by Lisa Libby
I can name several extremely powerful people in this world, who do not believe in God, but rather believe they are God themselves. These people are dangerous, fear nothing, and do as they want, pleasuring themselves with fantasies sane people would never even consider. Imagine being able to buy any fantasy you want. If your fantasy is to kill someone, kidnap a child, turn the power off in a city, cause plane crashes, rob a bank, anything - all you need is the right amount of money.
The dark web has its own currency called HSAC: cash spelled backwards. The exchange rate means $1.00 HSAC currency equals just $0.10 in US dollars. HSAC has increasingly become run like a corporate banking system; their fees have increased twice in the last year. I’ve been working on setting up a similar banking system to HSAC, another place to safely store online funds, but I charge just $ 0.01 cent. I don’t profit, I just need to charge something to make it a valid transaction. I started by only offering this to certain hacker friends, but then it spread to their friends and before I knew it, it spread like a wildfire. The more hackers that can trust me on the dark web, the more protection and power I accumulate. It’s all about building trust.
I have never taken a job from another hacker friend; if I know they’re working on a job, I avoid bidding on that job. Others don’t play by the hacking rules, but I choose to show respect. Things went south when I moved my funds from HSAC to my new banking system. HSAC threatened my life and before I knew it, people were following me. The HSAC wants to monopolize banking on the dark web, but they can’t, and I think I have made them realize it, along with my hacker friends. I didn’t do it alone. Now that all my funds are safely stored and out of the hands of HSAC, I’m no longer concerned about losing my fortune, but it’s never enough. You can’t put all your eggs in one basket.
I’ve set up a charity for the school Ava visited, to help build a kitchen and cafeteria. The bank regulations are a joke in this country. This is my own little paradise. Endless nice-looking men, and easy hacking opportunities right here at the resort. Every vacationer is using the resort’s free public Wi-Fi. I even bribe the concierge to give me the password to the non-public Wi-Fi. The first rule is to never use public Wi-Fi, particularly while doing banking business or purchases. These rich folks are so careless, especially while on vacation. I doubt any of them even look at their itemized bill at checkout. All week I have been adding my restaurant bills to other hotel guest’s checkout bills. If the guest does complain, the hotel management will likely brush it off as the waiter’s mistake.
I can’t wait to share all my news with Ava, but I can’t – it’s not safe to talk over the phone. She can bring me trouble and I can bring her just as much trouble. All we can do now is communicate with each other through ridiculous draft emails. She has already agreed that if she is jail free after the trial she’s coming to the Dominican. Once the trial ends it will take time for the many angry sides to settle. If she can just focus on something other than dick, she will be in a better place. I can’t wait to brag to Ava how right I was about Johnny. He turned out to be just as I expected, a weak loser, and now she’s chosen revenge over her love. She’s playing dangerously with his life and her heart.
AVA
CHAPTER 33
Back in Black
Johnny pushes open the bathroom door, knocking my phone out of my hand. A text response from Mr. Alterman pops up on the screen as the phone hits the dirty linoleum. He picks up my phone and hands it over, thankfully not opening the text message. The fact that he doesn’t pay it any attention is unlike Johnny. He enjoys getting jealous and arguing with me.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle ya,” he says.
He motions me off the toilet. I don’t leave the bathroom while he takes a piss. I look back at myself in the mirror. My makeup has blackened under my eyes and one fake eyelash has peeled away. I wash my face while Johnny relieves himself. He pushes his way in front of the sink to wash his hands and face. I lean against the wall with my arms crossed, watching and waiting for him to finish. He moves to the side to finish brushing his teeth. With his free hand he motions me that the sink is all mine. We stare at each other brushing our teeth.
“I still love you and want to be with you, Ruben was a mistake,” I say, spitting out the remaining toothpaste.
He’s silent, just looks back at me with angry eyes.
“I can’t trust you,” he replies in disgust.
“Trust, really, that’s the deal breaker, trust – like you are so damn trustworthy.”
“Casey was never a secret; ya knew I would never leave her, but ya slut your way around. I’m more shocked about who ya father is, and how it must have slipped your mind, or how about yah new job as a drug mule for the Dominicans and I’m sure there ah more surprises coming my way.”
“Johnny, if anyone is a liar, it’s you, you told me on several occasions you could leave Casey for me, and then I find out she’s pregnant.”
“She tricked me; ya know I don’t want fuckin’ kids.”
“I will never have you to myself, so what’s the point, what are we doing here?”
“We aren’t doin’ anythin’, I’m done with ya.”
“You fucking pussy. You scared the Mob will side with me over you because of Jimmy being my father? How does it feel, to not be in control?”
He grabs me by the throat with both hands and slams me against the closed bathroom door. This is Johnny’s go-to: when he’s mad, he hurts me.
“I will kill ya if ya try me.”
His hands tighten around my neck. I stare into his eyes, but Johnny is not inside. Evil has possessed him. It’s as if he’s blacked out in a rage. I scratch at his hands to loosen them from my neck. I can’t breathe, and I begin to see black and white dots, I feel my legs give out.
I whisper his name with the last of my breath, and my body goes numb. I try to speak again, but nothing comes out. He lets go of my neck allowing me to drop to the ground. He stands over me while I sit on the floor covering my head, waiting for another kick or punch.
I stare into his eyes – the evil shell of Johnny. It’s as if some evil has taken over, and this happens more and more frequently lately. He blacks out during his fits of rage. It’s not like Johnny to hurt me this much. His hands hit fast, and it’s over, but today feels different. I stay in this position until my breathing is at a normal pace.
“Fuck, Johnny are you trying to kill me?”
I peek from behind my hands to see Johnny sitting on the toilet with his face in his hands crying.
“I love you, Ava, I love you, and ya don’t even see it. You only see what ya want to see. It’s a game to you. My life is in the hands of my boss and your father will make sure ya don’t go to jail and will probably plant all the blame with me. He fuckin’ hates me… I’m fucked. Please don’t let them send me to jail.”
I’ve never seen Johnny cry. I get to my feet and lean on the sink, looking my neck over in the mirror. The bruises are already forming. The bruises get bigger, his hits hurt more each time, but I love him. It’s not his fault. I provoke him, I know how to push his buttons. I know just what to say at the right time to get him hitting me. And after his anger climaxes and he has a moment to reflect, I swoop in just in time to manipulate him into feeling this is normal, it’s my fault and that I forgive him.
I kneel in front of Johnny and hug him close.
“Everything will be okay, please don’t worry. My father only cares about the Mob, he doesn’t care about me. I’ll go to jail before I let them blame you. Susan should be the one to take all the heat.”
“Claire will never let that happen. Her and Susan are close. Plus, there’s been a long-standing rumor that either they’re lovers, or Susan has somethin’ over Claire.”
“What do you think it is?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, we need to find out to save both our asses.”
&nb
sp; “It’s no use, it’s too risky.”
This is the part of Johnny I hate. He can be a coward and pessimistic when he’s outside his comfort zone. It’s the old cliché saying, he’s a sheep in a wolf’s world and the Mob is the wolf. He fears the Mob, his father and probably Casey. According to Johnny, the only reason he has a position in the Mob is because his father was owed favors. Nepotism exists even in the Mob.
I’m done talking to Johnny about Susan because it’s a waste of time. Johnny would never agree to help me get more information, he’s almost useless to me, if I didn’t love him.
I pull Johnny from the bathroom and make him sit on the bed next to me. I light a joint and we hand it back and forth in silence until the joint is burning our fingertips. Johnny apologizes and kisses the bruises on my neck. We are interrupted by the knocks on the door.
“Johnny, we filled up the tank – we’re ready to go, meet us downstairs,” one of the twins yells through the door.
“Okay!”
I’m not looking forward to the twenty hours or so drive back to Boston. My coke supply has diminished into a small eight ball. I refuse to share it with others. I text Alterman to confirm Ruben has wired the $20,000 retainer to Waylon. Alterman’s reply makes me feel relieved that he has paid. Waylon charges $700 per hour. The bill could reach half a million if he charges me the two weeks he will be in Boston.
Johnny doesn’t know I’ve hired my own lawyer. He’ll eventually find out from Claire and my father. I startup my computer to check for any sign from Paul. There’s nothing. I draft an email to myself meant for Paul.
Sherry,
Can you call me, so we can discuss my needs?
Love Always,
Ava
This email shit is ridiculous. I need Paul to call me. I need my cut of the money and I need it now. Without Paul puppeteering the strings of my life, using the dark web, I wouldn’t be this close to accomplishing my plans.
We drive all night and arrive in Boston the next day in the late afternoon. Johnny tries to drop me off at my house, but I refuse to get out of the car. Instead I convince him to drop me at the police station. I need to give my official statement for the night of my abduction and I’m sure there will be plenty of questions about my roommate’s murder.
“You want me to come with ya?” he asks.
“Nah, go home and get some rest, I’ll be fine.”
“Okay, I’ll call ya later tonight.”
He hugs me tight and kisses me outside the vehicle. He grabs my luggage and walks me to the entrance of the police station.
Before we get to the entrance, I see out of the corner of my eye someone approaching us fast.
“Johnny, you fucking liar, you are still fucking her. Is this the work that has kept you from me and the baby? You have missed appointments. How can you sleep at night? I’m over here pregnant, planning a wedding…” Casey screams.
“Get the fuck in the car and I’ll explain.” Johnny is pissed.
“Ava is that you, you like fucking my Johnny? She grabs her belly as if it’s a trophy she won.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, we just cleaned up after fucking in the backseat,” I lie.
She lunges at me, pulling my hair. Johnny puts himself in the middle of us, blocking her from hitting me.
“Both of ya, shut the fuck up,” he yells.
With so much commotion outside the police station, a crowd begins to form.
“What’s going on out here?”
I hear a familiar voice behind me. I turn to see Connor glaring at us.
“Are you guys fucking animals or something? Take this shit somewhere else,” he says.
Connor turns to Johnny. “You know better.”
“Ava, come inside,” Connor insists.
I follow him inside the police station, but not before looking back at Casey and Johnny. Casey is still flailing her arms as Johnny gently ushers her into her vehicle.
Connor doesn’t speak until the doors of the elevator are closed.
“Your father is very concerned for your safety.”
“How so?”
“There’s a rumor that you have sought counsel.”
“That’s not a rumor, it’s true.”
He hits the emergency button in the elevator making it stop suddenly.
“Ava, are you suicidal? Your actions are putting everyone in your path in danger.”
“I know, and I need your help. I don’t want to go to jail.”
“You have to take the plea.”
“I’m not going to jail for anyone’s actions but my own. If I can get my father on board, how much would it cost for you to help me?”
“Your father is the least of your worries. He is not in the position he used to be, not since he returned from Ireland. He disappeared shortly after to Maine. The streets are talking since his return to Boston. The trouble has followed you, his secret daughter, since his return, but that’s not what I want to talk to you about. There’s an undisclosed amount of money taken indirectly from the Mafia that connects Atlantic and the Mob. I haven’t done this, but if I was to display all the photos of the persons involved, I would think that the strings may all tack to your photo. So, I can with great confidence be extremely helpful. Before I consider a deal, I need to know who you’re working with.”
I laugh hysterically. “You will never get that information”
“So, you’re admitting this rumor is true.”
“That depends if you would hypothetically accept my offer that would allow you to retire comfortably at an early age. I need to know how to beat this case.”
“Are you bribing a Federal Agent?”
“Are you accepting my bribe?”
“I am.”
I’m turned on by the deal I’m making with Connor. He’s only maybe ten years older than me, but if he made a move, I would spend the night with him. The few times I’ve seen him he looked unkempt. Today his beard is trimmed neatly, matching his parted, slicked down hair. His clothes are casual, but more form fitting. He looks more like an FBI agent and less like a rundown drug addict.
“$250,000 and I can guarantee no jail time.”
“And if I get even one day in jail, you get nothing,” I reply.
I need his assistance with another matter, but I don’t have all the details.
He’s silent, but extends his hand, sealing the deal.
If Connor knew the real amount we stole, his number would have been different. I’m not convinced that he knows as much as he’s saying.
“What happened to your neck?” he asks.
Without flinching I lie, “It’s from the rope that was around my neck when the attackers tried to drown me.”
I can tell he doesn’t believe me.
“You have another problem,” says Connor.
He leans against the elevator wall, folding his arms.
“Your ex-boyfriends’ wife was at the station filling out a missing person report. Your name was mentioned as the last person to see him.”
I swallow hard. I don’t care that Connor sees me nervous.
“Really? He’s my ex-boyfriend. It’s not unusual for us to hang out from time to time.”
I avoid eye contact. I feel acid coming up my throat. I’ve had so much heartburn lately.
“Save the bullshit for someone else. What happened to Mac?”
“How the hell should I know? I didn’t know he was missing.”
“It will cost you if this case shows up on your doorstep. You can save me a lot of trouble looking for a missing person that isn’t really missing.”
He’s trying to break me, perhaps bribe me for more money.
“Honestly, I don’t know where Mac could be.”
He smiles with his eyes, but his frown shows he’s not convinced.
We agree to meet up in a week to discuss our deal. Just like that there’s no further mention of the attempted drowning, and I’m satisfied because I don’t want to relive that event by telling my side of the story.
He brings me to the lead detective working the murder case on my roommate. The detective only has a few questions because they rule me out as a suspect due to the time of death. The nurses confirm I was in the hospital recovering. Even if they press me with more questions, I will lawyer up and end the questioning. I can only guess she was killed as revenge for Jose’s murder and really the killer was trying to get to me.
I leave the police station, not wanting to go home, but I really have no choice. I walk home to give myself time to think about the deal I made with Connor. He could easily go to Claire or the Mafia and tell them everything, especially since he seems to possibly have proof or a solid informant. To accomplish what I set out to do the day my mother died, I need to take chances and be fearless or my plan will fail for sure. I get to the front door of my house. I take a deep breath and enter.
Finally, today is the day I get to meet Waylon. Mr. Alterman has arranged for the three of us to meet at a cigar bar in downtown Boston. It’s attached to a hotel, where I assume Waylon is staying. Our meeting is to go over the plea-bargaining agreement before we meet with the Dillon brother lawyers. I get to the cigar bar, but the door is locked. I peek inside; it’s dark, so I can’t see very far inside. I knock on the door and immediately the door is answered by what looks to be the bartender.