his comic. He was soon selling close to 15,000 copies a month - a huge number for an independent book. He'd become the new golden boy of underground comics and had never been happier in his life.

  After sixteen months, the monthly grind started to wear him down. Writing and illustrating twenty-two pages is a huge amount of effort and the grueling labor took its toll. While the comic was doing better than ever, Paul just wanted a break. At the same time, he didn't want to hire on another artist because he didn't trust anyone with his baby. And that's when he and Greg had had their fateful conversation. They both agreed that Metropolis 2.0 would make the perfect setting for an online computer game. Together with the other partners, they formed Fear and Loading. Greg invested the money, and Paul invested his ideas, turning over ownership of the Metropolis intellectual property and copyrights to the new company. Obviously that hadn't worked out as planned, and now he didn't even own his own creation. But at least he'd made them pay dearly for taking it away from him.

  The phone buzzed on the dashboard, startling him out of his half-conscious reverie. It was Chloe. He concentrated hard so he didn't sound as sleepy as he really was.

  "Go," he said, mimicking Chloe's response from earlier.

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  "We're ready. Is it all clear?"

  "Yeah, Camero-guy's gone." It was now pushing 5:00 AM. "Should I pull the van around?"

  "Yep. Come on back." She clicked off.

  They loaded the boxes into the van. Paul got out to help and noticed that there were more boxes coming into the van than they'd taken out originally. "What's with the extra boxes?"

  "It's always the little things that get ya," said Chloe. "We didn't calculate right on how bulky these things would be once we'd sealed them in these hard plastic sleeves. We couldn't fit them all into the boxes we brought, so we had to snag a few from their warehouse here."

  Paul was surprised at how anxious this made him feel. Everything had gone so perfectly; even this small mistake suddenly filled him with nervousness. "What if someone notices?"

  "Hopefully they won't - it's just boxes after all. Not much we can do about it now." She and Raff loaded the last box into the van. "I'll reactivate the alarm and then meet you out front. Call the hacker team and have them do what they can about resetting the entrance and exit logs for the door and the security system. No one ever checks those things, but I want it done before they open up again, just in case."

  A minute later and they were on the road, headed back north towards San Jose. They were all too tired for much celebrating, and the van was now overflowing with boxes and technical equipment. Within twenty minutes of hitting the highway, the whole Crew had passed out, leaving Paul to fight off sleep as he drove up the I-10. He was kind of exhilarated and
relieved that it was over. Soon the excitement faded and he was starting to yawn. Soon he felt more like a delivery driver than a thief.

  By the time they got back to San Jose, everyone in the van had perked up quite a bit. They stopped for coffee just outside of town and called to let the rest of the crew know that they were on their way back in. Even in his sleep deprived state, Paul found the excitement in the van contagious. Like the rest of them, he was in the mood to brag and crow a bit and, thanks to his role as the face-man, he figured the group might start accepting him as one of their own.

  Once they'd loaded the boxes into the house they started unpacking them. A few of the hackers and the e-Slaves were already in the Server Room, so the triumphant road team had a ready-made audience for their stories. Things got especially fun when Chloe pulled out a comic book price guide and started verbally calculating their potential profits.

  "Here we have Ultimate Spider-man, graded a 9.6 - a little generous I think. I'd give it a 9.2 myself, but you guys should be able to sell it for $180.00 at least. Don't accept a penny less." She tossed the sealed comic across the room to one of the waiting e-Slaves and pulled another from the box.

  "Ooooh, here's a rare but very cool book, one of my personal favorites, Tales to Astonish 46. Currently going for somewhere in the neighborhood of what? What would you say, Paul?"

  "Oh, about $150.00, at least."

  Chloe tossed it to another e-Slave team member. "There you go. $150.00. Paul and I will go through the price guide and eBay and put post-its on all of these. Then it's up to you guys. Remember, don't flood the market all at once, but don't take too long either. Raff's got another play in the works, so we should try and wrap this up within a week, maybe two."

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  "Sure thing," said Popper, leader of the e-Slaves team. "We've got the accounts set up and ready to go. I've scouted out the most popular comic book forums and message boards too, and we've all established multiple ID's on those, so we can talk up our offering there some. A little free advertising."

  "Great thinking," said Chloe. "This is right up our alley now, kids. No different than when we sold 'vintage'

  clothes or rare Magic cards, so no excuses."

  "What's the count looking to be?" asked Popper. This was obviously a question on everyone's mind, as the whole room turned its undivided attention to Chloe.

  "Well, the way I see it, we're looking at something in the neighborhood of $40,000 to $65,000. Maybe 85k if you work the auctions right. You think you guys can hit that? Can you make $85,000 out of $50 worth of crappy old comics?" She was practically shouting by the end, riling up excitement amongst the e-Slaves.

  "$85,000?" said Popper. "Hell, girl, we can do that in our sleep. We'll do 100k by the time we're done. You just wait and see!" The other e-Slaves greeted this with enthusiastic support and a chorus of "Fuck yeah's."

  "Ok, ok, we'll see. That'll be great if you can pull it off. If anyone can, you can. Just remember, this is a carry-over con. We're not looking for the hugest score in the world, not if it attracts attention we don't want."

  "Right, right, we know the drill. Don't sweat it, Chloe, we've got this covered. You guys should get some rest."

  "Thanks Pops. This is in your hands now. Paul and I'll price these books and then get out of your hair."

  Paul and Chloe sat down on the couch with a price guide and started sticking post-its on the forgeries with suggested starting bids.

  "Man," said Paul, as he stuck a "$110" post-it note on one of the plastic cases. "I need a vacation. This con-man shit is real work."

  "Oh, come one, you know you love it," Chloe replied.

  "Yeah, maybe I do. But that doesn't mean I don't want a vacation. We should go somewhere."

  "We just got back from LA."

  "I meant somewhere fun."

  Chloe smiled at him. "Maybe you're right. But first things first, let's finish pricing these puppies."

  "Yes ma'am, captain ma'am," he said, but he only remembered getting through about twenty more of them before passing out from sheer exhaustion, his head in Chloe's lap. She carefully pulled away the price guide from his hands and went into the kitchen to finish up, leaving Paul snoring blissfully away in the living room.

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  Chapter 13

  "You were right, Paul. Let's go on a trip," said Chloe, standing over him as he lay on the couch, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. She wore another in a never-ending series of tight fitting t-shirts, this one with a picture of a gorilla dressed in army fatigues throwing a Molotov cocktail.

  "What?" he asked, blearily.

  "Let's go on that vacation you wanted. The operation's in the hands of the e-Slaves now. They sure as fuck don't need us here. Let's go to the beach."

  "Great! But it's your turn to drive."

  "Of course. Pack a bag - three or four days clothes and I'll try and find a sleeping bag around here for you.

  We'll take off as soon as you're up and ready to go."

  "Sleeping bag? What beach are we going to?" Paul's clothes were still stuffed in the suitcases he'd thrown them into when he abandoned his apartment. Packing should be easy.

  "Up the coast a bit. Some friends are letting me use their beach house." She started yanking on his arm, pulling him off the couch. "Come on, lazy bones! There's coffee in the kitchen and a sexy con artist wants to go on a road trip with you! What more can you ask from life?"

  "Not much, I guess." Paul rose to his feet, cracking his neck and back. A sleeping bag probably wouldn't be any worse than this old couch.

  An hour later and they were on the road, this time with Chloe driving a car Paul had never seen before: a red Saturn SUV that looked brand new. She said it was a friend's car, which Paul was starting to figure out was Crew-code for "don't ask where it came from, just be happy it's here."

  It was a Sunday morning and the usually jam-packed 880 was relatively car-free, allowing them to make good time through Oakland and Berkley before veering off into wine country. Paul, wanting to catch up on the news he'd missed in his five day forgery fugue, tried to convince Chloe to turn on Air America, but she refused to put up with something as boring as politics on such a beautiful day. She set her iPod to shuffle and they listened in comfortable quiet to a succession of punk and Ska bands Paul had never heard of. They made their way past wineries big and small, headed towards a small beach community near where they'd filmed Alfred Hitchcock's movie The Birds.

  "You know, I've never been up here," said Paul.

  "Really? I thought you liked wine."

  "I do, but I never made it up here. Never had anyone who wanted to go with me. It was so easy to get wrapped up in work, I hardly ever made it out of San Jose."

  "Which is a shame," said Chloe, "Because San Jose is a hole."

  "It's kind of like one big strip mall, gone bad," agreed Paul. "But if you hate it too, why're you here? Couldn't you guys do your stuff, whatever it is, pretty much anywhere?"

  "Yeah, we could. But this is where the action is. We're a tech-heavy group of geeks for the most part. I'm more the exception than the rule. I know the face-to-face cons, but most of my Crew are tech-heads to the Chapter 13

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  core. And there's no better place for that than here."

  "I would've thought most of your hacking and what have you could be done from anywhere. Isn't that the point?"

  "Sure, that's one way of doing things. It's even one of the ways we do things, but it's not the only way. You can sometimes hack a system from the outside and get access and maybe even make some money using that access, but not always. Like the play we just made with the comic book stuff. We couldn't have done all that digitally - or at least it wouldn't have been so cheap and quick."

  "Being in Silicon Valley lets me use my skills and those of people like Filo and Bee much more effectively. It gives us a lot more options. If we left it to just Raff and Kurt and the other hacker kids, we'd have a l
imited number of moves in any situation. And variety isn't just the spice of life; it also keeps you out of jail. Since we can play things so many different directions, we don't have any easily discernible patterns. And no pattern means it's hard for the police to home in on us. Plus, it's a hell of a lot more fun to play dress up and con people than it is to just sit in front of computer and rob them with ones and zeroes."

  "There are hackers out there who break into systems and fuck with them just for the fun of it. Just to be a pain in the ass or to prove to themselves that they can. That's not what we're about."

  "You're about the money," said Paul, uncomfortable with the fact that he was getting used to the idea of falling for a thief.

  "Yes. Fuck yes, we're about the money, but not because we want to get rich. Selling fake comics isn't going to make us rich, but it is going to pay the bills and put food on the table and no one ever has to be the wiser about where that money came from. And by no one, I mean the IRS, the government, and anyone else who wants to stick their noses in my business. We're living totally off the information grid, which is what we're REALLY all about."

  "So you don't pay taxes or anything?" asked Paul. "I mean, I figured that you didn't report stolen income, but how do you stay completely 'off the grid' as you say? How do you rent a house or get a driver's license or credit cards?" Paul found the concept incredibly compelling. He'd long dreamed of disappearing from public and government scrutiny. In fact, that dream had been one of the driving themes in his comic book Metropolis 2.0.

  Chloe, keeping one hand on the wheel, dug her wallet out of her pocket and pulled out her driver's license, handing it to Paul. "Take a look at that," she said. The license showed a picture of a smiling Chloe, with her name but a different address on it. It looked perfectly legitimate to Paul.