GREED Box Set (Books 1-4)

by John W. Mefford

  “Ready?” I asked.

  Andi nodded then followed me as we walked side by side through the maze of rooms, casually observing paintings and sculptures. In front of Five Directional Buddhas, a series of five paintings dating back over seven hundred years, Andi locked her arm inside mine, extending a pointed finger toward one of the paintings.

  “Pretty cool, huh?”

  She sounded sincere, and I shot her a quick glance.

  “Yeah, it really is.” I squeezed her arm tighter against my side, and she leaned in closer to me. “I think we might want to come back here again, when we're not being hunted like animals.“

  We continued our casual trek through the exhibits, walking along a zigzagging incline that brought us up to the second floor. I spotted the café, and we strolled over to an open register.

  “I'll have a turkey sandwich with mayonnaise and a water. How about you...dear?”

  Andi didn't flinch. “I'll have the same. Hold the mayo though. Thank you.”

  Thankful that Ji had loaned me twenty bucks just in case we found ourselves needing money, I tossed the bill on the counter. I took back the change, shuffled left to pick up our food, and continued our casual journey to the booth. Ji was facing our direction. Satish must be on the other side of the high-backed booth.

  Andi scooted in next to Ji, while I sat next to someone whom I almost didn't recognize, if it wasn't for his thin physique, bony fingers dancing on his laptop.

  “Satish?” Andi asked.

  He paused and lowered dark, gold-rimmed sunglasses, allowing us to see his eyes, mostly bloodshot. He also wore a hat, a Fedora of some sort, and a tan jacket that mimicked one of those Members Only jackets from yesteryear. He looked like a character from a 1980s sitcom. Maybe Kirk Cameron from Growing Pains, if Kirk had been Indian.

  “Are you okay?” Andi slid her hand across the table.

  He nodded but kept his focus on his tiny laptop, the kind with a flat, bendable keyboard. I'd seen a few of my colleagues using those at the office, including Josh, my boss. That reminded me, I hadn't checked in since I left work four days ago, saying I felt like the flu was invading my body. If I ever wanted another paycheck, I'd have to make work a priority. For now, living was at the top of our list, followed closely by finding Camila and figuring out who was behind Gustavo's murder and the several attempts on my life, and Andi's too.

  “That's not your regular laptop, is it?” I asked.

  “Already asked him that,” Ji said, leaning back, his eyes scanning the room.

  Satish clicked a few more times then paused again. “You really think I'm that stupid?”

  It was an uncommon response from Satish, normally an upbeat, high-energy guy who could figure out any technical problem.

  “Sorry, didn't mean to offend you.”

  He released a jittery breath, then reached for a half-full glass of soda and took a sip. “I was up all night, no sleep. I'm on edge. I've never felt this way before.”

  “I'm so sorry about YY,” Andi said, furrowing her brow. “What happened, if it's okay to ask?“

  Satish brought his hand to his lip. “YY was so talented, had so much promise." He paused and gulped another caffeine shot. "I got a call from his parents. Apparently, he'd always texted them whenever he safely reached my house, our place of business. We all went looking for him. I found him just after the cops had arrived.”

  He lifted his glasses and wiped the corner of his eye. "His parents were distraught. They asked me to identify the body. He was shot, including one in the forehead." He jabbed his own forehead, knocking back his hat. He reset it and looked down at his computer.

  “Professional hit, no doubt in my mind,” Ji added.

  I looked at Ji then back at Satish. “What did you tell the cops?”

  “They asked questions, but I knew I couldn't share all of this with them. They'd lock me up for being certifiably crazy. Or they'd ask so many questions, I'd never get out of there. And as you guys told me earlier, I'm not sure who we can trust.”

  Satish's voice cracked, and I couldn't tell if he was on the verge of crying or screaming out loud. Concerned that he might start really losing it, I put my hand on his shoulder.

  “From the moment I saw YY, I knew we'd interrupted some serious shit. I'd already worked on erasing the virtual trail back to the garage, made sure our latest code was pushed to the cloud through an untraceable backdoor. But I hit the panic button. Tried to pack up as much of the hardware I could, and I grabbed my emergency backup laptop, tossed my regular phone, went to an all-night store and bought a burner phone.” He touched the machine sitting in front of him.

  “I've got a local hotspot set up on my computer, and I make sure I reset my IP address and change my physical location every hour,” he said.

  “Can't be too careful,” Ji said.

  I popped a knuckle and stared at my turkey sandwich.

  “You need to eat, keep up your strength. Both of you,” Ji said, wagging a finger at Andi and me.

  She unfolded the wrapper and took a small bite. I complied with the order as well.

  “Do you need something to eat?” I asked Satish.

  “Ji picked me up an egg burrito.”

  “Downed it in three bites,” Ji said.

  Satish's lips curled up a bit at the corners, exposing his white teeth. Finally, a bit of a Satish smile.

  “I know you have something to share with us,” I prompted.

  “Just before I shut down my operation, I came across a connection to Dropbox, a place where people can share stored files.”

  I nodded.

  “This one had a strange encryption. It took me about ten minutes to figure it out, but I got in and found this.”

  He slid his computer around so we could all see.

  Lots of words filled the screen. Our eyes didn't leave the screen until all of us had read every word.

  1. I believe that every child should have a right to a quality life.

  2. I believe in a higher power to achieve our goals—our minds.

  3. I believe in our collective ability to leave a legacy to this world unlike any other person who has walked the earth, including Jesus Christ.

  4. I trust my partners unequivocally and agree to never damage or sever that trust for as long as I live. For if that bond is ever broken, then we agree that certain lives are not worthy of continuing, and our next of kin will accept the ultimate sacrifice—their lives.

  In the end, I believe one life sacrificed is but surely worth saving thousands, even millions.

  Carpe Diem!

  Four sets of eyes traded stares.

  Finally, Andi broke the stare-off. “What the hell is this supposed to be?”

  Satish held up a finger and scrolled down the page, revealing five names:

  Rafael Lima

  Diego Cruz

  Andre Valmor

  Franco Teixeria

  Camila Rosario

  “Digital signatures,” Satish added.

  “Camila,” Andi whispered.

  “Franco,” I said, my mind still attempting to ascertain how this document connected to everything I'd witnessed, everything we'd experienced. A pellet of uncertainty pinged the walls of my stomach.

  “Satish, what the hell did we just read? What is this supposed to represent?” Andi asked, her hand reaching toward the mini-screen.

  My eyes searched the ceiling, and I questioned everything that had compelled me to put my life on hold and push for information the last few weeks. Everything that had torn my world apart, nearly gotten me killed, Andi killed. YY was dead, Satish on the run. Bogi, who knew? Ji was mixed up in it now. Mr. Chao's employee had been scared out of his mind, Chao Town had been ripped apart by a pair of assassins.

  I'd trusted my instincts, allowed my recognition of Camila's beauty to blur my true intuition. Gustavo was murdered with a meat cleaver at my feet. Camila had received a text or phone call, then uncontrollably distraught, she ran away. Why?

 
; I shook my head, clenched my teeth, barely holding back from slamming my fist to the table. But the last thing my friends needed was me creating a scene. Another one.

  Ji wiped a hand across his face. “Can't say what all of this means. But given all the information I've heard, this essentially provides justification for murder.”

  “Gustavo's murder?” I asked.

  “That's what I'm thinking,” Ji said.

  “One other thing I thought you'd find interesting,” Satish said, clicking twice. “The name of the file.“

  Three of us leaned closer, our heads nearly touching, and followed the cursor to the top of the screen. The file name read: The Chosen Ones_Our Pact.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Twirling around the corner post, I stuck out my heel and came to a halt, somewhat like an ice skater. I hooked my arm around the pole just as the conductor yelled out, "All aboard!"

  Ding dong, ding dong, ding dong.

  The familiar sound of the trolley's bell clanged in my head. A quick jerk forward then a more gradual buildup of speed. I shot a glance at Andi, who was sitting on the wooden bench, her eyes staring out the trolley's back end. I took note of the single bandage still adhered to her thigh, but she didn't seem bothered by it. Ji and Satish were the first ones on the trolley, purposely avoiding contact with the two of us—perpetual magnets for thugs and assassins, apparently. They sat on the opposite end, facing away from us, Satish still wearing his throw-back disguise, sunglasses, and Fedora.

  A chilly breeze slapped my face, and it felt good. I looked back, now twenty yards or so from our starting point at Larkin Street and noticed the city library. Had Marisa been at my side, she would have insisted on us touring the library, even kicking back and reading a random book, taking in all the musty smells. My mind drifted back to the two us intertwined on our plaid, deep-seated couch, Marisa using me as a prop to hold open her latest paperback, maybe lean her Kindle against my leg, depending on her mood or the charge of said gadget. I hadn't realized it back then, but we maintained a rather simple life. At times, we had more than our share of chaos, even outright fear from the forces that tried to tear us apart. Maybe it wasn't simple, then. But with Marisa, my life felt settled. It had purpose, meaning, and I could see us growing old together, having kids, grandkids. And then it all had ended. Since that day, I had a difficult time picturing myself with anyone else or with a true commitment to any aspect of my life.

  I blew warm air into my free hand and felt an invisible mist dampen my face. I closed my eyes, and I allowed myself to go there ever so briefly—I wondered where my half-brother was at this very moment. Was he still in the country, maybe close by, possibly watching? Was he preying on someone weaker than he? The turkey sandwich I'd eaten earlier elevated into the back of my throat.

  “What are you thinking about?” Andi asked out of thin air.

  I turned and was surprised to see her standing up, a hand on the pole, her hair tousled by the bouncy ride and breeze.

  “Nothing.”

  She flipped her head to face forward, her long, brown hair now flowing behind her.

  “I can tell when you're thinking about Marisa.”

  “How?”

  “You don't seem to be here, living in the moment. Sometimes it's your eyes. Other times, it's just your demeanor.”

  I didn't know I could be read so easily. I felt exposed.

  “It's almost like you're having a conversation with her, right here in front of you, and nothing else exists.”

  I thought back to my last make-believe conversation with Marisa...the night I laid eyes on Camila. “Does everyone see that?”

  “Probably not. I just know you.” She put her arm around my waist then kissed my shoulder.

  She'd only kissed my shirt, but it caught me off guard—like nothing else.

  “Sorry. I don't mean to keep reliving my past.”

  “It's okay, Michael. You can't predict the grieving process.”

  I gave her a warm smile. "Grieving is behind me mostly. Just a little flashback. I'm in full recovery mode," I said with a positive tone, then I noticed Andi's red nose.

  I circled my arm around her shoulder, brought her closer, against my chest. I felt like I had to reciprocate, so I kissed the top of her head.

  “It's frickin' cold when you're not wearing the right clothes,” she said, her head still nestled against my chest.

  Leaning a tad to the right, I could see Satish's fedora and, a few seats down, the back of Ji's black leather coat. The trolley had traveled about five blocks, made a couple of stops. We picked up speed, heading northeast on Market. We cruised by the Market Street Theatre and the Loft Historic District, an area where old, rundown warehouses and historic buildings had been refurbished into loft apartments, most of the transformation occurring in the 1990s.

  Several stops later, we'd gone at least thirteen or fourteen blocks, and despite gray, low skies and darkness beginning to settle in, I could see the ocean off in the distance, a few spotlights from Navy Pier catching shimmering ripples in the water. I felt a pinch at my waist.

  “Need to use the restroom,” Andi said with a smile.

  I nodded and pulled the lever just above Andi's head, signaling our desire to get off at the next possible location.

  The trolley came to a screechy stop at Market and Drumm. Off to our right hulked the enormous San Francisco Federal Reserve Bank Building, which combined a couple different types of architecture, a front façade that was more classic, with stone columns seemingly standing guard, while the upper building came from the modern era, circa 1924. The huge structure filled an entire office block. Outside of the New York Stock Exchange, this bank from the twelfth district might represent capitalism more than any building in America. But it wasn't all for show. I'd read that the bank contained one of the largest collections of paper money in the country.

  I realized my office was only a couple of hundred yards in the opposite direction, up Drumm. Three steps off the trolley, I caught a glimpse of Ji and Satish, who lifted from their seats and followed our path, about ten paces behind us. Ji walked with confidence, but not too much. It appeared he was chewing a piece of gum. What says nonchalant more than chewing a piece of gum?

  Satish appeared far more cautious, even outright suspicious, if I didn't know him. His head jerked right and left. His mini-laptop was stored inside his jacket, his arm pressing the device against his torso. Throw in the mirrored sunglasses that covered half his face, and he looked like he'd just stepped out of a 1980s cocaine party—he was that squirmy.

  I said to Andi, "I'm not sure I want make a cameo appearance at the office, considering I walked out three days ago moaning about the flu—all of it a ruse to give me the freedom to get to the bottom of this crazy-ass shit." Walking north on Drumm, along with dozens of other people who seemingly had no place to go, I felt as strong as I had since just before my first assault—my Swiss-cheese ear notwithstanding.

  I scanned the area, looking for a place where we could hide among the crowd, giving us more time to discuss what to do with the document Satish had found. The Chosen Ones. We had names, signatures even, signed at the bottom of this pact, oath, whatever. Seeing Camila's name right under Franco's name had made me sick to my stomach. Part of me felt completely duped. Yet, I knew what I had seen...Franco grabbing Camila's arm at her business, Camila kidnapped right off a city street. They might be business partners, but it was obvious something had changed since they signed that document—as bizarre and twisted as it read. And from my point of view, it appeared Franco held all the cards. I questioned if he also held Camila against her will.

  “It is Friday, almost six o'clock. The place is probably dead,” Andi said. Her contorted face spoke volumes. “I'm not really good at 'holding it.'“ She used air quotes, and I tried not to chuckle.

  I spotted a place I used to frequent, when I actually went to work every day.

  I lifted my chin. "Up ahead, strip center next to Playa. Taco Bell." I p
ut my arm behind her back, as if she needed incentive to make the additional distance.

  “I was hoping for a cleaner bathroom,” Andi said.

  “Cleanest on the bay, swear to you,” I said, turning my head to ensure Ji and Satish were still bringing up the rear—and they were.

  “You must have some fond memories of this place.”

  I did a double take and sniffed a bit of sarcasm.

  “The gang loved their bean burritos. I could feed a development team for less than twenty bucks.”

  “Fine, can't argue now. Just need to focus.” Her voice sounded stressed.

  “Run if you need to. Make a run for the border.”

  She rolled eyes so far up her head I thought she'd turned into a zombie.

  Traffic cluttered the street, and we huddled with a throng of people, including Ji and Satish, waiting for the right moment to make a break for the west side of the road. Andi was walking in place.

  “Now,” I said, making a beeline for the other side. I raised my head, and my eyes must have bugged out. Josh, my boss, was walking out of Taco Bell. I instantly slowed to a crawl and reached for Andi's arm. She brushed it off and kept walking.

  “Wait.”

  She turned back. "For what, Michael? I've got to go!" She jumped up and down a couple of times like a little girl.

  I surveyed the scene, then I crunched down on my lower lip.

  Just behind Josh—Franco.

  “What the hell?” I said out loud. I quickly snatched Andi's arm and veered right, turning my head away from them. Walking against the grain, we dodged many of the people who'd been waiting with us on the east side of Drumm. Ji spotted me out of the corner of his eye, and I shook my head and waved my hand at my waist. He got the message and, along with Mr. Obvious, curled back to follow us.

  “Where are we going?” Andi whispered without turning her head.