Geek Mafia: Mile Zero

by Dakan

  "And neither do I," she said, patting the small of her back where her stun gun was hidden beneath her shirt.

  "Come on," said Paul. "Let's shadow them up Simonton."

  As they headed west along Simonton parallel to Duval, Chloe listened to minute-by-minute reports from Sandee, who was staying about a block behind Raff. The street was crowded with tourists, but Raff 's height made him easy to pick out in the crowd.

  "He's heading left toward the wreckers monument," Sandee reported. "And now he's looking at the tourist crap by the conch train," he said a few minutes later. "He's the perfect tourist." Chloe and Paul moved over across Duval and up toward Mallory Square, not wanting to be too far from Sandee if trouble started. "Ok, now he's buying a ticket to go into that dreadful wreckers museum place. God, I hope he's not going in."

  "Why the fuck would he do that?" Chloe wondered aloud. The Key West Shipwreck Historeum was a tourist attraction that featured an animatronic sea captain putting the best spin possible on the fact that Key West became one of the wealthiest cities in the world in the 19th century purely based on salvaging ships that wrecked on the reefs. The show lasted about twenty minutes and offered access to an observation deck some sixty-five feet above the square, providing one of the better views in Key West. It wasn't nearly as interesting as Paul's favorite attraction, the much newer Pirate Experience, which was sort of the same thing, only no view and better animatronics. Chloe couldn't imagine what Raff would need from the place.

  "No, wait," said Sandee over the phone. "He's just going and sitting down on some of those crates now. You know, the fake ones they have out front?"

  "Yeah," said Chloe. "I know them."

  "Hey, wait a sec..." Sandee said. "He just stuck something behind one of the crates. Next to a fake barrel."

  "Could you see what it was?" asked Chloe.

  "No. Might've been just his hand for all I can tell. Do you want me to check it out?"

  "No, we'll do it once he leaves," she said.

  "Well come on over then, sweetie, because we're apparently on our way. He's heading toward the Hyatt."

  "That's where Eddie was staying," said Paul, who was listening in on his own phone.

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  Chloe wasn't sure if there was a connection there or not. It didn't make much sense, but they didn't really know anything yet, so it was impossible to draw any conclusions. They moved closer to the square, moving slow to make sure Raff and Sandee had plenty of time to clear the area.

  The whole area around the Historeum was crowded with tourists. She scanned the crowd looking for familiar faces, but didn't see anyone she shouldn't have. She called Bee. "Can you check all the cameras in the area around the Historeum?"

  "I already am," said Bee. "I got nothing. I did see Raff and Sandee walk into the Hyatt complex, but you know I don't..."

  "I know," said Chloe, cutting her off. "Keep watching."

  She turned to Paul. "Do you want to hang back and keep watch?"

  "Ok," he said, but he was distracted, looking down at his phone. "Is your phone working?" he asked.

  She put hers to her ear and heard nothing. No signal. "What the fuck?" she said. Looking around she saw three or four tourists looking at their phones in frustration.

  "Transmitter down?" asked Paul.

  "Maybe," she said. "Bad timing though."

  "Let's go see what Raff left over there," said Paul. Before Chloe could object that he'd agreed to stand watch a few seconds earlier, he was already jogging toward the Historeum. No way was she going to stay behind. She ran after him.

  Paul knelt down on the fake crate and started feeling around behind it. Chloe swiveled her head back and forth, scanning the crowd as she put her phone to her ear again. Still dead.

  "There's something back here," said Paul. "A little black box, but it's super glued to the barrel."

  "Here," said Chloe, pulling out her Leatherman multipurpose tool from her pocket and handing it to Paul. "Pry it off."

  "What if it's a bomb?" asked Paul.

  "It's not a bomb."

  "What if it is a bomb?"

  "Do you think it's a bomb?"

  "No," he admitted.

  "Then pry it off."

  "Ok," he said, as he swung open the tool's knife blade.

  She heard a snap and then Paul said, "Got it. It's heavy." He turned toward her and held out the small black box in his hand, about the size of an original iPod. "What do you think?"

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  Chloe took the box. It was indeed heavy in her hand, maybe as much as half a pound. There was a slight vibration, and she suspected that there was something electronic running inside. But there were no buttons or hinges. Just a line around the edge where it had been sealed shut. "Probably a cell phone jammer. We should get this to Bee."

  "So Bee's here too?" said an all-too-familiar voice. Chloe and Paul both looked up to see Raff standing there, not five feet away, smiling that awful, smug smile of his. Standing over six foot five, he was lanky and lithe.

  He'd let his hair grow out, and it was tucked under a San Francisco Giants baseball cap. Both hands were in the pockets of his baggy beach shorts, which could easily have been concealing some kind of weapon. Chloe swung her hand behind her and pulled the stun gun from its holster at her back. She felt Paul stiffen beside her and then sink into a defensive stance that Sandee had taught him.

  "Hey, Raff," said Chloe, fighting with every fiber of her being to sound cool and calm.

  "Chloe, Paul. How're you guys?" he said. His hands were still in his pockets, non-threatening.

  "I thought we had a deal," she said. "We don't leave you for the cops, and you don't ever come near us again."

  "I told you a ditch was too good for him," said Paul. "We should have..."

  "Hey, hey, listen guys," said Raff. "I had no idea you were here, ok? Honestly. No idea. I'm just here on vacation, you know?"

  "Bullshit," spat Paul. "There's no way."

  "Why not? It's a great town. Bars open 'til four. Great weather..."

  "Raff, I know it's been a year, but you can't believe we're that dumb," said Chloe.

  "Oh, I don't know," said Raff. "You'd be surprised what..."

  Chloe cut him of, saying, "Cut it. Just cut it. This is our island, and you can't be here."

  "I'm telling you guys, this has nothing to do with you, ok? Calm down and we can sort all this out, I'm sure.

  It's a big island and I'm only here for a..."

  "For about thirty more minutes," said Paul. "Go get on a bus or in your car or on a plane. Go to Miami. Get yourself gone from this place." Chloe hadn't heard that much anger and intensity in his voice since they'd left California.

  Raff seemed to be considering their words, taking his right hand out of his pocket to rub his chin in a gesture of mock thoughtfulness. Then he took off his hat and wiped his brow. "You see, that really doesn't work for me," he said. The hand with the hat in it moved down to his side. Was there a weapon in there? "I'm right in the middle of my vacation, and I'm meeting friends, so I can't just leave them like that."

  "We both know you're quite good at screwing over friends without any explanation," said Chloe.

  "Cheap shot, Chloe. You know I wasn't ever really your friend."

  "No more of this bullshit," shouted Paul. "No more!" Chloe was surprised to see Paul lose his cool like that and shout, but then out of the corner of her eye she saw why. He was providing cover.

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  "Calm down, Paul," said Raff pointing with his hat at Paul. "Jesus Christ, man. I would've thought life in paradise here would've mellowed you..."

  And then Sandee was on him, leaping up onto Raff 's back and wrapping his legs around the tall man's waist while pinning his arms to his side in a bear hug. "Raff sweetie!" Sandee shouted. "You came!" As far as the tourists could tell, this was merely an over-enthusiastic reunion of two old friends, but as Sandee's heels dug i
nto his inner thighs and Raff fell to his knees, the expression on his face said something else.

  Chloe closed the gap between her and Raff and grabbed hold of his face with both hands, like she was going to kiss him. She didn't. Instead she said, "Go away, now. My island. My rules. You leave or we take you apart." She spat in his face.

  Sandee emphasized Chloe's point for her by digging one of his heels into Raff 's balls before letting him go and slipping off his back to the ground. Raff wretched onto the cement in front of him.

  Chloe spun away and walked at a fast pace toward Duval Street. She thought she heard Paul kick Raff before he joined her at her side.

  "Toodles," she heard Sandee say. "Nice to meet you."

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  Chapter 20

  THEIR phones still weren't working, so Paul had to use a land line to contact Isaiah. On the way home, he and Chloe and Sandee stopped at the bus station to use the pay phone, leaving a message for Isaiah. The elder hacker called back in under a minute and arranged to meet with Paul in an hour. Then they headed home, with Sandee trailing behind to make sure they weren't being followed.

  It took them half an hour to confirm their suspicions that Raff 's little black box was the thing that had been jamming their cell phones, and that was only because its battery ran out and it stopped vibrating. He and Chloe agreed that Raff had probably used the device to ensure that they couldn't call for help or backup when he backtracked to catch them at the Historeum - which of course meant that he knew he was being followed all along.

  Paul had just enough time to use the bathroom and get a new phone from the pile of disposables that Bee had assembled and head back out to meet Isaiah, leaving the other three to follow up on the Raff situation, going through the camera logs and trying to identify who else Raff was working with and where he was staying.

  The address Isaiah had given Paul turned out to be an empty house on Margaret Street - a small two bedroom Key West classic that had a "for sale" sign out front. Freshly painted with a well-groomed yard, it was probably selling for over a million bucks. Paul sincerely hoped Isaiah wasn't considering buying the place. He wanted all these fucking out-of-town crews to leave and never come back - now more than ever since they'd brought Raff back into his world.

  Paul walked up the steps to the front door and knocked and heard Isaiah say, "Come in, Paul," from the other side. He glanced around for something that might hide a camera, but there were too many options to choose just one likely candidate. Or maybe there weren't any, but he wouldn't bet on it. He opened the door to find an empty living room - hardwood floors and nice natural light, marred only by the sight of Isaiah sitting in a folding chair beside a card table in the middle of the room. Paul saw a realtor's business cards and a stack of flyers describing the property on the tabletop.

  "You selling houses now?" asked Paul.

  "It was convenient and empty," said Isaiah.

  "And secure I hope," said Paul, looking around for signs of Isaiah's other Crewmembers. He thought he heard a creak from upstairs, but it might have just been the house settling.

  "As secure as it can be," said Isaiah.

  "Is Winston coming?" Paul asked.

  "I couldn't get a hold of him. He's apparently busy with other matters."

  Paul assumed Win was taking care of Raquel's body. Or at least he hoped that was the case. "Ok, well, I'll run him down later. But this can't wait."

  Isaiah nodded and said nothing, indicating that Paul should proceed.

  "We've identified Eddie's ally. The other Crew that he's lined up to take Raquel's place."

  "How?"

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  "We spotted Eddie talking to one of them. A real bastard named Raff."

  "I haven't heard of him," said Isaiah said. "Where does he work out of?"

  "I don't know for sure. But he used to be part of Chloe's Crew in San Jose. And he betrayed us. Totally fucked us, in fact. Set us up to fail, got the police involved and turned the Crew against itself. All the while hiding daggers in his smiles. He's as dirty a fucking bastard as they come. And let's not leave out the little fact that his partner shot Winston."

  Isaiah, who'd remained stone-faced through Paul's tirade, frowned at this last fact, raising an eyebrow as if to say, "Really?"

  "Yeah, I can't imagine Winston's going to be too happy about that. I'm telling you, he's got to be the guy that killed Raquel. It fits everything we talked about."

  "Is the man who shot Winston here as well?"

  "No," said Paul, thinking of Bee.

  "How can you be sure?"

  "He's dead."

  Isaiah nodded. "Then that debt at least had been repaid."

  "That's not the point!" shouted Paul. "The point is he's a murdering, no-good son of a bitch."

  Isaiah held up his hand, "I hear what you're saying. And I agree, this doesn't look good."

  "That's an understatement. We need to do something."

  "What would you suggest?" asked Isaiah.

  "We need to drive Raff and whoever he's with out of town. We need to make sure they never come back again."

  "And you want my help with that?"

  "No," said Paul. "I'm offering you my help with that. This guy is bad news for you and for your whole shadow corporation scheme. If he gets involved - if he even finds out what it is exactly you're planning to do, the whole thing will come crashing down around your heads, I guarantee it."

  "I hear you," said Isaiah, although Paul could not tell if the man actually believed him. "Where is this Raff now?"

  "I'm not sure. We're tracking him though. We had an encounter with him down by Mallory Square. We think he might be in the Hyatt complex there by the water - which is where Eddie and his crew are staying by the way."

  "So he knows you are here?" said Isaiah.

  "I think he must have known we were here from the beginning."

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  "Why? How?"

  "I don't know. Maybe he tracked us here. Or maybe he found us through Winston. I don't know."

  Isaiah sat still and pondered for a moment, staring out the front window. Paul wondered if he might have an earpiece in, listening to a report from Amelia or one of his other companions.

  "I agree with you. We do need to isolate this Raff person and find out what he knows about Raquel's death.

  Assuming what you're telling me about him is true, he is the most likely suspect. Indeed, the only likely suspect, and we should treat him as such. Raquel deserves justice."

  "Great," said Paul. "How do you..."

  "But," Isaiah interrupted, "We must tread carefully. We don't yet know what his relationship with Eddie is.

  Indeed, it's entirely possible that Eddie had nothing to do with the murder. And if we can avoid alienating him and his crew, we must do so."

  "Why?" asked Paul. "Why is Eddie so important that we have to tiptoe around him like this? What's his deal?"

  Isaiah paused again, this time staring at Paul instead of out the window. Paul met his gaze for as long as he could, but eventually blinked. Isaiah then said, "Eddie has important contacts in the Caribbean - ones we would be hard pressed to duplicate."

  "What? With banks in the Caymans or whatever?"

  "Those too of course, but that's not important. The banks are always eager for new money. No, Eddie has his hands in another big business down here - cruise ships."

  "Cruise ships?" asked Paul.

  Isaiah nodded.

  "What's so important about cruise ships? If you need a buffet hook up, I can..."

  "They go everywhere," said Isaiah. "In and out of every major port."

  Paul understood at once. "You're talking about smuggling."

  Another nod.

  "But don't they go through customs like everything else? And aren't there all kinds of extra security and all that? There's got to be easier ways to smuggle things in and out of the country."

  "Secu
rity is tight if you're a passenger," Isaiah agreed. "But once you're on the inside, it gets much easier. And there's no more comfortable way to smuggle people. If you have the right contacts in customs and pay off the right people on board, you can move people and cargo without arousing any suspicion. And the nicer the cruise ship, the more expensive the berth, the less likely you are to attract unwanted law enforcement attention. Eddie and his crew have those connections. They practically live on those cruise ships and they make payments to officials in every major and minor port in the Caribbean."

  "Ok, sure, I guess," said Paul, who didn't care at all about smuggling or any of that. He just wanted to get Raff out of his life ASAP. "Fine then, we'll keep clear of Eddie, at least until we know whether or not he's Chapter 20

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  involved."

  "Agreed," said Isaiah.

  "But if he is involved..."

  "If he's involved, there will be justice for him," said Isaiah. "Raquel was a friend."

  Paul nodded and sighed, taking a deep breath. He needed to calm down and focus on the task at hand. "So, what now?" he asked.

  "What do you think?"

  "Well, for starters, I'll send you over a pic of Raff and everything else we know about him. That way you and your people can be on the lookout for him. And maybe you can check with your sources or whoever and see if you have any idea who he might be working with."

  "Any information about his former partner might help," said Isaiah. "The man you said is dead."

  "Yeah, sure." Paul thought of Bee and her obsession with the dead man. Maybe if Isaiah could track down some history on him it would give her some closure.

  "Of course Winston's the one to talk to about that," said Isaiah. "He's much more knowledgeable about the various Crews out there."

  "I'll get in touch with him about it, don't worry," said Paul. "I guess in the meantime we need to decide what to do about Raff when we find him."

  Isaiah cocked his head to one side, indicating he wasn't sure what Paul meant.

  "I mean, should we take him into custody or something?"

  "We're not the police. We're not the military," said Isaiah. "You may of course do as you please. This is your home, and I have not promised Raff or anyone associated with him - besides Eddie apparently - my protection. But I would advise against it."