Batteries Not Included

by Tony McFadden

  “We eating there or taking it back?”

  “There,” said Nick. “We need a bit of privacy from Kirra.”

  It was a short walk, through an alley behind a number of other restaurants, skips and piles of cardboard boxes littering the way.

  There were a few free tables. Nick grabbed one by the door and handed a fifty dollar bill to Davie. “Grab me a mixed kebab with chili sauce and a bottle of water, okay? I’m going to set up.”

  Davie snatched the bill. “I’m keeping the change.”

  Nick opened his laptop and tried tethering to his phone over Bluetooth. “Piece of shit.” He rummaged through his laptop case and found a phone cable and connected it to the laptop. Still no connection. “Son of a bitch.”

  Davie fit the tray on the table. It held two kebabs wrapped in foil, two drinks and a pile of napkins. “What’s wrong?”

  “We’re going back. I think the new OS update for my laptop has screwed up the tethering. It’s not working. And I need to connect.” He sniffed. “Damn. That smells good.”

  Davie shrugged. “No biggie. We’ll be discrete around the pool. Better ambience, anyway. I’m getting used to her place. I’ll get a bag.”

  Nick disconnected the cable and slid it and his laptop back into the computer case. Davie returned with a bag and collected the food and drinks.

  “Short walk back. No big deal.” He hoisted the bag. “But quickly. These aren’t as good cold.”

  Nick grunted and grabbed his laptop case. “Let’s go. Dammit.”

  They crossed the street from the kebab shop and entered the alley. They were halfway through when three people in motorcycle leathers and helmets intercepted them. Black helmet to the left, red in the middle and yellow to the right.

  “Nick, what the hell is this?”

  Red held out a gloved hand. “Your laptop.”

  “Piss off.” Nick tucked the laptop case under his arm.

  Black snapped his wrist and extended a metal baton. “Now.” He was the tallest of the three, towering over Nick.

  “I think they’re serious, Nick.”

  “I think a retreat is in order.” Nick turned and started running, Davie close behind. “Move it.”

  “Just give him your laptop, mate.”

  Nick redoubled his efforts to exit the laneway, thinking he was clear when his left foot was tapped into the path of his right and he tripped, landing on his face. And his laptop bag.

  “Oh, shit. That hurt.” He rolled to his back and instinctively lifted his foot and caught his assailant in the groin. “Ha.” He crab -walked away and rolled and scrambled to his feet. “Shit. Keep up, Davie.”

  He had barely reached his top speed when he was grabbed by the shoulder and pulled to a stop.

  He spun around and lashed out with a right jab at Yellow that didn’t connect. He kept the laptop case tucked under his left arm.

  “Just hand it over,” said Yellow. “We don’t want to hurt you.”

  “What? Are you nuts?” Nick looked past Yellow. Davie was prone on the ground, Red standing over him. The bag of kebabs was half under him, flattened.

  Black took a glance at Red, then stood beside Yellow. “Laptop. Now.” The voice was deep like he was trying to be Batman.

  “Piss off, mate. Get a real job.” Nick tried to see who was behind the visor, but it was tinted. “Take off your helmet so I can see what kind of bell-end is trying to rip me off.”

  Black sighed. “Look, Nicky, either give me the laptop now, or get the crap kicked out of you and I take the laptop. One way or another the laptop ends up with me. The only difference is whether you spend a couple of days in the hospital or not.”

  “Just give it to him,” said Davie. He tried to push himself to his feet and Red heel-kicked him in the ribs.

  “Oh, Jesus,” he gasped. “Okay, I’ll stay down. Nick, give it to him.”

  Black helmet stepped a little closer to Nick and held out a hand. “Give it to me.”

  Nick narrowed his eyes and slid the laptop out of its carry bag. “This?” He held it up, parallel to the ground. “You want this?” He took half step forward and jabbed the edge of the laptop between the bottom of Black’s helmet and where the collar bones met the sternum, with every ounce of strength he had, trying to catch him in the throat.

  Black had impressive reaction speed, though. He dipped his chin and the laptop cracked against the bottom of the helmet, jarring Nick’s wrists.

  Black staggered back, and grabbed the laptop, then swing it and hit Nick on the side of the head with it. The edge caught his scalp and split it. Blood poured down his face.

  “Thanks,” said Black. “It didn’t have to be so painful for you, though.”

  Nick sank to the ground and watched the three helmets get on their bikes and ride away. He gingerly touched the side of his head. He pulled his hand away, spotted with blood. “You okay, Davie?”

  Dave pushed himself to his feet with clenched jaw, furious, breathing through his nose. He pressed his hand against his side. “Couple of bruised ribs, I’d say.”

  Nick used the alley wall to help himself up. “What in the hell was that? They knew me and targeted me.”

  Davie shook his head. “What’s on your laptop, other than what you’re working on for this case?”

  Nick shook his head and winced. “I need some Panadol. This isn’t great.” He touched the side of his head again and grunted when he saw the amount of blood on his hand. “Fucking mess.”

  “This raises questions,” said Davie.

  “He knew my name and where we’d be and that I’d have my personal laptop.” Nick furrowed his brow. “Haven’t been mugged in years.” He patted his back pocket. “And they didn’t even take my wallet or phone.” He handed his phone to Davie. “Take some pictures of my head, would you?”

  Davie opened the camera app and took some shots. “Why am I doing this?”

  “I’m cleaning up when I get back to the house. I’ll need to show the police what it looked like when I stop by there tomorrow.”

  “You should call them tonight.”

  “What’ the point? They bell ends are gone. With those bikes they could be halfway to Campbelltown by now.”

  Davie handed the phone back. “Why bother with the cops at all?”

  Nick scrolled through the photos. “Good shots. My head is shaped funny.” He pocketed the phone. “I need to file a police report for insurance. At least I’ll get a new machine out of this.”

  Davie picked the food bag off the ground. “Well this is garbage.”

  “Grab a couple of napkins out of there.” He grabbed them himself and pressed them against the cut on his head. “You think I need stitches? The bleeding won’t stop.”

  “Nah, mate. The scalp bleeds like a pig. A plaster will sort it out. Handy you shave your head.”

  Nick tossed the bloodied napkins into a nearby dumpster and held out his hand. “More.”

  Davie dug the rest out and threw the food in the bin. He handed all of the napkins to Nick. “Hope Kirra’s cook is still on the clock. I’m starving.”

  “Look at my head again. I need to make a call about whether I go to A&E or not.”

  “Fine. Let me see.” He turned on the torch on his phone.

  Nick eased the folded napkin from his head and leaned forward. “Well?”

  Davie peered at it, moving Nick’s hand a bit to the left, out of the way. He angled his light on his friend’s scalp. “I can’t see bone. You’ll be right.” He moved Nick’s hand back on the cut. “Just make sure too much doesn’t leak out, hey?”

  “Yeah.” He sighed. “Let’s head back.”

  “You lost everything?”

  “I need to buy a new machine. Everything is backed up, though. I haven’t lost anything. This was a miscalculation on their part.”

  They walked side by side through the alley and on to the main road.

  “Any idea who ‘they’ are?”

  Nick shook his head and grimaced. �
��No. Not specifically. Someone who is trying to stall our investigation.”

  “We must be getting close.”

  Nick barked out a laugh. “Not even. Hardly started. This makes not a lick of sense. I’m going to have one hell of a headache.”

  15

  They stopped at the gate.

  “You really do know the code?” asked Davie.

  Nick grunted and punched it in. “Security isn’t that shit hot here. Watched one of Mike’s guys enter it. 8-5-3-2-1-1.”

  The gate shuddered then slowly rolled to the left. At the halfway point it revealed Mike Murphy, standing with his feet shoulder width and his arms crossed.

  “Hey, Mikey,” said Nick. He held up his free hand. “I’d shake, but there’s this blood issue. Where’s the best place for me to clean up?”

  “Bloody oath, kid. What happened to your head?” His demeanour changed immediately from pissed off hard man to a solicitous father. “Let me have a look.”

  “It’s nothing, Mike. Just need to clean up and slap a plaster on it. And eat. I’m starved.”

  “Yeah, the idiots who did that trashed our kebabs. We’re starving,” said Davie.

  Mike looked at Davie’s gut. “You’ll live. Probably longer not eating kebabs, actually.”

  “Piss off, mate.”

  “There’s a washing up station in the security office. And a First Aid kit. What happened?”

  “Three guys on motorbikes jumped us and took Nick’s laptop. We put up a fight but we were outnumbered.”

  “Was one of the a big guy with an Iron Cross tatt on his neck?”

  There was a big guy with ink, but he kept his helmet on. I couldn’t tell what it was.”

  Mike nodded and held open the door. “Come on in. There’s a sink through that far door. Throw the mess you have on your head in the bin and come out when it’s cleaned. Use the cloths in there. Don’t worry about the blood. And it’s going to sting.”

  “You think?”

  Nick gingerly pulled the paper napkins from his head. The drying blood stuck them to his scalp. He turned on the faucet over the large utility basin and adjusted the temperature until it was almost too hot to bear. He ran the water over a washcloth until it was saturated, leaned his head over the basin and pressed the cloth to his head.

  He repeatedly stamped his left foot. “Oh, damn that hurts.” He pressed the cloth harder to his head. Held it there for full minute then slowly removed it. Rinsed it out and did it again And again. And again.

  When the residual blood on the cloth was insignificant he dried his head by gently patting it with a dry cloth.

  He left the bloody cloth in the sink and opened the door back to Mike’s work area. “You have plasters?”

  Mike and Davie were sitting on either side of the room. Mike jumped up, popped open a lunchbox-sized First Aid kit and rummaged through the plasters. “Show me your skull.”

  Nick leaned over and handed his phone to Mike. “Take a pic, Mike.”

  “What for?” Mike took a couple of shots. ”You’re ugly, I can tell you that…”

  “The police.”

  “Your friend told me what happened. Stole your laptop? Why do you think they did that?”

  “Mate, I’m hungry and tired. If you’re not going to put a plaster on this, I will.” He grabbed his phone back. “Davie talks too much.”

  “I’m security.” Mike pulled the wrapping off a plaster. “And you’re officially under my care.” He daubed some gelled antiseptic on the cut. “Don’t move. This is sticky.” He peeled the backing off the plaster and centred it over the cut on Nick’s scalp. Stuck it down and made sure the adhesive adhered.

  “Careful. That hurt.”

  Mike shook his head with a little smile on his face. He gathered the packaging from the plaster and tossed it in the bin and closed up the First Aid kit. “pp’You buy any lottery tickets?”

  “What?”

  “With what Davie said happened, you’re lucky you only got a little gash on your head.”

  “Doesn’t feel little.” Nick touched the plaster and nodded. “Thanks for that. You think we got away light?”

  “Yeah. You still have phones and wallets and the only injury appears to be a self-inflicted accident, not a provoked attack.”

  Nick frowned. Gently touched the plaster on his head and took a deep breath. “Maybe so. Thanks for the patch. You know if there’s any food?”

  “There’s always food.” He looked at Davies’ gut. “Maybe not enough for him.”

  “Hey.”

  Mike had a small smile on his face. “I’ll show you lads the kitchen. Keep it down. The Missus is down for the night. She’s got an early morning tomorrow.”

  “I thought she was going to paint all night.”

  Mike shook his head. “I think the stress caught up with her. And the jet lag. She dropped like a rock.”

  * * *

  The rider with the black helmet idled in the beach parking lot, waiting. Fished the laptop from his saddle bag. The case had a slight bend to it. It didn’t close all the way. He opened it. The screen looked cracked, but it was readable. “Oh, well.” He closed it.

  A convertible pulled in beside the motorbike. “You got it?”

  “It’s bent.” The laptop changed hands.

  “What the hell did you do?”

  “Needed to whack that Nick punk in the head with it to get it. IT was the closest thing on hand. You’ll be able to get what you need?”

  “You had to hit him on the head to get the thing you hit him on the head with?”

  “You had to be there.”

  “I’m glad I wasn’t.” The car driver inspected the laptop. Opened it. The screen was damaged, but the lights came on and something disjointed came up on the display.

  “You could hook an external monitor to it.”

  No response. Just a glare.

  “My money?”

  An envelope changed hands. A relatively thin envelope.

  “Not much.”

  “It’s what we agreed.” The driver paused. “The team ready for tomorrow night?”

  Black helmet flipped down the visor and started his bike. “Absolutely.”

  The roar of the departing motorcycle masked the noise of the laptop being upended into the trash can.

  * * *

  Nick layered ham and cheese on the rye bread. “This’ll do, Davie.” He spread mustard on the ham and ground pepper on the final result. He cut the sandwich in half and grabbed a beer from the fridge. “By the pool?”

  “You’re on meds, mate. Shouldn’t be drinking.” Davie finished creating his roast beef sandwich and grabbed Nick’s beer.

  “Yeah, no.” Nick snagged the beer back. “I’m ‘on’ some ibuprofen. Get your own beer.”

  He wended his way through the house to the pool. Most of the illumination was from the lights under the water. Soft yellow lighting in the foliage added to the subdued lighting. The temperature was still in the mid-twenties at 11 pm.

  Nick carefully pulled out a chair and quietly sat. “What a day.”

  Davie sat across from him. “You’re at square one?”

  “We’re at square one. Except not. This isn’t anything more than an expense. I’ll pick up a new machine in the morning and charge it to this job.”

  Davie closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “I’m bloody shagged. You’ve been backing up like a good boy?”

  “Always. To the cloud. I won’t have lost anything important.”

  “The concern is with what they might find on the laptop?”

  “If they can get through my encryption they’re welcome to it. And they won’t. Two factor to get into the machine.” He held up his mobile. “Needs this, too. And they haven’t been trying. I haven’t received the authorisation code for the second step.”

  Davie looked puzzled. “Strange. Why in the hell did you put up a fight and get your pumpkin dented?””

  “Well,” said Nick. He tipped back his beer. �
�It really pisses me off when someone has the gall to think they can just take something that’s mine.” He burped. “I wish I was a fly on the wall watching them trying to get anything from it.”

  “Yeah, but mate, they aren’t trying. You just said so.”

  Nick chewed the inside of his lip in thought. “Huh.”

  16

  “Hey, Davie, I’ve got to head to the office to get my laptop set up.” Nick leaned on the back of his friend’s chair. “You need anything?”

  “Nothing.” He typed a couple of more characters then stopped and sat upright, twisting in the chair. “That’s your personal machine.”

  “I need Sam to install the remote access software and a couple of certificates on my new laptop. It’s many times faster than the piece of crap the company gave me. Seems almost like they didn’t want me to find anything. Bonus points, I can claim it on my taxes.”

  Davie stared at the machine, deadpan, for a couple of seconds then returned to his own machine. “Boss makes the big bucks. Nothing in the world changes. I need nothing. I’ll see you later.”

  “I should be back by 7:00 at the latest. I’ll buy you dinner and we’ll have a few or more drinks.”

  Davie sniffed. “Yup. That should buy me off. I’ll be here.”

  * * *

  Sam had can headphones on, deep into her laptop, bobbing slightly to the music pumping into her ears. Nick knocked on the edge of her cubicle. Then again. And again, harder.

  Nothing.

  He touched her on her shoulder and jumped back when she ripped her headphones off and spun on him.

  “Jesus, Nicky. You scared the crap out of me.”

  “What were you listening to?”

  “Music. What do you want?”

  Nick slid his brand new laptop out of its case and gently placed it on her desk. “I have a new machine. Replacement for one that – was damaged.”

  Sam opened the lid and silently whistled as she looked at it. “Nice. Personal machine?”

  “Yes, it is nice and yes, it’s my personal machine.”

  She smiled and handed it back to Nick with a sarcastic smile. “Nice. Now let me get back to work, okay? I’ve got a lot to do.”