by Rick Dakan
"Turnabout is fair..." he said, and then she was on top of him, wrestling him out of his own seat.
"Sore loser!" she cried with a grin as she pinned his shoulders to the ground.
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"You started it," he said. She straddled his torso now, her hands pressed down against his chest. He slipped his hands up along her legs until they lightly gripped her sides.
"That doesn't make you less of a sore loser." She bent so her face was inches from his and he slid his hands up along her back. "S-O-R-E-" she slowly spelled out, but when she was done she didn't withdraw from the closeness.
He slid his hands down past her belt and started to caress her ass. She just looked at him, smiling. Her smile said, "Go ahead," and Paul did, craning his neck up just far enough to lock lips. She kissed him back, hard, forcing his head back down to the floor. He grabbed onto her ass just as hard and she pressed herself against the length of his body. His instant erection pressed back through the thin material of the sweat pants.
"I told you we'd get back to my sweet ass," whispered Chloe as she broke the kiss and sat up, pulling off her blouse and exposing her breasts to Paul's hands, which found them instantly. She ground her crotch against his erection. "Now come with me tank commander. You've got a new mission."
They ended up in the bedroom. To his inestimable relief, Chloe revealed that this mountain safe house was indeed equipped for any emergency, including a box of condoms in the bedside table.
Afterwards, as they lay sprawled across the bed, Paul watched with utter joy as Chloe idly played with his momentarily flaccid penis. He casually caressed one of her breasts in response.
"Is he going to be up for another round here?" she said as she stroked him.
"You keep doing that, I'm sure he and I will be."
"Penises are so weird," she said, staring at his.
"If you say so."
"I do."
They lay there for a long while after that. Paul stared up the ceiling and looked around the dingy room. The house wasn't so bad really - quite charming in fact. All it needed was a little elbow grease and an airing out.
He could be happy here. If he were here for other reasons. And then the inevitable happened. The events of earlier that evening came crashing back on him in a flash. They were here because they'd fucked up. Or been betrayed.
"Hey, what happened?" said Chloe, holding his suddenly limp prick. "I thought I was getting somewhere."
"What's happening, Chloe?"
"I was hoping to have sex again in a few minutes. This time I get to be on top."
"No, I mean with the Crew. With the job."
"Oh, that." She sighed and gave up on arousing him for the moment. She sat up in the bed and looked down at him sympathetically. "Nothing right now. I chatted on IRC with Bee and she filled me in on what happened after we left."
"Well, what happened?"
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"Everything else went pretty much according to the plan. Popper ran the rest of the auction and tied things off.
They took in a total of $465,300 in bids."
"And Frank?"
"They cleared out and left him in the closet. If we're lucky no one will find him until morning, but I doubt we'll be that lucky. The cleaning crew was already bucking to get in there as our team was leaving."
"Which means trouble."
"A shit load."
"Still," said Paul thoughtfully. "$465,000 isn't bad at all. I'm pretty sure I could've talked that up another 100k though. Still, it's pretty good."
"Well, it would be pretty good if we were going to get to keep it."
"What?" said Paul. Now it was his turn to sit up in bed, confused and angry. "Why wouldn't we keep it?"
"Well, Kurt, Bee and Raff are working on trying to clear as much money through as possible, but that usually takes 24 hours. We were counting on moving the money to untraceable accounts before any of the bidders realized they'd been had. But right now those charges are, for the most part, still sitting with the credit card companies. If Frank goes to the police and the police inform all the bidders about what happened and they call the banks, well, we might not get anything. Actually, we probably won't get anything."
"Fuck!" said Paul. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fucking Frank."
"Yep," replied Chloe. "I couldn't have said it better myself."
"So we get nothing?"
"Well, we used seven different bank accounts and a few other tricks, so we might get something out of it.
Depends on what happens with Frank. Luckily no one but us actually has the full list of everyone who was there, so it's not like there's any easy way for the cops to figure out who got hit. They'll have to go to the papers and the local news to really get the word out, so that might buy us some time. And the direct deposits to the charities you set up will probably stand - we weren't lying about those - so that might stand. Maybe."
"Fuck," said Paul. He thought for a while more before saying, "Fuck me."
"Yep."
"So do you still think there's a traitor in our midst?" asked Paul, looking for someone to blame for this miserable turn of events.
"I'm working on that. I asked Bee to e-mail me the guest list, but it's on one of the secure servers at home so it'll be a few hours. After she's done helping everyone save as much cash as they can. We have to see if Frank was really on the list or not."
"And if he wasn't on it," said Paul. "Then we know someone went out of their way to invite him."
"Which means someone was sabotaging this whole event," concluded Chloe.
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"But why?"
"I assume for the money."
"I thought we weren't going to make any money."
"Well, according to your stupid fucking promise, we'll all be fine. You're the only one who's out of pocket here." She patted him on the knee. "Assuming you keep your stupid fucking promise."
"Christ..." said Paul, flopping down on his back and covering his eyes with an arm. He'd forgotten about his promise to pay the Crew off if they didn't make good money on the con. That was it then, his whole nest egg, gone as easily as it had come. "Easy come, easy go..."
"I've always hated that expression. Besides, you're not gonna 'easy-go' anywhere with that money until we figure out what happened here." She lay back down beside him.
"It still doesn't make sense."
"No, it doesn't."
"We should've made six or seven hundred grand tonight if everything went right. Why fuck it all up and risk bringing the cops into it for just $100,000 more? That's what," Paul paused for a few seconds to do the math in his head. "Another six thousand dollars for the person who invited Frank. Doesn't seem worth the risk.
"No, it doesn't."
"So what gives then? Someone who didn't want me in the Crew? Does someone have it out for me personally?" Paul asked.
"It's about the money. It's always about the money," said Chloe.
"But risk the cops and everything else for just six grand? Does someone have a really bad gambling debt or something?"
"If they did, they'd know the Crew would cover it for them. Especially for a small amount like that." Now it was Chloe's turn to think in silence. They lay there for a long while, naked in bed. Under any other circumstances it would be a dream come true for Paul. But these circumstances? Not so dream-like.
Finally Chloe broke the quiet. "Paul, I wouldn't ask you this unless I had to. But I need you to trust me."
"I do," said Paul, and he did, without a second thought.
"I need to know where your money is."
This was the one big secret between them. Or rather, it was his one big secret from her. He didn't even know for sure if Chloe was her real name, much less where she kept her money or where she came from or even what she wanted from life. But still, he trusted her. Besides, it looked like he was going to have to give up the cash soon anyway if he wanted to stay in
the Crew. And now, more than ever, with Chloe naked beside him, that's exactly what he wanted.
"It's in a storage locker in Milpitas," he said. "It's under my cousin's name. Actually it's her storage locker. She used to live out here, but when she got transferred to Sydney, she put most of her stuff in storage. She gave CHAPTER 29
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me the key and password so I could look after it for her and use it if I needed to."
"So there's no electronic trail to lead back to you?"
"Nope. She's not even really my cousin. I mean, she's my aunt's niece. My aunt married my mom's brother. So there's no blood relation. No last name's the same or anything." He stopped for a moment, considering whether to tell her every last detail. Oh, what the hell, why not admit it? "I didn't really trust you that first couple days, you know? And after I saw what you did to my old partners, with the hacking and all, well I thought better safe than sorry. I even did a bunch of evasive driving to make sure I wasn't being followed. Just being paranoid I guess."
"You weren't," said Chloe. "Being followed I mean, or paranoid for that matter. You did the smart thing. You did what I would've done." Now Chloe stopped mid-thought, seeming to mull over a confession of her own.
"Of course, all the evasive driving wouldn't have helped if there was a tracking device on your car."
"Was there?"
"No." Another long moment. "We didn't have any working at the time. It all happened too fast and Bee had taken them apart to upgrade them."
"If they had been working, would you have bugged my car?"
"I don't know. It didn't come up because we didn't have the capability." Paul didn't need to ask why they would want to track him - they would have been after the cash. Chloe continued, "But right now the important thing is that the money's safe where it is for the time being. Have you ever been back to the storage locker since then?"
"No," said Paul. "I kept a ten grand in cash with me and I haven't really needed much money since I hooked up with you."
"Good, good. That gives us some maneuvering room."
"Ok, but what does this matter right now? I'm going to have to turn it over to the Crew anyway if I'm going to stay with you. With you guys I mean."
"When you said earlier that fucking us over for a measly six grand didn't make any sense, you were absolutely right. If someone did sell us out, then they're after a much bigger prize."
"What, me in jail?"
"That might be a nice bonus for them, but no. They want it all."
"Fuck," said Paul with sudden realization. "They're going after the whole $850,000 for themselves."
"Yep."
"Fuck!"
"Yep."
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CHAPTER 30
Paul had never been on TV before.
They used a picture of him that had, once upon a time, been on his old company Web site. They'd cropped out the Spider Jerusalem action figure that was on his desk in the original photo, showing just his smiling face in the upper left-hand corner of the screen. Right next to the serious looking anchorwoman.
"Authorities are seeking this man, Paul Reynolds, in connection to a con-game that took place in Los Gatos last night. According to witnesses, Reynolds and several accomplices staged a fake fundraiser, exploiting community outrage over the controversial protest that took place last month." Now Paul's face was replaced with footage Raff had shot of their prank. "Police now suspect that Reynolds and his accomplices may have had a hand in organizing the protest itself, shown here, where local families were sprayed with fake blood that briefly caused a mad cow panic in the area."
Now Paul's face was back, taking up the whole screen this time. "Police ask that anyone who attended last night's fundraiser or who knows the whereabouts of this man, contact them immediately." At last the image left the screen. "In other news..." The clip abruptly ended here. Paul and Chloe both looked up from the laptop's screen and sighed.
"I always wanted to be famous," said Paul.
"I think the word is infamous," she said, shutting the media player window. Bee had e-mailed her the clip from this morning's local news. "At least it hasn't gone national yet."
"Jesus..." He didn't want to think about what his parents would do when they saw it. "Do you think it'll hit that big?"
"It could," she said. "You know better than most how quickly the right-wing talk radio and bloggers pick up on shit like this. Now that they've got the name of a semi-famous comic book artist and former computer game designer to attach to the park prank story, they're going to run with it."
All of a sudden Paul couldn't breathe. He sucked and sucked but no air seemed to be making it to his lungs.
His heart raced. "Fuuuuuu...." He managed to say.
Chloe grabbed his shoulders and shook him, "It's ok. It's ok. Just breathe." But he couldn't. Heart attack? All that pizza and pork rinds finally catching up? "It's ok!" Chloe shouted. "You're just panicking!" She put her hands on his back and pressed firmly but gently. "Just relax!"
"Uuuuuuuh..." said Paul. Chloe bent him forward, his head between his knees and started massaging his shoulders.
"It's ok, baby, it's ok," she said. "Just try and breathe ok? We'll figure it out." She rubbed the back of his neck.
His heart began to slow. His breathing reached deeper into his lungs. He calmed down slowly but surely, bent over with Chloe caressing his back. "It's ok, baby," she said. "It's ok. Just relax. I'll take care of everything.
Just relax." And he did relax, at least enough to keep from passing out then and there.
Paul lay on the couch, sipping water, while Chloe tapped away on the laptop behind him. Along with the news clip, Bee had also sent the list they'd used to invite potential marks to the fundraiser. They'd compiled it from various conservative donor lists that they'd either stolen or paid for. Bee had sent those original lists along too, so Chloe could check them for Frank's name. If Frank was on any of the lists then maybe, just maybe, this was CHAPTER 30
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all a coincidence. If Frank's name was on their invitee list but not on any of the source lists, then something fishy was going on. Same if he wasn't on any of the lists at all.
"Of course," said Paul, "If Bee's the traitor, then we're totally screwed."
"Bee's not the traitor," replied Chloe. "No way. I trust her totally."
"I thought you trusted everyone in the Crew."
"I do. Or I did."
"Then what makes Bee so reliable."
"She's not like the rest of us," said Chloe. "She's like you."
"Like me how?"
"She's not in it for the money. She's in it because it's fun, because she enjoys the engineering challenges. She enjoys the life. For her it's the only real, caring family she's ever known. She had a...she had a tough upbringing."
"How's that make her so different from the rest of you?"
"The rest of us are fucking thieves."
"I keep forgetting that," said Paul, and to a certain extent he did. It didn't always seem like thievery to him. It was a game, a revolution. A new way of living. It was easy to forget what was really going on.
"You shouldn't," she replied. "Especially not now." She studied the screen in front of her for a couple of long minutes before saying, "Ok, come take a look at this." Paul got up and came over to the kitchen counter. The screen showed an Excel spreadsheet listing names, addresses, and donations given over the past five years.
"This is the master list we complied from all the different databases we could get our hands on."
She hit Ctrl-F and typed in Frank's name as the search parameter. The program jumped to his entry immediately. "There he is," said Paul. "And look at that, no donations in the past five years."
"Well, at least we know how he got the invitation," she said. "We sent it to him. Let me check the source lists and we'll see if he shows up there.
"Hold on a second," said Paul. "I want to check something first. See if this list has Greg D
riscol in it." Greg had not only been the CEO of Paul's old company, but a childhood friend. Paul knew him very well and had never known him to be politically active. And there he was, on the list of potential donors. "Fuck me," said Paul.
"Indeed," said Chloe.
"Check the rest of them," Paul said. They were all there, every single one of his former partners, including Evan.
"I know that's bullshit," he said. "No way Evan was ever on any goddamned Republican donors list. He's old school left wing. Union family, life long Democrat. Gives money to the DNC and the ACLU and the Green Party just for good measure. We used to call each other 'comrade' around the office sometimes because we CHAPTER 30
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were the most liberal guys in the building."
"Well, that answers that then," said Chloe. "I'll check the source lists to be sure, but I have to say this pretty much seals the deal. Somebody wanted you to get recognized and so they invited every one of the people who hate you most in the world. Only Frank took the bait, but whoever it was only needed one."
"Fucking A! Who could have done this? Who had access to this list?"
"Well theoretically," said Chloe, thinking out loud, "Only Bee, Kurt, Raff, Me, and you. But I mean fuck, it's a house full of hackers and there are people going in and out of that server room all the time. Anyone who was in there in the past two weeks could've added the names."
"But they had to know we were going to be suspicious. That we'd check the list."
"Which points to someone with more restricted access," she interjected. "Otherwise they would've taken off the names as soon as the invites went out."
"No," Paul said. "They'd have to wait. They invited all four but didn't know who would show up. They'd want to see who made an appearance and then leave their names on the list while deleting everyone else. We'd be even more suspicious if one of them had shown up without being on the list. So they'd have to wait until afterwards in order to make the list match what actually happened."
"Ok, that makes sense," she opened up an IRC window and started pinging Bee again. "So whoever did this shit is going to want to get into the database ASAP and take Greg and the others off. They have to assume we haven't seen it yet since we haven't been home and therefore can't have accessed the secure server."