The Charity Chip

by Brock Booher

  Julio looked at his feet. “I was hoping that you would make an exception, since they used the interview on TV.”

  Isak smiled and turned to his computer. “Let me see what I can do,” he said as he typed on his keyboard.

  Julio continued to stare at his feet and hoped the awkward moment would pass. The office was silent except for the sound of Isak’s fingers at the keyboard and the ticking of the brass clock on his desk. Remembering Angelica’s charge to take a good look at everything, he forced himself to raise his eyes and look around. He paid particular attention to the computer. The large flat screen that dominated the corner of Isak’s desk was the same brand as all the computers used by the students, except it was bigger. Everything else was tucked away in drawers.

  Isak closed the window he had been typing in and turned back to Julio. “I have adjusted the protocols so that you may now withdraw the fifty euros onto a free chip from any participating bank in the next twenty-four hours.” He held up a finger. “But you must understand, this is not normal procedure and will not be repeated.”

  “I understand.” Julio bowed his head and began backing out of the office. “Gracias, gracias,” said Julio, gushing with gratitude. He hoped that fifty euros would be enough to settle Raúl’s debt and keep him from going back with los mALditos.

  Julio skated home, so excited about the money that he forgot about meeting with Angelica until the mototaxi pulled up beside him. “Get in. Hurry!” urged Angelica from the backseat.

  “You skated right past us over a kilometer ago,” said Angelica when he scrambled into the backseat. Even over the sound of the droning motorcycle engine, she sounded annoyed. “I even texted you to turn around, but you never checked your phone.”

  Julio pulled the phone from his pocket and saw the message. “Sorry. I’m not used to having a phone, and I forgot what color mototaxi you were in last time.” He didn’t want to tell her about the money.

  Angelica rolled her eyes but then seemed to brush it off. “Did you get a good look at Isak’s computer?”

  He nodded. “It looks like the computers we use, but bigger.”

  “Makes sense. That should make access easier.”

  Julio gave her a puzzled look. “Access for what?” he asked.

  She gave him a funny look like she couldn’t believe she had to explain. “For hacking into his system. What else?”

  “You want to hack into his system?”

  Angelica shook her head. “How else did you think we were going to figure out what was really going on? Walk into Isak’s office and say, ‘Excuse me, Señor Blixt, but would you mind telling us what you are really doing here?’ ” She rolled her eyes again.

  “I understand that, but I didn’t know you knew anything about hacking into someone’s computer.”

  Angelica gave him a devious smile. “I used to help my mother’s old boyfriend, Tito. They would send me in with the hardware and I would get them into the system. As they say, physical access is total access. Sending me in also gave them deniability if I got caught.” The smile faded, and she wrinkled her nose. “That’s how I ended up at Caritas. I got caught. Unfortunately for Tito, they traced the signal back to him and caught him red-handed. He won’t get out of jail for another two years.”

  “How did your mother die?”

  Angelica looked out the window. “She used to drink a lot. I guess she got drunk one night and wandered into traffic and got killed by a car. I was in bed when it happened. When Tito told me she was dead, I didn’t believe him, but then he took me to see the body.”

  “Mine died of pneumonia. I was fighting with my brother in the street when she drew her last breath.”

  “What about your father?” asked Angelica.

  “He was killed during the protests when I was five. How about yours?”

  She shook her head. “I never knew him. My mother said he left to find work in the mines near Tacna while she was pregnant and never came back.”

  Armando pulled the taxi over to the curb in front of Martín’s store. “Do I take him home too?” he asked over the sound of the motor.

  Angelica looked at Julio. “No, thanks,” answered Julio. “I’ll get out here also.”

  Armando reached back and grabbed Angelica by the arm. “Tell Martín I need my phone recharged if he still wants me to give you rides. I’m out of minutes.”

  “I’ll be sure to let him know,” answered Angelica. The exchange made Julio uncomfortable, but he didn’t say anything.

  Martín was busy helping a woman with a baby on her hip, so they slipped upstairs to Angelica’s room. She closed the door behind them and pulled out her phone. “I know how we can put some pressure on Isak and Caritas.” She shook her phone with excitement. “We can call Sofía Encuentro and tell her what we know. She will investigate.”

  Julio cringed. The last encounter was uncomfortable, and he didn’t relish another one. “She just spent an entire day at Caritas. What makes you think she will investigate further?”

  “She put you on TV. She’ll listen to you.”

  Julio shook his head. “She’s probably already off covering another story,” he said with a wave of his hand. “It’s a waste of time.”

  Angelica’s face fell, and she slipped her phone into her pocket. She moved close and put her arms around Julio’s waist. “Please, Julio,” she pleaded. “Will you call her for me?”

  Julio felt his chest tighten and the blood rush to his cheeks. With her hands around his waist, he didn’t know where to put his arms, so he let them hang loose at his side. He made the mistake of looking down at her. Her bottom lip jutted out slightly and seemed to invite him to kiss her. He wanted to speak, but his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth.

  Angelica squeezed him. “Call her for me. Please!”

  Julio swallowed and forced his tongue to lick his lips. He tried to speak, but all he could do was nod. As soon as he nodded, Angelica moved her hands from around his waist and grabbed him around the neck. She pulled him down and kissed him on the lips. “Thank you.”

  “I looked up her number,” said Angelica as she whipped out her phone. “Once you get her on the line, we can put her on speaker.” She dialed and followed the prompts. When it started ringing, she handed him the phone. “Tell her you have information about another student from Caritas that died last night.”

  Sofía Encuentro was talking by the time he got it to his ear. “Sofía Encuentro, cuando hay noticias, yo encuentro.”

  Julio’s tongue still felt thick and awkward. “This is Julio Camino . . . uh . . . the young man you interviewed at Caritas yesterday.”

  “Oh, hello, Julio. Did you see yourself on TV last night?”

  “No, no I didn’t. I don’t have a TV.”

  “I can send you the link to watch it online if you like.”

  Angelica whispered, “Put her on speaker so we both can talk.”

  Julio turned away from Angelica so he could concentrate. “That would be nice.”

  “Is there something I can do for you?”

  “Well, remember how you asked about the suspicious deaths yesterday?”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  Julio glanced back at Angelica to find his courage. “I have some information about a Caritas student who died last night.”

  “Another one died last night? Who?”

  “The girl that was sitting with me, Graciela.” Julio could see Angelica’s impatience building as she folded her arms and tapped her foot.

  “I see . . .” The sound of her fingers clicking against the keyboard came through the phone. “Look, Julio, I would like to help, but some very important news involving the president’s mistress just broke. The story is going to be huge, and my producer gave me a tight deadline. I really won’t be able to look into this for at least a couple of days.”

  “I understand,” said Julio. Angelica threw her hands up in the air and glared at him. “Could you at least make a couple of phone calls? You re
member what it’s like to be in my shoes. It would mean a lot to me.”

  “Do you have her full name? Which hospital did they take her to?”

  “Her full name is . . .” Julio looked to Angelica for help. “Graciela, uh, Gomez, I believe.” Angelica nodded her head. “They took her to Hospital Edgardo Rebagliati last night for an overdose. She was dead when she got there.”

  “Graciela Gomez, Hospital Edgardo Rebagliati . . . got it. I’ll have one of my staff call and check on it. I’ll call you.” The line went dead.

  Julio held out the phone to Angelica. “She said she would check on it.”

  Angelica snatched the phone from Julio’s hand. “Why didn’t you explain to her what we saw last night? Why didn’t you put her on speaker phone like I told you to?”

  “She told me she was busy with another story. What was I supposed to do, demand that she drop everything and listen to me?”

  Angelica wagged a finger in his face. “You should have put her on speaker. I could have convinced her.”

  “If you could have convinced her, why didn’t you call her yourself?” He slipped back on his backpack, grabbed his skateboard, and started for the door.

  Angelica moved in front of him and put her hands on her hips. “So now you’re just going to run away?”

  Julio started to slip around her, but she moved in front of him again. He rolled his eyes and said, “I have to go. I have to check on my brother.” He tried to slip past again, but Angelica sidestepped and blocked him.

  “You promised me you would help. You can’t back out now.”

  Julio glared at her. “I promised to help. I keep my promises.” He slid past Angelica before she could react again, and opened the door. His ears were burning as he hurried past Martín and the woman with the baby. He bolted out the front door of the shop, tossed his skateboard in front of him, and hopped on in one swift motion. His hands were balled into fists and his jaw was tight as he picked up speed and carved his way through the crowd. Why doesn’t she trust me?

  He stopped at the corner of Plaza Manco Cápac next to Roky’s. He could see the chickens turning over the spit in the window and was surprised he hadn’t noticed the smell of roasting chickens drifting through the plaza. He let out a sigh and for a moment wished he had never met Isak Blixt or Angelica. “Yesterday is a flower. Today is a dream,” he muttered to himself. He skated past Roky’s toward the bank next to the pharmacy.

  The tall glass doors of the bank had shiny brass handles and gold lettering that read “Groupe BPCE.” Just inside the door, a clerk in a black suit greeted customers. Two guards with black rifles slung over their shoulders paced back and forth in the bank foyer. Julio thought it was a bit of overkill. What were they guarding if money was simply some digital signature on a chip? He watched a couple of customers swipe their hands to get into the bank and realized it was just like the supermarket. He stuffed his skateboard into his backpack and swiped his way through the big glass door with the brass handle. He hoped the money from Isak would be enough to cover Raúl’s debt.

  One of the guards adjusted his weapon and stepped in front of Julio as soon as he got inside. “Sir, we need you to remove your backpack and leave it with the clerk,” he ordered. Julio eyed the black assault rifle and slipped off his backpack.

  The clerk in the suit gave a fake smile. “Please secure your backpack and any electronic devices.” Julio tucked the cell phone into the backpack and handed it over. The clerk slipped them into one of the small lockers behind the desk. “Just swipe your chip to lock the locker,” instructed the clerk. When Julio swiped his hand across the sensor on the desk, a small light on the locker door changed from green to red. “How can we help you today?” asked the clerk.

  “I need to withdraw some money from my chip,” answered Julio, trying to sound confident.

  “Very well,” said the clerk as he looked at his tablet. He pointed at the short line in front of the teller stations. “Proceed to the teller line.”

  Julio shuffled past the clerk and got in line. He was nervous. Everyone in the bank was at least ten years older than he was, and he felt like everyone was staring at him, especially the guards. He looked at the floor and waited for his turn.

  When he approached the window, the teller smiled. “How may I help you today?” she asked.

  Julio fingered the Saint Michael’s pendant. “I would like to withdraw some money, if I could.”

  “Do you have an account with us?”

  “No. Is that a requirement?”

  “Not necessarily,” replied the teller. “Scan your chip and let’s see if we can help you.” The smile pasted on her face remained intact.

  Julio wiped his hand over the scanner and waited while the teller’s fingers clicked at the keys. She looked at the computer screen and said, “You do not have an account with us, and the balance of the chip is blocked.” She wrinkled her brow. “But you do have fifty euros, approximately two hundred and sixty three soles, available for withdrawal.”

  Julio was relieved to hear that the money was available. “Can I get the money on a free chip?” he asked.

  The clerk gave him funny look. “Why would you want to do that when you already have an embedded chip? The embedded chip is much more secure.”

  “I want to buy something and the person I am buying from wants the money on a free chip.”

  “Strange. I can’t understand why anyone would want that.”

  “Can I get the money on a free chip?” asked Julio again.

  “Certainly. Do you have a free chip?” asked the clerk as she typed at her keyboard.

  “I have one, but it’s sentimental. Can I get another one?”

  The clerk nodded. “We can provide the chip, and we offer a variety of disguises for under two euros, depending on the quality of the disguise.”

  “Which disguise is the cheapest?”

  The teller turned the screen to display the variety of disguises available. “All these disguises are under two euros apiece.”

  Julio saw a small soccer ball key ring and smiled. “I’ll take the soccer ball.”

  “Very well. Would you like to place the entire amount on one free chip?”

  Julio started to tell her yes, but the thought of spending all of his money to save Raúl annoyed him. “Can I put some on another chip?” he asked.

  “Of course,” replied the teller, “if you have the chip.”

  Julio slipped the Saint Michael’s pendant over his head. “Put one hundred and fifty soles on the soccer ball chip, and the rest on this one.”

  “As you wish,” answered the teller with a polite nod as she began typing at her keyboard. After a moment, she slid a scanner and small keyboard across the counter. “First we need to scan your right hand, and then you need to type in the password for each chip.”

  Julio placed his right hand on the glass screen in front of him. The screen flashed a bright green light.

  “Now type in the password you would like to use for the soccer ball chip. We recommend something easy to remember, but also something hackers cannot easily guess,” suggested the teller. “But if you forget, just come back in and we can reset it with another hand scan.”

  Julio started to use his middle name and his birthday, but then remembered he would most likely be giving this chip to the gang. He typed in los mALditos, and waited.

  “Now enter the password for the second chip,” instructed the teller.

  “Can I change it?”

  “Of course.”

  Julio smiled to himself, typed Angelica, and slid the keyboard and scanner back across the counter.

  After a few more keystrokes, the teller slid a small soccer ball key chain and his Saint Michael’s pendant across the counter. “There you go, sir. Is there anything else we can do for you today?”

  Julio felt like a rich man. He was amazed at how a little bit of money could change someone’s perception of him. “No, thank you,” he replied. He kissed the pendant, tucked it
under his shirt, and went to retrieve his belongings. He still felt the guards staring at him when he walked into the street a few minutes later.

  * * *

  It was starting to get dark when Julio skated down the street for El Infierno. He could see Turco out front again, playing with his knife. The orange glow that filled the upstairs windows of the abandoned garment factory told him that Sergio was probably there. He kissed the pendant of Saint Michael, pulled the hood of his jacket over his head, and skated up to the entrance of the gang’s hideout.

  Turco stood when Julio skated up. “Puma, where’ve you been? Chicha is pissed at you, hermano.”

  Julio shrugged. “I got jumped by three guys, and one of them had a knife,” he said, trying to imitate his brother. “I’m lucky I made it out alive.” Julio picked up his skateboard and tucked it under his arm. “Is Sergio around?”

  Turco sat back down and started opening and closing his knife. “Chicha’s upstairs dividing spoils,” he said with a nod of his head.

  Julio slipped beneath the half-open cargo door into El Infierno and let his eyes adjust. The bottom floor was scattered with boxes and stacks of rotting cloth. He could hear laughter and talking upstairs. The orange light from a bonfire lit up the stairwell to his right. He took a deep breath and hurried up the stairs before he changed his mind.

  The front left corner of the building’s roof had collapsed during a fire and left a perfect hole for ventilating the smoke from the fire pit that los mALditos had built from chunks of concrete and the bottom of a metal drum. In the firelight, Julio could make out a few old sewing machines mingled with several makeshift beds of fabric scraps and blankets. The door to the elevator shaft against the back wall looked like a gaping black mouth. Unsure of how to approach Sergio, Julio hesitated at the top of the stairs. A gust of wind filled the room with smoke.

  Sergio sat in a chair on the other side of the fire playing a game on a tablet. A few members of the gang stood behind him and watched the action on the screen. Esqueleto and Brujo rummaged through bags of stolen goods.