by Tom Fowler
"Uh . . . sure," he said.
I went to the kitchen, got Brian a bottle of Harris Teeter’s finest water and filled my own reusable bottle. I set his on the desk in the office. He picked it up, twisted the lid off, and drank about half in one gulp. "It’s true your brother is a programmer," I said. “But do you know what kind of code he writes?"
"I never asked him," Brian said with a shrug. "He never told me."
"Do you know what ransomware is?" He shook his head. I explained it.
"My brother writes that?" he said.
"Yes. And I've looked at his code. He wrote really good ransomware."
Brian started to say something, stopped, and frowned in thought. I could visualize the gears turning inside his head. "So this gangster wanted my brother to write some for him?"
"It’s my guess," I said. "He also asked me to."
"You?"
"Yeah. I turned him down. Based on the timing of everything, I think he went to your brother first. I might feel a little insulted by the order of things, but at least we both said no."
"You're sure my brother said no?" Brian said.
"You could answer better than I can, but I’m pretty sure he said no."
"Writing ransomware is why the gangster guy is looking for him?"
Would just being rejected cause Esposito to take such a keen interest in Chris Sellers? I turned him down, too, and he wasn't stalking me. I wondered if there was something else in play here, a factor I hadn't learned yet or a variable I needed to solve for. "As far as I know," I said.
"Can you handle the gangster?"
"I think so. It would be easier if I knew where your brother went. It's hard to help someone when you have no idea where they are or what they're doing."
"What do you need from me?" Brian said. He downed half of the remaining water in another big gulp.
"Nothing," I said. "I just wanted you to know what was going on."
Brian managed a tiny smile. "At least you found him, if just for a couple minutes."
"Now I need to find him again."
"You think the gangster is going to keep looking for him?"
"I do. And I don't know how he knew your brother would be at that coffee shop."
"He knew?" Brian said.
"I’m certain," I said. "There's no way he just happened to be there right when your brother and I were supposed to meet."
"You said this gangster is into software?"
"I'm already there. I'm running full malware scans of all my PCs, and I'll do my phone once you leave. I'm sure my stuff is good, but I have to know."
"I'm worried," Brian said after a moment of silence.
"I would be, too," I said. "I'm sure it’s not reassuring, but it's true."
"Thanks."
"I'll let you know what turns up."
Brian nodded. "OK." He stood. "Be careful. This gangster sounds dangerous."
I offered my best inspiring smile. "I can handle him."
I hoped I could.
All my computers, including my phone, checked out clean. However Alberto Esposito learned of the meeting between Chris Sellers and me, it wasn’t with my unwitting e-help. I pondered dinner options when Gloria texted and wondered what I was doing for food and a nightcap. I invited her. She said she would be here soon.
A few minutes later, I heard a knock. The short time seemed fast for Gloria, but considering the rocketlike shape of her car, it could have been doable. My rumbling stomach made me glad she arrived quickly. I opened the door.
I had no time to react to the meaty fist walloping me in the face.
I staggered backward and went down, somehow avoiding slamming my head on the hardwood. Two legbreakers walked in. My cheek and jaw felt like someone hit me with a hammer. The lead goon walked up to me and raised his boot. I slithered out of the way before he could stomp a hole in my hardwood floors through my torso. In the end, I was still on the floor, unarmed, with two large men on their feet meaning to do me harm.
Not good.
I rose into a crouch. The goon who failed to stomp me now tried a punch. I blocked it and gave him a hard right cross in the balls. He doubled over. I shifted so he screened me from his partner and scrambled to my feet. I stood just in time to take a short left in the ribs. Breathing hurt. I deflected the next punch, then the next. He tried to grab me as his friend remained doubled over. I backed up and avoided his lunge.
He came at me again. I blocked his haymaker and hit him with two short punches in the gut. He backed off and lowered his hands to protect his midsection, so I clocked him in the jaw with an elbow. It staggered him but didn't put him down. I punched him in the stomach again, then kicked him hard in the face when he bent over. The combination put him down.
The first goon recovered enough to get back to his feet. He cursed at me and charged. I grabbed his arm and flipped him onto his back. From there, I kicked him in the face and put him in an armbar. He screamed as I wrenched in the hold. "This is the part where you tell me who sent you," I said.
He responded by reaching into his belt. I didn't see a weapon but didn't believe in taking chances. A hard kick to the face bounced his head off the hardwood, and he went limp. They were both knocked out in my living room. I heard footsteps coming up the front walkway onto the porch and stop. Gloria frowned at the spectacle. "Is everything all right?" she said.
"Get inside," I said. She did, and I locked the door behind her. "I don't know if these two assholes brought a third."
Gloria took the hint and went into the office. I fetched a couple zip ties and bound the wrists of the pair of jackasses who lay prone on my floor. Both had the size and build expected of their line of work. They looked to be around my age. Guys like these were used to ending fights with one punch, if they even needed to fight at all. When the opening blow didn't put me down, these two were in over their heads.
I took out my phone and called Joey. "Give me an hour," I said, "then come over. We have an errand to run."
"Something dangerous?" Joey said.
"Yes, and I can't think of anyone who'd make a better human shield."
"You're hilarious," he said.
"See you in an hour," I said and hung up.
After I called Joey, I called the police and reported what happened. They would send a car and an ambulance. Before they arrived, I took the cufflinks from my uninvited guests’ shirts. Gloria sat in the office, hands clenched. "We might need to get delivery tonight," I said.
"C.T., what's going on?" she said. "Why are these men here?"
"I'll tell you all about it later. The police are coming to take them away. Then I need to run an errand." I smiled. "Sorry this isn't the night you had in mind."
A slow grin came onto Gloria's face. "Just come back in one piece," she said, "and I think we can salvage something."
"I'll do my best," I said.
Despite my vanity, I’ve never gotten a vanity plate on my car. They’re too easily remembered by everyone. A random string of letters and numbers is one thing; MISTER E is quite another. While I waited for Joey, I ran Esposito’s plate. He lived in the county. Interesting for someone who wanted to take over organized crime in the city.
I put the cufflinks in a small Amazon box. “Where are you taking those?” Gloria said.
“Back to the man who sent the goons,” I said. Flashing lights made their way through the window. I opened the door. Two police officers approached, followed by paramedics. I talked to one of the cops while the second took the paramedics and dealt with the unconscious assailants. Another pair of cops showed up a minute later in a large police van. One went inside, and the other joined in talking to me.
I now gave my statement to both. When they asked what happened, I explained I had been expecting Gloria but instead got the goon party. “Sounds disappointing,” the first cop said.
“On an epic scale,” I said.
They knew I was a PI, and they checked out my license for a minute, finding everything in order. The param
edics offered to look at my face, but I declined. My teeth were intact. I’d weathered punches before. My face would swell and bruise but always healed just fine on its own. Three cops and two paramedics walked the now-handcuffed legbreakers out. Neither would look at me. Both got herded into the ambulance with a cop riding along. The police van pulled away, and the ambulance and other police car left a minute later.
Not long after, Joey showed up. I kissed Gloria goodbye, gave her some good delivery options, and left.
Esposito’s address put him in a community called The Oaks. It was so named because it had streets like Black Oak and Rock Oak. I didn’t have the slightest idea what a rock oak was, but Esposito lived there. Joey drove his BMW. He owned a 5 Series with a smooth ride and powerful engine. Maybe I would need to revisit the BMW dealer if my Lexus proved too costly to fix.
“Those assholes just showed up?” Joey said, picking up a conversation thread from a couple minutes before.
“Yep.”
“You don’t know why?”
“Esposito probably sent them,” I said. “I pissed him off earlier.”
“And now you’re going to piss him off again.”
“Yep.”
“You ever think this move may not be the smartest idea?”
“I’d rather he worry about me than my kid client’s missing brother,” I said.
“Here’s the thing,” Joey said, “he ain’t worrying about you. He’s sending guys to take care of it. They fail . . . he sends a couple other guys. When they fail, he might send a guy with a gun.”
“I have a gun, too.”
Joey shook his head. “It’s different. and you know it.”
“OK,” I said with a nod. “Should I just drop the whole thing?”
“You wouldn’t be you if you did. Just be careful, is all.”
“I will be.”
“If something happens to you, though . . . dibs on Gloria.”
I laughed. “It’s good to know how far your concern goes,” I said.
“I’m all about honesty,” said Joey.
The Oaks is in Parkville, which sits between Carney and Towson. It’s a short jaunt from the Baltimore Beltway. We slowed to cruising speed on Rock Oak. The houses here were brick duplexes with most featuring tacky metal awnings which went out of style around the time they started rusting over. Cars of varying vintages and quality lined the street. A few more peeked out from alleys. After a few blocks, we neared the address.
Vehicles packed both sides of the street all around the house. If Esposito were the type to jam cell phones, he was also the type to have some lackeys on the lookout. I couldn’t simply walk up the steps to the walkway, leave the box on the porch, and walk away. Someone would stop me, probably before I put it down. I added a handwritten note to the box just to tweak Esposito a little more. Joey was right; I had to be careful here. Esposito was an asshole, though, and I wanted him to get his knickers in a twist.
Joey put a gun on his lap. He nodded at me. I got out of the Beamer and walked to a house in the next duplex. All the lights were off. As I went up the stairs and walkway, I looked over at Esposito’s house. I couldn’t see anyone keeping watch, but I knew they spied on me from somewhere. When I got to the porch of the decoy house, I stopped and crouched as low as I could. I waited. Nothing.
I padded across the grass to Esposito’s house. Most of the first-floor lights were on. No one sat on the porch. I couldn’t see anyone in the windows. Then I saw a small camera above the door. Why have a goon keep watch when the electronic eye sees and records all? The camera was probably tied into the Wi-Fi. With some time, I could take it down, but the longer I stayed out here, the greater the odds someone would see me. I’d just have to smile for the video.
I crouched at the side of the house. No one came out. The only camera I could see was above the door. I stayed low and approached the porch. When I got there, I slid the box up to the door and started away. When I reached the steps, I stood and ran. Joey opened the passenger door, and I got in just as someone came out to have a look. Joey stomped on the gas, and the Teutonic turbo propelled us down the street.
After we got onto the Beltway, my cell phone rang. I had a good idea who was calling. “Hello?”
“It ain’t like Amazon to make late-night deliveries,” Esposito said.
“What about the handwritten note?” I said. “Must be a Prime perk.”
“It was a nice touch.”
“Thanks.”
“You got my attention, C.T.”
“Figured I would.”
“My attention may not be something you want to have,” Esposito said.
“I’ll take my chances,” I said. “I’m going to keep looking for Chris Sellers.”
“So am I.”
“Then may the best man win,” I said.
Chapter 9
Joey dropped me off and issued another warning to be careful. “You’re just collateral damage in his war,” he said. I promised to heed the advice. We both knew I wouldn’t. Joey drove away. I took my gun out and walked around the front of my house before unlocking the door. I thought I smelled hot cheese and tomato sauce. When I got to the dining room, the two white boxes on the table confirmed it. Gloria chowed down on a slice topped with vegetables.
“Pizza?” I stated the obvious.
“I haven’t had it in months,” she said after swallowing her bite.
“What will all this bread and cheese do to your hips in a tennis dress?”
“I don’t have to wear a tennis dress for a while.” Gloria smiled. “Until then, I’m sure we can find some good uses for my hips.”
“Count on it,” I said, pouring myself some iced tea and throwing a slice of cheese and a slice of veggie on a plate.
“I hate to get back to business,” Gloria said, “but what the hell just happened?”
She knew the crux of my case already, so I filled her in on recent developments.
“How did he know to be at the Starbucks?” said Gloria.
“It’s a puzzle I’m trying to solve,” I said.
“This Esposito is trouble. Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I always am.”
“Is that what you call going to his house to taunt him?”
“You’d be proud of how carefully I sneaked around.”
“I’m serious,” Gloria said, frowning. “It was dangerous.”
“My job is dangerous,” I said.
Gloria shook her head. “That was you creating danger. You didn’t need to do it.”
“Sometimes, you need to poke the bear.”
Gloria closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “During your last big case, you got shot at,” she said. “Then there was the time I had to toss you a gun because four men were looking for you. I don’t want to worry about you on every case. And I don’t want to worry that I’m going to get shot right along with you.”
I put my pizza down. “I understand your concern.”
“You do?”
“Yes. I don’t want to get shot, either. When I started doing this job, I thought it would be easy. I figured I could do most of it from my computer. It hasn’t turned out to be so easy. I do a lot offline, and some of what I do puts me in danger.”
“Then why do you still do it?” Gloria said. “Your parents would support something else, I’m sure.”
“No doubt they would. But I’m good at this. I’m good at finding things out. I’ve gotten better at dealing with people, and when it comes down to it, I can take care of myself in a fight. On top of it all, I’m helping people . . . people who probably couldn’t get help anywhere else.”
“That’s important to you.”
I nodded. “I didn’t expect it to be. I used to think my parents’ philanthropy was bullshit they did to feel good about themselves, but I like making a difference. Danger and all, I wouldn’t give up this job.”
Gloria looked at me and nodded. “I believe you.”
“I hope so,” I said. “It
’s the truth.”
She smiled. “You believe in what you’re doing. That’s great.”
I picked up the uneaten slice of cheese and took a bite. “It took me a while,” I said, “but I’ve come around.” And I had, as much as I didn’t care to admit it. Some of my parents’ altruism rubbed off on me. I wondered if Gloria would meet a similar fate. She was the hedonist I wanted to be a while ago. Something deeper lay beneath the surface, though. I recently saw her take an interest in fundraising. Maybe my indirect altruism would rub off on her. We spent enough time together to make it possible. Part of me wanted to be a good influence on her, to whatever degree someone like me can. Another part of me wondered what this desire meant.
Later, I was still hungry. Gloria lay in bed fiddling with her iPhone. I went downstairs and reheated two slices of pizza. Then I felt hungry enough to have another. My dinner plans had been scuttled by the trip to Esposito’s, and I didn’t eat much after I came home. I pondered the case while I ate the third slice. Esposito and his pet goon showing up still bothered me. If he hadn’t compromised me, he must have compromised Chris Sellers.
I hoped Chris trusted me enough to reach out again. He did a good job of vanishing the first time. I was still clueless where he had gone. Other than his occasional presence on a coding board, he left no online footprint I could find. This was a man who planned to unplug from the grid and then executed a well-plotted plan. I couldn’t imagine disconnecting in the same way, but on some level, I admired it.
I put the remaining pizza in the fridge, feeling full after three slices. Sometime tomorrow, I would need to work those off. I went back upstairs. Gloria still diddled with her phone, but she yawned and her eyelids looked heavy. I got into bed beside her. She smiled at me and turned back to her phone. I checked for any messages from Chris Sellers, found none, and went to sleep.
Whenever Gloria stayed the night—which happened with increasing regularity—I woke up before she did. How she got up early for tennis lessons and tournaments, I couldn’t fathom. I suffered no delusions about being an early riser, and she always slept later than I did. I walked downstairs, turned on the Keurig, and put a pod in it. While the coffee brewed, my cell phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?” I said.