Oracle: A Story from The Reels

by Brian Ewing

  “I sent him a bunch of fake information and a link to a proxied splash page I created with my virus. He clicked on it less than a minute after I sent the e-mail and he basically gave me his computer. With a quick run of the program after clicking the link, I gained access to every site he accessed, keystrokes he entered for passwords, his sexual fetishes, his online food ordering, everything.”

  “So, how is Dyer connected to all this?”

  “Voyage Care Financial gets thousands of small business loan applications each year. Most of those applications get declined for one reason or another. After a half hour of my program running on his computer, the keystroke program my Trojan installed caught Dyer’s login to his intranet portal.”

  Listening to what sounded to be a very hefty offense, if the federal government ever caught her, he started to understand the direction she was going.

  Ama continued to explain her findings, “A part of my virus took over the webcam and was able to have it on without the indicator light notifying Dyer. When he entered the keystrokes to put the monitor on lock and I noticed the background light in the room he has his computer had gone out, I knew he’d left and unlocked the screen and went to work. I used Dyer’s VDI and username and password to get into his files on the Voyage Care server. Out of the few hundred applications he had assigned to him in the last year, he accepted less than 10 percent. I isolated those 10 percent and used a program to cross-reference any similarities like locations, applicants, loan amounts, things like that.”

  Picking up what she was throwing down, Sisto asked, “So something within those applications was connected to the Vinnova family?”

  The labret piercing in her bottom lip lifted from its default dipped position as a warm smile lit up her face.

  “Lots of people involved in illegal activities run shell companies to give the look of legitimacy,” Ama said. “The owner of the shell basically creates a fake business, hires fake employees, sets up fake payroll, and distributes fake payments, which all launder back to them. When I ran my cross-reference program on the accepted applications in the last year, there was one that caught my eye.”

  “Vinnova,” Sisto said.

  “Jack Edward Vinnova.”

  “So, that gives us a connection between Dyer and Vinnova, and you think that is why Carson used him to assist in driving him over to Corden Palisades that night?”

  Looking unsure, Ama said, “I am not a detective. That job belongs to your friends. But it’s a pretty big coincidence.”

  It was indeed and if Sisto had learned anything from the elite Detective Harry Bosch novels and the spawned television show, there were no such thing as coincidences.

  “This is great, Ama. You’re amazing. Where do we go from here?” Sisto asked.

  “Well, I got all this information right after we got back from breakfast before I went out to get some errands done. I checked right before I texted you, and Dyer hasn’t been on the computer since. Maybe he went out, maybe he is on the run. Who knows? I will keep working this angle and if you get anything on your end, let me know.”

  “Thank you, Ama. After all this, I owe you a steak dinner.”

  “You owe me a lot more than that,” Ama said. “In case you forgot, you offered me a job when you asked me to start looking into all of this stuff. By my calculations, the tab is around fifteen hours of work and a shitload of therapy I will need once this is all over.”

  “You’re worth every penny.” Sisto complimented her skills. “Send me the bill after all of this and I’ll settle my debt with you, and maybe take Ojibwe out for a steak then. If you’re lucky, we may let you tag along.”

  He kissed her on the cheek out of instinctive happiness, catching her off-guard. Her golden skin started to blush around the cheeks. They stood up and she walked Sisto to the door. He told her he would message her tomorrow, once he went into the SCPD and got any new information. She agreed to the idea and reiterated that if she found anything of importance, she would let him know as well. Heading out the third-floor stairwell, Sisto took in a deep breath of the humid opening, smelling his soothing minerals from the concrete, and felt the first sense of relief in quite a while. He took his time, slowly climbing the stairs, processing all the information Ama had relayed to him. He hadn’t meant to keep away the fact that he’d invaded Michael Dyer’s memory earlier, but it had not come up and he didn’t want to disrupt her presentation of vital news. Now that there was a connection, Sisto had a feeling that if he could get to Dyer, it would lead him to his endgame with Carson Vinnova.

  CHAPTER 25

  Sisto hadn’t been as nervous as he currently felt in a long time. Even though it was a non-date, he was feeling the same pressure as he would if it were a real date. After convening with Ama, he had gotten back to his apartment and started to assess his surroundings. Maybe presumptuous, but the first thing he did was rip the sheets and comforter off his bed, throw them in a laundry basket and take them to one of the two communal laundry areas. The one on the fourth floor was closer, but Sisto liked the one on the top of the eighth floor as it was bigger, cleaner, and less often used. He used two washing machines, one for his sheets and comforter, and the other for the mesh bag full of clothes he had direly needed to take care of. Once those were going, he jumped back in the elevator and headed back to his apartment. The musty smell of his clothes and linen must have filtered the smell of onions, which was now front of center of Sisto’s senses as the doors closed and entrapped him with the stinging odor.

  Entering, he put the television back on and went to the music app he had connected from his phone. He went to the playlist titled “Rooftop,” as it was a mixture of everything from Motown to rock to hip-hop, music from the sixties all the way to present day. Throwing it on shuffle, the chaotic blend of randomness kicked off, and Sisto started cleaning his apartment best he could. The kitchen sink was void of any dishes, as Sisto had gotten in the habit right when moving in, that if he used a dish he would clean it and put it away immediately. The little rule he’d set for himself served him well in regard to his current situation and he opened the cabinet below to pull out some Clorox wipes. He gave his kitchen tops and stove a good wipe, leaving a trail of orange zest in the air. Knocking out half the apartment in a little over an hour, he realized the cycle on the wash was close to being done. He did a scan of each room to see if there were any drink bottles or wrappers or fast food bags that he could consolidate, and after finding only a few Gatorade bottles under his bed and a Snickers wrapper on the nightstand drawer by his bed, he took the trash out to the chute on his floor along the way to the eighth floor laundry commune.

  Moving with precision, he swapped the items from the washing machine to the dryer and back down to continue. He spent another hour fixing up everything, then sat at on his couch and opened his food delivery app. He searched for Chinese food and turned his locator on. Finding a highly-rated authentic restaurant that he had remembered dining in once or twice over the years, he selected the icon and started to build his order. Knowing who would be dining with him, he practically ordered the whole fucking menu. He knew he could save the leftovers if needed so starting in the appetizers section, he made his way through like he was engaged in a crossword search. Rangoons, wontons, egg-drop soup, pork eggrolls, fried shrimp dumplings, orange chicken, beef and broccoli, house special fried rice, lo mein, and in the special instructions, he asked for extra soy sauce, spicy mustard, and sweet and sour. He scheduled the delivery for six-forty-five, to allow Sisto to setup the spread for when Caden arrived. After finalizing his order, he realized he didn’t have any beverages and looked at his phone clock. He had an hour and a half left to run up to Martino’s and grab some essentials and get his laundry down from the eighth floor.

  He drudgingly went back in the elevator to save time and suffered through the assault burning his nose hairs once again, all the way down to the lobby. The things we do for love, Sisto said to himself. Exiting the automated doors the second they open
ed, he started across the lobby and looked towards the main office, where he saw Super Dave pretending to work on something. The change in lighting must have caught the corner of Dave’s eye as he saw someone exiting the building. On looking up and seeing Sisto, Dave packed on a frown like someone had spoon fed him spoiled baby food and grabbing the open door by the knob, he slammed it shut. Sisto, watching Dave’s face as it disappeared behind the dingy softwood slamming into place, forced a grin across his unshaven face. Exiting the apartment building, he looked at the gated parking structure where tenants of the Corden Palisades could pay to store their vehicles with a specialized six-digit entry code as long as they paid the additional fee. Sisto saw his 1993 Honda Accord in the corner, gathering dust, and felt bad about his lack of attention towards the vehicle. Lord knows for the sake of time, it would be easier to hop in and head up the four blocks, but he wasn’t willing to risk the consequences, God forbid he had a visit from The Reels while behind the wheel.

  Luckily, most people in the area had started going to the newer Martino’s that had opened up on University and Main Street. The new location had a sit-down deli, expanded garden center, and even an area to purchase clothing. Never in his life had Sisto had the urge to go buy a thermal shirt or work boots while picking up milk and eggs. Be that as it may, it was a small blessing because it took a lot of people away from his default store located on Eighth Street and Crispin Road. The store smelled like it hadn’t been upgraded in twenty years and that’s how he liked it. Aside from the self-checkout area installed when it had become popular to do so, every aisle had remained with the same products since he had been going there. Walking in with a slight mist on his forehead from the accelerated pace he’d maintained the entire way, he grabbed a cart and performed his own version of Super Market Sweep. The dozen shoppers in the building were older and were accustomed to their set ways, as was he, and he had no obstacles as he pummeled through to get his essentials. The entire shopping experience took him about ten minutes, as he could only bring back what he could carry. The non-essentials would have to wait for another day off in the future.

  Weighted down slightly by the additional baggage, it took Sisto twenty minutes to get back to Corden Palisade, a slip of five minutes that felt unjustified in Sisto’s mind, even with the good excuse. He got everything put away and checked his clock on the phone once again. Damn, he was cutting it close, he realized as he looked at the minutes left. He had picked up a twelve-pack of Miller Lite, a twelve-pack of a local brewery pale ale, two bottles of wine, one white and one red, as he had never heard Caden speak of a preference, and a bag of the Halos mini oranges. Granted, it was not essential to the plan for his evening, but he did love those little bastards and couldn’t pass it up as he saw it on his way to checking out. He took the Martino’s plastic shopping bags and put them under the sink, as he would use those for liners in the waste baskets he kept in his bathroom and by his desk.

  By the time he got back from the eighth floor for the final time, now with his Gain-scented clean items, he scrambled to make his bed and put his shirts on hangers to avoid having to iron them if he left them all crumpled up in the mesh netting. He completed his tasks and started to think about how he should have done most of this beforehand so he would not be in such a crunch for time. Sisto proceeded to the kitchen, where he took one of his few glasses and used the water dispenser he had grown to cherish. He chugged one glass and then rinsed it and put in the dry rack of his sink. Not sure if it was the pressure of having the dinner go as well as he mentally wanted it to, or figuring if it didn’t go well there would really be no chance of an actual date down the road, Sisto started to feel his nerves activate. His palms were starting to sweat and he was starting to get mad at how his body was betraying him. The powerwalk to and from Martino’s made him question how fresh he smelled, so he ripped off his shirt and pants, threw everything in the now emptied hamper mesh netting, and jumped in the shower, knowing the normal formalities of scrubbing and cleaning crevices were going to be limited to the vital areas of pits, dick, and ass region. A literal minute later, he was drying off with a towel, thankfully feeling the effects of the rinse cooling his core temperature; the shower had stopping the beading of sweat that had started forming at his brow.

  Boxers and pants on, he was searching for a shirt to wear when he heard the bell ring. Jesus Sisto, you really suck at time management, he scolded himself.

  “One second,” he called out as he found a semi-casual collared shirt, hit his underarms with some deodorant and cologne, and popped some socks and shoes on taking the shirt with him as he approached the door. Making sure to not seem like an unprepared prick or someone that was trying to show off his physique, he made sure his shirt was on and that he looked prepared before opening the door. As ready as he could be, he opened the door ready to greet Caden. To his dismay, he was looking at a young, pale-looking ginger-haired boy, who reminded him of one the actors from Children of the Corn, holding bags of Chinese food.

  “Grubhub delivery.”

  The young man sounded like he couldn’t be less enthused if he had been in court. He chewed his gum loudly as he handed over the extra-large paper bags full of food containers. After handing over the last bag, Malachi lingered as he was waiting to see if he would be given a tip. Sisto understood the grind and even though the kid had no shame about it, Sisto still reached in his wallet and gave him a crisp ten dollar bill to bring back and share with all the other little bastards in the cornfields. As the young man pocketed the money and nodded his gratitude, he saw Caden approach. She had something different about her and it took Sisto a minute to realize that her signature ponytail was missing. She had her dark-brown hair down, curled with waves. She also wore a light-colored lipstick, which Sisto couldn’t ever remember seeing her wear in all the time they’d worked together. Her outfit was practical but more feminine than her normal attire. She looked beautiful, causing the red-haired delivery boy to turn and blatantly check her in out in front of Sisto.

  “Hi, I hope it’s okay that I am a little early.”

  “No problem at all, perfect timing actually,” Sisto responded. “Please, come in.”

  He let her in, and noticed the young man was still in the hallway with a slimy grin on his face, nodding in approval at Sisto, as if they were in a secret society of perverted assholes or something.

  “Oh, fuck off, Chucky,” Sisto said, as he shut the door.

  Locking the door behind him, he saw Camille Caden with a look he didn’t see often on her face. Her body language, fidgeting of the hands, a nervous smile on her face. Holy fuck, Sisto unlocked in his mind. She did want to treat the dinner as a date. He could tell they had slowly been getting closer over the months, working side by side, but since Captain Ron had left the picture, maybe she had finally opened up to the idea of giving them a shot? He would have to feel that question out sometime during the night.

  “Let me take your jacket,” Sisto offered.

  “Oh, thank you,” Caden replied. “Smells great.”

  “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it? Would you like a drink? Or are you still on the clock?”

  “No, I could definitely use a drink. Capt told both Bell and I to take the rest of the day off after we got back from Balmport. The department is trying to limit too much overtime, and he figured with all the zig-zagging around the city and hours we put in the last few days, we could use the evening to decompress and start fresh tomorrow.”

  Capt was Captain Ross Jenkins. Sisto had only met the captain a handful of times when first offering his help as a consultant. After a handful of cases, Captain Jenkins knew that Sisto was prompt on his reports and clocking his consultant hours, and seemingly diverted his time back to his fulltime staff.

  “Well, I have both red and white wine, pale ale, and Miller Lite. I also have some liquor in the cabinet if you want to let your hair down. I mean, more down than it is already.”

  They chuckled at the unintentional joke and she accepted a Mi
ller Lite. Sisto grabbed one for her and got himself a pale ale and they started to lay out the food, covering the entire kitchen table in an endless sea of containers and boxes. Sisto pulled out two heavy ceramic plates, not used to their weight as he used paper plates most of the time when it was just himself. They stacked their plates to resemble a full buffet-style mixture of items, making their way to the couch to eat by the coffee table as there was no more room on the main table. Within minutes, Sisto felt all his lingering nervousness slip away. He was back at IHOP or Chrome Canyon, just sitting with Caden and talking freely and openly and not having the pressure push against him like he had anticipated it doing during their evening. He saw Caden’s demeanor also relax, which made him feel better about the interaction.

  The night sped by like a brushfire, minutes getting evaporated by the comfort of their conversing. Sisto, feeling slightly buzzed, noticed the yellow from her honey-brown eyes electrify with more intensity after each drink. Pairing that with her curls, lipstick and shirt, which had just enough cleavage to look sexy but not whorish, he was in awe. She had her head resting against her hand, which was propped up at the elbow against the couch. Looking sexy as hell, Sisto almost couldn’t stand it and wanted to lean in and make his move. Afraid he could cause more harm than good, he was reluctant. Caden must have sensed his inner debate as she sat upright and looked at her watch.

  “Wow, I can’t believe how fast tonight has gone.”

  “I was thinking the same,” Sisto confirmed. “It’s nice to hang out with you and not debate the entry point or weapon of choice an assailant uses in a crime.”

  Looking like she’d just realized she left her stove on before leaving, she changed her demeanor and spoke softly, “Tom, I think I should go home. I have had such a great time tonight. Thank you for everything.”

  Not expecting the abrupt end to the evening, he didn’t know how to respond, and it took him a minute to acknowledge her. “Oh, yeah, I understand. I really appreciate you coming over. I haven’t had a relaxing night of company like this in a really long time.”