by Tracy Deebs
12/24/18
23:42
CORONADO, CALIFORNIA
Footage begins in parking lot A of Coronado Country Club and Marina. Security is lax—a guard is sleeping in a golf cart—and traffic is nonexistent (foot, automobile, and boat).
A 2017 Cadillac Escalade (California license plate 6ZZE991) pulls into the parking lot via the Silver Strand entrance and parks in the first row of the empty lot, facing the Starfish Isle exit. Three people in hoodies and jeans exit the vehicle, including Ezra Hernandez from the driver’s door.
The three make their way through the empty parking lot under the full moon. When they come to the first security gate, Incidental 1 (identified as Maxwell Singley) takes out his cell phone and hacks their way in. They continue on their way, making a left at the path that takes them to what employees call Money Row, so named because it has the deepest and the biggest slips and is home to the most expensive yachts in San Diego. Including La Vida Aqua, the largest yacht in the marina and the pride and joy of current US vice president Richard Harris.
Camera 27, parking lot A, loses sight of them at 23:48 as they turn toward Money Row. Camera 13 picks them up at 23:49 as they approach the second security booth. This one is manned by Marcus Briggs, who stops them in their tracks.
Hernandez talks to Briggs in a jovial, easygoing manner that transforms the security guard from belligerent to amused.
Two minutes and twenty-seven seconds after the conversation starts, Hernandez and his two accomplices walk right through the manned security gate.
At 23:57, they board La Vida Aqua.
At 00:02, the bridge security camera and recorder picks them up (transcription follows).
Singley: Dude, this is epic! I still can’t believe you got us on board!
Robert Carrera: Right? When that guy demanded ID, I figured we were toast!
Singley: Yes! I nearly pissed my pants.
Hernandez is at the yacht’s instrumentation panel, flipping switches.
Carrera: So what are we going to steal, man? So we can prove we actually made it on board?
Singley: I think we should steal a bottle of our vice president’s finest liquor.
Carrera: No way, man. Liquor can come from anywhere.
Singley: Yeah, but a picture can’t.
Hernandez: No photos.
Hernandez moves between his phone and the instrument panel as he flips switches and checks gauges.
Singley: I’m going to take a pic of me sprawled in the captain’s chair with a bottle of the ship’s best tequila.
Hernandez doesn’t answer, but he does spin the chair Singley is going to sit on so that Singley ends up sprawled on the floor.
Singley: So what are we stealing, then?
Hernandez: You mean you haven’t figured it out?
Carrera: Figured what out?
Hernandez: We’re stealing the boat.
A string of expletives spans the next thirty-one straight seconds.
Hernandez: We’re ready to go. Go untie the yacht.
Carrera and Singley leave the bridge, as instructed, at 00:19.
Hernandez gets a text at 00:23, at which point he climbs behind the wheel and starts guiding La Vida Aqua from the slip.
Voice recording ceases until 00:36, though video recording shows Hernandez navigating the boat through the bay.
At 00:48, Hernandez slows the yacht down. Audio recording picks back up.
Hernandez: Get out on deck and look for two boats off the starboard bow.
Carrera: Which one’s the starboard bow?
Singley: Boats? What boats?
Hernandez: The right side, dipshit.
Carrera: What boats, Ezra?
Hernandez: The two that should show up near our starboard bow sometime in the next two minutes.
Carrera: I see them! What’s going on, Ezra?
Hernandez: You didn’t think this was just a joyride, did you? Here, take the wheel.
Singley: Me?
Hernandez: Don’t worry, I’m dropping anchor.
Hernandez drops anchor at 00:56, then leaves the bridge.
At 00:58, security camera 1 picks him up on the lowest starboard deck, lowering a ladder toward the water. Security footage doesn’t show what is happening in the water, but at 01:02, a teenage girl appears at the top of the ladder.
Twenty-five people (unidentified at this time but with approximate ages between sixteen and twenty) climb onto the yacht with several coolers filled with beverages and snack foods.
From 01:02 until 04:27, a Christmas party ensues, complete with mistletoe and spiked eggnog.
At 04:30, Hernandez ends the party. There is no audio recording, but it’s very obvious that he’s closing the party down, despite the complaints of many on board. I think it’s important to note that no one refuses to leave when ordered.
The yacht is cleared of all but Hernandez, Singley, and Carrera at 04:41.
Hernandez returns to the bridge at 04:43, where he turns the yacht back toward shore while security camera 1 shows Singley and Carrera cleaning up stray trash. And at 05:17, Hernandez pulls La Vida Aqua back into slip 27 at CCCM.
Hernandez, Singley, and Carrera disembark at 05:21. Before he leaves, Hernandez looks straight into the camera and blows it a kiss.
Security camera 13 reveals Hernandez, Singley, and Carrera after securing the yacht from 05:21 until 05:26. Security camera 27 picks them up as they leave the marina at 05:28. They reach the Cadillac Escalade at 05:33.
Hernandez climbs into the driver’s seat at 05:34. He starts the SUV, then pulls out of the parking lot and onto Starfish Isle Road.
Surveillance ceases.
7
Issa
(Pr1m4 D0nn4)
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
I can’t believe I’m freaking doing this.
“Make sure you watch your new Legos,” I tell Ricky as I roll my suitcase down the hallway of our apartment. “You can’t leave them on the floor, or Chloe might eat one and choke.”
Just the thought has me panicking—not to mention rethinking this terrible, horrible, absolute mistake of a trip.
“Her bottles for the next two days are in the fridge,” I tell my sister, who is dozing on the couch. Not that I blame her—it’s pretty much the crack of dawn right now. Still. “Lettie! Are you listening to me?”
“Bottles. Fridge. Got it.”
“I bought a couple of the liquid cans of formula so you don’t have to worry about messing with the powdered stuff. Just make sure you don’t leave the formula in the cans after you open them. Pour it all into bottles and make sure you—”
“Use them within forty-eight hours. I got it.” Her eyes open for the first time. “How long are you going to be gone, anyway?”
“I don’t know. I told you it depends on how far I get.”
“I can’t believe the CIA is making you compete for this scholarship like you’re in some kind of reality TV show. It’s ridiculous.”
“Maybe it is,” I tell her, the lie twisting sourly in my stomach. “But I need the scholarship, so they get to call the shots.”
I lean down and kiss the top of Lettie’s head. The fact that she lets me tells me exactly how discombobulated she is about me leaving. Then Ricky’s there, wrapping his arms around my waist and holding on tight.
“I love you, Issa.”
I kiss his forehead next. “I love you too, guys.”
“Don’t go. Pleeeeeease. It’s still Christmas!!!”
I glance at the old clock on the wall. “Christmas ended five hours ago, bud. And I’ll be back before you miss me.”
“I already miss you! Plus Chloe’s going to freak when you don’t come home tonight.”
“Chloe will be fine as long as you guys remember to feed her on time,” I say loudly, so Lettie can hear. And so I can maybe even convince myself. She’ll be fine, I tell myself as I roll my suitcase toward the door. They all will. It’s just for a few days. Lettie can handle it—and may
be, with me gone, Dad will actually step up and take some responsibility for Chloe. “And don’t let the twins sleep past nine or they won’t sleep tonight.”
Everything’s going to be fine. It is.
“When Dad gets up, tell him I left money for groceries in his top drawer. There’s also money for pizza for dinner tomorrow night, once the leftovers run out. Make sure you buy extra so you’ll have some for lunch a couple of days this week.”
“I know, I know.” Lettie finally deigns to sit up. “You told me this three times already. Just like the bottle stuff.”
“And text me if you have any questions. Except for the three and a half hours I’m on the plane, I’ll answer you right away.”
“We’re fiiiiiiiiine,” Lettie says as she climbs off the sofa and follows me to the door. “Now go kick some serious hacker butt.”
It’s not the hackers I’m worried about, but I don’t tell her that. The only way I got my dad to agree to this whole trip is because he thinks I’ve still got a chance at the CIA scholarship. When this is all over, I don’t know how I’m going to tell him I didn’t get it.
I push that thought out of my brain. There will be enough time to think about it later, just like there will be enough time to think about how guilty I feel for lying to my family. But right now I have to get on that plane and get to San Francisco so I can stop this whole disaster I helped set in motion. And while it would be nice to leave this to the others, the truth is I don’t trust them not to screw it up.
Besides, this is as much my fault as it is theirs. More, if you count Owen, who didn’t have anything to do with Phantom Wheel but is still doing his best to fix it.
It still bugs me that he somehow knew and I didn’t. That he took one look in that folder and saw how this was going to go down, while I just let Jacento and “Shane” play me.
Then again, he must not need the scholarship the way I do. If he did, he probably wouldn’t have seen so clearly either.…
“Make sure you lock up after me,” I tell Lettie. “And don’t open the door for anyone unless Dad is here. And check on Chloe in an hour, make sure she’s doing okay. And—”
“I’m fifteen, Issa! I’ve got this!” She practically shoves me out the door. “Go get that scholarship!”
The door slams in my face, and I’m left standing in the hallway, light bulb flickering above my head as I try to convince myself that everything is going to be okay. I’m halfway to accepting it when Chloe starts to cry.
Damn.
I start to go back in, just to calm her down a little, but my phone beeps. My ride is here.
I hear Lettie murmuring to Chloe through the thin walls, and the crying stops as soon as it started. Lettie can do this, I tell myself as I head for the four flights of stairs between me and the street. Everything’s going to be okay.
I say those five words over and over again as I get in the car, as we drive through the nearly deserted San Antonio streets, as I climb out of the car at the airport. I’m still saying it twenty minutes later as I make my way through security to my gate and forty minutes later when I line up to get on the plane.
It’s my mantra of sorts, my promise to myself and to the world as I gingerly settle into my window seat and pray for no turbulence.
Everything’s going to be okay.
8
Harper
(5p3ct3r)
What exactly have I gotten myself into? I wonder as I stop outside the address Silver Spoon gave us in downtown San Francisco. I look up at the two luxurious buildings shooting into the sky like the sleekest silver bullets and can’t believe I’m in the right place.
We can stay at my family’s apartment in the city, he said.
No big deal, he said.
It’s smaller than the house my parents keep in Woodside, so my parents rarely stay there even when they’re in town—which they aren’t right now, as they’re spending Christmas in Hawaii, he said.
The apartment will be PERFECT for us, he said.
These luxury towers are about the opposite of perfect, in my opinion. They demand attention from anyone who sees them. And since I’ve spent the last few years of my life doing anything but that, just the idea of going inside makes me tremble.
The idea of actually staying here… well, let’s just say it’ll be a miracle if I don’t break out in hives.
I glance down at my phone again, just to make sure I’ve got the address right. Maybe I got off at the wrong BART station, or maybe… nope. This is it: 201 Folsom Street.
Okay, then.
Hefting my backpack a little more solidly over my shoulder, I start into the bigger tower, as Silver Spoon instructed. As I do, a man dressed in the most ridiculous suit I’ve ever seen—all orange lines and navy checks, with flowers inside each square—strolls out in front of me. At his feet is a tiny white poodle, dancing on a sparkly purple leash.
The dog starts yapping as soon as it sees me, running around in circles like it’s trying to tangle me up in its leash.
“It’s okay, girl,” I say, squatting to pet the mop-headed thing. Dogs are so much easier than people. “I won’t hurt you.”
“I’m so sorry! Muffy is a little high-strung,” her owner tells me.
“She’s great,” I answer, keeping my head down so that my hair falls in my face. Old habits and all that. “Full of energy.”
“You have no idea. She just ate my partner’s Gucci loafers, and he is not impressed. This walk is kind of a mission of mercy, you know what I mean?”
“Was this a first offense, or is she a repeat—”
The dog barks, interrupting me. Her bright eyes make it obvious that she’s done with me and ready to explore her little bit of the city. “I should let you get on with your mission.”
“And I, you.” He gives me a cheery wave, and the two head up the street. I watch them for a few seconds before turning back to the building. He doesn’t know how true his words are.
I shove my hands in my pockets and hunch my shoulders a little as I head inside.
But I barely make it two steps before I hear, “Hey, Harper, right?”
I freeze for one second, two, wondering who could possibly know me here. But as the panic recedes, I realize it’s a tall guy with mocha-colored skin and a few neatly kept dreads poking out of his hoodie who’s talking to me. The sunglasses he’s wearing throw me for a moment, and then it hits me.
The Lone Ranger. Of course.
“Hey, L— Owen. How are you?”
“Glad as hell you’re here. So far, it’s just Ezra and me, and let me tell you, that’s been… interesting.”
I can’t help laughing. It feels strange, considering how my normal life goes. And considering what we’re here for.
“I can only imagine.”
“Come on, I’ll take you up.” He waves at the man behind the counter who’s checking people in, before pointing my way and mouthing, She’s with me.
I’m a little surprised at how chummy he is with the doorman already, since he only got here this morning. I don’t say anything—I rarely do—but my curiosity must show on my face because he shrugs as we step onto the elevator. “He’s a fan of my dad’s.”
Oh. Right. The star football player. No wonder the Lone Ranger looks so comfortable in this place.
“So, did you find the place okay?” he asks as he pushes the button for the forty-second floor. It’s the top button on the panel. Of course it is.
Of course Silver Spoon would have a penthouse as one of his secondary homes.
When we take off, we shoot up fast—so fast that I stumble a little, fall against the Lone Ranger. He steadies me with an arm around my shoulders, and I stiffen. I don’t love being touched by people I barely know. And I’m so not interested.
He removes his arm a moment later, thank God, and says, “That got me the first time too. You good?”
I nod. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” He grins. “San Francisco’s a brand-new world, huh?”
> “At least the Lumina towers are.”
That draws a startled laugh out of him. “Right? This place is something else. It’s got all the comforts of home—if your home is a five-star hotel.”
The elevator picks that moment to stop, and when it opens, we step out into an opulent lobby, all gleaming white and silver.
Directly in front of us is a set of double doors, and I watch as the Lone Ranger punches in a code. Seconds later we’re standing in the middle of a huge living room, with sleek white furniture and seemingly endless glass windows lining the walls in all directions. Beyond the windows in front of us is a terrace, and beyond that is the big, beautiful Pacific.
I glance around, expecting to see Silver Spoon, but the room—which basically extends from one end of the building to the other in one wide-open space—is empty.
“Ezra’s probably upstairs,” the Lone Ranger says, nodding at the ornate circular staircase to the right of where we’re standing. “Want to go see him, find your room?”
“I, um—”
“Yeah. I know what you mean.” He puts a light hand on my shoulder, propels me forward. “Come on. I’ll protect you.”
I try not to stiffen, reminding myself it’s just a hand on my shoulder, no big deal. “I don’t need protection.”
“Okay. Then you can protect me. Ezra is… a lot.”
Yeah, he is. But then, so is the Lone Ranger. So are all of them, in their own ways.
Buffy with her confidence and don’t-mess-with-me attitude.
Snow White with the oh-so-perfect vibe and underlying core of steel.
Mad Max with his over-the-top heart and the overt goodness that comes across even in his messages.
They’re all going to take some getting used to. Especially the Lone Ranger, with his killer smile and the harmless flirting that he’s probably not even aware of. I’m immune, but I can’t help wondering what it’s going to do to the other girls.
I nod a little, remember to smile because it’s the right social response. Then nearly jump out of my skin when a door slams open somewhere upstairs.
Seconds later, Silver Spoon and Snow White come strolling onto the landing at the top of the stairs. “Harper!” she exclaims, waving when she sees me. “Come on up and pick your room!”
