him.
“I know I’ve been gone a while, but here I am, calling in.”
“There’s been a fire in your room, and your roommate was injured. Did you know that?” said Richard.
“I told you I’ve been out of touch.”
“Where?”
“Around.”
“The police want a word with you. You in the US? You sound like you’re in the US.”
“I’m not available. How could you tell I was in the US?”
“You know, the sound.” Richard paused. “Hey, if you don’t tell me where you are, how do I help you? The Administration wants to know what’s going on. I’ve been trying to cover for you the whole time.”
“I’m sure.”
“I’m on your side man. I deeply understand you. You lost your family. It takes a toll.”
Dorian could almost feel Richard’s toes flexing inside his worn Birkenstocks, and the image revolted him. That was the past. His future was unforgivably on the run.
“Why do you need to know so much?”
“You expect me to show up with nothing. I have to illustrate your intent to return. Clarify how you will get your classes completed on time. You understand the drill, plus the minor issue of the damage to your room right about when you left.”
“So why did some sophomore tell me that I could fall off the face of the earth and no one would complain at Harvard until the tuition didn’t get paid.”
“That’s sheer exaggeration.”
“Has anyone really asked about me yet?”
“Well. Yes, they have. The police.”
“Other than that, anyone?”
“The Administration.”
“Who in the ‘Administration’?”
“The Dean’s Office.”
“You’re full of shit.”
“Ok, fine.” Richard breathed in, then exhaled, the carbon dioxide whistling through his teeth. “You’re right. No one, as such, has asked for you. Yet. But I have to be ready. Especially with the police having questions. The Ad Board will be sure to follow.”
“Give me a break.”
“Really. What city are you in?”
Dorian suddenly felt very nervous. This guy was after him. Look at all the questions he was asking. He must be one of them. “I have to go.”
“No, Dorian, wait. I’ve…”
Dorian hung up. Now he pounded the phone. He should have Vadered the call. Now, with a tape of the call, Richard might be able to position him by the ambient noise. Or he’d have access to the records of the calling card provider, and they’d just look up where he was. He was screwed.
He pushed open the plexiglass door to the phone booth, thoughts shifting to Bunny. How did she know about the DN List? Did she know what it meant? Was she bluffing to get him to reveal everything he knew.
He began to trace the route back to the tiny hotel room he shared with Tara. Bunny knew far more than he imagined. He couldn’t afford to blow her off. He pushed the thoughts out of his head, looking at the shop windows and the funky clothes inside. He had three days to wait for Bunny. Well, pushing thoughts away didn’t work.
Andrea caught occasional glimpses of passing desert, or a sign flickering on as she jolted out of a fitful sleep. An hour past Carson City, Andrea stretched her arms, and got up to grab a candy bar from the backpack stashed above her seat. Something was wrong. It felt a bit light, or the wrong shape.
She jumped up on the seat handle, waving crazily as the bus lurched. She fumbled her hands inside the pack, reaching and squeezing. Hunting frantically.
It was gone. Her laptop had disappeared.
Prep
“I’ll be out there tomorrow,” Colonel said. The line crackled in a strange way, almost like a CD barely skipping, a digital sound, the sound of complex military-grade algorithms crunching voices into seemingly random information on one side, and unscrambling the random noise back into voices on the other end. To the Colonel, it felt like a part of him, inside, comfortable. In all the years he had been involved in covert ops all over the world, he’d only felt safe to speak when he could hear that scrambling sound.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to bring him in first?” said Lieut.
“Don’t even think about it,” said Colonel.
“Look, I don’t want to lose him again.”
“You’ve got him covered.”
“The guy is smart. Right now I know where he is, tomorrow he might have disappeared.”
“You heard my answer. Respect my decision, soldier.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Now what’s he been doing?”
“He seems to be laying fairly low. Sticking to the hotel, except for one to two hour trips.”
“And where does he go?”
“We have trouble tracking him. He’s very careful. The data on that, as you might imagine, is spotty. Seems to be liking the sex though.”
“Get off it. And this meeting?”
“It’s happening. We’re not sure when or where, but it’s definitely happening.”
“Any idea who with?”
“Not really. Some guesses. We’ll, frankly, like I told you before, it’s probably one of those creep buddies. We’re hoping he brings the list and we can take him, the creep and everything in one sweep. First get the locations of their servers, and then—”
“Not until I’m there.”
“Of course not.”
“Keep me posted. This one’s your responsibility. On any news of the location of the meeting, stake out the place and prepare for ops there. We don’t want to wait too long now do we?”
“No sir.”
Breath
The weather felt oppressive. Suddenly hot chased by cold. The wind would rise in Washington Square Park, fading away just as quickly. Dorian never knew what clothing to wear when he left the hotel on the few occasions that he did. But even inside, they had to keep the small window open so the room didn’t close in on them, and somehow still the weather came inside to find them.
The questions in Dorian’s head didn’t stop. Why would squelch reveal the existence of the DN List? They’d all sworn to keep that secret. ‘No matter what.’ It wouldn’t come out under FBI questioning, nothing, that was the pact. If only he could risk going online, opening an IRC chat and connecting. He hadn’t spoken to his friends in days. Even worse, what if they were in danger? No, he couldn’t. He couldn’t dare. It would be too easy to reveal his location, and he’d already let slip too much to Richard. That was not the smartest thing he ever did.
The hours dragged kicking and screaming around the dial. Tara didn’t make it easier, flicking through the fifteen channels on the TV with a manic repetitiveness he hadn’t seen before. Was it a mistake to bring her? But she was in danger too. He couldn’t leave her behind, even if nothing would convince her there was a problem.
“I can help you. Be your eyes and ears, you know, your station manager while you go do your secret stuff,” she explained, having been through all the TV channels for the fourth time. She turned and stared deep into his eyes, pushing her body across the bed and against him, her hand gently caressing his tousled hair. “I’m good at these games.”
He only shook his head. No.
“Come on. Tell me your secret codes.” She bounced. “An MBA is almost like MI6 you know. Corporate sleuthing.”
He would not budge and her eyes grew irritated and cloudy. “I came all this way with you, and now, look. You are shutting me out.”
Dorian lay back, wishing the day would slip by faster. Only one more day, and then all will be decided. But he couldn’t tell Tara. Nothing, or she became a target, even if she wasn’t one so far. Couldn’t have that.
And once again the thought came to him, why would anyone want to do this to me? All for a lousy movie download?
The next day over breakfast—only one day until Bunny would get here and all this would be figured out—he felt his gut click into place. This was what they had to do. They would meet. They would
decide what was going on. And then they would go to the police, tell them everything. Explain their position and they would go, wipe the floor with these killers and all would be well again. How could anyone kill when they were sitting rotting in a jail? Dorian started whistling a tune.
“What’s going on?” Tara asked. “You look happy. Did you figure something out?”
“I know what I have to do. Now all that’s left is to do it.”
“Really? What is that?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“But Dorian,” Tara whined.
“No. It is too dangerous.” And with that he grabbed her from the bed, opened the door and walked out of the hotel. “We’re walking up to Central Park.”
“Are you crazy?”
“We need some air, and some exercise.”
Andrea felt sick and tired. Hours of bouncing and swaying across the American Heartland felt like shit. Every time she’d almost fallen asleep, some loud truck would scream by, or a massive pothole would find it’s way under the bus’ tires, or it would be time for a stop over. And worse, Andrea couldn’t stop thinking about the missing laptop and the data on it, trying to remember the fragments of voice and IMs. No chance she was getting the laptop back. She desperately needed to put that out of her head, that was for sure. She twisted, trying to put her angular body into a more comfortable position. Instead, with each twist, her underwear scrunched into uncomfortable bunches while her rapidly ripening clothes itched.
She distracted herself playing pudiddle during the long twilight hours, or when it rained, even though it was a minimum two player game. The simple rules: each player races to be first to spot a car with a broken headlight. Andrea modified the rules so that she raced the
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