Black Hat Blues (45 page)

couldn’t know for sure. Five minutes crept by before Marsh picked up

the line.

“Ms. Lanier, what can I do for you?” she said, without a hint of irony

or menace in her voice.

“Ms. Marsh, I just wanted to check in with you and let you know that

while we are making progress, we’ve run into some unforeseen delays

and might need some more time.”

“Well, I’m certainly glad you’re making progress, but I’m afraid I’m

operating on a very strict timetable here. I don’t think I’ll be able to

accommodate any significant delays.”

That’s pretty much what Chloe thought she would say, but there was

a little wiggle room there. “I’m not foreseeing a significant delay, just a

matter of a week or so at the most.”

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“A week. I fear that’s just not feasible. Let me tell you what, why don’t

you send over what you have so far and if I agree with you as to the

quality of your information, and I’m sure I will, then I’ll do what I can

to get you a couple more days. How does that sound?”

“That sounds fine, Ms. Marsh. I appreciate it.”

“We’re in this together after all. Now, if I need to reach you, is this

the best number to use?”

“Not always,” said Chloe, who’d never used this phone before now.

“I can’t always be sure which phone I’ll be near.”

“Oh, that must be confusing. You know, my son has three differ-

ent phones and I can’t ever understand how he keeps them straight.

Sometimes I have to call all three before I get through to him. Listen,

since time is such a factor for you and me right now, why don’t you do

me a favor and hold on to that phone. After I receive your update, I’ll

call you at this number to confirm the time extension. I don’t want to

have to have Larry hunt around for you. Does that sound alright to

you?”

Crafty bitch. “Yes, yes,” said Chloe. “Not a problem at all.”

“Good. And when should I be looking for that update from you?”

“I’ll e-mail it over this afternoon.”

“I look forward to it. Goodbye, Ms. Lanier.”

“Bye,” said Chloe, hanging up and taking the battery back out of her

phone. She ignored the curious look from the security guard at recep-

tion as she ducked back out onto the street in search of a bus.

An hour later she was in the library at American University logging in

with an account Sacco had scammed from some poor student over IM.

Chloe just wanted to use the net access. She inserted a USB thumb drive

into the computer and ran a linux distro on top of the computer’s own

Windows OS that allowed her to read and send encrypted messages

without leaving her keys on the public machine. She used these accounts

to keep in touch with some of the other Crews out there in the world,

including Isaiah’s and Marco’s cruise-ship based Crew. She sent out a

few feelers and pinged Marco to make sure she could still reach him if

she needed to. There was also an e-mail forwarded to her by the letter

drop service she used down in Miami. Not only was it encrypted, but

the contents required another form of decryption as well, one that she

couldn’t do online. She took a piece of scrap paper and copied down the

100 character long stream of gibberish before logging off and heading

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upstairs to find a quiet library corner to work in. She took out a well-

worn moleskin notebook and flipped through it looking for the right

page. There were ten one-time only code keys hidden within the ram-

blings and doodles that filled most of the book. The mail service down

in Miami had the matching ten one-time codes. She found the right one

and decrypted the message, revealing a ten digit phone number. It was

a time consuming way to send messages, and the mail service charged

them $500 each time they used it (they’d paid up front for ten mes-

sages), but it was also the most secure way she knew to keep in contact

with other people who were as security conscious as she was.

Chloe went back out onto the campus and crossed the street to the

art center where a small sculpture garden offered both protection from

the wind and some privacy. She dialed the number and let it ring three

times before hanging up and dialing again. Two rings, hang up, then

one and hang up. On the fourth call the person at the other end picked

up before she even heard it ring.

“I thought we weren’t talking,” said the voice on the other end.

“It’s an emergency.”

“Go on.”

“Isaiah, we need to meet, I’m not comfortable talking about it on

the phone.”

“We’re not going to meet.”

“I know you think there’s heat all over us, and you’re right. But this

is important.”

“I know.”

“If you knew, you’d want to meet.”

“I don’t think so. In fact, the only reason I agreed to take this call

was so I could express to you in unequivocal words that our dealings are

now and forever through and that I consider you an enemy.”

“What? Why?”

“Your newfound relationship with Emily Marsh is anathema to me.”

“…”

“Yes, I know about the Marsh woman and her machinations and have

concluded that there can be only one reason for your wish to meet me

face to face. You’re trying to capture me.”

“Isaiah, no, no! I’m trying to warn you. I wanted to tell you what’s

going on and try and come up with some sort of plan to—”

“Please, don’t embarrass yourself. I think we’re done here.”

“You can’t believe I’d ever do that.”

“Of course I can, for many reasons, not the least of which is that it

happens to be true.”

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“Isaiah—”

“There is one last thing you can do for me in fact. Since you are on

such good terms with Marsh, you can deliver a message to her for me.

It’s somewhat complicated, so hopefully you’re recording this. Marsh

must immediately cease all investigations into me. They will avail her

nothing in any event—she knows even less than you, and you, really,

know nothing about me. It will be impossible for her to find me, while

it is beyond simple for me to find her. Indeed, I have already found her.

I know about her sick husband, bed-ridden in their Georgetown home.

I know about her work patterns, her finances, her political interests. I

know when she sleeps and when she rises. And I know about her chil-

dren. I know of her son in New York and her daughter in California.

In retaliation for her interest in me, I will be striking back at the two

of them tonight. Go ahead and warn her if you wish, although I don’t

think it will do them much good. If we miss tonight, there is always

tomorrow, or next week, or next year. Unless she’s willing to make her

own children somehow disappear, we will find them and we will have

our revenge.”

“Isaiah, this isn’t right. Those two had nothing to do with this.”

“I simply don’t care. However, there is a way to avoid all this. If she

transfers 500,000 Euros into a bank account of my choosing within

thirty minutes of me giving her the account and routing information,

I will simply walk away. Her children, her husband, her life, will all be

left alone. Left alone as long as she leaves me alone. I will e-mail her

the information first thing in the morning. That gives her the rest of

today to assemble the funds and prepare the transfer. One week later,

once the money is secure beyond her considerable reach, I will call off

my hounds. Did you get all that?”

“Yes,” said Chloe. He hung up. “Fuck,” she said into the dead line.

She didn’t have time to take the train. She called a cab. She needed to

be back in Baltimore right now.

She threw the door wide as she burst into the Baltimore flat. Bee looked

up from her makeshift workbench in alarm. Sacco was sitting on the

rotten old couch, a laptop on his knees. Paul was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Paul?” she asked.

“Using the piss bucket,” said Sacco, eyes locked on his screen.

“We need to talk,” she said.

“It told you, he’s in the—”

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245

“No, you and me. We need to fucking talk.”

“Not yet.”

Chloe looked at him, her head cocked to one side, her lips caught

mid-snarl. She wanted to yell now.

Something changed on the screen Sacco was looking at and he nod-

ded, looking pleased with himself. Then he put the computer aside and

looked up at her. “What’s up?”

“I just talked with Isaiah.”

“And?”

“And he already knew. He knew fucking everything. He knew about

Marsh, he knew we were trying to capture him, he knew fucking

everything.”

“What? How?” said Sacco, looking shocked.

“Oh, I think you know.”

“I have no idea.”

“What’s going on?” asked Paul, coming out from the bathroom, ball-

ing up a wet nap.

“What’s going on is, someone tipped off Isaiah, and I’m pretty sure

I know who it was.” She stared right at Sacco.

“You think I did what?”

“Someone told him. It wasn’t me or Paul, and I’d bet my life it wasn’t

Bee. But then there’s you. You never wanted to turn on Isaiah and you

went with me to use the messenger service, so you could have tipped

him off. Go ahead, deny it. I fucking dare you. Deny it.”

Sacco stood up, his face indignant, “Fine. Fuck it. Fine. Yeah, I told

him. You know why.”

“Why?”

“It wasn’t a question. You know why. Because it was the wrong fuck-

ing thing to do. Because you don’t sell out your friends. That’s fucked

up. When you recruited me into this doomed band of misfits you two

promised me you weren’t just criminals. You talked about ideals and

doing good and fucking with the bastards of the world. Well you know

what, selling out Isaiah was a bastard fucking move, and I wasn’t going

to be part of it.”

“Get out!” shouted Chloe.

“Fuck you. I found this place. It belongs to my friends.”

“GET OUT!” Chloe shouted again.

“FUCK YOU!” Sacco shouted, chest out as he got up in Chloe’s face.

Paul stepped forward before she could hit him, pushing the two of

them apart. “Calm down, calm down. Sacco, can you give us an hour?

Would you go take a walk or something?”

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“I’ve got a better plan,” said Chloa. “I’m going out for a walk. When

I’m back he’d better be gone.”

“Chloe,” said Paul. “Come on, wait.”

“Gone. Take your shit and go. But leave that fucking computer. That

belongs to the Crew.”

“Whatever. Fine by me,” he said. “But I’m not sorry.”

“You fucking will be,” said Chloe as she walked out the door. “You

will be.”

Paul didn’t try to convince Sacco to stay. At this point, that

would’ve been counterproductive. He did make him promise to

check in in a few days using an e-mail address that Paul had never

used before. Sacco left the laptop, just like Chloe had demanded. Paul

handed it over to Bee and asked her to try and ring Chloe up on it

using an encrypted Skype connection. The phone rang twice before

Chloe picked up.

“He’s gone,” Paul said.

“Good,” replied Chloe. She still sounded very angry.

“I know what he did is fucked, but I’m not surprised. But listen,

maybe we can—”

“Paul, honey, this is one of those times.”

“When I shouldn’t press it?”

“Yeah. Besides, there’s something else to worry about.”

“What?”

“Marsh just sent me a text message. She wants me to call in.”

Paul could almost feel his blood pressure go up twenty points. “OK.

That’s good timing.”

“Yeah, I was a little worried about that too. So should I warn her?”

“I think we have to.”

“I hate being Isaiah’s fucking messenger girl.”

“I know, but she needs to know. I mean, Isaiah’s after her kids for

fuck’s sake. She should take some measures to protect them.”

“No, no, you’re right. Shit, this is all spinning so far out of fucking

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control.” Paul heard a slight hiccup of silence that he knew signaled

Chloe’s call waiting.

“Christ, I think that’s her. Hold on, let me talk to her.”

Paul waited as Chloe switched over to the other call. He sat down at

the table next to Bee where they’d set up Sacco’s laptop. Bee had pulled

up an app that combined info from the GPS tracer in Chloe’s phone

with Google Maps. It showed Chloe was in a park about a mile away

from them. He put his phone on speaker and laid it down next to the

computer and stared at the map.

“Do you think she’s going to be OK?” asked Bee.

“I think so. She’s been through worse. Speaking of worse, have you

heard from c1sman?”

“Just another e-mail. He went out west to where his kid is. I think he

might try and reconcile with his ex.”

“That sucks. I’m sorry.”

“Sucks for him. There’s no way she’s taking him back. I wouldn’t.

He’s kinda, well, you know, needy? Latches on real tight.”

“That’s not always bad.”

“Does it matter?” asked Bee. “No going back now.”

“I guess not.”

They sat in silence for a minute or so, watching the screen and the