After driving south back to his condo in Bend, Peter took Diesel on a long walk along the Deschutes River. He needed to clear his head, plus he owed Diesel—again. The sun was low on the horizon, and the air temperature was rather cool, but it didn’t bother Diesel. He was in his element, sticking his nose into clumps of grass and under bushes, drawing in the earthy scents.
The fresh air and exercise were helping Peter to shake off the adrenaline hangover from the attack only hours earlier. The revelation that there was a contract out on his life was still sinking in. He found himself looking a bit more closely at everyone he passed. This is nuts, he thought. I won’t live my life in constant fear.
He turned Diesel around and walked back to his condo. Still lacking an appetite, he decided to forgo cooking a meal and opted for a glass of Oban single malt Scotch instead.
He settled into an oversized leather chair in front of the large stone fireplace in the great room. The room was rustic and yet refined, with polished wood flooring, a floor-to-ceiling bookcase on the wall opposite the fireplace, and French doors opening onto a deck overlooking the retail shops of the Old Mill District. Peter cradled the shot glass in his hand, warming the whiskey and occasionally drawing in the aroma.
He sat quietly in contemplation, Diesel lying at his feet. He finished the Scotch and poured a second. The alcohol took the edge off his nerves, and he found his thoughts to be clearer. Or maybe his judgment was just impaired? Whatever the reason, he came to the conclusion that the cause of his current predicament was rooted in the electronic posting of the contract. And for any computer-related problems, he knew exactly who to call.
“Hey Gary, how are you?” It was Gary Porter, Peter’s best friend. They had first met during high school in Sacramento, California, and soon developed a brotherly bond. Matching Peter’s height, and with an athletic physique and wavy blond hair, Gary looked like the stereotypical surfer dude. But looks were deceiving, and beneath that carefree appearance was a software genius. Despite Gary’s Bohemian attitude, which often provided unanticipated entertainment, Peter knew he could trust Gary with his life. And indeed, he had.
“Oka-ay... You’re not going to tell me something to change that, are you?”
“Buddy, why are you so suspicious?”
“Let me see… because whenever I get involved in some misadventure with you, there are always complications. You nearly got me killed in the Sudan!”
“Yeah, but I didn’t. In fact, I saved your life.”
“That’s not the version I remember. Anyway, what’s up?”
“I need your help. A problem that requires your considerable computer skills.” Gary ran a successful computer security firm out of the gold country in northern California. His list of customers included many Fortune 500 companies as well as a long list of international clients.
“You’re flattering me. That’s not a good sign. Anyway, go ahead. Tell me more.”
“It appears there may be a contract out on me,” Peter explained.
“You mean someone like a Mafia boss has put the word out that he’ll pay whoever shoots you? I’ve never been involved in anything like this before. Sounds kinda cool.”
“Not from my perspective. Not even remotely cool.”
“Oh, yeah. I guess not. So, what can I do?”
“For starters, I hope you can help dig up some clues on who issued the contract, assuming that part is true.” Peter proceeded to update his friend on the two amateur assassins in Warm Springs and what the man, Tommy, had said. He also told Gary about Darren Block and his timely demise at the hands of a mysterious guardian angel.
“Wow,” Gary said after Peter finished. “I guess you’re living that ancient Chinese curse.”
“And which one is that?”
“I think it goes something like, ‘may you live an interesting life’.”
“Well, it’s not my choice. Do you think you can you help me?”
Gary started rattling off a plan of action. “Most likely the chat room those two mentioned is accessible only through the dark web. I can start there, using a targeted search bot and the few leads you’ve provided to narrow down the possibilities. I’d be surprised if there are many hits. From there, I can access the IP address of the message originator. If we’re lucky, they’ll not have bounced the message through too many hubs. Assuming that’s the case, I can work back to the source. And that’s where I get off the bus.”
“If you can do all that, I’ll be indebted to you.”
“Yeah sure, I’ll put it on your tab. So, tell me, assuming I can get the address of the originator, what are you going to do?”
Peter hesitated, and when he spoke his voice was steady, with a hard edge. “Exactly what I have to do.”
“Ehhh. Wrong answer. Listen buddy. I know what you’re planning by the tone of your voice. The right answer is ‘call the police’. Now, repeat after me and say ‘I will call the police’. Don’t go Rambo on me. That doesn’t work out well.”
“It’s always worked out fine for me, just not so well for the bad guys.”
“Peter, listen to me. I’m serious. If there really is a contract on your life, then we’re talking about professional killers. You’ll be in way over your head.”
“You’re not keeping score Gary. The way I see it, I’m ahead in this game, two to nothing.”
“Maybe, but the game isn’t over. And let’s not even think about what might happen in sudden-death overtime.”
Peter didn’t take comfort in the ominous meaning of his friend’s observation. But before he could offer a comeback, Gary continued. “Have you told Kate?”
She and Peter had been dating on and off for the past eighteen months. He didn’t like the term ‘girlfriend’, since Kate was a vibrant and intelligent woman, not a girl. Many years his junior, they’d met under difficult conditions when Kate’s roommate was murdered. There were times when Peter wondered if the only bond they truly shared was the grief over the loss of a loved one—for Peter it was his wife, for Kate it was a dear friend.
“And exactly what am I supposed to tell her?”
“Oh… I don’t know… maybe just that there are guys running around trying to kill you?”
“No, that would only cause her to needlessly worry. I’m not going to put her through that.”
“Needlessly! Are you listening to yourself? You just told me that you have reason, good reason, to believe there is a contract out on your life!”
“What could she do if I did tell her?”
The line went silent for several seconds. “I suppose you’re right,” Gary conceded.
“Look, that’s why I need your help. Until we find out who issued the contract and stop him, I’ll keep some distance from Kate. For her own safety.”
“I still think you should tell her. And it could be a ‘her’.”
“What?”
“You said ‘him’. That the contract was issued by a man. It could be a woman, you know. If my memory serves me correctly, when you go Rambo, you pretty much piss off everyone in your way.”
Despite the morbid subject of their conversation, Peter couldn’t hold back a slight smile. He had been through a lot of pain and suffering with Gary, and some really bad people had been killed. Yet Gary was still always there for him. Peter knew that if he was on his deathbed, and his friend could trade places, he would do so in a heartbeat.
And the feeling was mutual.