Deadly Conception

by Patrick Blake

  Without hesitation, the three incognito passengers released their seat belts, lit up laptops, opened notebooks, and began planning their short stay on the largest of the three islands making up the British Overseas Territory known for its beach resorts, diverse wildlife, deep sea fishing, and spectacular scuba diving sites.

  But none of the three travelers zipping south over the eastern states in the $11 million jet had any plans for those attractions.

  “Firuzeh, there’s a copier and print shop less than ten minutes from the airport,” Gabriel pointed out. “Maybe I can find out what these G-codes produce.”

  “What do you think it is?”

  “I don’t know for certain, Raimy. G-codes have many variants. It’s widely used mainly in computer-aided manufacturing to control automated machine tools.”

  “In English, please.”

  “Oh, sorry. It’s a computer language, like Java or Python. It tells computerized machine tools how to make something…in three dimensions.”

  “That’s right. You said before you can print tools like wrenches…or even a gun. Can you read the G-code and figure out what it is before it gets printed?” Raimy asked.

  “No. I’m not that good at reading this code. But I understand enough of it to tell you it’s a relatively small object. Best guess? Its dimensions are similar to a credit card.”

  “If it’s a credit card then that could answer a lot of questions,” Firuzeh chimed in.

  “Maybe. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I can tell the object is kinda small…but I can’t tell the shape. It could be a rectangle, an oval, or any number of configurations. It could have holes cut into it, or shapes.”

  “I see. So, it could be one of those flat, multi-tools?” Raimy asked.

  “Or maybe a token…or a knife?” Firuzeh added.

  “Or a key…or just a plain surface with words, numbers…even Braille…written on it. We just won’t know until it’s printed,” Gabriel concluded.

  Firuzeh nodded. “Okay. Raimy and I will drop you off, so you can get started. We’ll drive ahead to check out the bank. Call us when you’re done if we haven’t returned.”

  “Makes sense. Have you two sorted out how to enter the bank?”

  Firuzeh didn’t look up. “Working on it.”

  The trio worked on their plan details and made arrangements with the charter company to use one of their fleet cars on the island.

  “Gabriel, contact the print shop. See if they have a CIJ printer,” Raimy asked.

  “A CIJ printer? What’s that for?”

  “Just tell me if they have one. I’ve got an idea.”

  Soon, the pilot announced the pending arrival and ordered everyone to strap in and get comfortable for the descent.

  “Here goes nothing,” said Firuzeh, looking over their final plan and order of operation.

  Gabriel nodded, and then leaned in to Firuzeh. “I’ve been meaning to ask, what’s the deal with the painting?” He handed her the rolled-up canvas.

  “My mother painted it. It’s all I have left of her…and my father. My mom painted it for him. It was her engagement gift to him. It’s also one of her most famous works. I couldn’t part with it. Thank you for saving it.”

  Firuzeh unrolled the canvas and showed the image to the two men.

  “It’s beautiful. Really,” Gabriel said.

  “True. Glad you have it,” Raimy added.

  As they looked at the abstract landscape, Firuzeh felt an unusual lump in the top corner of the painting. What the hell is that? She frowned but was immediately distracted by the pilot’s voice crackling over the intercom.

  “Prepare for landing.”

  “Better put that away for the landing,” Gabriel said.

  I’ll figure that lump out later, she thought, re-rolling the artistic heirloom and tucking it beside her.

  The jet bounced softly on the runway and decelerated quickly. The pilot made another announcement.

  “Welcome to Grand Cayman Island. The current temperature is 87 degrees with light winds and clear skies. Not a cloud in sight.”

  When the jet finally stopped, Gabriel unbuckled his seat belt. “Good luck, everyone. Let’s do this for Cody…and Pablo…and Asrani.”

  The threesome started to leave when Firuzeh stopped.

  “Hang on, fellas. Leave your credit cards on the plane. Cash only on the island. Leave no trace of our excursion. Right? I withdrew some cash before we got on the jet. Here’s a grand for each of you.”

  “Jesus, Firuzeh. A thousand bucks?” Gabriel squawked. “We’re getting a print job done, not buying Piagets.”

  “I know. But we are in a hurry. Nothing like cash to grease the skids…use it if needed.”

  “Oh…right. Smart thinking!”

  “Now let’s do this.”

  Firuzeh led the way, followed by Raimy. When no one was looking, Gabriel crossed himself.

  God help us.

  Chapter 89 – Cayman Islands

  The charter flight company provided a superlative car for the threesome, who elected to pass on the chauffer. Gabriel had the wheel of the Rolls-Royce Phantom, and grinned as he drove his two passengers.

  Raimy glanced out the window. “Gabriel, there’s a bakery -- pull in there for a sec.”

  “We’re on a tight schedule. Didn’t you eat on the plane?”

  “Just do it. Sheesh,” responded Raimy, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

  The bakery stop was quick. Raimy was in and out in minutes, returning with a half dozen assorted, freshly baked croissants neatly boxed and shrink-wrapped.

  “Would your highness like me to stop at the local cheese monger, too?” Gabriel teased as he left the parking lot.

  “Just drive, my good man,” Raimy mocked.

  Arriving at the printing shop, Gabriel stepped out to let Raimy take over the wheel. “I’ll call you if anything comes up.”

  “Not so fast.” Raimy handed over the box of pastries and a thumb drive. “I need you to have the file on this flash drive printed on the box…on the shrink wrap. They’ll need to use the videojet CIJ printer.”

  “What?”

  “Gabriel, just do it. It’s important. I’ll explain later. Good luck.”

  “Okay. You, too, brother.”

  Raimy was already easing the luxury car out of the parking lot, making his way to the next stop.

  The car was silent for a few minutes when Firuzeh spoke up. “Raimy?”

  “Yes?”

  “Before we go to the bank, I need to stop at the Goose Bumps clothing store. It’s on Lime Tree Bay Road…just a mile or so past the bank.”

  “What? You want to go shopping? Now?”

  “Raimy, look at me. I’m dressed like someone who ran out of burning house and spent the night vomiting. Not exactly the image of an elite international businesswoman on a pleasure trip. I need some appropriate clothes.”

  “Good point. I’ll drop you off. I’ve got one more stop to make. I’ll pick you up after. I won’t be long.”

  “Okay. Remember the sunglasses, too.”

  “Of course.”

  Raimy completed his errand at the eyeglasses store and returned in less than half an hour. Firuzeh made quick work of her shopping venture. When she emerged from the boutique his jaw dropped for a second, before scurrying to open and hold the door of the Rolls-Royce for the spectacularly elegant woman gliding toward him.

  He didn’t know it, but Firuzeh wore an Analili off-the-shoulder Abbey dress. The slinky jersey and silk frock radiated with a kaleidoscope print featuring wide, full length sleeves and a tight body fit. The perfect look for a jet-setting woman of beauty, culture…and means.

  “You like?” she asked with mock coyness.

  “I like…a lot.”

  “Good. Did you get what you need?”

  “From VisionPlus? Yup. And more. I’m all set.”

  A few minutes later, Raimy pulled the Rolls up to the bank. “Here we are. Go get ‘em, babe.”


  Firuzeh raised an elegant eyebrow. “Babe?”

  “Yeah. Babe. I like it.”

  She stared at the man for a long moment before answering, “As do I. See you shortly.”

  Raimy couldn’t take his eyes off her. She walked like she owned the bank. He smiled and thought, They’ll break rules to please her. They don’t have a chance.

  His phone vibrated. It was Gabriel.

  “Hey, my man. What’s shakin’ brother?” Raimy beamed.

  “Wow! You’re upbeat. Win the lottery?”

  “In a manner of speaking. Yes. How’s it going with you?”

  “That CIJ printer is pretty cool. I still don’t know why you need the word CONGRATULATIONS printed on a box of pastries. The 3D object is nearly done. Come and get me when you’re ready.”

  “We’ll be there soon. Firuzeh’s casing the joint.”

  “Okay…thanks. Oh, Raimy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Stick to pathology…you’re not a gangster…no one cases joints anymore.”

  “Oh, like you would know?”

  “I know enough. Cut it out. Or I’ll start calling you Mugsy or Fingers or Baby Shanks.”

  “Whatever. See you soon.”

  Raimy settled into the sumptuous Simmental leather front seat of the Phantom and waited, partially concealed by the bottle palms and common screwpine trees lining the street.

  After ten minutes he started to worry. Where is she? What’s taking so long?

  Ten more minutes. Raimy’s imagination went into overdrive. Do they know we’re here? Is she in trouble? Oh, man! I should’ve gone in with her. Dag nabbit!

  Raimy’s phone hummed an incoming text from Gabriel.

  What’s the hold up? I’m ready. You two okay?

  Raimy nervously tapped a worried note.

  I don’t know what’s taking so long. She’s been in there for nearly half an hour. I’m worried.

  He was ready to hit SEND when he saw a commotion at the bank entry doors. Three men in suits surrounded Firuzeh.

  “Good God! Son of a biscuit!” Raimy burst from the car and raced around the back…only to stop in his tracks.

  The three men were bank officials…not cops or security guards or conspiracy thugs. A dapper white-haired gentleman and two very fit, ridiculously good-looking millennial dudes, each impeccably suited up. They were fawning over her…lavishly. Firuzeh seemed to encourage it. Her body language was regal – at once inviting the adoration and yet setting a strict boundary.

  It was masterful.

  Raimy smiled. They didn’t have a chance.

  He erased his draft note to Gabriel and, instead, sent a quick, short message.

  She’s coming out now. We’re on our way.

  He opened the car door for her as she approached with a smile…and a wink.

  “Are we good?” he asked.

  “Not quite…but I have a plan…let’s go get Gabriel.”

  Chapter 90

  “Christ. I hate this waiting.”

  Gabriel nodded. “I know right. Who ever heard of a bank closing for lunch? Jesus.”

  “Island life, my friends,” Raimy said.

  The trio sat on the sea wall a few feet from the surf across from the Legacy Kitchen, a small, island eatery with a big international reputation. The brightly colored Caribbean blue and yellow shack served the best island homestyle food.

  Gabriel ordered the coconut grouper…Firuzeh, the curried mahi...and Raimy, the pineapple wahoo. They bought some conch fritters, beans, and rice to share. But impatience and anxiety curbed their appetites.

  “How do those contacts feel,” Firuzeh asked Gabriel.

  “They hurt.”

  “No doubt. You’ve never worn contacts before. You’ll get used to it,” Raimy said.

  “It feels like I’ve got sand in my eye. I can see fine but it’s really irritating.”

  “Try not to blink. I’m not certain how long the shrink wrap will stay put.”

  Gabriel was edgy. He was going into the bank posing as Asrani Patel. Raimy and Firuzeh had cooked up a clever plan…in theory. But reality had a way of crumbling theories.

  “Yeah, right. Lemme take ‘em out for now.”

  Clearing the bank’s biometric scans was the lynchpin, but the Alexandria Bancorp published almost no details about their customer security. If the scans took place without a bank official present, then he could easily use Asrani’s detached thumbs and eyes to pass. But if a bank official was required to witness the biometric scan and personally validate it, then that would be a problem.

  Raimy’s solution was ingenious, dangerous, and untested. He’d used his smartphone to take high-resolution digital pictures of Asrani’s irises and saved it to the flash drive he handed over at the print shop.

  “I wasn’t sure it would work. But you can see, and the film seems secure on the contact lens. Hand ‘em over. I wanna keep ‘em in saline solution until go time,” Raimy said.

  Despite his nerves and rumbling stomach, Gabriel was impressed. “Here you go. Very cool. By the way, I have a question,” he asked as he handed over the lenses.

  “What’s that, my man?”

  “How in the hell do you know about printing on shrink wrap and CIJ printers?”

  Raimy smiled broadly and said, “Yeah. Random, right? I was in a required continuing education workshop a couple of years ago. Just for pathologists. That’s when I learned about our Norwegian counterparts using cling film plastic wrap as an alternative for cadaver body bags.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “No joke. They’re lightweight, prevent leakage, and preserve bodies better. They use CIJ printers because they can label shrink-wrapped objects with odd shapes or curved edges. It would be terrible to lose a corpse because the toe-tag fell off. For us, it means we can print Asrani’s irises to clear film and overlay it on contact lenses. Kinda cool, actually.”

  “You’re in a weird business, Raimy. Really weird.”

  “It’s a living…pun intended.”

  “At the risk of another bad pun. What’s the deal with printing CONGRATULATIONS with the iris images?” Gabriel asked.

  “That was my idea,” Firuzeh said. “Printing irises would likely raise suspicions, so I had Raimy hide the images in the word CONGRATULATIONS that was printed on the plastic.”

  “Gotcha. Smart. How’s that 3D print out coming?” Gabriel asked.

  “Almost done,” she said. Between bites of her curried mahi she used a nail file to clean up the plastic flakes and shavings on the plastic key, an 8-lever tumbler lock key produced by the G-codes. “It sure looks like a safe deposit box key…just more elaborate.”

  “Will it work?” Raimy asked.

  “It should. It’s Asrani’s code and key,” Gabriel said. “I just hope the hard plastic the printers used is sufficient.”

  Firuzeh gave a final swipe to the plastic key with her nail file. “The big question is whether that 16-character series that was also printed from the G-codes is Asrani’s bank account password…or something else. Gabriel, read it off again.”

  “Sure. @ f 3 r 7 ! L ! 7 4 & q U 3 5 7. That’s it. Sixteen characters. It appears random, but I don’t think it is. The multiple uses of the number 7 and the exclamation points are unusual for an arbitrarily-generated password.”

  Raimy shrugged. “Who cares? As long as it works. If it doesn’t then success is up to you, Gabriel…or should I say, Mr. Patel?”

  “Yeah. No pressure.” Gabriel’s stomach churned, and he pushed his plate away. “Are we ready?”

  Firuzeh stared out to sea and sighed. “The waves are beautiful.”

  “It’s so peaceful,” said Raimy.

  Gabriel looked out to sea. It reminded of his time on Martha’s Vineyard…with Iona. Iona!

  His mood changed instantly. “Focus, people,” he said. “We’re going to the bank.”

  Firuzeh spoke next, without taking her eyes off the waves. “Gabriel and I…I mean Asrani and I. We will g
o in and get what we need. When we come out, we’ll know a lot more. We’ll have lots to discuss on the return flight.”

  “She’s right. Now gimme those sunglasses. I might need them to distract attention from my eyes,” Gabriel said.

  “Okay…okay. Oh, hey I got you something,” Raimy said, and handed over large, trendy insulated beverage tumbler partially loaded with ice.

  “What’s this for?” asked Gabriel.

  “I put the eyeballs and thumbs in there. It’s a little more discreet than the cooler.”

  Gabriel smiled. “Thanks, buddy. Now, let’s go. It’s a ten-minute drive.”

  This song ain’t over yet.

  Chapter 91

  “Ah, my favorite customer!” Alistair De Oliveira, the white-haired manager for private banking, beamed at Firuzeh. “Welcome back. So good to see you again. I see you brought your gentleman with you. Very good.”

  Firuzeh smiled. “Thank you, Mr. De Oliveira. You’re very kind. How do we get started?”

  “Of course. Straight to business. The sun is shining, and the breeze is light. Who wants to stay inside all day? Certainly not me.” The manager laughed, gracious and professional. “Very well. Please come with me and I’ll direct you to a private room.”

  He turned and led the couple through the bank. “Once inside you enter your account number, then your password. From there you will have access to your account. Very simple, yes?”

  “My wife said you would need biometric scans,” said Gabriel as “Asrani.”

  “That’s only necessary if you forget your password or if you want to access the vault to examine a safety deposit box, if you have one. Will you be needing that today?”

  “Perhaps. For now, let’s go to the private room. My wife will join me. Do you have a problem with that?” Gabriel acted impatient, and it wasn’t much of an act. He couldn’t wait to get this over with.

  The manager shook his head. “Sir, you may both enter the private banking room. Unfortunately, our bank policy only permits individual safety deposit box account holders into the vault…and only one at a time. You understand, of course, yes?”