Lucky Draw

by Mark Stone

  “He’s not a deer in headlights,” Davey snapped back, looking from the woman to me and back again. “He’s a badass, Grade A certified, Lady!” His eyes moved back over toward me wearily. “He’s just, like, going over options in his mind. I’m sure each of those options is as badass as the next, right, LJ?”

  I didn’t outwardly react to the fact that Davey had used that nickname again. Though, I did make a mental note that, should he call me that again, I was going to break something off that my best friend would definitely miss.

  “Nuclear codes?” I asked, shaking my head, my eyes still narrowed. “What the hell do you have to do with nuclear codes?”

  “Launch codes,” she answered. “For the government.”

  “No, I gathered that,” I said. “You’re talking about the nuclear launch codes that only the president has access to, right? You mean the kinds that are changed daily and kept in ‘the Football’ and ‘the Biscuit’, right?” I asked, pulling at my memories of all the spy movies I had ever seen.

  “That’s the way they used to work, yeah,” she answered. “The launch codes are changed daily, and they used to be placed in securely housed vessels known as ‘footballs’. The ‘biscuit’ was the key card a president would use to access those codes, and they were supposed to keep them on their person at all times.” Wendy swallowed hard. “That was a long time ago, though. During the start of the previous administration, everything went online. The daily changing codes were directly uploaded to the internet for the president’s immediate access.”

  “I don’t think I’m going to like the way this story ends,” I muttered.

  “It was okay because the White House had the most sophisticated cyber security on the planet,” Wendy answered. “Unfortunately, that was right around the time I was making all of my bad decisions, and as it turns out, cyber security of any sort, even the best in the world, was no match for me back then.”

  “Seriously?” I balked. “You hacked the White House and stole nuclear launch codes? What kind of person are you? That’s supervillain-level stuff. We’ll need Batman to take you out.”

  “We don’t have Batman. We only have you,” Charlotte piped in, the first thing she’d said in quite some time. “And listen to her. This gets worse.”

  “I didn’t steal launch codes. If I had done that, they would only be good for the day until they were changed by the government,” Wendy said. “What I did was much more dangerous. I created a piece of coding that could serve as an invisible backdoor to where the codes are kept. It was a carte blanche, a key to the most dangerous weapons on the face of the earth.”

  “My God,” Davey gasped from the other side of the room.

  “I thought better of it,” Wendy said. “After I created the coding, after it was tested and proven to work, I saw what kind of people wanted to buy it. This wasn’t like hacking in and doubling a factory worker’s pension or giving someone a passing LSAT score. I was playing in international terrorism now. They even named it ‘the Linchpin’.” She looked down at the floor and took a deep breath. “I destroyed the source code and ran, but three copies had been made of it. So, I tasked myself with hunting down the copies of the Linchpin and destroying them all. That’s what was happening when you saw me in West Virginia.”

  “You were being held captive in West Virginia,” I replied.

  “I was,” Wendy said. “But that was only because I got caught. You see, I created the Linchpin for a buyer, someone who wanted to sell the capability to the highest bidder. I never saw the buyer, but I do know he came after me when I ran with the source file. I had already destroyed two of the copies, including the copy the buyer had on his mainframe, and had tracked the third down to a thumb drive locked in a safe in a small mountain town on the East Coast.”

  “Princeton?” I asked. “When I found you there, trying to break into the boss’s safe, you were looking for the Linchpin?”

  “I was,” Wendy answered. “And I’d have been forced to give it to them if not for you.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Or, at least, I thought I would. After you saved me, I went back in and got into the safe. As it turned out, the last copy wasn’t there. And that was the last I’d heard of it until recently.”

  “And what happened recently?” I asked.

  “I heard a rumor through the grapevine,” she said.

  “Must be a pretty sketchy grapevine,” Davey said.

  “I still have contacts from my old life,” Wendy said. “They reached out to me when they heard the last copy of the Linchpin was being shopped around. They told me where I might be able to find it and how I might be able to get my hands on it.” She took a step toward me. “Except that I can’t,” she said. “Only you can.”

  “Me?” I asked. “You’re the one with the connections. Why can’t you do it?”

  “Because it’s the Diamond Mine,” she said.

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said quickly.

  “I do,” Davey murmured, coming toward us. “You’re talking about the ship, the poker ship where they’re playing the most exclusive poker tournament in the history of poker tournaments.”

  Now, at the sound of this, my ears perked up more than a little bit. Though he had been gone for awhile now, there wasn’t much I didn’t remember about my grandfather. The old man was—to hear any of my relatives tell it—a rake and the kind of guy who liked to enjoy himself. He liked a good drink, he loved a good woman—or a few of them, if the rumors were true—and he lived to gamble. I swear, the old man must have gone to Vegas a hundred times if he went once. It was like a second home to him, with all its lights and its shows. More than that, it was the gambling capital of the world. It was where he belonged, a place where there was a game for every mood. Even if, nine times out of ten, my grandfather was in the mood for poker. He taught me the game, the ins and outs of it and how to win. Of course, by the end of his life, he also taught me how the game could take everything away from you, how it could chew you up and spit you out, and how even if you win, you always seem to lose.

  “Okay, so your codes are on a gambling boat,” I answered, shrugging and pushing thoughts of my grandfather out of my head. “I don’t get why you can’t just hop aboard it yourself. Why do you need me?”

  “Other than the fact that I’m known not only as the woman who created the Linchpin but also as the woman trying to destroy it, I couldn’t get on the damn ship. You heard your friend. It’s an exclusive tournament. That’s the reason the Linchpin is being auctioned off there in the first place. While the tournament is very real, the person who is supposedly selling the computer program I made is using the high bar of entry as the first challenge of buying. Bottom line, if you can’t find a way to get inside, either through ingenuity or by buying your way in, then you are neither important nor rich enough to get the Linchpin.”

  “And you want to use my money to get inside?” I asked through an arched brow.

  “Not at all,” she answered. “I doubt seventy million would make these people so much as bat an eye. Your name, on the other hand, is something the people who coordinate the tournament lapped up like dog food.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, looking from Wendy to Charlotte and back again. “What do you mean, lapped? You already ran something by them, didn’t you?”

  “I had to be sure they would do it, John. The tournament is three days long and it starts this Saturday. I couldn’t just spring it on them and expect them to just agree. They have sponsors like everyone else, and those sponsors have demands,” Wendy said. “They also have high standards. I thought about you, and I ran the idea of coming on as a celebrity guest by them, through a secondhand connection, of course. They said “No.”

  “They said no!” I answered instinctively before I could stop myself.

  “But you and Charlotte together, they couldn’t say no to that,” Wendy said. “So, I went to her, explained to her what was going on, and brought her here when she agreed s
o that we could talk to you, so that you might understand the gravity of this situation.”

  “And the gravity is . . .”

  “Isn’t it obvious, John?” Charlotte said, standing and running a hand through my hair just like she did on the day both of our lives changed forever. “You and me, we kinda gotta save the world.”

  8

  The pull of the gun rattled my hands as the bullets rang out over and over again. With one eye closed, I aimed for the heart of the black and white paper target in front of me. It was a long way away, but this was hardly my first time. In training, I excelled in shooting. I had an aim that they told me made me a sharpshooter. It might have even made me a sniper if I’d stayed in long enough. I didn’t, though. I loved being in the Army, having a band of brothers and sisters who had my back. But at the end of the day, it wasn’t what I wanted my entire life to be. So, I went out and looked for something else. Still, every once in awhile, I found myself in a place like this. A shooting range, a paintball area, even laser tag. It all brought me back to when it was just me and the target, just me and the mission.

  “You’re better at that than I thought,” a voice said from beside me. I turned, having just pulled the muffs off my ears. I felt the pull of a smile start on my face as I took her in. Mia stood there, a gun in her hand and her hair pulled back off her neck into a ponytail. She wore just enough makeup to look like she wasn’t wearing any, and the black shirt and pants she had on clung to her in all the right places. On a different day, I’d have given her more than just a onceover. After all, we hadn’t really talked about the sparks that flew between us the night I was out on her boat, the night that same boat had very nearly killed the both of us.

  “Does that surprise you?” I asked, placing the gun on the table and smiling at the woman. For what it was worth, she was smiling right back, which sent a little bit of warmth through me, not that I needed it with how hot it was down there.

  “I’m not sure,” she answered. “The thing about you is that either nothing about you could surprise me anymore or everything does, and I can’t seem to figure out which it is. Does that make any sense?”

  “Not even a little,” I said, shaking my head. “But I’m deciding to take it as a compliment.”

  “I’m not sure I meant it as one,” Mia answered.

  “I think you did,” I said, winking at her. “But in any event, it’s too late. You already said it. You can’t take it back.”

  She chuckled hard. “I’m trying to remember what life was like before you got here.”

  “Probably boring,” I said, nodding at her. “Seems like it would be boring.”

  “I’m not sure that’s the word I would use, but it was definitely less colorful,” she said, biting her lower lip. “I’m impressed with you, by the way.”

  “Really?” I asked, trying not to let my face light up at her admission. “Any particular reason, or is it just a standard awe that you feel?”

  “Don’t be a jackass. I mean, if you can help it, that is,” she answered.

  ‘I’ll see what I can do,” I muttered.

  “I’m talking about what you did at the motel,” she said. “On an official level, I’m supposed to tell you that what you did was dangerous and completely against the law. I’m supposed to say that if you have suspicions of any sort of wrongdoing or criminal activity, your duty as a citizen of Bonita Springs is to bring it to the attention of a police officer or other civil servant.”

  “Well, that makes you sound pretty lame,” I answered, giving the woman a half smile. “And since I know you’re not lame, I’m going to guess that’s not what you’re going to tell me.”

  “Lucky and smart,” she answered. “You’re right. Left to my own devices, I wouldn’t say anything like that. Instead, I would tell you that a man like Mangrove deserves to be in jail for what he did, and I’m satisfied with whatever course of action leads him there.”

  “There’s my girl. I knew she was in there somewhere,” I said.

  “Don’t get too excited,” Mia said. “Congratulating you isn’t the only reason I came to see you today.”

  “You came here for me?” I asked, my eyes moving down to the gun in her hand. “I figured this was just a coincidence.”

  “Hardly,” Mia said. “I stopped by your house and talked to Davey, who was entertaining not one, but two women, by the way. I didn’t think the guy had it in him.”

  “Life can be full of unexpected surprises,” I muttered, realizing the women Mia was talking about were most certainly Wendy and Charlotte but deciding it was better not to stop and explain things.

  “Anyway, he told me you were thinking through something and that this is more than likely where I would find you,” Mia continued. “He said this sort of thing helps you clear your mind. He said you’d never admit it, but it makes you feel at peace.”

  “He’s right,” I replied. “I wouldn’t admit that.”

  “I decided to shoot some rounds off myself before coming to see you. I guess you and I are alike in that way. This helps us both feel more like ourselves, though I certainly don’t mind admitting it.” She shuffled beside me. “Having a rough day?” Mia asked, setting her own gun on the table beside mine.

  “Are there any rough days in paradise?” I asked her, looking up at the picture-perfect sky and feeling a salt-tinted breeze brush against my face.

  “I guess that depends on your perspective,” she said. “I do know that I’ve never felt the need to clear my head because things were going too well.”

  “I’m just mulling over a few options in my head. That’s all,” I said.

  “Aren’t options a good thing?” Mia asked, daring me with an upturned eyebrow.

  “They are until they turn into obligations,” I replied.

  “Said every commitment-phobic man who’s ever lived.” Mia chuckled.

  “It’s not like that,” I said. “It’s work-related.”

  “So is what I came to talk to you about,” Mia said. “Which is why I’m not going to question why a multimillionaire without a job would have to worry about anything work-related.” She swallowed hard. “The man you took down at the motel earlier—”

  “Mangrove,” I clarified.

  “Right, Russ Mangrove,” she said. “He’s a thug, but he’s not alone, per se. He comes from an entire family of troublemakers. Four in total, the Mangrove brothers have been wreaking havoc and bringing down property values for as long as I can remember. They’re hardcore and horrible people, but they’re loyal to each other, which leads me to believe they’re not going to be very happy with you.”

  “You’re telling me to watch my back?”

  “Like I said, there are four in total. I’m telling you to watch your back, front, and both sides,” Mia said.

  I shrugged. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself. Besides, if the rest of the brothers punch like Russ, I can take them all on at once without even breaking a sweat.”

  “A man with confidence,” Mia noted.

  “Some women find confidence to be a very attractive feature,” I answered, my half smile spreading across the whole of my face now.

  “There’s a pot for every kettle,” she said. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll find one on my boat.”

  “Will I?” I asked, my heart speeding up just a little.

  “Calm down, sailor. I’m inviting you to a party,” she said, touching my arm slightly. “My little sister just got back into town, and she wants to celebrate. There are going to be a few people there, and I figured you might as well be one of them.”

  “Might as well?” I asked, pointing out her choice of words.

  “I figured that since last time you were on the boat, you stopped it from crashing into a pier, having you around again might not be a bad idea. You have a tendency of coming in handy.”

  “Like a Swiss Army knife,” I muttered.

  “Tell Davey to come too. He can even bring his harem if he wants,”
Mia said. “It’s tonight. I expect you to be there. Don’t let me down, sailor.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” I answered, and then I watched her walk away.

  9

  “Why don’t we have a boat?” Davey asked, looking over at me as we walked up the pier and toward the houseboat Mia called home. It was a clear night in Bonita Springs, and even the breeze coming off the Gulf was warm and did a lot to settle me into a comfortable state of mind. That was the thing I had learned about Florida, and in the same vein, about living on the coast in general. There was never a bad time to be here. Even in the storms, even in the crowded seasons, even when it was so hot that the people I grew up with in the Midwest would tell you they couldn’t breathe down here, it was always the best alternative. No wonder people loved living here so much. No wonder people retired down here in droves. No wonder that I did, I guess, even if the lottery took away any need for me to actively retire in the traditional sense. Still, as we neared the houseboat, listening to Davey, I couldn’t help but think about how lucky I had been. Maybe the media had a point in giving me the nickname they had, after all.

  “We?” I asked, glancing over at my friend. “You want me to buy a boat with you?”

  “Of course not,” he answered quickly. “Ideally, I would want you to buy a boat for me, but if I say that, I risk coming off as silly and selfish.”

  “I think that risk became a reality a while back. I wouldn’t worry about it,” I said.

  “What you should do is allow me to convince you to buy yourself a boat, and then, of course, I’ll just take over. Kind of be the Skipper to your Gilligan.”

  “You want me to buy you a boat and be the Gilligan?” I asked as we settled in front of Mia’s houseboat.

  “Don’t say it like that,” Davey said. “I would be the Gilligan myself, but I mean, who would take that seriously? I was born to be the Skipper.”