by Ri, Xesin
“A meeting will take time,” said Jules.
“I want to meet them right now. Right now!”
Jack got outside. He was trying to get his arm into his jacket but was having trouble.
“Get the car, Jack,” said Ray.
Jack went to the valet.
“I want what they have, Jules. Who were you going to give this information to?”
“No one, yet. I wanted to see it first.”
“What kind of broker are you? What kind of information man does this? This is valuable stuff, Jules!”
“I didn’t know what –“
“Why aren’t you calling them? Dial the number. Get in touch with them. Get me in touch with them. Right now, Jules!”
Jules fumbled for his phone. He pulled it out and began searching for the number. Ray stood breathing out great plumes of cold air. Jack had heard the noise of Ray’s breath when Ray had been angry before but never seen it, it was quite a sight. A bull would breathe less.
“Hey,” said Jules putting on a happy tone as he spoke into his phone. He walked away to have the conversation more privately.
Jack went to Ray.
“What’s happening?”
“We are getting a meeting,” answered Ray. “Just ride along with me for a second. Just observe what you see. Tell me if you think there is something dangerous. Other than that, just observe for now, Jack.”
“I’m your partner, and I trust you, Ray; but I think you are pushing our luck right now. We haven’t prepared for this. We don’t have any idea who this guy is calling.”
“I know. Bait or just lucky hunting—we need to know whether this concerns us or not. Now find your quiet place and listen and observe.”
“Sir,” said the valet with Jack’s Mercedes.
“I don’t like this,” said Jack.
“I don’t like that you let your Mercedes out of your sight,” said Ray coldly.
Jack took the cue, shut his mouth, and felt the cold air chill his nostrils as he deeply breathed in the cold January air in downtown Chicago.
Jules returned to Ray.
“They will meet. I didn’t tell them who my rich friends were, but I did tell them you are willing to pay for good information. I thought you would like to keep your anonymity in a situation like this.”
“That’s a very good decision, Jules. First one of the day. Where are we meeting?”
“They want to meet in a public place. They chose to meet at the place at the intersection of Harlem and Irving.”
“What is that?”
“It’s a mall.”
“Jules, are these hacker anarchists just computer-loving college children wasting my time?”
“No,” Jules swallowed. “I don’t know. I think they sound for real. They say they don’t really want money. They just want information to be free and open and out there so that our society can be a better and more harmonious place.”
“That should help with negotiations. How did you meet these people?”
“Like I said, through a mutual friend.”
“Facebook or real?”
“Real.”
“Fine, we’ll follow you. Don’t do anything cute. Drive the limit. Wait for us if you get ahead. And if you do lose us, your phone had better be on, you got that?”
“Yes,” said Jules.
Ray went over to Jack’s car and slid into the passenger seat. The valet, already tipped by Jack, said, “We hope to see you soon, gentlemen.” He shut the door for Ray.
Jules was walking out to the nearby lot where he had parked his vehicle. Jack pulled up and waited.
“Let me ask you something,” began Ray, “Do you not understand this? When I say, ‘park the car,’ why do you think that means let the valets—who make pennies and can be bought for a song—let the valets get into your car and have access to your keys and the interior of your car for over an hour?”
“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“Good.”
“Can I ask you a pretty dangerous question? But something I really need to know.”
“Sure.”
“Why did you suggest we may have had something to do with Al Duncan’s death?”
“Jules is pulling out.”
Jack saw the blue Infinity pull out of the lot ahead.
“The answer is simple. Did you go to the place where Al died?”
“No.”
“Good. Keep it that way. Anyhow. I did. I went there several times to see what it looked like. I also checked his vehicle. The location is in the middle of western Illinois, nowhere. There is no reason to stop, and it is a location Al would surely have known to be full of state troopers since one of their satellite offices was just a few miles down the road, marked by a sign. He had all his stuff and was certainly leaving the state, for good. His car was not damaged; his car was not vandalized; and when the key was put in, the mechanic told me that it started right up. I asked if there had been anyone’s tampering with it. He told me that if there were, they were better than he could imagine or the thing was already removed. So why would a man, fleeing for his life, stop and leave his car in the worst place possible and take to foot in a place with only two clips of bullets—assuming—he would have to take out all of his attackers? And, he would have to return to his car at the end? Does that sound like even a stupid man’s plan of escape? Parking by the side of the highway?”
“No.”
“There is, however, a strange record from the company that runs one of those on-board services where they have a satellite uplink to your car. They have a record that on that particular night they were asked by a—and here’s where your bit is—a police officer, oddly enough killed three years earlier, for a shutdown on Al Duncan’s car. Except the name given for the owner was not Al Duncan.”
“What was the name?”
“Oddly, the company cannot release that information but can verify the stop and that they were notified by an active name on their police contacts list, despite the fact the officer in question had been buried better than three full years.”
“So? Why pretend you were responsible?”
Ray shrugged, “Scaring Jules is worth doing if we can get him to show us something.”
“Okay.”
“A sophisticated plot, right?” Ray laughed loudly as they continued following Jules. “That’s why I always say, ‘never buy a computer with anything built-in,’ ‘never buy a car with built-in microphones or any of that junk.’”
“Well, how could he have known?”
Jack came to another stop at another red light. There were no other cars at the light except Jules in front of them. Two rough looking men stood on the sidewalk. One chewed gum like he was working out his jaw.
Ray pointed at the situation with a sweeping movement of his hands.
At first, Jack didn’t understand, but as he looked closer, he saw what Ray was pointing out. The light was electronically controlled by a timer, but it probably had a more central location that could be tampered with. The men could have been called by Jules to be here waiting. All Jules would have to do is pull up and let the rest just happen.
“Why would they do that?” asked Jack.
“I don’t think we can answer that until we have a better idea of who would do that?” answered Ray.
The light turned green and Jack gave Jules more room now. He watched the intersections more carefully too.
They rode north in near silence for the next few minutes. Ray tapped the cold glass with his fingers again. Jack watched out for dangers like he hadn’t in his whole life. And, in front of them, Jules was trying to figure out where the hell he was because he didn’t have a clue where exactly he was going and didn’t have a GPS device. He looked for Harlem or Irving but couldn’t find either of the roads, let alone their intersection. And then, just like that, he had found he was a block away and looking down the road at the building with the open parking garage and the frighteningly open intersections only an anarch
ist would think cool.
Jules pulled in.
Jack followed Jules to the top parking level. The lot wasn’t the sort of place Jack liked now that Ray had spooked him, not to mention he loved his Mercedes and didn’t like how small the parking spots seemed.
“I am sorry, but we are late,” said Jules to Ray and Jack.
Ray laughed.
“What’s so funny?” asked Jules.
“You don’t know much about anarchists. The funny thing about anarchists is they’re always late, well, not that funny; but they are known for always waiting, despite an impatient disposition.”
Jules took them through a department store and into the mall. Jack watched Jules closely, while Ray looked at the mall and even stopped the other two when he saw a suit in a window.
“Are you serious, Ray?” asked Jules. “We are late.”
“Tell me the one with the red hair is one of them,” said Ray smiling into the window and checking his teeth for food.
Jules looked at the pair sitting in the mall’s sitting area near the southern doors to the lower garage floor. The woman’s hair was bright, bright red. Her make-up was tasteful but colorful, like make-up for the “punk” look. Her black and red dress left her arms bare. New tattoos were still covered with gauze. Ray liked thinking about her colorful skin healing under there, pretty and tender. The guy next to her had dreadlocks and wore a brown shirt and brown corduroy pants accented with rope, possibly hemp, sandals. She had pale skin. He was darker, like he worked outside sometimes, even in the winter.
“I don’t know. They might be. They are waiting. They are in the right area. They are a pair. We are looking for a man and his girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend?” said Ray. “I was thinking my fourth wife could be an anarchist. Let’s give this a try. Take us over, Jules.”
Jules walked first, followed by Ray, then Jack.
The man dressed in brown stood up, shook back his dreadlocks, and waved. Ray guessed he was in his mid-twenties. “Are you Mr. Yewstone?”
“I am. And these two are interested in what you have to show them,” said Jules.
“What I’ve got is of interest to people working in the h. h. corn industry. Do you fella’s know anything about that industry?”
“What is your name?” asked Ray.
“My name? What is your name?”
“No reason to be hostile, dude. You are the one with the friend working security here, so if I really wanted to, I could probably just find out who is running the cameras and pay him—or her—enough and get your name anyway. And my name is Ray Synad.”
The young man looked at Jules and Jack. “You are a pretty well-known guy. You really Synad?”
“Your, um, friend,” tried Ray, “seems to know my face, perhaps from the paper or internet?”
“Yes, it sure looks like him,” said the girl, still sitting with her legs crossed.
Ray nodded to her in a most-gracious manner. “Thank you, a man likes to know a pretty girl knows him purely by reputation.”
“Hey dude, you can call me No-bit,” said the anarchist dressed all in brown. “And who is this other guy?”
“He is my driver. He is just here to make sure you aren’t a trickster. I am a rich man.” Ray looked at her when he reminded them, again, that Ray Synad was a man of wealth. “And who, again, is this pretty girl.”
“I’m Raewyn Alistair.”
“Raewyn?” said No-bit with anger in his eyes.
Raewyn stood up. She looked right into No-bit’s furious eyes. Then she turned to Ray, and he saw no joy; she was so very serious.
“What? He’s notoriously good at figuring out markets and people. I read about him last month. He was one of the first to get into h. h. corn. I believe the article was titled ‘The Unstoppable and Unsinkable Synad’ due to the fact sheriff’s deputies and several workers were killed on his property because of a bad drug deal; yet you, Mr. Synad, never even had the slightest bit of question towards you, despite the police suggesting that it seemed unlikely the events could take place on your farm without your knowing, or at least, your approval.”
“You are lovely,” said Ray smiling. “Care to be my fourth wife?”
“No. You’re too old for me.”
“Women always say that, trying to get under a man’s skin, but women like money, power, and a strong vigorous body that has survived more than just about anything.”
“Not interested, old man. Just here to get paid. Besides, you are the sort of corporate capitalist that we are trying to take down by doing this sort of stuff. Your way of life is coming to an end, old man. Soon you and the other rich jerks will know what it is like to be just like everyone else. So, we take your money, we take your information, and that’s that.”
Ray grinned. “I’m the one who is afraid of being like everyone else? Young lady, you have red hair and tattoos and piercings and the most outlandish system of belief possible. Compared to you—I am just everyone else; assuming—everyone else is a millionaire entrepreneur meeting with anarchists on such-and-such a winter’s day.”
“Look,” said No-bit. “Let’s get back to business.”
“Yes,” said Ray, “time is money after all. What do you have?”
“Here’s what we’ve got. We’ve got information. We’ve got information directly from the inside of the ADD Corporation. As journalists, we have an article, we have written; and in this article, we have three full documents, damning documents, that prove the ADD Corporation is ripping off the American people and is one of the most manipulative business entities in the U.S. with millions of taxpayers’ dollars being wasted on a dangerous and volatile and worthless commodity that will never produce the amount of energy that is claimed in the bogus industry lab tests.”
Jack looked at Ray.
“You know what I’m talking about. You liars are all going down. You’ll want to read this before we put it out there, and it will cost you ten thousand dollars cash, right now.”
Jack coughed in shock. Jules looked at Ray with an apologetic look.
Ray looked at Raewyn for just a moment.
“You don’t just want to be colorful do you, darling?” Ray asked her.
“Stop talking to her! You are dealing with me. Is that understood?”
“What are the titles of the ADD documents you reference?”
“No,” said No-bit. “You pay us ten thousand dollars, upfront.”
“I am so sorry,” said Jules to Ray. “I told you I wasn’t—“
“Don’t worry about it,” said Ray patting Jules on the shoulder.
“Ten thousand is expensive. I want those titles first. And, unless those titles are the greatest of all time, I won’t pay above a thousand.”
“Don’t play this negotiation bullshit with me. Ten—“
“I have already got moles who feed me ADD documents. I’ve read so many of their documents I could tell you the writing styles of some of their most important managers. I also know about the soil issues associated with growing h. h. corn. Not to mention, I am acutely aware that it can be dangerous since I had an entire silo go ka-boom on my property, maybe you heard? The feds are still on my property doing tests to see what happened, when and how to prevent it, and whether it was done on purpose and so forth. That’s what happens when three civilians and two sheriff’s deputies die due to odd circumstances on your property. That’s all well-known stuff. I know that stuff. Since you are journalists offering me an advanced copy of what is private information about to become public, you can offer me a price. But I, right now—you haven’t strengthened your argument. I can walk away without any concern. Tell me something.”
“Raewyn, tell him the three titles.”
Raewyn looked at No-bit.
“Tell him the three titles.”
Ray became aware again of the mall around him. He noticed there was a woman at a clearance rack that was holding a dress up to herself. Looking in the mirror, she was smiling and did a big spin like she w
as in an old movie. Her friend seemed to be getting a huge kick out of this action.
“Okay! Don’t be a jerk.” Raewyn recited the titles from memory. “The first title is ‘Crossbreeding Patterns in High Hydrocarbon Corn,’ the second is ‘Soil Spoilage: Environmental Damage Due to High Hydrocarbon Corn Plants Grown in the Same Fields for More Than Three Consecutive Seasons.’ And the last is ‘ADD’s Compliance with Future High Hydrocarbon Corn Industry Consolidations.’”
Ray nodded for a moment, and then spoke to No-bit again. “I like the sound of those titles. I don’t have any of them already. I’ll give you fifteen hundred.”
“Do you think that is going to work on me?”
“Did the others pay ten?”
“Um, they did, you know.”
“Right, they didn’t. Try again. Lies are better the second time you tell them.”
“I’m starting to get sick of you.”
“Good, then the negotiation is going my way because I am starting to like you, kid.”
Raewyn broke with a short loud laugh. She quickly silenced herself. No-bit looked down at her, fuming. “He’s entertaining, give him that,” she said.
“Hey, I was going to release this thing to the whole world; now you want to pay for an exclusive. You’re the exact type of corporate asshole that is ruining this country and making it impossible for the working man to get a fair shake. You keep turnover at companies high in order to keep wages down. You deny benefits to those that need them the most. You only care about money and keeping costs low, no matter who it hurts. Don’t act like you’re all high-and-mighty; your money doesn’t mean you’re any better than anyone else; it just means you’re a better liar and thief than most.”
“Are you an anarchist or a communist, kid?”
“We want five thousand, no less.”
“You know what?” Ray grinned. “Yeah, yeah we’ll do that.”
“What?” asked Jack.
Ray moved close to No-bit and Raewyn. “I will give you five thousand, under one condition. Everyone—and I mean everyone—you sell this thing to, I want you to tell all of them about this. Put it on the social websites that you sold me this thing. You got that?”