by Mike Ryan
“I accept.”
Jeso had twice that amount, and if it helped get him and his family out of the country and to safety, he was more than willing to pay it, and probably would have paid double if he had to.
“How long will it take?” Porter asked.
“Give me a few days and it should be ready.”
Porter wasn’t really thrilled with having to wait a couple of days, especially with knowing people were out there looking for her, but there was nothing else she could do. She was at the mercy of his time frame.
“I’ll need a down payment,” the man said. “Something to let me know you’re really serious so I don’t waste my time if you decide to change your mind.”
“I’m not gonna change my mind,” Porter replied.
“It’s happened before.”
Jeso excused himself and went to the car, opening the trunk, where there was another backpack. Considering he couldn’t trust banks in his predicament, he carried all his money with him. He took out what was the equivalent of a thousand dollars and brought it inside, handing it over to the man.
“Thank you,” the man said. “That’ll do just fine.”
“I never did get your name,” Porter said.
“You can just call me Nails.”
“Nails?” Porter asked, thinking that was as strange a name as she’d ever heard. But then again, her mind only went back a couple of days.
“Yeah, it’s a little hardware humor.” Porter didn’t really consider it that amusing and looked at the man funny. “It’s all you really need to know.”
With all the parties satisfied, Porter and Jeso left the store and headed back to the car. Jeso was interested in what Porter’s plans were after this was all over.
“What do you plan on doing once you get out of here?”
Porter just threw her hands up, letting them come down, slapping the hood of the car. She had a hard time thinking about the future considering she couldn’t remember her past. All she could really think about was the moment.
“I don’t know,” Porter said. “I really haven’t thought that far. I mean, as far as I know, I might just go from one bad situation to a worse one. Maybe they’ll be waiting for me wherever I go.”
They continued talking for a few minutes before Porter finally realized that if the passports were going to take a few days, that she had no place to stay.
“There any homeless shelters around here?” Porter asked.
“No, but you can stay with me. I live alone, so there are no prying eyes.”
Porter was touched by the gesture, but she just couldn’t allow it. Not with how hot she was. “I… I really appreciate the thought, but I just can’t. Nothing against you, but I have to be ready to fight every hour of the day, and I don’t want to put you in the middle of that.”
“We’ve broken free of them.”
Porter shook her head. She wouldn’t put him in danger again unnecessarily. She never knew where or when her attackers would appear again, and even though they appeared to have gotten away from them for the moment, she wasn’t convinced it was the last dangerous encounter that she would have.
“No. I’ve now broken free of them on three different occasions. If there’s anything to be learned from that, it is that they’re not going away and they’re not going to stop looking. They know where I am.”
“But that was before,” Jeso replied. “Now that the chip is out, they do not know.”
“Well, they still know a general area. They know I haven’t gone far. And they’re going to keep looking until they find me again.”
“I understand. How about if I just take you to a hotel instead?”
“There’s that whole money thing again.”
“I will pay for your stay there.”
“Jeso, I really can’t accept anything more from you. You’ve already done so much.”
“It’s only a few dollars. I consider it an investment in my family’s future.”
Porter thought about arguing the point further, but eventually decided to just accept the help that was offered. She nodded and gave him a warm smile. “You’re a good man.”
“I just try to do what’s right. Nothing more than that.”
They got back in the car, and Jeso took his passenger to a nearby hotel. It wasn’t anything special, a five-floor hotel, average amenities and furniture, but for Porter, it was all that was necessary, considering she didn’t have anything. After going inside to register and pay, they went up to her room on the third floor. They talked for a few minutes before agreeing that it was best for Jeso to leave so he wasn’t around her too much in case the next attack happened soon. Before leaving, they agreed that Jeso would come back to the hotel the following day around five o’clock, just to make sure everything was still a go. Porter would wait out front, near the entrance, so Jeso could see her. Porter wanted to be extra careful in ensuring his safety. She instructed him that if he didn’t see her standing outside the hotel, that he wasn’t to go inside and look for her. If she wasn’t there, it was because she had been found and was either dead or on the run again. In that case, he was to keep on driving and never look back.
“I hope to see you tomorrow,” Jeso said.
Porter smiled. “Not as much as I do.”
Before finally leaving, Jeso grabbed a piece of paper and wrote down his address. He handed the paper to Porter. “Here. Just in case.”
“What’s this for?”
“In case you decide to change your mind at some point.”
Porter smiled, appreciating his kindness, though she still had no intention of taking him up on his offer. About an hour after Jeso left, Porter was starting to get bored. After everything that had happened to her so far, she couldn’t just sit there and wait for the next thing to come around. She wanted to be proactive and figure out who she was and what happened to her. Nobody was going to come along and just hand her that information. She was going to have to dig for it. Porter then left her room and went down to the lobby, going over to the main desk. An employee was talking on the phone to a guest, and Porter patiently waited for her to be done.
“Excuse me,” Porter said, the second the woman hung up the phone. “Do you have a computer here I could use?”
“Yes, right through those doors there,” the woman said, pointing to a room across from them that had no door.
“And I can use it?”
“Yes, of course. There are ten computers in there, and any registered guest is more than welcome to use them, free of charge.”
“Oh, good, thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
Porter went into the computer room, a small room that did have ten computers crammed into the space. It was one long, light-colored desk that encompassed the room, set up in the shape of an U. Porter was surprised to even see a printer placed right in the middle, with five computers to each side of it. She sat down at the first computer to her left, on the end, and logged in using the hotel’s credentials. Once online, she stared at the search page, not sure exactly what she should put in. She desperately wanted to put her name in to see if anything popped up, but she was hesitant to do so, just in case someone was able to somehow trace her to the hotel.
Putting her fears aside, Porter finally typed her name in and hit the search button. She was both heartened and disappointed to see so many results pop up. There were several pages of people with her name. She clicked on every link, every social media page, every job site, and every public record site she could find, but she couldn’t match anything up to herself. Pictures didn’t look like her, ages were off, and she couldn’t verify anything.
Disheartened for a moment, Porter didn’t let that deter her from continuing her search for answers. She then checked to see if there were any reports of missing women in the past several weeks, hoping she would be on there. She checked every local website she could find, including the newspapers, but there didn’t seem to be anything about her. It was like she was a ghost. Like she
never even existed, she thought. How could there be no record of her anywhere? She continued searching, typing in almost any kind of keyword she could think of that might pertain to her situation, even thinking that maybe she was kidnapped and brainwashed somewhere along the way. But just like everything else she tried, it was to no avail.
Though Porter was a little depressed at having found nothing about her to this point, she wasn’t discouraged enough to log off. After all, she didn’t have anything else to do. And since she wasn’t planning on leaving for a while, all she could do was keep trying, hoping something would eventually pop up and catch her eye. At the moment, the only thing she had… was time.
9
Myers was summoned over to one of the analyst’s desks, looking at some information that had just been uploaded to them. After checking a few things out, they got excited, thinking it was the break they needed. They spent the next half hour expanding on that information, double-checking their leads, and making sure they had everything they needed and that it was correct. Once they knew everything to be true, Myers took it to Stephenson. Stephenson had retreated to his office, keeping some of his superiors up to date on everything that had happened thus far. He’d just finished making a phone call when his phone buzzed again.
“Yes?”
“Better get in here. I think we’ve got something,” Myers said.
“I’ll be right there.”
Stephenson immediately got up, eager to see what they had come up with. There seemed to be a sense of excitement in Myers’s voice, something that was lacking in their earlier exploits. Stephenson walked down the hall, hopeful that they did indeed have a beat on Porter again. As soon as Myers saw Stephenson enter the room, he rushed over to him, eager to explain their findings.
“What do you got?” Stephenson asked.
“It looks like the original two agents on the scene of that house took pictures of two vehicles that were parked out in front.”
“Two vehicles?”
“Yeah. They took pictures of the license plates of both. The agents that just arrived on scene checked over their phones before they got rid of the bodies and then uploaded everything to us, that’s how we found it.”
“You run a check on them yet?”
“We have,” Myers said.
“What’ve you found?”
“The one car belonged to a man named Boka Venter. We’ve tracked him down and identified him as one of the victims at the building. The other victim was a man named Khayone Smit.”
“Either one of them doctors or have medical training?”
“Not as far as we can tell,” Myers answered. “What’s interesting is the second car, which is no longer at the building, and must have been what Porter fled the scene in.”
“What about it?”
“According to the plate, the car is registered to a Jeso Jordaan. The kicker there is Jordaan is a licensed doctor. At least, he was.”
“What do you mean?”
“About two years ago, Jordaan worked at a hospital as a surgeon, until he abruptly left. Turns out he performed a routine surgery on the wife of a local police official, who died on the table due to some sort of infection. The police were then about to charge Jordaan with murder. So instead of fighting the charges, Jordaan just up and left. Hasn’t been seen or heard from since.”
“Any validity to the charges?” Stephenson asked.
“Not likely. We haven’t yet delved into their histories to see if there was anything there prior to that, but in our estimation at this point, it’s likely that it was just a high-ranking and powerful official exerting his influence. He was angry at what happened and took it out on whoever he deemed responsible.”
“So the car belonging to this Jordaan was seen at the house, and he was a licensed doctor, a surgeon, and now the car is gone?”
“That’s right.”
“That’s who Porter was there to see. What’s this guy been doing the last two years since that incident?”
“Uh, unknown as of now,” Myers replied. “He must have gone underground, because he hasn’t had much of a footprint up until now. A few things here and there, but certainly nothing we could use to build a pattern or figure out his whereabouts as of now.”
“He’s the key to finding Porter right now.”
“Even if he did treat Porter, there’s no guarantee they’re still together at this point. They might have split up right after the shooting. He might have dropped her off somewhere and gone their separate ways.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Stephenson said. “Find that car, find where it’s been, and we can figure out where Porter is. The second part of this is finding out how she knew to contact him.”
“There’s nothing to suggest they knew of each other before this. Considering the other car that was at the location, we think they were matched up through a third party, likely either Venter or Smit, and that’s why they were there.”
“Really doesn’t matter at this point who matched them up, considering they’re dead now. They’re either still together or they’ve just recently split up. Either way, we can get a read on Porter again if we find out where that car is right now. That’s where we need to direct our efforts right now. Find that car.”
“We’re on it,” Myers said, directing the analysts to focus their attention on finding Jordaan’s car.
“Where’s this doctor been staying for the past two years? He must have friends or family somewhere. He hasn’t been living under a rock. Find out where he’s been. That might lead us to where he is.”
The analysts worked vigorously for the next hour, trying to trace Jeso Jordaan’s backstory in the hopes that it would lead them to his current whereabouts. It took less than thirty minutes before information started popping up on their screens. Each piece of information they discovered became like a puzzle. It all started fitting together to paint a larger picture.
“He’s got a wife and two kids,” Myers said.
“There’s the connection,” Stephenson replied. “No father, whether he’s on the run or not, is just going to leave his family behind without checking up on them. This is the digital age. They’re communicating somehow; he’s keeping in touch in some fashion, making sure they’re OK without him being there in some manner. How is he doing that?”
“If he’s smart, and since he’s a doctor, we’re assuming he is, he’s probably not creating Facebook or Twitter accounts and doing it publicly.”
“Check the obvious ones first, just to be sure, then start digging deeper.”
The analysts zeroed in on the wife and children of Jordaan, retracing everything they’d done online in the past two years, starting with the most recent, trying to see if any patterns emerged. They were able to quickly rule out some of the more popular social media sites, as they were rarely used.
“Got something,” an analyst blurted out.
“Put it on screen,” Myers replied. The analyst did what was requested, and all eyes went toward the big screen. “All right, what are we looking at here?”
“There’s an underground message board that links back to the IP address for the Jordaan house.”
“They’re communicating on there?”
“How do we know that?” Stephenson asked.
“I’ve also traced that website to the wife’s phone, as well as a computer, a laptop, that appears to be shared by the kids.”
“That still doesn’t prove they’re communicating with each other on there.”
“I’m getting through their usernames and passwords now,” the analyst said. “Pulling up some of their messages now. Coming on screen.”
Stephenson and Myers keenly looked at the screen and read the messages as they popped up. It didn’t take long before they realized they had the right man. They looked at the kids’ messages first.
“Miss you, Dad.”
“Miss you guys too.”
“When are you coming home?”
“I don’t know. Hopefully not too long.
”
Most of the messages were pretty similar in nature. The kids wanted their father back and were hopeful that he would return soon.
“OK,” Stephenson said, knowing that wouldn’t provide what they needed. “Move on to the wife.”
“Coming up now,” the analyst replied.
“Jeso, when will you be home?”
“I honestly don’t know. I first have to figure out how to get us all out of the country. But I know you are probably being watched. I won’t put you all in danger. I need to come up with a way to get you out from their watchful eye.”
“It’s definitely him,” Myers said.
“Can you trace his IP address?” Stephenson asked, trying to disguise any amount of hope in his voice and stay even-keel.
“He’s used several,” the analyst replied.
“Put them up on screen.”
Four big blue dots jumped on the screen, signifying the locations of where they identified Jeso logging in at. Stephenson and Myers eagerly looked at the screen, but couldn’t quite figure out any connection between the locations of the dots, as none of them seemed to be very close to each other.
“What’s the connection here?” Stephenson asked. “He’s moving around between spots?”
The analyst who discovered it was quick with an answer. “No, he’s definitely not moving around, at least not at the moment. The dot on the far left is the spot he logged in at for the first part of last year. Every login from that location is from that time period. The same thing happens to the dot on the bottom. Every login from that location is from the second half of last year.”
Stephenson and Myers had an idea where this was going, but let the analyst finish stating his findings, just in case he threw them a curveball.
“The dot on the far right, every login from that location was from the first half of this year. Then we move to the dot on top. Every login from that location is from the second half of this year, including the most recent ones, the last of which was three days ago.”