by E Y Mak
By then, Olivier had already lost consciousness. As Dominique walked around the ring, soaking in the magnitude of his accomplishment, the referee grabbed and raised his right hand, proclaiming him as the winner. Dominique winced and grabbed his left ribs with his free hand, barely celebrating his victory. Olivier remained on the ground, blood flowing freely from all of the orifices on his face. A team of doctors had already rushed up to the ring and were attending to him.
All of this lasted about ninety seconds. This is brutal. Russell had never been to a bare-knuckle boxing match before, and he could see why this sport was legally prohibited throughout most of the civilized world.
As the sickening demonstration faded away, Mauritius turned back to Russell.
“This was the only fight on the card that I really cared about. It’s time to get down to business.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Perfect timing,” said Russell to Mauritius nonchalantly. “First, why don’t you tell me what you have coming up?”
Russell leaned back in his chair and sipped his scotch, letting his body language speak to Mauritius. The ring host was now introducing the next two fighters. With the loud buzz of activity around them, Mauritius and Elva both leaned in and huddled with Russell.
“I’m starting up a new company, and we do need some funding. Delgado AV’s licensing agreements with Microsoft, HP, Dell, and Lenovo are terminating. There are many competitors out there. My software is better, but I no longer have the monopoly I once had. It’s time to try some new things.”
“Okay. But what will the focus of the new company be?” Russell asked.
“I’m developing a new way to combat malware and viruses,” shouted Mauritius over the ring host. “Current tech requires the local software to detect a threat entering into a computer system by comparing it to a database online. Think of why you always need to update virus definitions. Well, my software will operate by running every process through a virtual machine before letting it run in the main operating system.”
Mauritius paused to let the bell ring, signifying the beginning of round one. The pair watched together without chatting, briefly, before Mauritius turned back to Russell.
Mauritius said, “Anyway, the new software would run system checks and diagnostics on the virtual machine seamlessly, but on a very slight delay. It would be able to detect if any suspicious activities arise in the virtual machine before it hits the actual machine. By limiting the problem to the virtual machine, we keep any problems with the virtual machine and do not let it operate in the main system.”
“Wouldn’t there be a performance hit from always running two systems at once?” asked Russell.
“Yes. But the end users that we are targeting would not be so concerned with such performance issues,” said Mauritius.
“Will this be done through Delgado? I mean, I’m sure you have more than enough cash reserves to cover the research and development. Why separate it from the Delgado brand?” asked Russell.
“There’s something about starting fresh,” said Mauritius. “It’s exciting, you know? The entrepreneurial part of it. Starting from scratch. Anything my name attaches to is sensationalized. I want this one to fly under the radar.”
“I don’t understand. Think of how many new customers your company could bring in, all because of their past experiences with Delgado AV,” said Russell. Russell knew something was up. If Mauritius was going to be so cagey about this project, he definitely would not be going the public route, which involved months of auditors, lawyers, and bankers digging into files. If Delgado wanted to keep this quiet, he would be using his own money, and not someone else’s. Alarm bells were going off in Russell’s head.
Russell took a sip of his scotch and watched a Muay Thai fighter knock out a rushing Brazilian with one strong kick to the face. Most of the crowd groaned, but a few of the suits in the front cheered, clearly having won a bet.
He needed to play along for now.
Out of the blue, Mauritius spoke up. “We’re going to be headquartered in Africa.”
“Africa? Why would you headquarter there?” asked Russell.
Elva, who had been quiet the entire conversation, stepped in. “Africa is the new Asia. Seven of the world’s ten fastest growing economies are there. There’s a vibrant tech community there. We found a site with low energy costs and inexpensive technical expertise. And good physical security.”
Russell nodded but was unconvinced with the answer. “Okay. Which country are we talking about in Africa? We have run diligence in those countries before.”
Come on. Say it is Cameroon.
“Your firm ran the Yola and Cobi startup acquisitions,” said Mauritius. “I can only give you limited access for now.”
“Mauritius, it’s going to be a tough sell to my investment committee if you don’t let me run proper diligence,” said Russell.
“You look like a man who knows the right people. I’ll give you limited access for now until we sign a term sheet and then we can schedule a site visit,” said Mauritius.
Elva’s phone buzzed suddenly on the table. She glanced at it, put it back down on the table, and then bent over to whisper something in Mauritius’s ear.
He stood up. “Mr. Woo. Please excuse me. I’m going to have to leave. Elva will call a car for you. We’ll settle the meeting time tomorrow by text. Where are you staying, Russell?”
“The Ritz.”
After being dropped off at the Ritz Carlton, Russell went to the bar, pulled out his phone and speed-dialed Benita. A tired voice answered.
“Russell?”
“Yes, Benita. It’s me. Are you available to meet?”
“Sure. Where are you right now?”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Somewhere in the United States
Candice slowly opened her eyes and stared into the black. She blinked a couple of times, and the darkness subsided slightly. It was still dim, but there was just enough light to make out some of her surroundings.
Why is it so cold here?
She looked straight ahead, staring at the rotating metal blades of the ceiling fan slowly oscillating above her. The gloom of the quiet struck her. In the darkness, the lack of any ambient sound was foreboding and intimidating. Any move she made would stand out.
The air had a stale, musty smell.
Her right temple throbbed violently.
She was lying on something cold. A table?
Feels like steel. Where am I?
She looked to the left and saw a boarded-up window. She turned to her other side and saw a wooden door with an eye-level cereal-box-sized barred window.
How did I get here? Why is my hand bleeding? Why does the right side of my head hurt so much?
She sat up slowly, worried about making any audible sound. She was indeed lying on a metal table. It was some kind of operating-room table. The room was small, no more than the size of a small shed. Using her fingertips, she tracked the four corners of the room and what felt like painted concrete walls. She was in a basement. Specks of starlight shone through the slits in the boarded-up window.
Candice went back and fumbled around the table in the darkness. Her phone, wallet, and purse weren’t here. As she searched, she felt a bit of wetness on her fingers. She brought them to her nose and sniffed.
It was the coppery smell of blood.
She hadn’t even noticed until now that her nail had been ripped off. She was leaving bloody fingerprints behind as she walked around the room.
She went to the door and peered through the barred window. Turning to the right, she saw a single lightbulb at the end of an elongated dark hallway. She tiptoed away from the door and towards the other side of the room. She felt along the wooden planks of the window, pulling with her bare hands and using the wall as leverage. She traced each board, seeking the slightest of weak spots, working from top to bottom.
Nothing.
As she worked her way down, she realized there was a shadow at the d
oor. Her skin crawled as the shadow whispered through the bars.
“Candice,” it said.
Goosebumps erupted on her skin as she very slowly turned around to properly face the door. Framed in the center of the opening was the now familiar face of the Phantom, the expressionless man. Breathing in, she took one step towards the opening and looked directly into his blank, dark eyes.
“What do you want with me?” she asked.
His lips moved slowly, the lack of facial movement causing his face to seem uncoordinated with his voice. “You will stay here. I have to take care of an errand tonight. But I will be back shortly to take care of you.”
She bluffed him. “I’m with Phineas. I’ve been gone all day—they’ll know something's wrong and will be looking for me. They’ll know where you took me. They’ll find you soon enough.”
The shadow laughed. Combined with the stony expression on his face, he looked like a golem lifting his head. “I know where Phineas’s eyes are pointed. I can walk around, plain as day, and I can make sure there is no record of me.”
But we saw you. He’s only human.
She composed herself and raised her voice. “They’ll find me soon. And my face will be the last one you see as they take you down.”
“The police have been looking for me for two decades. And here you are,” the shadow said. “Again, I’ll be back shortly,” he said. “And when I do, we’ll have some fun.”
He turned around. Candice walked towards the door and watched as he walked down the dark hallway. She heard the sound of his muffled footsteps climbing a set of stairs, then a flick of a switch, then the squeak of a door opening. The door closed with a heavy thunk. A series of deadbolts fell into place.
Candice sat up and paced the room, looking for a crack, a crevice, a cranny—anything that could be of use. She returned to the boarded-up window and again tried pulling on the boards as hard as she could.
Nothing.
She walked back to the door and stuck her head out as far as she could. She looked down the hallway and only saw emptiness. And darkness.
Momentarily defeated, she sat down on the table to ponder her next move.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The girl doesn’t need to be restrained, I think to myself. The cell is enough. She is just like any of the other girls that have been there. There is nothing special about her.
After closing the heavy oak door and securing the deadbolt, I walk to the tray with the girl’s belongings. I pick up and rummage through her purse. Typical contents of a girl in her midtwenties. Pepper spray. Pill case. Compact mirror. Moisturizer. Concealer. Pen. A single key on a metallic keychain.
I pick up and examine the keychain. It is a customized piece. Heart-shaped metal sheet with a photo of the girl and an old man. The keychain is old-looking too, the key having scuffed the picture many times. I pocket it for later.
I turn next to the phone. I had immediately noticed last night that there was something different about the phone. It looked like any old smartphone but felt different—heavier.
So this is what the Warden wanted. Maybe it will be enough to buy my freedom.
The girl. Killing her is part of the mission. But I’ll enjoy her first. Just like the other girls before the Warden discovered me and gave me my purpose.
Mixing business with pleasure. Shitting where you eat.
No, I have to focus. I must ready myself for the hunt. I go to the closet and take out my backpack. I take out the clothing and lay it out on my bed. The way I like it.
No, the way I need it.
I get dressed and fill my bag with my hunting tools-and my gun. I go outside, get on my bike, and ride to my destination. While she was still unconscious earlier today, I used her finger to unlock her phone, sending a single text.
“D, we need to talk. Meet me at Clove Lakes Park. The park bench on the southeast tip of the lake. 1 am.”
At thirty minutes past midnight, I arrive. It was an uneventful ride. My tracker didn’t alert me to the presence of Phineas surveillance ships or drones. I didn’t see any on the way either. I picked this location because I know that I am invisible.
I usually had to meticulously plan my route. But working with the Warden has made it so much easier. He has access to the information I need to enter, or to evade. The skills I’ve developed over the years complemented the information he gave me.
One day, I will meet the Warden.
I find the park bench on the southeastern tip of the park and set the keychain and the girl’s phone on it. I then move behind the bench about twenty feet to stand in the shadows under the trees, invisible to the airships and the drones and the cameras and to the naked eye.
I check my watch.
12:55 a.m.
I begin cycling through the memories of past hunts as I stand perfectly still, awaiting my prey. My weapon is already ready in front of me, pointed forward towards the bench beside the lake. I relive two beautiful memories before I see him.
A tall, muscular African-American. He walks to the bench, then looks around and checks his watch. He is wearing a suit and a trench coat and looked tired and ragged. He sits down on the bench and immediately sees my bait. He leans over and picks up the phone, and as he realizes what it is, I fire three silenced bullets through his right temple.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Hong Kong, Wan Chai district
It was two in the morning, and hours since Russell had last eaten. Benita had picked Russell up from the Ritz and taken him back to the Mandarin Oriental. Russell was craving a local snack from his childhood—baked pork chop rice—and he knew he would be able to find one at any of the ubiquitous cafés still open at this time in the night. They walked blindly down the street and came across a restaurant less than two minutes from his hotel. It was an older snack bar, sparsely populated with locals and weakly lit with flickering incandescent lighting. They walked in and picked a booth in the far corner near an ancient television set blaring out the local news in Mandarin.
As Benita read the menu written in Chinese, Russell snuck a quick peek at her in the dim lighting. She had dressed down from their earlier meeting at IFC. The ravishing gown she had worn earlier had been replaced with a simple heather-grey hoodie matched with a pair of tight-fitting blue jeans. Her ponytail was threaded through the plastic adjuster of a navy blue San Diego Padres baseball cap. Russell liked the way she looked. He noted the irony of her seeming sexier in her current low-maintenance look. He also thought it ironic that this Japanese-Spanish girl spoke better Cantonese than he.
“So, what did you find out about what Mauritius is up to?” Benita asked as she folded the menu and placed it gently on the table.
“Quite a bit. He’s building an operation out in Africa. Claims to be starting a new cybersecurity company out there.”
“Africa’s a big place. Did he mention which country?” she asked.
“Not yet. I’ve been invited back to Fuengirola tomorrow for a diligence session. I plan to find out what I can.”
Benita lingered on the menu a moment before looking up at Russell. “I’m still on the fence about this guy’s involvement. He’s been squeaky clean for thirty-odd years. On the one hand, he’s this staunch privacy advocate, seemingly the worst enemy of your organization. On the other, you’re watching bare-knuckle boxing in an underground club.”
The server, a hunched over Chinese man in his late sixties wearing a dirty white tank top, had come by as Benita was talking. She shook her head when he asked if she was looking for something to eat and instead ordered a cold lemon tea in perfect Cantonese. Russell decided on something “lighter” as well and ordered thick toast with condensed milk, another favorite from his youth. The server scribbled down the order on a scrawny notepad and hobbled back towards the kitchen.
As he watched the man walk away, Russell said, “I guess we’ll have to see what comes up tomorrow. Mauritius is a wealthy man. We all know a different set of rules apply to him.”
&n
bsp; Benita nodded. “What are you expecting to accomplish tomorrow? He’s not going to just hand you everything you need. I’m guessing at best you’ll get some headily redacted contracts that won’t give you an idea of what he’s doing there—and if there’s any link to operations in Cameroon. Is he on to you?”
Benita was right. Even if the diligence material proved the presence of Mauritius doing something close to Butler’s Cameroon project, the link was tenuous—circumstantial-at best. Mauritius was not obviously going to provide any diligence information suggesting criminality to Russell. He needed access to more information than Mauritius was simply going to open up to him.
“He’s holding any details on the project very close to his chest. I’m not sure if it’s because he wants to protect a commercial secret or because he knows who I am. But I was the one who initiated the contact. Let’s continue on as is for now. I might need to be a bit cute with the Phineas Creed,” Russell said.
“The Phineas Creed?” she asked, wiping a couple of loose strands of brown hair from her eyes.
“It’s a code that Phineas agents are supposed to follow – almost like our own private constitution. Governs the way we do business. It’s related to our position of trust where we operate. It represents the values that we’re supposed to follow at all times,” he said, glancing briefly outside the café at a passerby. “One of the tenets of the Creed is that we’re not supposed to go offside any laws. For instance, we’re not supposed to trespass on private property unless we can establish necessity. You can see how that can handicap us in the type of work that we do.”