Baksheesh (Bribes)

by D S Kane

  Ann’s head whipped back slightly. “Uh, I dunno. I have friends where we live now.”

  Cassie nodded. “Yes. I thought so.” Her face closed down.

  Lee faced her. “You’re serious.”

  She nodded again. “Yes. In the new city, Devil’s Slide. I’d do something I’ve always wanted to do. But it would require not just your agreement but also lots of your help.”

  Ann touched her mom’s hand. “What?”

  “A restaurant. In the Montara area. Once upon a time, there was a barbeque place there.” She pointed to the bluff, just down Highway 1. “Then later, it was another kind of restaurant. It’s for sale again.”

  Lee smiled wistfully. “Okay by me.”

  Ann frowned, but nodded. “Well, if it keeps you out of trouble, then, yes.”

  Her eyes searched the bluffs for the waves she could hear crashing against the cliffs. This had been her home until she’d moved to Washington. Now it called to her again. It was still her home. A place where she could be close to her father. Where she could commune with her mother. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. But these were tears of joy. She faced Lee, sought his hand. “Here. It must be here. This is where we’ll move.”

  He seemed puzzled. “You sure? I mean it has all the features on your list. Minutes from an airport, limited access, close to a major city, decent school system. But, it’s so close to where you grew up, almost an obvious choice for anyone hunting us.”

  “Yes, exactly. They’ll never think to look somewhere so obvious.” She wiped the tears on her sleeve. “Lee, we’ll hide in plain sight. It just feels right.”

  Kiril returned with a bottle of Lagavulin 16-year single-malt Scotch he’d bought after their last visit when he’d found it was Lee’s favorite. He placed the bottle on the table, along with a tray that held three small tumblers. He handed Ann a soda. “So, what have you been plotting while I was in the house?”

  * * *

  When they returned to Chevy Chase, Cassie took the list she’d drawn from her pocket. The three of them stood outside in a corner of the yard. “Seven tasks. First, we’ll need to craft a set of new identities for each of us. Several for each. Need William to do that.”

  Ann smiled, leaning forward. “Mom, I can do it.”

  “No you can’t. It takes resources you don’t have, and skills I don’t want you to have. I’ve done it before, but William is much better.” She nodded. “Second, we’ll need to leave the house behind, exactly as it is. I’ll sell it to The Swiftshadow Group. That way, if someone’s managed to place a bug here, inside the furniture, it stays here.”

  Lee shook his head. “Cass, you’re being paranoid, way over the top.”

  She scowled at him. “Am I? Look at the list of people who’ve tried to kill me. No way, Lee. We do this my way.” She waited but he didn’t open his mouth. “Third, no moving trucks. No suitcases. We just drive off one morning and abandon the car. Then a taxi to the mall to buy new clothes. Then, off to a car rental. We’ll use a set of the new identities when we rent the first car. And drive at least five hundred miles. Then, leave the car parked outside the local rental of the company we rented it from, take a taxi and go to a different car rental place. Rent the next one with another identity. And so on until we get to Montara. Meanwhile, I’ll have William purchase the restaurant in Montara through a series of financial blinds and holding companies.” She looked the two in the eye. “Questions?”

  Ann looked worried. “Can we take Gizmo?”

  Cassie nodded. “Of course we can. In a cat carrier big enough to hold a small kitty litter pan. We’ll buy it at the mall after we leave. She’ll be on a leash until we get the carrier.”

  Lee nodded. “Names. What do we do about our names?”

  Cassie smiled. “Make a list of ten for you, Lee. Three for you, Ann, since you won’t be on the car-rental agreements. For each of you, the one you really want will be the last one on your list, since it’s the one you’ll use when we reach our new home. So, let’s get going on this. I’ll make up my list of names, collect your lists, and then call William.”

  * * *

  Wing rang the bell and waited. When the door opened, it was Ann who welcomed him inside. “Hey, Ann. I thought you weren’t allowed to answer the door.”

  She stared back. “I know you. I used the peephole to see outside, and besides, there are mercenaries and bodyguards everywhere.”

  Wing’s face screwed a bit. “Well, yeah. Are Cassie and Lee home?”

  She shook her head. “Sheesh, William, don’t act like your brain is in freeze-state. Of course they are. Take a seat. I’ll get ’em.” With that, she turned and walked up the stairs.

  He watched Cassie walk down the stairs. He could see she was exhausted. “Hey, Cassie.”

  “Afternoon, William.” She blinked as if she was still waking. “I’m so tired. Did you finish what I asked?”

  He handed her a large envelope. “My best work ever. Take a look.”

  But she was already opening the envelope. She spilled the contents onto the coffee table. One set of passports were all Israeli, another set from Iceland, four from the United States, and finally one set from Russia. There were Social Security cards for each of them under each US identity. Credit cards, lots of them. And driver licenses for her and Lee for each identity in the envelope. “Who are these people?”

  William laughed. “Folks who recently died. They have excellent credit ratings. Oh, and of course I hacked bank accounts for them and each account is flush with cash. So, it’ll be difficult for anyone to find you. Cool, huh?”

  She smiled back. “Yeah. Thanks, William. I owe you my life, and Lee’s and Ann’s.”

  “Don’t worry. In the long run, there’ll be something comes along that evens the score.”

  She hoped they lived long enough to repay the debt.

  * * *

  The family dressed in casual clothes before they left the house. She handed Lester Dushov a note and held his hand as he took it from her. She cupped one hand to his ear and whispered. “Read this tomorrow and not while you’re in the house.”

  He nodded.

  CHAPTER 22

  March 1, 6:57 p.m.

  220 East Kirke Street,

  Chevy Chase, Maryland

  Darkness provided them cover. The three walked to the oldest vehicle parked within the compound walls. Ann held Gizmo, a leash tethering the cat. They sat in the back seat. Cassie sat shotgun while Lee drove. Cassie looked for tails and found none, so they got on the highway and drove to Baltimore. Lee found a car rental and drove several miles past it. They took a taxi back to the car rental and he used one of his US identities to rent their first transportation. It was late afternoon when they arrived in Philadelphia. They left the car by the Greyhound Bus station and started their exodus from the danger of their real lives.

  At the back of the bus, Cassie told them about her first time fleeing from killers, before she met Lee. Neither he nor Ann had heard the entire story and they sat spellbound. “And I realized they might watch trains and airlines electronically, but not likely they’d watch the buses.”

  Ann nodded.

  Lee shook his head. “Must have taken weeks to go anywhere. When we did it, going from Washington to San Jose in California took two weeks.”

  Cassie nodded. “Yeah. This time’s no different. We’ll head north and south, not going directly anywhere. At least this time we have the money to do it right. If we need to, we can buy tickets to one destination but go somewhere else instead. We’ll do exactly that every time we change identities.”

  It took two weeks before they were in Omaha. The city was compact but vibrant. They ate dinner at Famous Dave’s BBQ on the downtown strip, with Gizmo in a cat carrier. The cat remained silent, tucked into the corner of the booth. Their waiter delivered pork ribs and corn on the cob. Ann looked up at Lee first, then Cassie. Both had their faces spattered with red sauce. “Dad, mom, what do we do when we get to California? How do
we stay safe?”

  Lee smiled back and dropped the rib he’d just finished eating onto the “bones” plate. “That’s easy. We have the identities we’ll be using there, ready to go. We own the restaurant through an Israeli dummy corporation. We’ll pay for everything using bank accounts we hack and just go on from there. Right, Cass?”

  She nodded. “And we keep it simple. You’ll go to Half Moon Bay High School, where I went. When you return from school, you can help us set up for dinner service at the restaurant. And then do your homework. When you have new friends, we’ll hire outside help for the restaurant to replace you. Did you choose a new name?”

  Ann nodded. “I’m Sasha.” She dropped a piece of meat from a rib into Gizmo’s carrier.

  Their waiter delivered the check and Lee dropped some bills on the table. They cleaned up using wet naps and went to their hotel. So far, so good, Cassie thought. No one following us, at least as far as I can tell. Maybe they’ve lost interest. Or maybe William’s work on the identities was perfect.

  Or maybe my skills in countersurveillance are rusty.

  She led them down the street to an obscure hotel where they could check in and spend the night. As they walked, she scanned the street behind them for threats, using the reflections from store windows.

  She was almost sure she saw a face she’d seen before.

  Ann saw her reaction. “There’s something wrong, isn’t there, Mom?” She’d said it in a voice just above a whisper.

  Cassie nodded. “Just follow me. We’ll have to figure out who sent him.” She took a turn into an alleyway and had them duck behind a dumpster.

  It didn’t take long for the man following them to stop at its entrance. “Sir, they’ve stopped at a dead-end alley. What do you want me to do?” He spoke into a cellphone, held against his ear. Cassie couldn’t hear the reply. She waited while he continued talking. “Yessir. Roger that.” He dropped the cell in his pocket and walked deeper into the alleyway, drew a handgun from the belt at his back, and pushed the safety off. Slow steps, two-handed grip. As he passed the dumpster, Cassie threw a beer bottle over his head. When his eyes drifted to follow it, she jumped and tackled him. Lee moved as fast as she had, kicking the man in the head as he hit the ground.

  She pulled the phone from his pocket and looked for the number he’d dialed. It was from Washington, and not a number owned by the agency. But there were fifteen secret police forces. It could be any of them. Worse, it could be another subcontractor to the Fed.

  She searched him and found no wallet or other form of identification. She shrugged, pocketing his cellphone, gun, and two spare clips. She turned to Lee and Ann. “There’s no way and no place where we can spend the time to interrogate him. We’re in deep trouble.”

  Ann’s face remained calm. She continued holding Gizmo’s carrier tight against her body. “What do we do now?”

  * * *

  Greenfield sat at his desk, his face illuminated in the darkness of the office by his computer screen. Scraps of the Chinese dinner he’d eaten hours ago, now cold, sat in an open Styrofoam take-out container. He watched the MP4 of Mastoff’s last two days, in high speed except when there was noise or movement.

  The video was a real disappointment. Mostly shades of gray, often out of focus. He shook his head. The audio left a lot to be desired, as well. It sounded like the people talking to the President were speaking from the bottom of a well. But Mastoff’s own voice came through quite clearly. He used it to find the corresponding place in the transcripts that Bug-Log automatically produced. As he reviewed the transcripts, he found the President had done things he never could have imagined. Things worse than his friend, the former President had done. Evil things. Things that made him laugh so hard he felt pain in his ribcage.

  Mastoff was an idiot. Greenfield couldn’t believe how duplicitous the moron was. He stopped skimming the file. The stuff he was reading now was pure gold. He’d need to save this on a DVD for use at the appropriate moment. No disk storage drives of any kind—embedded hard disk, USB, or flash memory—were permitted through security into the agency headquarters building. But within the handle of his attaché case, he’d had a lead-lined compartment built, big enough to hide a sixty-four-gigabyte microSD card, less than a half-inch by a quarter-inch and flat, and a USB adapter to connect the card to his computer. He set it up and copied the transcript for later transfer to a DVD when he got home.

  As he read, something told him to slow and go more carefully.

  It was all in the details. And his jaw gaped open. The specifics he found were truly worth knowing.

  He took a deep breath to steady himself. Then he picked up the phone and dialed a number. “Guten tag, Herr Flouber. I have a numbered account with the name Ellbert E. Friend. I need to complete a few transactions. Jawohl.” He keyed his account number into the phone.

  Flouber indicated all was in order and Greenfield should continue with his transaction requests.

  The director examined his handwritten notes. “For next week, on Tuesday, sell short United, American, Delta, and Continental Airlines. Correct. I want even amounts in dollar value, the total being whatever maxes out the funds in my account. My current balance is somewhere in the range of four million US dollars. If I short sell on margin, I should be able to do forty million USD. Got that?”

  He listened to Flouber’s question. Greenfield frowned. “Ach, nein, not based on anything I know. I’m merely rebalancing my account. As I’ve told you many times, all investors are merely idiots on the bus ride. I might be wrong, but if that’s so, I won’t lose that much during the next few days. Right?” He laughed. “Of course. Oh, and send me confirmation via email to my computer at home. You know the email address.”

  He dialed another number. He had over twenty such accounts spread out over Europe and Asia, and he’d need to tend to each. It took him well over an hour. Getting out of a short position was simple. But acquiring one required more specificity and he didn’t want to arouse anyone’s suspicions regarding his real identity.

  He smiled as he got up from his seat and walked to the window. He could see the White House in the distance. No, he would never blackmail this President. Sashakovich tried blackmail and it earned her nothing but pain and an early death. But when the time came, he could use the DVD if he was hunted.

  Greenfield wondered if the old man would be successful. Erasing an entire religion—no, two religions—from the planet was risky business, but if it worked, well, Greenfield would ride the coattails and make millions. Soon it might not be safe for anyone living in the United States. Where should he move to after he collected the money he grossed from his short sale? Maybe he’d buy himself an island.

  Should be just over a hundred million dollars. He packed a go bag and placed a half-dozen passports with backstopped legends in a hidden compartment of the bag. He thought, I need to be ready to run.

  * * *

  Cassie led them to the opening of the alleyway and peeked out to see if he had help nearby. No, not anyone she could identify. She nodded to Lee and Ann. “C’mon.” They followed without questions. She stood in the street and flagged a cab. “Take us to the bus terminal.”

  They settled in, Lee in the front seat beside the driver and Gizmo’s carrier between Ann and Cassie. Cassie moved her lips between their heads and whispered. “We’ll have to do some fancy footwork. But first we’ll need to figure out who’s with him and find somewhere to interrogate one of theirs. He was talking to someone. I have to believe they found us through the bus system so that’s where we’ll search for them.”

  She watched the cabbie call in their starting location and destination at the bus terminal. As the cab began to move, their attacker’s cellphone buzzed. She opened the phone and just listened.

  “Tuzinkowitz, what’s your status?”

  She said nothing, handing the phone to Lee. Whispered in his ear. “Tell him, couldn’t find them.”

  Lee nodded and placed a tissue over the phone to mu
ffle his voice. “Missed ’em. What do you want me to do, sir?”

  Silence on the other end. Then an angry voice. “Who is this?”

  Lee asked Cassie the question with his furrowed eyebrows. She motioned to have him give her the phone.

  She held it to her ear. “Your man failed.” She terminated the call.

  As they passed a clothing store, Cassie had another thought. “Cabbie, pull over and wait for a few minutes. Okay?” The cabbie nodded. Cassie turned to Lee and Ann. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

  She ducked into the clothing store. In five minutes she was back with two shopping bags. She settled into the taxi’s back seat and knocked on the glass partition. “Thanks. Driver, to the bus terminal, but stop two blocks away.” She handed clothing to Lee and Ann, and took a fresh blouse and jacket for herself. “Change as fast as you can. We’ll be there in a minute or two.” Cassie hoped changing their appearance would create difficulty for the trackers, but in her heart, she doubted it would. But it might still help. The disguises might help Ann and Lee think they were safer, and that might make them less likely to panic. She hoped it would at least yield this small benefit.

  But would it?

  CHAPTER 23

  March 15, 3:18 p.m.

  Bus station, Omaha, Nebraska

  As the cab pulled to the curb, Cassie whispered her hastily conceived plan to Lee and Ann. They both nodded and left the cab. Lee took Ann to a bookstore a block away and gave her instructions. She nodded and he sprinted off toward the bus terminal where Cassie was headed.

  Cassie waited across the street from the terminal, in line to buy a hot dog from a street vendor. She faced the window of the building, watching reflections. Lee closed the distance. “Get one for me too.” She nodded. They stood together in silence, eating their dogs.

  “There are two I’ve seen so far. One in front of each entrance. They’re marked by earbuds and suits. Not very covert. Lee, do you think the baseball cap you’re wearing will confuse them?”