“It never was going to pass a close inspection, but casual will not be an issue. If we survive, apply for a lost license. If we don’t, you won’t need it.”
“Thanks for cheering me up.”
Before they headed to the garage, Kim leaned over Mike’s shoulder when he logged into a website to print their route to New York. “There’s one major highway between Chicago and New York, how hard is it? Besides, I can use my phone to get map directions if needed. We might want to do something about the car’s GPS.”
Mike beamed, “Trust me. The map will make sense soon enough. Let me grab my cane, and we’ll go to your car.”
Mike snatched the owner’s manual from the glove box. “Thanks for reminding me about the GPS. I’m going to pull the fuse. We want the car dumb. Let’s get the stuff off the printer.”
“I got a couple ball caps. With the car’s sun visor down and ball caps on we should be protected from facial recognition on traffic cams.”
“Another great idea, baby-doll I am going to make you a criminal yet. We’re a regular Bonnie and Clyde.”
“You do realize they ended up dead?”
Back inside, Mike showed her the printout. Every red light camera, speed limit camera, speed trap, and the police stations were clearly marked.
“Good thinking, but seriously, I hope we get there without falling asleep at the wheel. What are you looking for now?”
Mike flipped through social media websites. “Found it. You are now from Texas.”
“Texas?” Kim leaned in and fixed her gaze on the image on the screen. It was a white Focus RS displaying its tag. “It looks like my Focus, so what?”
“I’ll use card stock to print duplicates of that car’s tag number. Maybe we should cover them with clear plastic. Hell, that way they will be sturdy and shiny enough.”
“This actually might work. Damn.”
"You do understand the irony? We are trying to avoid cameras, and you have a sporty Focus."
Kim liked the simple white and black plate design. “Texas has an easy tag to replicate that’s for sure, but it’ll be my luck the tag we copy has a warrant out.”
Mike designed the license plate in a drawing program and printed them. Kim appropriated the tag and headed toward the back of her car.
Mike gently clutched her arm. “We won’t put it on yet, I got a plan.”
“What?”
He winked at her. “I’ll tell you later.”
They stuffed a bunch of items in the trunk the car before six in the morning. Mike loaded tools, super-glue, and a few other items.
Kim was confused but kept her mouth shut. Nothing wrong with being prepared for anything.
Kasai hired a snitch as a lookout, a local named Manny. Manny failed to keep his eyes peeled. He was in the middle of lighting a joint when Kim drove off. He caught the tail end of her car turning a block away.
Was that jerk in the car? I dunno. That bitch is not gonna like this.
He whipped out his free government cell phone and punched a number. “Yo’ Sis, she flew the coop.” He made an effort to listen to the soft voice on the other end. “No, I don’t know if he was in the car.”
He held the phone away from the side of his face to avoid eardrum damage. “I don’t know how it happened.” He puffed hard on the snub of his joint and waited for the volume to turn down. “One-minute nuttin’ and the next, boom, the car shoots out like a bat out of hell. Damn thing is fast. She was heading south, man.”
The line went dead. The snitch was not excited about seeing Kasai again. Kasai was a buzz kill.
CHAPTER 26
Road Trip
Kim resisted the urge to press the gas pedal against the metal floorboard and listened to Mike’s soft-spoken instructions. They drove along the Dan Ryan south, her battery-less cell phone rendered useless and non-traceable.
Mike held the printed street map in his lap. “Keep with the traffic flow even if you have to go a little above the speed limit.” He pointed at a gap between two cars. “Pull in-between those gray and blue cars, that way no cop car will sneak up.”
“I know, I know. You forgot to mention to obey traffic signs and signal again.” Mike’s nagging comforted her, but she was not going to let him sense it. I doubt he is as calm as he sounds. Probably brave for me.
Mike broke her thoughts. “Turn right at the next light.”
She hesitated. “That road has a speed camera.”
“That’s why you’re going to go seven miles over the speed limit and driving in the wrong direction.”
Kim crunched and processed Mike’s words. “Your dossier didn’t do you justice, Mike. You’re smarter than it gives you credit for.” Her lips curled up, and teeth sparkled. The smile was so phony it could have been on a commercial selling toothpaste. “And now I know why you didn’t replace the tag.”
Mike tapped his temple with his finger.
“Not that smart, buddy. You got yourself into a boat load of shit more than once.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him take an imaginary knife and stab himself.
“Straight to the heart, baby.”
“Spare me the drama.” Kim spun the wheel. Once on the correct road, she increased her speed to seven ticks over the limit.
Mike lowered the seat to a prone position, hiding his presence in the car.
“We just passed the camera.”
He inclined the seat. “Drive.” Three blocks later, Mike pointed. “Pull by that truck and wait in the car. Keep the engine running.”
“You’re not going to do anything stupid, I hope.”
“I thought you said I wasn’t very bright?”
“Hurry.”
Mike darted up to a delivery truck and stash something underneath the bumper.
Mike ran back to the car. “I turned on your cell for tracking? They already got a picture of us going in this direction. Why not re-enforce the evidence?” He reached around the back seat and grabbed the ball caps. “Flip your sun visor and put the hat on as low as you can. No more cameras catching faces.”
“You took my phone without permission.”
“How else are you going to report it stolen? Call it in at the first stop.”
“Bastard.” She was only half joking. She loved that phone.
He directed her off the main roads and back to the Dan Ryan highway.
She was concentrating on obeying the signals when she felt a hand on her arm. She flinched. “You scared me.”
“Sorry. Can you slow down? We need to pull over at the intersection. I need something from the auto store.”
“You’re nuts. We got to be far away before the Feebees start looking for us.”
“That’s the first time I heard the FBI called Feebees. I like it.”--He nodded.--“We need a few supplies.”
The plea in his voice crushed her resolve. A few blocks later, she spotted another auto store and reevaluated his appeal. “I’ll drop you off and pick you up in fifteen minutes. I’ll be across the street. You do your thing, I’ll do mine. I think I better report my phone stolen if I find a pay phone.”
“Good idea. Plausible deniability.”
“We need to be able to communicate to the outside world once we spot the bad guys. I’ll pick up a pre-paid phone, don’t worry I will use another name.”
Mike shrugged his shoulders. “I guess that’s a good idea. We’ll leave the battery out, just in case.”
She barked a command. “Be a good soldier and put the hood up on the jacket, pull the hat visor down, and stare at the ground as much as possible, cameras are everywhere.”
Mike saluted. “Aye, aye, sir!”
He took a few steps, then swerved around and headed back. His expression reminded her of a beaten criminal.
He held out his hand. “Money?”
“Yeah, I suppose that would help, wouldn’t it?” She handed him a handful of cash. “Be careful.”
He made an effort to give her a good chunk of the wadde
d dough back.
“No, keep for later.”
He repositioned his hoodie. “Thanks. You’re the best.”
She froze when he tried to lean in to give her a kiss. Halfway in his expression changed. He turned rigid and retreated.
Would I let him? “I said get going we’re in a hurry!”
She was back in fourteen minutes.
Mike leaned on his cane, a large bag in his other arm. He threw the stuff in the backseat and they continued their trip on the Dan Ryan. “Keep an eye out for a car wash.”
“You really shouldn’t be carrying stuff with your bad arm, and don’t be silly. I’m not washing my car. For God’s sake, it’s still dark.”
“Exactly.”
They spotted a car wash. She whipped into the darkest cleaning booth. In the rearview mirror, she observed Mike as he snatched stuff from the trunk. Stickers?
He flipped on a battery operated LED work light.
Kim pushed the handle on the door and sprang out of the car. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She did not appreciate his smile.
“Pimping out your car. You are going to be a soccer mom with a sports car.”
Her hands shot to her hips, and she leaned forward, “You’re not touching my car, Mike O’Connor.”
He threw his hands up in surrender. “You have to trust me on this. This car can’t be you. The Texas tags help. If a cop rolls up to check the plate, the car will match the out of state tag. Cops have cameras in the front of their vehicles to read tags, you know that. But if we add a few graphics it will subconsciously distract him.” Mike started counted off the advantages on his fingers. “For one, you’re not a mother with three kids. Two, the crude graphic of the boy pissing will draw his eyes someplace else. Three the ‘Obey Gravity, It’s the Law’ sticker caught my eye, you know me the humor will be distracting.”
“Did I mention you’re not doing anything to my car?” Her shoulders sagged in defeat.
Mike motioned her to him. “Help me tint the front window. I think I got the color to match your side and back windows. It will partially block any street-mounted cameras. Plus, you’ll drive with the seat back as far as you can.” He rolled his head back and pretended to sleep. “I’ll have my seat in full recline.”
“Good, you need the rest.”
“We’ll swap every few hours. That way we will both be rested when we get there.”
Thirty minutes later, Kim stepped back and shook her head yes, in approval. “The tag looks real.”
“Could make the difference.”
“I hate the stickers. They do draw your eye. As much as I despise bumper stickers, I might leave it. The rest better come off, or I’ll kick your ass.”
“Get in line, the FBI, and the world’s deadliest terrorists are after my butt.”
“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and my car is my baby. I’m feeling a little scorned.” Kim raised her fist in a boxing position and pretended to knock out an imaginary opponent.
“They’ll come off.” He shrugged. “At least I think it will.”
Kim felt a flash of anger. The one-second glare she gave Mike could peel the stickers.
“Doing this should help our chances of getting to New York.”
“You put a lot of thought into how to avoid getting caught.”
“I had a lot of time on my hands recently.”
“Yeah. Let’s load up and hope history doesn’t repeat itself.”
Once seated, Mike turned to her. “Now if we could do something about how we look.”
“Be careful what you ask for, I have a tire iron in the trunk.”
He pretended to protect himself. “No more bruises, I’m beat-up enough.”
“Just kidding.”
Sixty minutes later, Kim merged into traffic on U.S. Thirty East. The route was out of the way, but they steered clear of toll booths with cameras.
“My turn for a little stop.”
Kim swung into a seedy motel nestled behind a truck stop. She paid cash for a room. The run-down motel’s management was immune to couples getting rooms at all hours of the day. She told the clerk she would be out of the room in two hours.
The young clerk gave her a knowing wink. Checking IDs closely was not a priority, and a benefit truckers appreciated.
Once tucked inside the room, she threw the contents of her little shopping excursion on a small table, “Remember what you wished for? Guess what? You’re now a Jets fan. I got you a Jets retro sports canvas hat and face paint.” Trying to sound apologetic, “You got to admit the hat has a cool factor. You’ll be one sexy boy.”
“You’re kidding? I’m not walking anywhere in public with a Jets’ shirt and hat. I hate the frigging Jets.”
Kim kept silent.
“If I paint my face I’ll stick out like a sore thumb.”
Kim placed her hands on her hips. “You won’t stick out like a sore thumb, the paint will. No one will remember your face.” She tried to form a devious smile. “It’ll wash off.” She shrugged. “At least I think it will.”
Mike actually smiled.
She continued. “The more people who pay attention to your outfit, the less they will remember you. Kind of like the stickers and the license plate.”
“I know a thing or two about social engineering. You may have a point, but--”
“Why do you think I got us this room?”
Mike tossed his cane on the bed. “Can I guess?”
“Oh, you can always guess. Something needs to be done about your eye color.”
“Eye color?”
“The Jets logo and the sunglasses play a part. But you will have to take the glasses off indoors. First, let me paint the box.”
“A box?”
“I taught a lab on this at the tech school. Using cleverly applied paint, you can trick facial recognition software into believing your face is not a face. The algorithm sees a box and dismisses it. It’s programming.”
“No shit?”
“No shit.” She watched Mike mimic her earlier pose by putting his hands on his hips. “Your outfit? missy?”
Kim lifted up a Jets t-shirt three sizes too small for her. She smiled, “I’m not going to wear a bra.”
Mike closed his eyes, lips curled up, and his head tilted back in thought. “Doooh...” Once his act was over, he straightened his head and looked her in the eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding? Right?”
“Not kidding. I’m wearing a scarf to cover my face outside. But inside I’m pretty sure no one will be looking at my face. I’m keeping my jacket open, it’ll be nipply.”
It had taken a minute before Mike cleared his blushing cheeks.
Cute.
“How are you going to change my eye color?”
“Look in the bag, you’ll find color contacts. Now quit stalling. They’re bright blue, any BOLO will mention your pretty green eyes. Now get your butt into the bathroom and come out a blue-eyed football fan. Go Jets!”
Mike and Kim left the hotel.
Kim yanked on the driver’s side door and bent down to get in the car. “Mike, my eyes are up here.”
A minute after they merged onto U.S. Thirty, a highway patrol car lights them up with sirens blazing.
Kim shouted. “If he comes up to the window, keep your seat down and pretend you’re sleeping.”
He closed the gap between the cars with frightening speed. Her hands shook as she slowly pulled over. At the last minute, the patrol car turned off its lights and sirens and zoomed away.
Shit. The distraction worked.
After the scare, the eight hundred and two-mile drive to New York was unremarkable. They took turns driving, ate in fast food drive-thru restaurants, and ducked cameras by avoiding rest areas.
Mike either got a thumbs-up for his support of the Jets or a curse. Either way, he brushed aside the banter. Kim got whistles. She was conscious of my Mike’s reaction; the catcalls were a lot harder for him to ignore. She saw him curl his fist into a
ball several times.
Around ten at night, they snagged an old hotel near the South Street Seaport Historic District. Kim signed under her assumed name.
The clerk did not glance twice at her signature and permitted her to use a cash deposit instead of swiping a card.
They left the counter and headed toward their room. Mike nudged her. “Good job back there. You’d make a good hacker.”
“Screw that, it was from not wearing a bra. Let’s go for a walk.” She poked him. “Tits rule boys drool.” She skipped toward the door. “I want to stretch my legs. Let’s change clothes.”
They both got dressed. Kim’s boobs respectable and Mike was dressed in a hoody.
On their short sightseeing trip near their lower Manhattan hotel, they got an unforgettable glimpse of the past where 18th and 19th-century buildings lined stone-paved streets. A chilly, sea-laden breeze wafted off the river, kissing their faces.
Better enjoy this while it lasts.
CHAPTER 27
The Truth Will Set You Free
Their room was designed for small business travelers: a functional decor with two double beds, couch, table, kitchenette, and importantly, an open wireless Internet connection.
He regarded Kim as she buried her hand into her travel bag to gather her toiletries while she got ready for a shower. “You do realize that you have time to get the hell out?”
Kim spun toward Mike, with an eyebrow raised and lips pursed. “Out?”
Mike leaned his cane against the wall and flopped on the edge of the bed. “You know that nothing traces back to you. Get in your car. Go to a car wash and wipe the inside of your car for my prints. Remove the stickers. Drive back to Chicago. If you get stopped, just say the FBI visit scared the hell out of you, and you needed an escape to think.”
“That might raise more questions than it would answer. And what are you going to do, take an Uber to stop the terrorist? Good advertisement for them, bad for you. And if you haven’t noticed, it’s a damn bit late. I’m involved.”
Mike’s head slouched. “Sorry. I’m just feeling a little...I don’t know.”
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