40 The Bridge

 

International District. Old Seattle. Aug 27 2033

47°36'01.9"N 122°20'11.6"W

 

A dried leaf bounced along the curb, twisting and cartwheeling at the whim of the summer breeze. Dot leaned against her borrowed bicycle and watched the leaf’s journey, contemplating where it might end; adrift to some distant shore or left to decompose in a gutter. She wondered why a tree would allow its leaves to drop prematurely but on further reflection, decided the city was no place that foliage would wish to linger. The sound of an automated trolley startled her and she stepped away from the curb as the shuttle raced past. Dot repositioned herself on the bike and pushed it toward a patch of dried grass Adjusting her helmet, she pushed the cheap sunglasses back into place and waited.

It was pushing noon and the contact had not arrived. Kaleka’s gala was in six hours and they still had no way to get onto his yacht. Jun had assured her that his source was dependable—had been a solid connection through his recent ordeal—that he’d deliver the goods. But Dot was beginning to have doubts and the longer she stood on the busy street corner, the stronger they grew. How do I know who I’m supposed to meet—can they find me? Where should I run if HighTower shows up? Dot examined the faces of passers-by. A group of boys on hoverboards made suggestive glances in her direction, but otherwise, she went unnoticed amid the bustle of the I.D. Where in the hell are you…whoever you are? A movement surprised her and she jumped as a skinny youth approached. He carried his hoverboard under one arm and blew a giant bubble out of his mouth, popping it loudly before he addressed her. “Hola mami, I’ve got data points for sale. Barato—cheap—like, ‘real’ cheap.”

Dot waved him away, but the boy persisted, “Really—they’re legit too—no phony carriers.” Looking past him, Dot scanned the opposite side of the street in for the contact.

“Señora, you really need these phone cards—got it?” The young man held out his hand, flashing several plastic cards. Dot glimpsed a grainy picture of Táan’s face on top and a portion of Jun’s face just underneath. She stared at the boy with a look of astonishment and he grinned. “Yeah, I clocked you from your photo. Look, we better make this quick—HSA cameras are all over the place.” Dot reached into her pocket and fished out the payment. Once they’d completed their exchange, he nodded and whispered, “Tranquilo, esso—just take a different route back and you’ll be fine.” He slapped his hoverboard onto the pavement and took off down the block. Dot heard him yelling, “Data points—get your international cards right here. She steadied her bike and accelerated then, with a sharp turn across grass, jumped the curb, merging into traffic.

 

Táan peered through a canvas sheet tacked across the upper window. “It’s getting late, she should be back by now.”

“She’s only been gone for a few hours. Don’t forget, she made a side trip to check on her fish…whale… whatever. She’ll be back any time. Hey! Don’t keep staring out that window. HSA knows what you look like now.”

Dropping the curtain, Táan stepped away from the window. “There’s a good chance that they know what she looks like too. It’s too risky, we shouldn’t have let her go out there alone.”

“Calm down. This was our only option. They got a good look at both of us—and as far as Uncle Kim… Impossible. Dot’s the only one they can’t peg down yet. It makes sense—besides, she’s got a helmet that covers most of her face and she scrounged those goofy looking sunglasses. Nobody’s going to be able to get a solid lock on her features. She looks like a teenage girl out on a bike. Give it a rest.” Jun talked as he worked on the computer, his fingers tapping messages to the Austrian via the deep web. He paused occasionally, running his hand across his face in thought, then returned to his stooped position over the keyboard. “I’ve got to finish these fake documents or none of this matters.” At last, with a long sigh, he pushed himself away from the screen and said, “OK, the forgeries are acceptable. All we need now is to find costumes to match our new identities.”

Kim walked out of the kitchen and leaned over Jun’s shoulder. “What identities are you referring Jun?” Kim scrolled down the documents and pointed to one line on the screen. “Did you read what they’ve created for Dot’s occupation?”

Jun stretched his neck. “Yeah, she’s listed as ‘entertainment.’ What’s the big deal… Oh, crap.”

Táan glanced over at the two men engrossed in the message. “What are you talking about?”

“We’ve each been assigned identification to get onboard Kaleka’s megayacht,” Kim replied. “Although it appears that Jun’s Austrian hacker connection is unaware that Dot does not speak.”

“Why does that matter?”

“Well, they’ve listed her as one of the band members.”

Jun buried his face in his hands and slumped toward the computer. “Man, how could I have left out that detail? Shit! There is no time to forge another one.”

“Maybe it won’t matter?”

“Perhaps, until she’s required to sing,” Kim mumbled.

Táan laid his hand on Jun’s shoulder. “Tell your friend that we’ll find a way to make it work. We don’t have a choice.”

“Who knows how long we’ll be on that ship before my uncle can speak with Kaleka? That guy’s so well guarded—he’s like a walking Fort Knox. And if we’re stuck on there too long, Dot might be expected to perform. We’ve got to be believable for this scheme to work—all of us.”

“So, exactly who are we supposed to be?” Táan leaned forward to scan the message on Jun’s screen. “Members of the official ’Salish tribe’ entertainers?” he read aloud. “Whoa, OK. Well, that’s convenient—and, sort of generic.”

Jun held up his hands defensively. “Douglas came across a press release for the entertainment—it looks like indigenous performers from all over the world will be at this thing. They’ve arranged for some First Nations representatives to paddle their canoes alongside the yacht.” Jun brought up a page with details about the entertainers and showed it to the others. “Douglas says they’re scheduled to do some sort of ritual dance, so the Austrian created documents and badges for the three of us to be part of that group. Uncle Kim and I just have to somehow pass as Native Americans—at least long enough to get onboard that ship.”

“Been there, done that.” Kim said grimly.

“Regardless, I think our job’s going to be easier than Dot’s will be. She’ll have to board at the pier with a group of strangers… and yeah, maybe expected to sing.”

Táan went back to the window and lifted a corner of the sheet. “How are going to get Kim alone with this billionaire before we get hauled away by his security team… or worse?”

“Do you think HighTower will be on the yacht?” Kim asked.

“Neither Douglas or our Austrian contact could locate any of HighTower’s bigwigs on the manifest—Kaleka wouldn’t go for that, I’m sure of it,” Jun replied. “But it’s a safe bet that they’ll be watching the boat—they’re bound to try and get a few agents onboard.”

Kim crossed his arms and frowned. “Then let’s hope these fake documents will pass a close inspection.”

A soft tap at the front door ended their discussion and the three men froze. They heard several more knocks in a distinct pattern. Táan raced to the door, opening it wide enough for Dot and her bicycle to enter. “Kij’, are you OK—did you meet the guy?” Dot’s hair spilled onto her shoulders as she pulled off her helmet. She leaned the bike against the wall and held up the fake cards.

“Excellent!” Jun exclaimed. “May I take a closer look?”

Táan wrapped his arm around Dot’s waist. “I knew you could pull it off.”

Jun examined the badges as Kim and Táan explained their new plan to Dot, bracing her for the news of her role. Dot studied the yacht’s layout as they spoke, careful to keep her doubts hidden.

 

 

La Push, WA. August 27. 2033

47°54'13.9"N 124°39'21.4"W

 

The helicopter idled as Adili helped the two women into the pickup truck. Kai sat in the pilot seat, scanning through the messages on Ashfield’s mobile. He shook his head, muttering quietly, “You dirty buggers.”

Garance pulled herself forward to get a look over his seatback. “What is it Kai? What have you read?”

“HighTower claims they’ve already deported those refugees back to the Marshall Islands—under the pretense that they entered the United States illegally. They got around the habeas corpus petition. Christ almighty.”

“That’s because there are no bodies left to produce—ils sont mort.” Garance fell back into her seat and glared at Trip. “The people you work for are monsters, Mr. Ashfield. Perhaps you are also a monster?”

Kai mumbled, “That’s a fair wager, ay.”

Trip stifled a yawn as he watched the elderly woman being helped into the bed of the truck. Almost as an afterthought he said, “You might want to keep granny confined to the res for now.”

“The code speaker told us that they’d be safe with the Quileutes. Why?”

“Because HighTower’s got this whole region blanketed with surveillance. It has something to do with the ‘restless Natives’ and a covert base at Neah Bay.”

“I can’t figure you out, mate.” Kai twisted around to face the cleaner. “Why would you care what happens to the old woman?”

Garance muttered, “You almost killed her.”

Trip shook his head and sighed. “I honestly don’t care one way or the other. It’s just not practical to bring them all the way out here and then blow it on a stupid mistake. The information’s there, take it or leave it.” He paused to fight off a sneeze and then added, “For what it’s worth, I did not torture those people. I counseled against it as a waste of resources.”

“Yeah, you’re a regular patron saint of efficiency.”

“I’m deeply hurt by that comment, Kai.” Trip threw his head forward and sneezed loudly. “I need a handkerchief… This fucking pollen.”

Kai tossed a rag into Trip’s lap and said, “You know what? You’re free to go. We can drop you on James Island right out there.” He motioned toward a rocky island a few hundred meters off shore. “It’ll take you long enough to get back to civilization—our friends in La Push will make sure of that—I reckon you’ll be of no threat to us.”

Trip raised an eyebrow and looked past Garance’s shoulder toward the desolate island. With a wry grin, he said, “Have you tired of my company so soon? Listen, I’ve seen the texts from HighTower—and I’ve heard those news reports: The plebs are up in arms… The tar’s heating, feathers plucked—pitchforks sharpened and all that.” He winked, adding, “I think I’ll just sit this one out and take my chances with you for now.” Trip nodded in Adili’s direction. “Besides… My African friend would miss me too much.” He blew his nose and fell back against the seat.

As the truck backed away, Adili returned to the helo. “Where now?” he asked, climbing into the cockpit. “Do we find our friends?”

Kai set the mobile on the dash. “Here’s the thing—our friends will try to reach Kaleka tonight. You know, that big event on his yacht would be the best chance they’d get—possibly their only chance, ay.” He paused long enough to glance back at the cleaner for confirmation. Trip merely shrugged and examined his nails. Kai exhaled slowly and continued, “It goes against my nature to say this, but I don’t think we should go to them—not there—not tonight.”

Adili stared at his friend in astonishment. Garance chimed in, “Kai’s right about this. The helicopter is compromised, we would bring attention to your friends. It is best to help them from a distance. Maybe we could draw HighTower’s focus away somehow?” She poked Trip’s ribs, saying, “What’s your opinion Mr. Cleaner?”

“Listen sweetheart, I said I’d cast my fate with yours—not join the ‘forlorn hope’ brigade—let’s get that straight.”

Kai quipped, “I reckon what she’s asking is fair… That is, if you still want a lift out of here.”

Trip frowned briefly then grudgingly said, “I assure you that HighTower will be crawling all over that ship—not in any official capacity, but they’ll have operatives embedded. And you can bet that the docks will be under heavy surveillance. If I were running the show, there’d be drones on hand recording everything and everyone.”

Kai puffed out his cheeks as he considered Trip’s comments. Exhaling, he said, “Alright, that settles it. We can’t risk adding to that circus. We’ll have to trust they can pull this off on their own somehow. That was Reba’s gut feeling, and she’s rarely wrong when it comes to intuition.” He flipped the switch and the rotors began to accelerate. Suddenly, Trip’s mobile flickered on and a brief message flashed across the screen. Adili glanced at the floor and read the text aloud. “’If you’re still chasing leads, avoid Haida Gwaii after tonight. -A.T.’ What does this mean?” The helo’s rotors continued to thrum.

“Achoo!” Trip let out a gigantic sneeze. He raised his head and saw three pairs of eyes fixed upon his own. “…What? How should I know?”

Kai pointed his finger into the rear-view mirror as he stared ahead. “Not even, bro. I’m not buyin’ it. You always know what’s happening—so, spill it.”

“Your soaring estimation of my abilities is quite flattering, Kai. However, I honestly can’t tell you what that message means. The woman is a conniving, power-hungry nut-job. At best, she’s a highly functioning sociopath, albeit a tad blood-thirsty… Wait…”

“Go on—what are you thinking?” Garance interrupted.

“Shhh! Give me a second.”

Adili gritted his teeth and silently counted backwards from ten while the others focused on HighTower’s cleaner. Trip sat very still, his half-lidded eyes fixed on a nondescript spot on the back of Adili’s seat. At last he spoke, his voice growing louder and with more conviction as he continued. “Amanda is a self-serving narcissist with superb survival instincts. She’ll no doubt realize, as I have, that HighTower’s vulnerable now. The governments are going to make a scapegoat out of Nelson Banks and then claim ignorance on this whole Revelations project…” Trip scratched his cheek as he thought aloud. “HighTower still has a small amount of the weaponized CRISPR enzyme—Banks must have seen the writing on the wall and ordered her to have it destroyed—along with any evidence from the prototype tests…”

Garance inhaled, covered her mouth and whispered, “Mon dieu.”

“Now, the Amanda that I know, wouldn’t want get rid of such a powerful weapon—but she wouldn’t outwardly defy Banks either… So, what would she do?” Trip looked at Kai for several seconds before he said, “Alright, try this… Open the contacts file and find the number for HSA’s drone base on Whidbey Island.”

Kai fumbled through the screens and found the contact. “What should I do with it? I’m not going to give it to you.”

“Just push the number and do what I say.”

Kai glanced at Adili and the big man nodded. Kai pressed the contact and looked to Trip for further instructions. The cleaner scribbled a series of numbers and letters on a scrap of paper, handed it to Kai and said, “Read out that sequence when they ask for it.”

Clearing his throat, Kai repeated the sequence, then gave the proper response for name verification. Trip whispered, “Ask them to verify an order for an MQ-47C drone deployment from Whidbey. Clearance level is ‘Alpha-Zulu-November.’ Don’t say anything else.” Repeating Trip’s instructions, Kai switched the device to speaker. The helicopter blades hummed outside but within the cabin all was quiet. A terse voice from the transmitter broke the silence. “Negative, Mr. Ashfield, we’re showing no long-range birds deployed from our base during those parameters.”

Trip squinted, impulsively he leaned forward and spoke into the receiver, “Soldier, give me a read out on any Mossies redeployed in the Pacific with orders that emanate from HSA West Coast office within the last 48 hours.” Silence followed as Kai glared in Trip’s direction. Adili pushed the HighTower contractor back into his seat.

The disembodied voice returned, “Sir, we’ve got a long-range drone that was re-routed from the Gulf of Alaska to coordinates on the north side of Graham Island-Haida Gwaii, British Columbia. Additionally, an MQ-47C was deployed yesterday at 1640. The specific coordinates on that flight plan are unavailable for this clearance level.”

“Gotcha’ Mandy.” With a wave his hand, Trip directed Kai to end the call. There was a moment of silence before Trip looked at Kai and asked, “Can you send word to your wife? She might want to relocate soon.”

“What are you on about then, ay?” Kai muttered.

Garance whispered, “Genocide.”

“What? …Are we talking about Kim’s weapon here? There’s no way—no practical way to move so many people that quickly. Shit!” Kai slammed his hands against the instrument panel.

Adili reached for the door handle. “I can run after the truck—find the code speakers. We can send a warning.”

Garance shook her head, “There’s not enough time. The drones will arrive before…”

Trip interrupted, “You want to divert HighTower’s attention away from Kaleka’s yacht, right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Then I have the perfect solution. Trust me on this.”

Adili grumbled to himself in Swahili. Turning back toward Trip he said, “You are not worthy of our trust. I would not follow you into a public restroom—let alone a plot to save our friends.”

Kai placed his hand on Adili’s arm. “Let him speak, then we decide. Alright?” Adili nodded his agreement.

Trip moved forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, careful to avoid the dressing on his bad leg. “Look, I’ve got only one objective in this enterprise of yours and that’s survival. As far as I’m concerned, whether it’s ATHENS or HighTower, I’m Switzerland—the size of the deposits into my bank account will determine which team I’ll go to bat for. On the other hand, we seem to have one thing in common: Amanda Terrance. ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend.’” He paused to observe Kai’s reaction, then continued. “I believe we can work together on this. You can create a diversion—provide your friends a fighting chance as well as prevent Amanda from reenacting the Battle at Wounded Knee.” He gestured toward his bandage with an ironic smile, “And I will get a small degree of personal satisfaction from the bargain. So, here’s what I suggest…”

HighTower’s helo made a spiraling turn around James Island and rose skyward as it headed eastbound—in the direction of New Seattle.