Geek Mafia

by Rick Dakan

  Two years of Tae Kwon Do in college had taught Paul one thing - he didn't know how to fight worth a shit.

  He flailed at the surprisingly strong man, who still wore the same suit and shirt Paul had last seen him in.

  CHAPTER 20

  122

  There were even grass stains on the left side. Somewhere in his mind Paul suspected that the man probably hadn't slept nearly as well as he had last night. But most of his brain was working right along with his mouth and screaming "FUUUUUCK!" as he got slammed hard into the side of his own car.

  "Where is she, you little shitbrain? Where is she?" He didn't give Paul a chance to answer before he slammed him into the car once more. "Where's Erica?" That would have to be the CFO's daughter, he assumed.

  "She's fine!" Paul tried to shout, although he found shouting difficult between the man's hand on his throat and the fact that he'd had the wind knocked out of him. "They never really kidnapped her! She's in Hollywood! On vacation!"

  "What?" said the attacker, his voice a mixture of anger and confusion. "Say that again."

  "They never kidnapped her!" croaked Paul. "They just sent her on a free vacation and gave her a new cell phone!"

  The attacker looked, at best, confused. Still angry of course, but also confused. "Where? Where can we reach her?"

  "I don't know! I was just the pickup guy."

  Not happy with this answer, the attacker slammed Paul back against the car and ever so slightly tightened his grip on Paul's throat. He really was in great shape for his age, and he had to be pushing sixty. For the first time in his life Paul thought that maybe he should've stuck with that whole martial arts thing. If he got out of this he'd look into taking lessons. Assuming he got out of this.

  "Excuse me, guys. Can you give me a hand here?" asked a female voice from far, far away. Paul thought he recognized it, but the lack of oxygen in his brain was starting to make everything seem kind of dim. "I'm so glad I found someone stopped here!" the voice continued, getting closer. "My car broke down and I can't get any reception on my cell up here. Can you guys give me a lift?"

  Didn't she see that they'd had an accident and that this guy was choking him? The attacker seemed to be asking himself the same question as he began to loosen his grip on Paul's throat. At last! He could breathe again! On the down side, the slackened grip also released a fierce coughing bout that made his throat ache even more, only this time from the inside out.

  When he looked up, the woman was just a few yards away. More importantly, the woman was a black-haired, bespeckled clone of Chloe wearing an oversized green sweater. As more oxygen finally made its way to his brain, Paul realized that this was probably not a clone at all, but the actual Chloe in a wig.

  "What was that," said the old man. "I didn't hear you." He was stalling for time. Suspicious.

  "I need help with my car," she said, pointing to a car Paul had never seen before that was pulled over to the side of the road about fifty yards ahead. "Can you give me a lift to the next exit?" She continued walking towards them and was now just a foot away.

  "Ma'am, I'm sorry, but we just had a little fender bender of our own," the man said. "We need to exchange some insurance information and what not."

  "Oh my!" said Chloe. "Is everyone OK? I'm a nurse. Maybe I should check you two out to make sure there's CHAPTER 20

  123

  no neck injuries or anything." She took another step forward, almost inserting herself between the man and Paul.

  "No, no, we're both fine," he insisted. "Just a little shook up is all..."

  "Wow, he looks really hurt," she said, peering closely at the red marks around Paul's neck. She gingerly touched the side of his face with her left hand and applied just enough pressure to turn his head to one side.

  "Look at this here," she said as she leaned close. "That's really something."

  The old man hesitated a moment and then, just to be polite, leaned forward to look. It was all Chloe needed.

  Unseen by either of the two men, a stun gun slipped down the sleeve of her sweater and into her right hand. In one smooth motion she activated it and jammed the two prods into the back of the old man's exposed neck, dropping him to his knees in an instant.

  She grabbed Paul's wrist and pulled him behind her, racing for her car. They were in and on their way before the man could even lift his head to watch them escape. Paul looked back through the rearview mirror and saw the attacker struggle to his feet and curse as they drove out of sight.

  "So," said Chloe as she maneuvered the car down the winding road towards home. "What've you been up to today?"

  As his heart ever so gradually began to slow down, Paul thought back to the last sight he'd seen before the fucker had run him off the road. The Goddamned "RUSH is RIGHT" sticker. Of course the bastard was a right-wing talk radio fan. He always knew the Republicans were out to get him.

  "I've been looking for inspiration," Paul said. "What about you?"

  "Just following you around."

  "Thanks, I guess."

  "No problem, sport," She said, turning up the stereo. "You know I've always got my eye on your backside."

  CHAPTER 21

  124

  CHAPTER 21

  "He must've staked out Paul's car at the park," said Chloe. "It's the only thing that makes sense."

  "I guess that has to be it," agreed Raff. "Chloe, I'm really sorry I let this happen. I mean..."

  "It's Paul you should be fucking apologizing to. And me. And the whole Crew. What if he'd found us here, huh? What if he'd shown up at the house - we'd be well and truly fucked then wouldn't we? It would be fucking Fremont all over again."

  "I know. I know! I feel just super shitty about the whole thing."

  "Let's just move on to the damage control. I need you to take care of Paul's car. It's stuck on the side of 17 and has to have attracted police by now. If we're lucky it hasn't been towed yet, but I wouldn't count on it staying that way very long. Paul left his keys in the ignition, so you might have to hotwire it if our mysterious new friend took them."

  From the hallway where he stood eavesdropping, Paul heard Raff open the front door. "I'm on my way."

  "Fuck me," sighed Chloe after the door closed. "What a clusterfuck."

  Paul moved from his hiding place and into the living room. "Am I ever going to see that car again?"

  She looked up at him with a wan smile. "Sorry, but probably not. We'll turn it into some cash for you, though.

  And we might be able to get into the DMV records and muss things up with the registration, but if this guy was a real PI he probably already knows who you are."

  "That can't be good."

  "No, not really. On the plus side, by running you off the road and choking you he's now broken more laws than we have, so he's not likely to go to the cops. Plus Bee heard on the phone taps that the daughter has called in to her dad, so their main motivation for coming after you is gone."

  "Huh," snorted Paul. "Cold comfort." He plopped down on the couch next to Chloe, who swung her legs up so that they rested on his lap. He started to idly rub her bare feet. "So here's a question for you, Chloe..."

  "Why was I following you?"

  "It had crossed my mind."

  "I was feeling bad about yelling at you this morning and I got worried that you might do something stupid."

  "Stupid like what?"

  "Stupid like leave."

  "You were afraid I was going to just run off without saying goodbye?"

  "Wouldn't be the first time. People I meet through this...this lifestyle have a habit of vanishing into the wind.

  Myself included."

  "So maybe I'm the one who should be following you."

  CHAPTER 21

  125

  She chuckled. "You could try."

  "Well, I met a nice private eye earlier today. Maybe he could help me out."

  "You should ask him next time you two run into each other."

  "Assuming he doesn't have his ha
nd around my throat, I'll do just that."

  They were both silent for an awkward moment before Chloe said, "I am really sorry about that. I jumped all over Raff for making such a blunder."

  "As a wise woman once suggested, let's move on to damage control."

  She smiled. "Ok, well, Raff's taking care of the car and I've got some of the guys trying to track down just who the hell this fucker is. I got his license plate number before I zapped him."

  "You're pretty handy with that thing by the way. He never saw it coming."

  "They never do."

  "But that's not the kind of damage control I'm talking about. I think we need to revisit our conversation from this morning."

  "Do we have to? Every time we have this talk you run off and get beat up by some complete stranger."

  "I'm serious, Chloe. If anything, this proves that I'm in this now. Right, square in the middle of this. He knows who I am. I need you guys to help hide me."

  "We'll do that, Paul. I'll take good care of you, I promise, but..."

  "No Chloe. I don't want to be your protectee, if that's even a word. I want to participate in my own defense. I want to pay my own way."

  "Do you know what you're saying, Paul? It's going to take something big to win the Crew over."

  "I think you're the only one I'm having trouble winning over, Chloe. The rest of them seem pretty willing to accept me."

  "I wouldn't be so sure about that Paul. And please, don't do anything you'll regret later..."

  "I've got it all figured out Chloe," Paul said. In fact he only had the basic outline of an idea, but he'd figure it out by the time of the meeting. After all, he was a game designer and an artist. Big, cool ideas were his stock and trade. "I'd like to tell everyone at once. Can you call everybody together tonight?"

  "Why?"

  "You'll see."

  "I don't like surprises, Paul. It's bad for business."

  "You'll like this one. Trust me."

  CHAPTER 21

  126

  He'd thought he would be nervous, but he wasn't. The idea had gelled in his head and the more he thought about it, the more he loved it. Paul had no problem addressing crowds and he'd given dozens of presentations more complicated than this when they were looking for a publisher or more funding for the game. Unlike corporate money-men, these people theoretically already liked him. Nothing to worry about. Just lay it out there for them and they would go for it.

  Earlier, as he'd been working out the details of his grand scheme, he made a list of everything he didn't like about the plans he'd seen the crew execute. First of all, they lacked panache. There was no drama to them, no theater. And while that probably made for better crime, it didn't work for the kind of lasting impression Paul wanted to make. Like with his comics and his games, he wanted to create something new and exciting and that people would be talking about for years to come.

  Second, he didn't want to do anything that hurt people - especially innocent people, like the CFO in Raff's con. There wasn't anything fun about scaring an old man and threatening his daughter, even if the threat wasn't ever real. He needed to pick choice targets, the kind of people he imagined Winston might choose if he were coming up with the plan. Annoying, hypocritical, greedy, and, most importantly, gullible people who could use a little comeuppance. The bumper sticker had given him the spark of inspiration and he'd fanned the creative flames from there. His plan was a little more baroque and involved than anything he'd seen the Crew do before, but he thought they'd appreciate it once he laid it out for them.

  The room wasn't quite as full as it had been the night before. Chloe had warned him that not everyone would show up just to hear him talk. Raff had finally returned from doing whatever it was he'd done with Paul's old car. He'd given Paul a thumb's up as he walked through the door and then took his customary place leaning against the wall at the back of the room.

  "It looks like we've got as big a crowd as we're going to get, so let's get started," said Paul. There were ten of them there, including everyone who'd worked with him on the comic con. At least he'd earned a few fans with his first crazy scheme.

  "I don't know who knows what about my situation here, but it's probably been pretty hard to miss me loitering around for the past few weeks. I've had a blast working with and hanging out with you all and, well, I'd like try to and make this a more permanent relationship." No one seemed surprised at this announcement, so he pressed on.

  "I realize that this is usually an invitation only club and, well, no one's officially invited me or anything like that. I imagine that probably has a lot to do with the fact that I don't have any actual skills or background that could be, you know, helpful." He got several polite snickers of agreement at that. "I'm certainly no hacker or anything like that."

  "However, I do have something going for me, something I owe all of you for and something I think I can share with you." Several leaned forward expectantly at this. Paul wondered how many of them were hoping he was going to give them his money. "You've made me realize that I can use my imagination for more than just drawing comics and making video games. I think I've got creativity and, an affinity for the unexpected that I can harness for the benefit of us all. And so I've come up with a plan I'd like to pitch you. A plan that I think can make us a lot of money."

  "Here's my proposal. I pitch this nefarious scheme of mine. If you guys are up for it, and if all goes well, you let me in as an official member of your merry band." He looked out across the assembled faces and realized they expected something more from him. Without thinking he added, "And if it all goes balls up, well, I'll make up the difference out of the money you guys helped me get from my old company."

  He'd almost lost them until he threw out that last line. He hadn't planned on making that offer, but he could CHAPTER 21

  127

  tell that he wasn't wowing them with his little speech. The words had just kind of slipped out of his mouth.

  Chloe was shaking her head sadly, but at least he had everyone's undivided attention now.

  "Let's hear the plan," said Raff from the back, giving Paul a conspiratorial wink of support. At least one person thought this was a good idea.

  "Well, I was driving around earlier today looking for inspiration and then it literally hit me. Who are the most credulous, illogical people out there? Who'll believe any damn fool thing, no matter how ridiculous, as long as it's said with authority? Who deserves to have their money separated from their bank accounts on general principal, just for being so obnoxious?" He paused to milk the moment. "The answer's obvious - right-wing talk radio listeners."

  CHAPTER 22

  128

  CHAPTER 22

  Two weeks later, the Annual Los Gatos Street Fair sprawled across the length and breadth of the wealthy community's largest downtown park. Located just a few miles south of San Jose, Los Gatos is just another in the sprawl of towns that carpets Silicon Valley. Unlike places like Cupertino, Milpitas, Santa Clara, and Campbell, which are entirely indistinguishable from San Jose proper, Los Gatos has just enough physical and socio-economic distance to make it distinctive. Paul had once heard the town described as "Yuppie Heaven"

  and he'd never found any reason to disagree.

  On a normal Sunday afternoon the park would be full of people walking their pedigree dogs, sipping their designer frozen coffee drinks and ushering their spoiled toddlers about in high-tech strollers. Today was no different, except that they had the added distraction of knick-knack filled arts and crafts tents to navigate through. At one end of the park sat a good-sized stage where a band was set up and waiting for the mayor to say something official and nice about the afternoon. The backdrop prominently featured the logos for the fair's two main corporate sponsors - Starbucks and BP. Paul wondered if the mayor would change her speech in light of what they were about to do.

  The clock hit 1:45 and, as hoped, a sizable crowd of a hundred or so people had gathered in the general vicinity of the stage. A flunky ta
pped the microphone three times to make sure the sound system worked and nodded to the offstage mayor that everything was ready when she was. Standing in the crowd, Bee noticed all of this and sent the signal.

  Inside the large white conversion van parked less than a block away, the signal reached Chloe. "All right troopers. On the bounce." The van's rear doors swung wide and out came five sad-faced clowns wearing bright yellow knee-high rubber boots and neon green jumpsuits with biohazard symbols sewn onto their backs. Chloe led the way, wearing a clown mask and an astonishingly large purple afro-style wig. She brandished a bullhorn in one hand and a sign proclaiming "FREE TRADE = BLOOD TRADE" in the other.

  Behind her came Paul and Popper, who were wrestling with a six-foot tall papier-mâché Starbucks coffee cup that had a bent straw poking out of the top of it. The final two clowns, Filo and Kurt, unfurled a long canvas banner strung between two wooden dowels that they used as handles. As soon as they cleared the van they lofted the banner above their heads and revealed its entire ten foot long message: "BEANS BREWED IN

  BLOOD - OIL DRILLED FROM FLESH." Paul had been very insistent that the slogans have a very visceral tone.

  Chloe put the bullhorn to her mouth as she led her squad of protestors straight for the gap between the crowd and the front of the stage. Four blocks away, two other Crew members were staging a boisterous "domestic dispute" that had already drawn the full attention of the nearest police officers.

  "Ladies and Gentlemen!" shouted Chloe, "Boys and Girls, Children of All Ages! Welcome to the Bourgeois Festival of The Exploited!" Everyone from the mayor on down turned towards the bizarre troupe. Expressions ranged from startled puzzlement to startled anger, with little in the way of friendly smiles except from some of the kids.

  "We are the Harlequins of Hegemony! The Clowns of Corporatocracy! The Jesters of Justice! We're here to bring you all the news that's fit to spew! Everything you were afraid to ask about the startling link between the black bile you pour down your throats and the black bile you pour into your gas tanks!"