37 The Gambit

 

Shilshole Bay WA. Aug 25. 2033

47°41'04.5"N 122°24'27.8"W

 

Jun leaned against the shovel-loader and monitored the empty quay. He’d been waiting on the hillside for almost three hours as the Salish Star docked and unloaded. He saw her passengers board a tour bus and observed the crew and captain disembark as well. Nothing stirred on the pier below, even the street kids had abandoned the trash bins after stuffing their packs with discarded food and trinkets.

The gravel heap on top of the old park afforded Jun an exceptional surveillance position. He scanned the abandoned playground; half-submerged from the encroaching seawater. His gaze moved toward the breakwater—boulders from the gravel pit where he now he stood had been piled on top of the existing jetty—long since engulfed. Jun saw nothing out of the ordinary—that is, except for a remarkably large bird on a rock—staring right back at him. He seems as interested in me as I am him. Jun clicked the magnifying app on his mobile. You’re a big guy, aren’t you, fella? The bird looked intently at Jun, his eyes were like polished stone. Somewhat unnerved, Jun looked back to the Salish Star. A movement from the pier caught his attention and he crouched behind a boulder. Squinting, Jun could make out an attractive young woman walking down the ramp. He wondered why she remained onboard when the rest of the crew had departed. Something told him she might have an answer to the cryptic message Douglas sent earlier telling him to “meet the Star at 1600” that afternoon. As he followed the girl’s movements, Jun ran through his options. Should I approach her—but then, what would I say?... ‘Hey, do you know where my fugitive uncle’s hiding?’ What if she raises an alarm? HighTower would be first on the scene, no doubt about that… His mind raced through various scenarios. A noise overhead startled Jun, as the large bird landed in front of him and shook its wings. “Shoo—get lost!” Jun muttered as loudly as he dared. With a single croak, the bird flapped away. “What in the hell…?” Jun whispered. Still crouched behind the rock, he watched the bird fly to the young woman. She seemed to anticipate its arrival, lifting her arm to receive it. “I’ll be damned,” Jun murmured. He saw the bird raise its beak toward the rocks and realized the girl was staring right at him. She made a small gesture with her hand and Jun sighed, Shit. Well, here goes nothing. He rose from his hiding spot and waved back.

It took several minutes for Jun to scramble down the hillside, but he managed to climb or slide down most of the way until, at last, he dusted himself off and approached the girl. Offering his hand, he introduced himself. The young woman smiled but said nothing, handing Jun a folded slip of paper. The bird climbed up her arm and positioned itself on her shoulder. Before he’d finished unfolding the paper, Jun recognized his uncle’s hasty script, he read the note aloud, translating from Mandarin as he spoke: “My dear nephew, I apologize for what your family has suffered on my account. It’s true, I am alive and am anxious to see you. Please trust this woman—her name is Dot—she helped bring me here. We must try to end the nightmare that HighTower has begun. Stay safe, I will greet you in person very soon. With respect, Kim Chen.”

“It’s true? My uncle is here… with you?” The bird snatched the paper out of Jun’s fingers and flew toward the water with the note in his beak. Jun looked at Dot with alarm but she waved her hands in a gesture that clearly meant, “Don’t worry.” She pointed to his mobile and held out her hand. Jun gave her the device and swiped its screen, it displayed the current time. She pointed at the hour and held up both hands, displayed seven fingers, then pointed back to the screen. “OK, seven o’clock?” Jun asked. She shook her head. It dawned on him that she hadn’t spoken since their initial encounter. “Wait a sec… Dot, are you… mute—can you not speak?” Again, she shook her head. Jun nodded and replied, “No problem, I understand you well enough. So, you’re holding up seven fingers and it’s just after five o’clock now… Are you telling me, ‘seven plus five’… Twelve o’clock. You want me to be here at midnight?” Dot smiled, nodding enthusiastically. Monk landed on a nearby trash bin and made a series of clacking noises. Jun noticed how Dot reacted, paying careful attention to the sounds the bird made. Dot looked around and nodded once, signaling that their meeting was over. She pulled an envelope out of her pocket and placed it in Jun’s hand, then turned, walking back to the Salish Star.

Jun returned to his hiding place on the hill. He tore open the envelope and found two photographs inside it: the first was of Biyu, smiling for the camera as she stood beside Uncle Kim on a beach. The second was a picture of Douglas, surrounded by his electronics—his hair characteristically unkempt. Next to him was the large bird, holding a scrap of paper in his beak on which Douglas had scrawled the word “Nevermore.” Jun laughed heartily for some time before tucking the photos into his pocket.

 

Dusk settled at last and although the old city was largely deserted, the staccato sound of fireworks drifted from across Lake Washington as New Seattle celebrated the first manned-landing on Mars. Huddled inside the cramped cab, Jun stared at the night sky and listened to the far-off pops and crackles, pondering what would become of earth when its people moved on to new planets. Who will they leave behind once everything’s used up? He drew a star in the fine layer of dust covering the window and waited for the clock to strike twelve. His stomach growled and he chided himself for not bringing anything to eat. To pass the time, he skimmed through the newsfeed on his burner. Most of the headlines were of the astronauts on Mars, however he soon found a story about a gala on Raj Kaleka’s mega-yacht. Jun watched a video of the tycoon speaking about his “Floating Cities Project”, the guest list for the huge event included international dignitaries and celebrities. Food and entertainers were being shipped from across the globe to Kaleka’s yacht for the grand event. Jun read the date. August 27^th? That’s just two days from now! He sat up and said aloud, “Holy shit. This is it—this is our chance.” Texting a message to Douglas, he wrote, “Find me a way onto Kaleka’s boat for the gala on 8/27. I’ll take care of the rest.” He scoured the news for further information and then placed the burner on the dash as he began to form his plan.

 

Midnight arrived and Jun clambered out of the cab. He took a lightweight jacket out of his pack and wrapped it around his shoulders as he negotiated his descent down the gravelly slope. A landslide might call unwanted attention to the isolated docks at this late hour. He landed on the pavement and looked both ways before crossing the narrow street. The concrete wall dividing the street from the boarding ramp was shrouded in darkness. This is as good a place as any to hide for now. Jun crouched in the shadows, bowed his head and waited.

Several minutes passed, a dog howled in the distance, Jun began to shiver; whether from the cold or expectation, he wasn’t sure. He wished that his uncle would arrive soon and he could get away from the exposed streets. At last, he heard voices from the other side of the wall, footsteps approached. Jun drew a nervous breath, stepped out from the shadows and was met by broad-shouldered young man—roughly the same age as himself. Unsure whether to run or defend himself, Jun opted to stand his ground. “Uh, I—I’m waiting for my uncle, do you know…?”

“Nǐ hǎo!” Kim Chen’s voice rang out from the darkness. Táan moved aside and Jun recognized his uncle’s face—older and more weathered than he remembered. He grabbed Kim around his shoulders and the two men swayed back and forth as they embraced. Kim muttered, “It’s been too long since I’ve seen you, wài shēng. I’m saddened that we meet in these conditions.”

“Uncle Kim, we have much to talk about—but not right here. I don’t think we are safe, exposed like this. Let’s get back to the ID and I’ll explain—and you have quite a lot to tell me, no doubt.” Jun said, handing his uncle a crumpled cap with a long bill.

“Wait—there are three of us here.” Kim gestured to the young man that had approached Jun initially. “This is Táan. And you’ve already met Dot.” Kim placed his hand on the young woman’s shoulder and said, “She saved my life, wài shēng.”

Jun looked at the silent girl with renewed interest. There were many stories to be told once they were at the safe house. He shook Táan’s hand and bowed toward Dot, “Please, everyone—follow me. I’ll get us all back to the ID.”

“What’s this ‘ID’?” Táan asked.

“Ah, yes—sorry, it’s the local’s name for the ‘International District’ in the old city… I have a flat there. We’ll need to hike for a little way, but there’s a shuttle that still runs at this hour. It can get us downtown.”

Dot looked at Kim with a skeptical expression. He realized instantly what she was asking. “Nephew, won’t there be cameras on these shuttles?”

Jun shook his head, “Don’t worry, ARGUS cameras aren’t installed in this part of town. Old Seattle’s still living in pre-quake times, Uncle.” Jun led the way out of the terminal and turned as they crossed the street, saying, “As long as you’re no longer chipped, it will be OK. Keep that hat on always—ARGUS will be everywhere once we’re in the ID.

Táan leaned over to Kim as they walked, “What are you guys talking about?”

“He is referring to the ARGUS surveillance system,” Kim replied as they followed his nephew up the hill. “It’s a facial recognition program developed by the military a few decades ago. They used to call it DARPA back in the early 2000’s. The police use it to track criminals and the bigger countries use it to monitor their borders.”

Dot’s head jerked up as Kim spoke. She lagged behind as the group continued, looking over her shoulder. “Hey, Kijii—better keep up. We can’t get separated in the city,” Táan called. Frowning, Dot hoisted her pack and jogged across the street. A tunnel loomed in front of them and Jun leapt across a drainage ditch, picking his way through weeds and garbage as he made for the entrance. The others trudged up the embankment behind him and disappeared under a crumbling trestle. Monk flew ahead, opting instead for the treetops.

 

 

Biometric Surveillance Unit. New Seattle Aug 26. 2033

47°41'33 31"N 122°20'08.8"W

 

A persistent blip on the scanner monitor drew the desk sergeant’s attention. A grainy image flashed onto the screen, the directions underneath it read, “High Value Individual: Classified. Notify HSA.” The sergeant called over to his senior colleague, “Sir, we just got a hit on an HVI down at the old Shilshole pier.”

“Acknowledged, transmit the information over to HighTower. I’ll get one of our teams to check it out.” The senior officer tapped his earpiece. “Dispatch? This is BSU West. Yeah, we got a BOLO at Shilshole Bay in the old city. Unit tango-alpha-foxtrot. Suspect is one, Chen, Kim: Asian male. Age, 34; height, 5’11’; 185 pounds. Classified as a high value target—pursue, but do not engage. HSA notified. Transmitting coordinates. Over.” The senior officer clicked the screen and the image vanished, replaced by the words, “Transmission complete.”

 

 

International District. Old Seattle. August 26. 2033

47°33'44.5"N 121°59'27.5"W

 

The automated shuttle rumbled down Fourth Avenue South—the only straight stretch of road that remained undamaged from the quake’s destruction. Jun stood in the middle of the aisle, keeping a close watch on both entrances. Dot sat on the bench next to Kim, her cheek pressed onto the cool glass as she stared at the city lights. Táan stood in the aisle behind them, gripping the handrails overhead.

Jun drew a shaky breath and tried to collect his thoughts. The realization of what lay in store—guiding these inexperienced people through the streets of the ID without detection—wasn’t going to be easy. It was obvious that Táan was overwhelmed and Dot, however capable, was clearly exhausted. Uncle Kim, while familiar with large cities, was a wanted fugitive. Jun blew out his measured breaths and straightened his back. I can do this, for my parents and Nai-nai.

The shuttle jerked to a stop and the front doors slid open. The companions looked up as two policemen stepped onboard. Neither cop paid any heed to the other passengers, however Jun noticed that one of the officers kept his eyes fixed on the mirrored panel in the front of the compartment. The officer’s gaze shifted upward, meeting Jun’s in the reflection. Jun knew at once that the police were on that shuttle for one purpose—HighTower’s orders. He cleared his throat and gestured toward the side door; Kim nodded. Táan touched the base of Dot’s neck, silently conveying the message. She inched away from the window. They were ready. Staring straight ahead, Jun clenched his jaw and waited until the last second before pulling the “stop requested” cord. As the shuttle rumbled toward the corner of Weller street, the doors opened. “Now!” he said and bolted sideways, blocking the aisle. The others leapt onto the pavement. As the bus pulled forward, Jun sprang outside. “Left at the corner, toward the red awning—Go!”

The police officers ran toward the exit as the bus accelerated. The automatic doors were beginning to close as the first officer stuck his baton between the panels. They leveraged their way through the door and jumped to the curb. The younger officer raced after Jun, his partner followed as he radioed their location. The ID was still active at 2 AM, as drunken revelers carried the Mars-landing celebrations into the streets. Taking the lead, Jun sped through the crowds, turned sharply to the left and ran through the open-sidewalk seating of a restaurant bar. Patrons shouted as he crashed into one of the waiters, toppling a tray of entrees. Táan, Kim and Dot rushed behind him. As Jun passed the manager he shouted, “Duì bù qǐ… Yímín jú!” Upon hearing the word “immigration,” the manager screamed loudly, “Ai! HighTower—Yímín jú!” The dining room erupted in chaos as dozens of customers and employees ran toward exits. The officers were met with a panicked crowd, pushing them back into the street. Jun slammed through the kitchen door, repeating his warning of immigration to the staff as he dashed around giant woks crackling with hot oil. The companions followed the employees into a narrow alley. Jun turned right, yelling for the others to keep up. Ducking into a recessed doorway, the group paused to catch their breath. Kim placed his hand on the greasy brick wall and doubled over as Dot wiped her forearm across her face, panting. Táan’s back was to the group, his fists clenched, his breathing heavy. As Jun gulped for air, he looked upward; a fire escape clung to the brick wall in several jagged flights. He grabbed the ladder and shook it; the metal creaked and clanged but held. Harsh voices reverberated down the alley. Táan called over his shoulder, “They’re coming.”

Jun nodded and took a deep breath. “Dot—take my uncle up those ladders. Stay to the rooftops. Go three buildings straight ahead, then turn to the right. You’ll have to jump—there’s a door on the roof. Go to the fifth floor… Apartment 533. Can you do this?” Dot nodded and grabbed Kim’s arm. “Go now!” Jun hissed and threw his key card to Kim. Climbing up the first rung of stairs, Dot pulled the ladder down for the next level. The they heard angry shouts from the kitchen staff and footsteps growing louder. Jun looked at Táan. “Can you run?”

“I can.” The young men sprinted down the alley, knocking over cans of rubbish and shouting as they went. Dot watched from the upper landing as the policemen turned to follow the racket down the dark corridors. Monk flew toward the pavement, silently trailing their pursuers. Kim tugged on Dot’s sleeve. “Let’s get out of here.”

 

The alleyways narrowed as Táan and Jun raced further into the shadows. As Jun turned the corner into a side passage, he stopped abruptly. A 10-foot chain link fence blocked their path. He spun around, searching for another way out of their impasse. Táan ran past him, slapping him on the shoulder as he leapt onto a dumpster. Lunging against the wall, Táan propelled himself over the fence, landing on top of a forklift. He waved at Jun, “C’mon, you can do this!”

Jun shot a look over his shoulder. Fuck! He pulled himself onto the dumpster lid and jumped. His right leg caught on the top of the chain link fence. He gritted his teeth and pried it off the wire, sliding down the other side. Táan offered his hand, hauling Jun onto the lift. “Let’s get the hell out of here!” he muttered.

“Right behind you,” Jun panted.

The forklift was parked next to a partially demolished building, a remnant of the big quake. Vast, empty floors of crumbling concrete met their eyes. Táan jumped, grabbing onto the second story ledge and pulled himself up.

“Stop! Stay where you are—we will shoot!”

Jun turned to see the cops standing on the dumpster. Their weapons were aimed directly at him. Throwing his leg onto the ledge, he rolled onto the floor. Táan helped him to his feet and they ran. A bullet ricocheted off one of the columns, Jun felt the cement dust hit the side of his face. He tucked his chin and increased his speed. Several paces in front, Táan sprang over a pallet of cinder blocks as he made for a stairwell in the far corner. Jun scrambled over the pallet, glancing over his shoulder as he ran. The first officer was closing in distance. Suddenly Jun slammed into Táan’s back. “Shit—sorry!” he panted, pulling him back from the 20-foot hole in front of them.

“This way’s no good.” Táan muttered.

Jun scanned the surroundings and nudged Táan’s arm. “Over there!” The pair ran toward an elevator shaft. Another shot rang out and Táan ducked as a bright flash whizzed by his head. The young men reached the elevator shaft—stared into a deepening black hole. “How far down do you think it drops?” Jun asked.

“I’d guess it’s a 35-foot drop—that is, if it stops there.”

Jun looked back and saw the officers taking aim. “This is it.” As he spoke, Monk dove at the police, flapping his wings and squawking. The officers waved their hands, dodging the raven’s attack. Before the police could point their weapons his way, Monk flew into the girders. His diversion gave Táan and Jun enough time to make the jump.

“Aaaaaah!” Táan leapt into the shaft, catching hold of a loose cable on the opposite wall. He slid for several yards before finding a toehold in the concrete. Jun jumped seconds after, breaking his fall on a steel beam.

“You alright?” Táan called down.

“Yeah, I’m OK—I think. Hey, I can see the ground from here. You’ve got about 20 feet. Can you make it?” Jun lay on his back and shouted into the gloom. A blurry shape flashed by his face as Táan fell. Jun rolled to his side and dropped to the floor. They stumbled out of the dusty shaft and ran toward an opening in an exterior wall. As they left the building, they heard a siren. “That’s no police drone—that’s a HighTower raptor, shit!” Jun panted.

Táan glanced at his companion. “What’s that?”

“I mean it’s a weaponized micro-drone with camera units. If that thing spots us, we’ll never be able to shake it.”

Táan frowned and looked around the corner. Red and white strobes pulsed from a building across the busy avenue. “Whad’ya suppose that place is?” he asked, pointing to the lights.

Jun leaned forward to read the sign. “’Pufferfish.’ It’s a club for uh, dancing.”

The raptor’s shrill siren drew closer and Táan searched the sky. “Fine, come on—let’s get lost inside there,” he said, sprinting through the traffic.

“Hang on—Táan—wait! Shit, what the hell.” Jun shook his head and ran after him.

 

Throbbing bass resounded from inside the building as they entered. Jun caught up with Táan and grabbed his elbow, “Stay close,” he yelled. They pushed their way through gyrating bodies on the dance floor. Violet, red and yellow lights flashed in synch with the music. A pair of hands grabbed Táan’s hips and he spun around—his fist pulled back, ready to strike a blow. He faced a man in a platinum wig; glittery antennae wobbled from his headpiece. The man pinched Táan’s chin and said, “Are you a Martian? Because I’d love to probe your dunes, honey.”

Jun pulled Táan away and lead him through the packed room. Looking back across the dance floor, Táan saw the door open and the two police officers enter the club. “The cops are on our trail,” he shouted over the noise. Jun nodded and pressed forward. As they passed by a barstool, Jun saw a plastic space helmet, grabbed it and stuck it on Táan’s head. He pulled off his own shirt and let it fall to the floor. “Don’t say anything. Follow my lead—OK?”

“Wha…?”

“Just—trust me.” Jun took a plastic Vulcan mask off a drunken patron’s head. As the two officers made their way through the mob, Jun pulled Táan close to him and yelled, “Put your arms around my shoulders!”

Táan backed away and grimaced, “Are you fucking nuts?”

“Do it now!” Jun grabbed Táan’s arms and buried his head in his chest. The officers brushed past them without pausing. Looking out of the eye-slot in his mask, Jun watched the cops skirt the dance floor and leave the way they came in. He let out a heavy sigh. “We’re all good,” he exclaimed, pulling off the mask.

Táan shoved him away with both hands “What was that all about?”

“No time to explain,” Jun picked his shirt off the floor. “We’re in the clear for now. Let’s find an exit and get out of here.” Táan threw the helmet on the floor and followed Jun through the hall. Couples lined the tight passageway, engaged in various intimate activities. Táan tried not to stare as they elbowed their way through the club. They burst through the metal door and were met with a shocking blast of cold night air. “Alright, we’re only two blocks from the flat—keep your head down and follow me.” Jun hunched his shoulders and crossed the street. Táan caught up with him and they made their way back to the apartment in silence.

 

A muffled noise on the landing startled Dot. She snuck toward the entryway of Jun’s flat and pressed her ear to the door. Peering through the peephole, she saw a ragged looking Táan covered in sweat and dust. Dot unbolted the door and let the them into the flat. Kim said, “You both look terrible, are you alright?”

“Yes Uncle, a little worse for the wear, but we made it. But I can’t say that Táan won’t carry around a few emotional scars for a while.”

Dot ran her hand through Táan’s hair, wiping cobwebs out of his bangs. “I’m fine,” Táan mumbled, brushing her away. He walked past her and fell into an overstuffed chair. Kicking off his shoes, Táan lay his head back and sighed. “I don’t think I’m cut out for the city life, Kij’.”