Geek Mafia: Mile Zero
Read Geek Mafia: Mile Zero Online
Authors: Dakan,Rick
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GEEK MAFIA: Mile Zero
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GEEK MAFIA: Mile Zero
by Rick Dakan
Praise for Geek Mafia!
"The story is gripping as anything, and the characters are likable and funny and charming. I adore caper stories, and this stands with the best of them, a geeky version of The Sting... this is one hell of a book."
- Cory Doctrow, BoingBoing.net
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-Seth Godin, Bestselling Author
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-410Media.com
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by Rick Dakan
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"Geek Mafia ain't just any book...the kid's got chops, the book's getting props, and the price is right. We bought one."
-Vladimir Cole, Joystiq.com
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USABookNews.com
GEEK MAFIA:
Mile Zero
by
Rick Dakan
www.rickdakan.com
GEEK MAFIA: MILE ZERO by Rick Dakan June, 2007
This work is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0
License.
To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/ or send a letter to Creative Commons, 171 Second Street, Suite 300, San Francisco, California, 94105, USA.
This is a work of fiction. All characters in this book are fictional and events portrayed in this book are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.
Layout, design and illustrations: Austin McKinley
Copy Editor: Anthony Salveggi
ISBN: 0-9772649-0-4
Acknowledgments & Dedication
I dedicate this book to the memory of my uncle, Rick Nugent. Not only am I named after him, but he's also one of my biggest inspirations in life. He led the way, living life as a full-time artist on his own terms, giving me the confidence to do the same thing myself.
I want to thank all the people who helped out in the early stages of this book by spending the time to read it over and give me some feedback. Karen Dakan, Stephen Dakan, Mark Friedman, Neil Hendrick, Austin McKinley, Sherrie McKinley, Brian Ries, Laura Roberts, Laurie Roberts Porter, Rebbecca Stults. And especially Judge Wayne Miller in Key West for giving me a guided tour of the city's seedier side.
Prologue
by Rick Dakan
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SHE moved through the crowded streets like she owned the place. Hell, if things went as planned in the
coming months, she might in fact own the place. Or some other place if that's what she wanted. If things went
as planned, there was no limit to what she could have. She smiled to herself as a crowd of sunburned,
middle-aged men broke ranks to let her pass on her way toward Mallory Square. They had no idea who she
was, but she liked to think that they could sense her strength and that it intimidated them. Not enough to stop
them from staring openly at her chest of course, but what did she expect? They were still men.
Duval Street, Key West's main tourist drag, buzzed with early evening activity. The sun had set less than an
hour ago, and the throngs moving up from the nightly sunset ritual in Mallory Square now wandered about,
trying to choose between the dozens of bars and restaurants vying for their attention. She moved against the
general flow and seemed to know exactly where she was going. She knew these streets well and had planned
out her route ahead of time.
But something bothered her. That nagging feeling in the back of her brain that she'd long ago learned to heed
even though it was wrong as often as it was right. You couldn't survive in her world without learning to pay
attention to such feelings, and she'd more than survived - she'd prospered beyond the dreams of any young
hacker or con artist. Heeding the subliminal warning, she changed plans and stepped out into the crawling
Duval Street traffic. A purple taxi honked angrily but she just smiled as she strode across the street and stared
intently at a display of cheap, tasteless T-shirts in a storefront window.
She had no interest in wearing anything with the phrase "Fart Inspector" on it, whatever that meant, but she
did want a chance to get a quick 360-degree look at her surroundings and the people in them. A young
couple, their baby strapped into a stroller and grabbing in vain at passersby. Four good-looking men in their
30s, probably gay, chatting amiably with one another. A pair of slightly chubby, badly sunburned young
women headed into the bar next door. Dozens of other tourists and a few locals. Nothing out of the ordinary
for... no, wait. There.
An older man with a well-groomed beard, indistinguishable from the others except that he was alone. She'd
seen him earlier, somewhere. She couldn't quite remember where, but he'd been alone then too. He was too
professional to jaywalk after her, but he'd gone up to the next corner and was now crossing over to her side of
the street. She let him finish crossing before she turned and started walking again, headed back up the way
she'd come from. At the corner of Petronia she turned right, toward Truman Annex.
Losing him now would be simple, assuming he was alone. But he could have help, and she wanted to string
him/them along a little and see if anyone else had taken an interest in her. It didn't occur to her to be scared.
She doubted that he/they meant her immediate harm, and besides she had plenty of friends in town if things
got nasty. It was far from the first time she'd been followed by mysterious strangers, and she knew what she
was doing.
She continued south on Petronia for the next block, which soon took her out of the crowded restaurant and
bar scene. She risked a glance to her left, which allowed her to catch sight of her new friend in her peripheral
vision. He was still there, only now he was talking on his cell phone. Or at least pretending to talk on his cell
phone. He could be calling for backup. She thought for a moment about making a call of her own, but his
presence where she could easily spot him indicated that he was either unprofessional or working alone and
afraid of losing her. If he had nearby backup, they should have taken over the tail once she doubled back. She
decided to have a little fun with him and see just how afraid of losing her he was.
They were now in Truman Annex, a small, upscale neighborhood of old-looking Key West style houses that
had been built in the last twenty years. It was how Key West would look if designed by a corporate marketing
team - neat and tidy and perfectly pleasant but bereft of any soul or history. The tree-lined streets gave her
some cover, so she took another sideways glance. He was still there, although he'd crossed to the other side of
the street, perhaps hoping that it wouldn't be quite so obvious that he was following her. He had put away his
by Rick Dakan
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cell phone, so if he'd called backup they were probably on the way. That was ok. Soon he'd be forced to either
expose himself or give up.
She came out the other side of Truman Annex, her shadow still with her. The road continued south, where a
pair of large Civil War era cannon guarded the way to Fort Zachary Taylor Park. The entrance was well lit,
with a booth where a park ranger would take your five bucks and let you into the national park and beach.
But that was during the day. After sundown, the park shut down and a chain-link gate closed the road off to
all foot and vehicle traffic. She knew there might be a ranger or two inside the park and probably security
cameras too, but she didn't mind the risk of getting caught. It would be edifying to see if her pursuer felt the
same way.
Breaking into a fast sprint, she dashed toward the gate and jumped up onto its side and then, agile as a
monkey, clambered up and over the top, dropping down into a crouch on the pavement below. She looked
through the steel mesh to see the man running toward her. It didn't look like he'd thought twice about it. She
could probably keep him from getting over the fence, but that would attract a cop or a ranger for sure, and
she didn't want that. She wanted some time alone with this creep. She smiled and winked at him before turning
and dashing down the road deeper into the park. He didn't smile back.
The road to the actual park was about a quarter mile of asphalt that curved through trees and brush, so it
only took a few seconds of hard running before she was out of his line of sight from the front gate. She heard
him slam into the chain link fence and what she thought might be the sound of him hitting the ground on the
other side with an "oof." Up ahead of her was the main parking lot and beyond that the beach. Ideally she
would like to confront him there, among the pine trees and sand where she had plenty of room to maneuver.
Unfortunately, there were headlights headed her way from the parking lot - hopefully just a ranger leaving at
the end of his shift and not responding to some alarm - but either way she had to get off the road.
Ahead on her right was a dark hole in the tree line with a small sign marked
"
Nature Walk." She veered
toward it and plunged onto the dim, overgrown trail. She slowed to a halt a dozen feet off the road and
crouched down, waiting for the vehicle to pass. Peering through a break in the foliage, she saw a park ranger
on an ATV speed by on his way to the front entrance. She wondered if her follower would be able to avoid
capture. As loud as the four-wheeler was, he should be able to hear it coming. She shifted position and
waited, watching to see what would happen next.
She swatted a few mosquitoes and flicked a palmetto bug off her shoulder in the fifteen minutes it took for the
ranger to drive to the gate and then drive back by on his way wherever it was he bided his time. He couldn't
have caught the man who'd been following her, otherwise he would have stayed around and waited for the
cops. She stayed put, and five minutes later her patience was rewarded. The stranger came creeping along the
side of the road, hugging the shadows of the trees. She knew he was kicking himself, sure that he'd lost his
prey. She decided to give him a ray of hope.
Standing up, she purposefully kicked at a bush, causing a rustle of branches and dead leaves. She smiled as
the man froze in place and peered into the darkness. She retreated down the path, headed toward the
abandoned Civil War era fort that squatted another few hundred yards away. Like a good little dog, he
followed after her.
