Biyu froze and stared at the front door. Nai-nai dropped her tablet on the floor and set her glasses on the arm of the chair. “Biyu, zěn me le?”
“I don’t know, Nai-nai.”
The violent pounding increased until Biyu was sure the front door would come off its hinges. Her mother ran into the front room, wringing her hands. As she passed Biyu, she said, “Get your father down here!”
“What do they want?”
“I have no idea—go!”
Biyu heard the front door open as she rushed upstairs. A stranger’s voice shouted, “Down on the floor!” The door slammed shut and Biyu heard a crashing sound. Her father rushed into the hallway, headphones around his neck and his cello bow still in his hand. “Who’s down there, Biyu—what is happening?”
“They said they were from the CBC.”
Without hesitation, Quan pushed his daughter into Jun’s room and whispered, “Stay hidden until I come get you. Don’t come out of that room, no matter what.”
“Why Bà—who are they?”
“I don’t know—but there has been no Border and Customs department since HighTower took over a decade ago.” Quan gave her another solid push before walking downstairs.
“What is this all about? Who exactly are you…” Biyu listened from the other side of the door as her father’s words were cut short. Trembling with fear, she went to Jun’s desk and pulled open his bottom drawer. She removed his hard drive and spare tablet then quietly slid the drawer back in its place. Locating the key that was taped under his chair, she unlocked the chest at the foot of Jun’s bed. She snatched his case of flash-chips and burners then closed the lid. She heard heavy footsteps on the stairs. Jun, you moron! What have you done this time? Biyu raced into the closet and slid the door closed behind her. Feeling around in the dark, she located the hasp for the false door. She pushed it softly and slipped behind the opening as the bedroom door opened. Not daring to look—Biyu slid the panel closed and crouched in the pitch dark. She made out the muffled sound of men talking and heard thuds as furniture was tossed around. The closet door opened and Biyu held her breath. Sounds of hangers sliding and clothing being yanked from shelves was too close for comfort. Biyu concentrated on her breathing and tried to remain calm but her heart pounded so loudly she feared the whole room would hear it.
“Grab that server and let’s get moving.” A voice nearest the closet said.
“Did you check the daughter’s room?”
“Yeah, she’s not there. The rest of the house is empty. Our orders were to secure the mother and the old lady—and leave no witnesses. Just call it in—have them issue a BOLO for the kids.”
“That works for me. I hate these fuckin’ grab and bags.”
“Let’s move, I see gawkers out on the street.”
“Roger. We’re finished here.”
Biyu mouthed the word “BOLO.” What in the heck does that mean? She racked her brain for the acronyms her brother frequently tossed around, but couldn’t recall one that sounded like that. In the end, it didn’t really matter, because she clearly understood what they meant by “grab and bags.” Well Jun, now what?
Biyu heard a van door slide shut and a vehicle peeling out of the driveway. She didn’t dare leave her hiding spot—not just yet. Leaning against the aluminum wall, she thought How do I warn you, brother?
The dinner rush at Mongolian Hot Pot was starting to thin. Jun swallowed the last of his Shancheng beer. The wok continued to steam in the center of their table and he switched the controls to low. Leaning out of the booth, he waved his empty bottle at the waitress and held up two fingers. Looking over at his friend, he asked, “You wanted another one, didn’t you?”
Douglas nodded and ladled another helping of lamb and bok choy onto his plate. “This weak-ass beer that your people make is piss-water, buddy.”
“Nobody’s forcing it down your throat, y’know.”
“Well, luckily, I have a proud history of drinking crappy beer. It all comes from the frugalities of my chosen occupation, I guess.” He stuffed a heaping chopsticks-load of noodles into his mouth, swallowed and said, “Besides, you’re paying.”
The waitress stopped at the table with two frosty bottles of Shancheng and picked up their empty ones. Jun smiled, “Xièxiè.”
Douglas slid the remaining slices of meat into the bubbling broth. “So, comrade. You haven’t been exactly forthcoming on status updates concerning, you know… your little project down at the Provost’s office.” Douglas reached into his jacket pocket and held up a flash chip. “This might come in useful, if you’re still looking for some ‘leverage’ in that whole matter.”
“What exactly is in that?”
“Well, let’s just say that the University holds its senior administrators to pretty low standards as far as sexual deviancy practices go.” Douglas chuckled at his own joke and gulped his beer in one swig. “I’m not even going to tell you about the awesome—nay, superhuman genius that I demonstrated in hacking that little gem for you. It would most assuredly diminish your self-esteem irreparably. I just couldn’t do that to ya’, my little Asian amigo.”
Jun slid the chip toward him and pocketed it. “First off, Douglas, ‘fuck you,’ second off, thanks for that…and ‘fuck you’.”
“Hey, no problemo.” Douglas took both the fortune cookies. “We can’t allow a corrupt, fascist regime to keep prodigies like you and me out of institutes of higher learning, man.”
“It’s the UBC, don’t get too ahead of yourself.”
“Regardless dude, it had to be done. Besides, just wait till you get a look at it. I’m talking some crazed shit—like, pervy old white guy shit. It’s truly righteous.” Douglas let out a noisy belch and rubbed his stomach. “So, c’mon… give it up. What’s your plan of action? Inquiring minds want to know.”
“I dunno, I hadn’t really thought about…” Jun’s mobile buzzed. He removed it from his pocket, glanced briefly at the screen and said, “Hang on a sec. I need to take this.”
“Sure man, I’m gonna take a leak.”
Jun held his mobile under the table and read the cryptic message, “BOLO out on U. Chip is hot. I’m in the cage. Don’t come home—lose your sim card.”
Douglas returned to the table and grabbed his cap off the bench. “What’d ’ya say man, let’s head back to my place and play a few rounds of Sepulcher. There’s some hot chick in the Ukraine who keeps wiping out my advance ops. If we team up, we could totally crush her Krell warriors. Come on, I’ve got Mar-mars, dude… Chocolaty, creamy goodness.”
Jun waved him away and slid out of his booth. “Something’s come up—important stuff.”
“What? Important? …On a Friday night?”
“Look, I’ll tell you later. First, can you go ask the kitchen for a meter of aluminum foil.”
“Oh, my god, dude. You’re runnin’!”
“Just… do it.”
As Douglas walked back to the kitchen, Jun threw his shoulder bag across his arm and went to the register to pay. He asked the cashier, “Is there a back way out of the mall?”
“Shi, nàli,” the woman replied, pointing toward the public restroom corridor of Lansdowne Center. Jun waited impatiently for Douglas to appear. He finally spotted his chubby friend, jogging through the restaurant, the aluminum foil flapping behind him. Jun snatched the foil out of Douglas’ hand and headed to the restroom hallway.
“Wait up! Jun, where are you goin’? Hey, can I come?”
“Don’t be such an idiot. I told you I…” Jun turned around, slowing down long enough for his friend to catch up. “Wait a minute, I do have a job for you—a sort of a reconnaissance mission. You cool with that?”
“Definitely.”
They ducked into the men’s room and Jun looked under the stall doors to confirm they were alone. As he pulled his shirt off, he said, “Get over to my house. Make sure there aren’t any police—anybody that looks… ‘official’ hanging a
round outside.”
“Epic.”
“If you don’t see anyone, then use the back door—here’s my key.”
“Should I send you, like, a coded message if I see the enemy?”
“Douglas. Would ’ya take it down a notch?”
“Right…right. Cool.”
“Look, if—and only if, you’re sure that there’s no one watching the house, then go upstairs and call my little sister’s name—it’s ‘Biyu.’ But don’t just walk into my room, OK?”
“Why not?”
“She knows a few of my ‘security’ tactics.”
“Ahh. Got it.”
Jun tore off a section of the foil and wrapped it around his key card. He wrapped several layers of foil around his upper arm and put his shirt back on. “I’ve got to find some place I can meet Biyu where we won’t be pinged by any readers.”
“That’s easy, man, we can use my place. I’ve got my man cave completely Faraday-ed out.” Douglas handed Jun his own key. “But you’ll need to let my mom know that I’m coming right behind you, cuz… Well, she’s sort of tweaky about people in the house when she’s all alone. Oh, and when you open the garage door, don’t let Priscilla get out—that stupid cat ’ll just get herself pregnant again.”
“OK, thanks.” Jun opened the restroom door and peered down the hallway. “You’ll want to wrap Biyu’s arm in foil, same as mine. In fact, it might be a good idea to go commando yourself. And don’t stop anywhere—for anything. Don’t talk to anybody, got it? I have no clue who’s looking for me or why they want my little sis, but we can’t take any chances. Are we copasetic?”
“Indubitably, dude.”
“Alright. Let’s go.”
The time on the Millennium Falcon wall clock read 9:45 PM—nearly two hours since Biyu’s message. Jun paced the floor of the garage apartment. Where the hell are they? Priscilla kept wrapping herself around Jun’s legs as he walked, wailing loudly when Jun accidentally stepped on her front paw. “Get away, you fat animal!” Jun picked the cat up and tossed her into the laundry room, shutting the door before she could escape. He heard footsteps from the kitchen and ducked behind a storage shelve full of electronics and waited. The door creaked open and Douglas appeared with Biyu close behind.
“Pssst… Hey buddy? You here?” Douglas whispered.
Jun stepped into the main room. “Biyu—are you okay?”
“Jun—I’m so glad to see you! What’s going on?” Biyu ran over to her brother and hugged him. “They took Mamma, Bà and Nai-nai! I’m so scared… And Nai-nai doesn’t have her pills. What are we going to do?” She handed him a bag of computer components and sank into an overstuffed chair. “They tore up your room—even took Nai-nai’s tablet, then left everything else. What do they want? Jun, how are you involved in this?” She wiped her sleeve across her face to stop the tears.
Jun pulled a stool from the kitchenette and skidded it across the floor. He sat next to his sister, brushing her hair behind her ear as he spoke. “Could you hear them talking? Do you remember anything they said?”
She nodded and bit her lower lip as she recalled what was spoken in Jun’s room. “Something about their orders to take Mamma and Nai-nai… They didn’t seem too bothered that we weren’t around. Oh yeah, and they said not to leave any witnesses.”
Douglas peeled the aluminum foil off his arm and said, “That doesn’t sound very legit to me. Are you sure they said they were Customs agents?”
Biyu nodded, “That’s what they yelled through the door. But Bà said that there hasn’t been any Border and Customs for, like a decade. Is that right?”
Jun stood up and slapped his forehead. “Shit—of course! Nobody would announce themselves that way. It’s been HSA since what… 2020? Right?”
Douglas rolled up his flannel shirtsleeves and said, “Sounds like it’s time to go ‘Captain Gizmo’ on this motherfu… uh oh, sorry Biyu.”
“Whatever, Douglas.”
Jun pulled the plastic sack toward him and rummaged through his things. “Wow, I’m impressed. You got almost all of it, little sis.” He pulled his tablet out of his shoulder bag and turned it on. Biyu sat up to watch her brother work. “Did they take the server too?” he asked, waiting for his screen to boot up.
“Yes, I heard one of them say to grab it. Is that bad?”
“No, don’t worry, I use that as my dummy server. Actually, you were hiding right next to my real one.”
Douglas sat down at the card table he used as his computer station. He switched on the desktop computer and slid his tablet over next to it. “Let’s lock and load, campaneros.” He bent over the keys and typed furiously. Switching over to the tablet, he scrolled through several sites and clicked on new links. “Jun, you up and running yet?”
Jun sat hunched over his own computer. “Yeah, I’m on.”
“What’s your mother’s birthdate? I’ll need her place of birth, maiden name…anything you can give me.”
“Sent.”
Biyu watched from the recliner, as Douglas typed encryptions into his computer. The screen flashed digits and scrolling lists of numbers as he clicked on the keys. The faster he worked, the lower he hunched. Biyu thought he resembled a Norwegian troll from one of her childhood books. Douglas hit several keys with a dramatic flourish. “Abracadabra, Bruthah.”
Jun sat back and read his screen, “How’d you get inside there?” He scrolled down, reading the information at a rapid pace. “Shit, Douglas that’s a serious system to crack. You’re asking for it, man.”
“Thank you, thank you, please hold the applause.” Douglas leaned over and pointed to a specific line on Jun’s screen. “See that? Well, that, my Celestial colleague, tells us that at ‘1932 Pacific Daylight Time,’ a reader on 5500 Number Four Road pinged your mom’s RFI data. Go ahead—ask me what’s at ‘5500 Number Four Road.’ C’mon, just ask me.”
“Douglas…”
“The Canadian Primary Reserve, Battalion 12 station—that’s what!” Douglas leaned back in his swivel chair and laughed. “These douchebags forgot to deactivate your mom’s chip before driving by a military facility!”
Biyu walked over to Douglas’ table and peered at his screen. The information looked like gobbledygook. “I thought the 12 Service was just an old museum.”
Douglas spun around in his chair. “It is dear child—but even dusty old military museums would have high-capacity scanners installed on location. It’s like they can’t help themselves or somethin’.”
Jun still had his head buried in his own computer. “Hey, Biyu, isn’t Mamma’s brother—Uncle Kim, still missing?”
“Yeah, we haven’t heard from him in weeks. Mamma cries about him almost daily. Why?”
“I dunno, I’m just digging around, but it seems… If the bad guys aren’t interested in me for once, and if you’re right about what they said—you know, about only needing Mamma. Well, there’s got to be a reason.”
“What did your uncle do for a job, dude?”
Jun ignored Douglas’ question, intent on searching HSA location data files. Biyu sat on the edge of the table as Douglas entered his cyphers and offered an explanation. “Our uncle is some superstar biochemist. He does gene-drive research at a fancy laboratory in Hong Kong… That is, he did, until last month, when it exploded.”
“You don’t say?” Douglas swatted Biyu off his worktable and returned to his keyboard. After several seconds of typing, he said, “Ahh, OK, Huang Biotechnologies. Very good… You see, now we’ve got something.”
Jun’s monitor flickered off and on. He looked up from the screen, blinked several times and whispered, “Everybody stop what you’re doing.”
Biyu stared at her brother in utter confusion. Douglas kept tapping away at his keyboard. “Dude, are you kidding me? I’m amassing my troops to make a drop-zone invasion on Huang’s mainframe firewall right now.”
“I said stop! Shut it down—Now!”
16 The Stan
doff
Hecate Strait. Jul 15. 2030
54°03'25.1"N 131°21'43.3"W
“How you doin’, Táan?” Ooligan shouted over to the other tlúu as they worked their way up a swell.
“I’m… thinking that… a motorboat… might be the… way to travel.” He responded between heavy breaths. Paddling was tougher than Táan had expected and after four hours of effort, his lower back and arms burned. “How far have we gone?” He called back to Adili.
Without breaking his stride, the tribesman said, “About 34 kilometers from Haida Gwaii now.”
Thirty-four? I’ll die before we reach the mainland! Táan winced and dug in harder with his paddle. He would not let the fetchers down—nor would he allow Dot to see him give up. Where is Dot? She blew away from us hours ago. Táan suddenly envied the sailboat’s roomy cockpit and envisioned himself stretched out napping on the floorboards.
“Hey—Haida boy!” Ooligan yelled. “We’ve got almost 60 kilometers left of the Síigaay. You’re looking pretty beat over there—are you sure you’re gonna make it?”
“Yeah Oolie, I’ll pull through.”
“It’s not like you’ve got three strong men over there in your boat or anything!” She laughed and drove her paddle deeper into the waves, pulling in front of Táan’s boat.
Kai looked up as their tlúu gained momentum. “Aaaaye—Oolie, what are you doing? We can’t keep this pace—quit showing off.”
Táan shut his eyes and ignored the burning pain in his muscles. He focused instead on the sounds all around him and the rhythm of paddles. The ocean waves and his teammates’ breathing consumed his consciousness. Eventually, a numbness radiated through his arms and the strokes didn’t bother him nearly as much. He kept his eyes forward and stared at the center of Pasha’s back. Soon enough, they neared the middle of Hecate Strait.
Táan’s Zen state was cut short when Kai shouted, “Can anyone make out what’s heading our way?”
The fetchers looked down the strait, the six-foot swells that rose and fell every few seconds made it difficult to focus on anything in the distance. Táan squinted and called over, “It’s moving pretty fast, I think it’s a tracker!”
Sea of a Thousand Words Page 12
