On Fire
Page 28
The airplane is cold. The sound of people stirring from a long night in cramped quarters wakes Zak. He glances with half open eyes across the aisle. A couple of windows are partially uncovered and stark morning light streams into the center of coach class, falling across sleeping passengers declined peacefully in their seats, wrapped in blue airline blankets, faces turned away from the aisle.
Kim reaches across an empty middle seat to jab him. Zak turns to see that Kim has a book in front of her and has her headphones on, but is now pointing. He follows her gesture and sees that a guy a few seats away on the aisle has bare feet. One foot is sticking into the aisle. The angle and lack of movement seem to suggest that the foot has been there for quite a while.
“He went to the john like that!” she whispers and makes a face.
“Don’t forget to report him at the next air station,” Zak replies.
“What are you talking about?”
Zak is tongue in cheek.
“All complaints are to be immediately reported at the next air station. You know, where they refuel the airship. Flight attendants will come by to take your complaint.”
“In a blue moon! You’re seriously wacked.”
Kim’s faux pout is short lived.
“You know, you’re pretty up for a guy who’s on the run. Not to mention that you just bailed on grad school. Getting your James Dean on, are we?”
“No. Just getting my James Dean out. But hey, don’t rat me out to my parents.”
The quiet of a long plane trip has recharged them both.
Kim and Zak had been exhausted making their way through the huge airport, one of the world’s best designed and most attractive, using several moving walkways adorned with elaborate neon light sculptures to reach their gate. There had been the obligatory wait to board, the mind numbing boarding process itself, and the protracted taxi and take-off. There had been plenty of time for everyone to get comfortable for such a long flight, followed by the onslaught of cafeteria style food odors as onboard meals were broken out and served.
After eating, Zak and Kim had completely zonked. Now Zak sees that Kim has coffee.
“How’d you get that?’
“They came by. Want some?”
“Sure. How’d I miss that?”
He yawns involuntarily, taking the cup and sipping at it.
“You were dead to the world,” she says.
A few gulps and the coffee is gone.
“Turns out my parents were contacted by Kina when we were in the big drink. Yuan called her. She got the number from...”
“Let me guess. Bog! But Yuan was using your phone, wasn’t he? Surely your parents’ number is prominent there.”
“It most surely is. I think Yuan panicked in the moment and didn’t know who to call. I had these weird text messages all of a sudden, like from everybody, asking me how I am.”
“This is great security! Why the hell did Yuan do that?”
“To cover his ass in case we turned up missing I think. Bog tracked us in the water while talking to Gilly and Sophie. They were off Ensenada surfing.”
Zak suddenly sits up, throwing his blanket impatiently to the floor.
“You realize that if Bog is tracking us, so is everybody else. And if they’re tracking our movements, they also have to be tracking all our communications.”
“So?”
“So they’ll know everybody we know. And they’re gonna wonder what we gave them.”
“But we’re not going to give them anything.”
“Yeah, but they don’t know that and they’re gonna wonder anyway. We may be putting people in danger without meaning to. I think it’s time we talked to Mr. Cerny.”
“Bogdan.”
People continue to wake up around them. Someone had used perfume nearby, the strong scent overpowering. A short distance behind them they could hear a couple arguing.
“Good morning!”
Bog appears on their phones, the surfer dude blonde hair falling irregularly around his face. He’s not wearing a shirt and seems to be sitting on the edge of an unmade bed.
“Cheeseball!” exclaims Zak.
“Kemosabe!” returns Bog, his well-tanned face breaking into a toothy grin. “Man, how you guys doing? I tracked you the other day. Didn’t know you were into the whole swimming with the dolphins thing!”
“I could have used their help,” responds Kim.
“Hiya, Kimmie.”
“Hey Bog. Well, now we need your help.”
“For you doll, anything. How can I be of service?”
Zak pulls his phone closer and lowers his voice.
“We think we’re all being tracked.”
“Kemosabe! We’re all of us always being tracked, monitored, whatever you want to call it, all the time.”
“And that sounds paranoid and Orwellian,” Zak observes.
“Dude! Don’t take it personally.”
“And you know that George Orwell was really Eric Blair. It’s like nobody could make a cool reference for a guy named just plain Blair.”
“You’re right. Blairian just doesn’t ring. I wonder if old George liked Orwellian?”
“Basta!” says Kim.
Bog is looking at a split screen, Zak on one side, Kim on the other. Kim’s outburst makes him stop to actually consider the question.
“OK, ok. I’ve got this double layer, military grade encryption. Don’t ask me where I got it. Totally cannot have this in China, but then you’re not in China anymore. The program uses unique keys for each call or message. But I have to get everybody on it and it’s not totally user friendly.”
“Not totally user friendly? What does that mean?”
“It means a few of us are going to need face to face help with installing this and getting it to work the way it’s supposed to. It doesn’t just do everything automatically.”
“What a drag.”
“You’re telling me, boss. But if I get it, you guys will be steppin’ in tall grass.”
Zak looks at Kim.
“We’re going to have to get everybody together as soon as we can.”
The much older man behind Zak pulls on Zak’s seatback to get up to go to the lav. The back of the very lightweight seat bounces against the back of Zak’s head.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the gentlemen says while leaning down a bit.
Zak looks up. He notices the older fellow’s penitent expression.
“It’s okay. I’m fine.”
The man nods and moves off down the aisle. Bog takes note.
“Dude, they’re everywhere. Better watch yourself.”
“Orwellian.”
“I can also make sure everyone has a good panic button installed on their stuff. Fries everything. The only good intel after that is torture.”
“Or everything you ever put down on paper.”
“That’s very dark ages of you. Whoever writes anything down?”
Kim thinks ahead.
“I’ll text everybody. Maybe we can meet at Ethan’s place later,” she says.
“Whose picking you guys up?” asks Bog, rubbing sand from his eyes.
“Probably Gilly and Sophie,” states Kim.
That would be because of Sophie’s car. Bog smiles.
“Buckle up.”
And he’s gone.
Chapter 29