“I got him the message,” Jimmy Nugyen told Yaw, Chris, and his cousin Joey. Masha paced in the background behind them.
“Are you sure?” Yaw asked.
“Positive.”
“And no one saw you?” Yaw asked.
“C’mon, man. That’s an insult.”
“Okay. You’re right. What happened after that?” Chris questioned.
“All hell broke loose.”
Jimmy Nugyen, his cousin Joey, along with Yaw, Chris, and Masha stood huddled in the empty basement of an abandoned office building in downtown Los Angeles.
They had taken separate routes, wary of CCTV cameras, cell phones, and any other electronic surveillance that could monitor their movements.
It was getting harder and harder to stay disappeared, as Yaw had labeled it. But like Master Winn before him, Alex required that each member of the group, before being considered for courier, must train in stealth. This meant mastering the ability to move through cities without being traced, staying out of sight and off the grid.
It was a skill that Alex had learned well as a teenager, refined under his late teacher Master Winn, and one that he had passed down to the others in his group. Alex had put Yaw in charge of stealth training, and the younger Nugyen’s learning curve would be no different from anyone previous.
“Specifics, Jimmy,” Joey Nugyen prodded his cousin. “From the beginning.”
Despite his training in stealth, the younger Nugyen was still a brand new courier, and this had been only the second message he had been tasked to deliver.
Using a new courier to traffic in off-grid messaging had advantages and disadvantages. The advantage being that the courier was unlikely to be on a watch list, always a possibility the longer one trafficked in unmonitored communication. The disadvantage was an increased likelihood of potential mistakes made.
Joey hoped that the latter was not the case here. He knew that his cousin Jimmy wanted to level up soon and begin martial arts training so he could be part of the crew that actually freed human trafficking slaves. He hoped that Jimmy wasn’t out of consideration before he was ever in.
“There were three hand-offs between you and me, couriers that were vetted and trained at my level. I was the last leg. I was supposed to be the one to finish the job, and I did.
“Luthecker came out of the building into the alley just like you said he would. I didn’t have to wait long. I saw that there were Russians everywhere right away, but I kept my distance, and they weren’t there looking for me, so it was easy for me to slide.
“It wasn’t hard to figure out who they were after, so I had to call it. Do I make the drop or not? And I decided it was a go. I had to get him the message, and I didn’t think I’d get a second chance, not with those guys lurking. And hey—it’s Alex Luthecker we’re talking about here, so I figured he knew the situation and how to handle himself.”
“Then what happened?” Chris pressed.
“Well, I slid right by the Russians. Like I thought they had no clue, but they weren’t the real problem. I did a bump drop and Alex got it so I thought we were good, and I figured he’d just ghost the Russians, but outta nowhere Coalition storm troopers swooped in. They shot two of the Russians ASAP to shut down any resistance and took everyone else in. It was all over before it started.”
“And Alex?” Yaw asked.
“He seemed calm throughout. They put him in the back of a BearCat by himself. They were very careful with him.”
“And they never came after you?”
“They didn’t see me. I stayed in their blind spot. It was just like you said to do in training—if your enemy focuses too hard on one thing, he misses the other things, and it’s among those other things where you hide. So that’s what I did.”
“And how many others were taken?”
“The big Russian on the bench, who must’ve been the boss, and a bald-headed guy with the beard that was traveling with Alex. Bald guy looked like he was shitting his pants. Big Russian boss and the pant shitter each got their own BearCat too, just like Alex. The Russian enforcers clearly didn’t mean shit so they were all crammed into the last one, at least the ones that were still alive. And the one’s that weren’t? They just left the bodies out on the street for the buzzards. That was some third world shit right there, man.”
“Where do you think they’re headed?” Chris asked Yaw.
“They won’t be hard to find,” Masha cut in. Her tone was confrontational. She already knew who the big Russian was and had an axe to grind. “The Russian boss as you say—what did he look like?”
“Big and Russian.”
“Details, Jimmy. We talked about this. And attitude. Dial it down,” Joey scolded.
“Sorry,” Jimmy replied and took a moment to search his memory.
One of the first training exercises that Joey had personally given Jimmy was memory training, and it included “no screens of any kind for thirty days.” It was supposed to clear the mind of clutter and make space for the details of the moment.
Overcoming the addictive and hypnotic effect of digital bombardment proved difficult for everyone, as screens were everywhere, but being screen-free was a requirement for the higher levels of training with the group.
Unfortunately, for Jimmy he loved sneaking off to play Grand Theft Auto, even if it was an older version on an isolated Nintendo console. His lack of focus was showing now, and he had to concentrate hard.
“I’d say he was in his sixties. Big hands. Piercing eyes. Scar on his left cheek.”
“The Barbarian,” Masha announced, a mixture of dread and fury in her voice. She didn’t need to hear more details to know it was her former boss.
“What’s he doing in town, sitting out in the open, on a park bench, waiting for Alex? He had to know he was being watched. He had to know that he was going to lead the Coalition right to him. Why would he risk exposure like that?” Yaw asked.
“I do not know,” Masha replied. Her Russian accent was thick, and she still habitually avoided vocabulary contractions. “But I do know that the Barbarian is not stupid. This must be a calculated move for him. As in chess.”
“And Alex? Why now? Why like this?” Joey asked.
“He’s the winner-take-all prize. He always has been. It’s an obsession with the Coalition, and he took out Ivan’s partner, Lucas Parks. He’s right in the middle of it all.”
“You’re sure he got the message?” Yaw asked Jimmy one last time to be sure.
“Absolutely,” Jimmy answered.
“Then you did your job.” Yaw put his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. “And we’ll be fine.”
Both Jimmy and Joey Nugyen let out a sigh of relief. Both men knew it would be Yaw who decided if Jimmy could level up.
“So what’s the move now?” Chris asked Yaw.
“We gotta meet with Nikki.”
“It’s not safe. PHOEBE’s down, and we’re being watched.”
“We’re always being watched. We just gotta move old school now.” Yaw turned to the younger Nugyen. “I got another message for you to deliver.”
“Is this place secure?” Muranaka asked Nikki.
Muranaka knew she was risking her job by being here with Nikki Ellis. The Coalition was going after Ellis hard and Muranaka had made promises to its CEO, and it would be very difficult to defend being caught with PHOEBE’s creator.
But I can spin easily enough, Muranaka thought. Make it look like she agreed to meet with Ellis in order to access PHOEBE. And that was all true.
However, there was one other thing Nikki offered that was even more interesting to the Coalition programmer. Muranaka was, of course, curious about Alex Luthecker. As a sworn enemy of Coalition Properties, you could not be employed by the firm and not know who Alex Luthecker was and what he had allegedly done.
Muranaka was taking a big risk by being here, not only from her employer, but also from Ellis. The opportunity was worth the risk, however, and she was confident in her abilities to handle Ellis.
Muranaka didn’t buy that Ellis couldn’t access her own software. Sooner or later, Ellis would have to log in, and Muranaka would be ready. If she could dismantle PHOEBE and help capture Alex Luthecker, she’d be a Coalition hero. For the first time in her life, she’d be able to step out from anyone’s shadow.
But even more important to Muranaka than stepping out from shadows was that the young programmer actually wanted at Alex Luthecker. She wanted to see if everything she’d heard about him was true. She wanted to test her own wits. She wanted to see if she herself was smarter.
“This ain’t my first rodeo when it comes to stealth,” Nikki answered as she double-checked the windows. “This small apartment in Watts gets screened for bugs along with the entire neighborhood for electronic surveillance. All the CCTV cameras around here are broken, but it’s a poor neighborhood so nobody cares. We use that to our advantage. And every person you saw out on the street, walking their dog, whatever—eyes and ears. If someone or something comes this way, we’ll know long before it gets here.”
“And PHOEBE? When do we try and access her?”
“There’s no electronic access of any kind here.”
“Why not?”
Nikki paused. “Because the Coalition is more sophisticated than they let on, even to their top civilian programmer. PHOEBE could be piggy backed by your people, leading Coalition Assurance right to me,” she finally answered.
“I assured you in our emails, or in PHOEBE’s email matrix that put us together, that I would come alone. This isn’t my first rodeo when it comes to stealth, either. But I will say this, if I’m gone too long, Coalition Assurance will come looking. But none of that is the real reason you’re keeping PHOEBE away from me. If it’s like you say, and she won’t talk to you, then you’re not sure we’re safe from her, are you? And you literally don’t know what she’s going to do next. Am I right?”
Nikki paused a moment before answering. She was unsure exactly how much information she should share with her rival.
“I’m not sure why she’s not talking to me,” Nikki finally answered. “And I’m not sure why she put the Coalition’s top programmer and my biggest rival in a room with me. All of that is true. But if she did it, it’s because there’s a purpose behind it. And I trust that purpose.”
“And you think Alex Luthecker can tell you what that purpose is.”
“Maybe.”
“You put a lot of faith in this guy.”
“I do.”
“So where is he then?”
Nikki wished she knew the answer to that question. By her estimations, he should have been back by now.
“He should be here soon,” Nikki deflected.
A knock on the door interrupted their conversation.
Nikki checked the peephole and recognized the man standing at the door: Jimmy Nugyen.
Nikki carefully opened the door. “Were you followed?”
“C’mon, what’s with you guys? Where’s the trust? I know how to ghost, for chrissake.”
“Come in,” Nikki said, allowing Joey Nugyen to enter the apartment, carefully closing the door behind him.
“Who’s this?” Muranaka asked, as she sized up Nugyen.
“Who’s this? Who the fuck are you?” Nugyen shot back, before looking at Nikki for answers.
“Rika, Joey, Joey, Rika. Joey’s a messenger. Rika’s a programmer for the Coalition.”
“What the hell’s she doing here? She’s the enemy,” Joey said.
“Says who? You guys are the ones engaged in illegal activity,” Muranaka fired back.
Joey took a step toward Muranaka.
Nikki stepped in front of him. “Knock it off. The situation’s complicated. Where’s Alex? I need to see him right away.”
“He’s preoccupied at the moment,” Nugyen answered, not wanting to get into the details considering the company and never taking his eyes off Muranaka. He finally turned to Nikki, pulling a small piece of paper from his pocket. “This is from Yaw. Your eyes only,” Joey said, eyes still on Muranaka as he handed Nikki the small folded piece of paper.
Nikki examined the message. “Shit,” she said under her breath, before crumpling up the message and stuffing it in her pocket.
“Change in plans,” Nikki said to Muranaka. She turned to Joey. “Tell him I need an hour,” Nikki said. “And tell him to come alone.”
Margaret Evan’s cold had gotten progressively worse throughout the day.
The chills had started in the morning when she woke up, which was in addition to the coughing and sore throat that had started the night before. Now she was so congested she could barely breathe.
Margaret Evans was fifty-nine years old, lived alone in a small apartment with her cat, and she decided that she’d had enough of feeling sick. It’s time to get some Theraflu, she thought to herself.
She chose Theraflu not because of any brand loyalty, but because she had a 50 percent off coupon from the drugstore, and money was tight for her this month. So she fed the cat dinner from a can of Purina, put on her coat and shoes, and headed out the door for a twenty-minute walk to the CVS Pharmacy.
This CVS was one of the bigger stores in the chain, brand new with over a dozen aisles and security cameras everywhere. The whole store seemed cold and sterile to Margaret, which was why she didn’t like coming here unless she had to, but everyone wearing a CVS badge smiled and offered to help her.
In no time, Margaret found herself in the cold and flu section. She saw what she was looking for and approached the shelf where they kept Theraflu stocked. She checked her pocket to make sure she had remembered her 50 percent off coupon. She saw that there was only one box of the medicine left. Margaret took the box and smiled. She felt lucky.
Margaret moved from the cold and flu aisle toward the back of the store, where the food was kept. A bowl of chicken soup will be good too, she thought. She found the soup section and picked out a can of her favorite, Campbell’s Chicken Soup, on sale for 99 cents. More luck.
Her doctor said the soup had too much salt considering her blood pressure, but she had a bad cold, and in her mind that was enough to justify the extra salt.
Satisfied, she made her way to the front of the store toward the registers. Her head throbbed now, and her throat still hurt, and she couldn’t wait to get back home.
She stood patiently in line, and when her turn came, she made sure to pull her 50 percent off coupon from her pocket and hand it to the cashier.
Margaret couldn’t help but notice the young man at the register was good looking, perhaps in his early twenties, with perfect hair and a charming smile. To be young again, she thought.
He took the box of Theraflu and scanned the barcode on the side of the box, followed by the bar code on the coupon. The register beeped. The teller looked mildly disappointed as he checked the register screen.
“I’m sorry, but the coupon is expired,” he said to Margaret, before handing the crumpled piece of paper back to her.
Margaret looked at the coupon, confused. She looked at the expiration date. It was today’s date.
“What do you mean it’s expired?” she asked, making her throat hurt. Despite the pain, there was still edge in her voice. “It has today’s date on it. It should be good through today.” Margaret thrust the coupon back in the teller’s direction.
The young man tried it again, but with no luck. He handed it back. “I’m sorry,” he said again, handing the coupon back. “But the computer won’t take it. Says it’s expired.”
“But it’s not.”
“I know. It happens sometimes. There’s nothing I can do. I’m sorry.”
“I want to speak to the manager.”
“He’s out today.”
“This isn’t fair.”
“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do. Do you want the Theraflu or not?”
Margaret felt cheated and thought about making a scene. And she would have if she didn’t feel so sick. She didn’t care that the security camera seemed to be pointed right at her, just waiting to catch her causing a problem.
“Fine,” she finally said. “But you can keep the soup.”
She handed the teller a worn debit card, and he swiped it quick before handing it back to her. She hoped that she balanced her bank accounts right, and there would be enough money on it.
The teller’s register screen went blank for a second, and the lights throughout the store flickered for several more. When the register screen came back, it showed that the sale had not gone through.
“Can I see your card again?” he asked Margaret.
“What’s the problem? Not enough money?”
“No, it just didn’t go through.”
Margaret reluctantly handed the teller her debit card again.
The teller swiped it a second time and waited.
“Okay we’re good,” he said. The teller moved to hand Margaret back her card when the register beeped loudly and the screen flashed a message that got his attention: CHECK CARD.
The teller tilted his head in reaction. He’d never seen the register do anything like this before.
“What is it?” Margaret asked.
“It wants me to…check your card.”
“Oh Lord, I’m probably outta money. I get paid next week. I promise,” Margaret replied, suddenly very worried.
The teller stood motionless, unsure what to do.
“Well you might as well check it,” Margaret said, resigned to the fact she’d have to eat Ramen noodles until Friday.
The teller swiped the card. His eyes went wide.
“What?” Margaret reacted.
The teller slowly turned to Margaret. “Says here you have three point six million dollars left on your card.”
Margaret almost fainted. She put her hand on the counter to steady herself. “Well, I’ll be damned,” she finally managed to say.
Now the young teller was really confused. The machine shouldn’t be able to share this information. And he’d never seen a debit card with so much cash on it before.
“Um, do you want your card back?”
“Hell, yes.”
Margaret had no idea what had just happened, but she snatched the card from the teller’s hand with surprising speed.
She quickly grabbed the box of Theraflu as if to make a point and abruptly started walking toward the door, trying hard not to break out into a flat out sprint. She was out the door before she allowed herself to breathe.
Then she broke out in a wide smile. Margaret thought the wind on her face felt good, and it seemed her sinuses were already starting to clear. It’s a blessing from the Lord, she thought, and she was beginning to feel much better already.