Black Hat Blues (46 page)

phone, waiting for Chloe to come back on the line. Then her dot started

moving on the screen. Moving fast. “Did she get in a fucking car? What

the hell?”

The dot moved fast, and five minutes later, with Paul shouting into

the phone for Chloe to pick up, it got on the highway. “Jesus, come

on!” Paul said, pulling Bee up out of her seat and grabbing the laptop.

“Come on!”

He wished they were parked closer, but security concerns had dic-

tated that they leave the car at least three blocks from their hideout, and

both he and Bee were huffing and puffing by the time he fumbled with

the keys and unlocked the door. Paul still had the phone connection

open and there was still no word from Chloe. It wasn’t until they were

on the interstate and headed towards DC that he heard her voice again.

It was muffled, like she had the phone in her pocket. Paul covered the

microphone on the phone with his thumb and motioned for Bee to keep

quiet. They both strained to listen over the car noise and Paul tried to

concentrate on driving down I-295 as fast as he dared. According to the

dot on Bee’s laptop, they were about twenty miles behind Chloe.

“It’s not my…” he heard Chloe say. “Come… fuckers… explain…

the hell?… me.”

Rick Dakan

249

Paul could make out other voices, male voices, but couldn’t under-

stand what they were saying. Chloe wasn’t screaming, but she was talk-

ing louder than normal, probably so the phone would pick her up and

alert Paul and Bee. It continued like that for another ten minutes or so,

but then one of the male voices very clearly yelled at her to “Shut the

hell up!” and she did. Paul hoped she wasn’t riling them up too much

that they lost control and did something even worse than whatever it

was they were planning to do with her.

They followed the dot down the highway and into Washington DC,

getting off at Highway 50/New York Avenue, which offered a straight

shot towards Capital Hill. They caught up some as the car holding

Chloe ran into city traffic, but then they got snarled into it as well and

things got slow. They were still at least fifteen minutes behind when the

dot came to a stop. “I think they’re done,” said Bee.

“Where are they?”

“Somewhere in downtown. Lemme zoom in on the map. It’s like mid-

way between the White House and Capital Hill. They’re close to four

different metro stops. There’s a bunch of stuff there. National Archives,

the Internal Revenue… oh heck. They’re a block away from the J. Edgar

Hoover FBI Building.”

Paul felt his eyes bulge and rocked his head back. He blinked a few

times. “That’s… that’s not possibly any good at all. Oh fuck, oh fuck,

oh fucking fuck. This isn’t what was supposed to happen. Is the dot

still moving?”

Bee, giving off waves of tension, watched it in silence for thirty sec-

onds. “No. No. It’s stopped. It’s still in the building.”

“It’s in the FBI building?”

“No, no. A block away. You want to turn left on 6th Street. That’s

coming up in a quarter of a mile. The dot’s holding steady. It’s just some

building. I can’t tell what. It’s near like a Shakespeare Theater and some

restaurants. In half a mile you’re going to want to make a right on D

Street and then a right on 8th.”

Paul followed Bee’s directions and slowed to a crawl as they came

onto the street. The GPS tracking software they were using couldn’t

get much finer detail than this. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for,

not even what kind of car Chloe had been taken away in. “What about

there?” said Bee, pointing out the window. It was a parking garage.

250

Geek Mafia: Black Hat Blues

Paul hoped they were still in the parking garage and not in the office

building connected to it or, much, much worse, the FBI building less

than a block away. Looking at the toll booth and gate arrangement

guarding entrance and exit from the garage, he decided that he didn’t

want to get trapped in there. But there was no on street parking in sight.

“Bee, I’m going in there. You keep circling the block or find a place to

park on the street somewhere nearby.”

“Are you going to be on a phone? I want to know what’s

happening.”

“No phones,” he said, pointing towards the sky. “None except

Chloe’s.”

“If I don’t hear something in fifteen minutes I’m coming in.”

“Twenty.”

“Seventeen point five.”

Paul slipped out of the car and jogged across the street to the park-

ing garage entrance. He had no way of knowing which floor Chloe (or

at least her phone) might be on, but since going down was easier than

going up, he took the elevator to the top parking level, planning to work

his way down. If they were waiting for the elevator up there he might

be screwed, but he risked it.

On level four he stepped out and listened. There were voices echo-

ing up from somewhere, angry tones bouncing off concrete until the

only discernible content was an unmistakable urgency. Glad he was

wearing rubber soled sneakers that didn’t clack against the hard floor,

Paul inched forward. Every parking space near the elevators was filled,

but looking out farther he saw plenty of open spots, except in the far

corner where they were full near a stairway. People liked to cluster

near the exits, which made sense. Paul crept towards the center of the

floor, where a gap ran from the ground floor to the ceiling above Paul’s

head. The voices grew louder. They were definitely coming from below

him. Paul trotted on tiptoes across to the stairway and opened the

heavy door as quietly as he could, making sure it didn’t slam behind

him. Down one level, he cracked the third floor door. He couldn’t see

anyone, but he could still hear something. Again he carefully slipped

out, easing the door closed behind him. He crouched behind a nearby

Toyota.

The voices were coming from the other side of this level, he was

sure of it. He used the sound of a loud car or truck approaching from

the lower level to cover his sprint across open concrete to a pillar that

offered both cover and a better view of the rest of the garage. Peeking

around the corner he saw a black SUV about fifty feet away, two men

Rick Dakan

251

in dark suits stood beside an open door, talking to whoever or whatever

was inside. A second SUV, twin to the parked one, pulled to a stop

behind it. It didn’t bother to park in a space, even though there were

empty ones to every side. The driver got out, another man in a dark

suit, although this one seemed familiar to Paul. He circled around to

the passenger door on the right side, which was obscured from Paul’s

position. He heard the door open and then the clack of hard heels on

concrete. The driver came back into view, and once he saw the passenger

his identity came to Paul. It was Marsh’s assistant Larry, and his boss

was right behind him.

One of the nameless suits reached into the properly parked SUV and

yanked Chloe out by one arm. Paul drew in a sharp hiss. It was weird

to see her out in public without a wig on, her short pink hair showing

some dirty blond roots. Paul willed her to notice him, but she never

even looked his way. Everyone’s attention was now focused on Marsh.

She wasn’t quite facing him and the others were facing her, so Paul

risked exposure and dashed across the open space to hide behind a VW

Jetta that was about fifteen feet closer to them. He ran hunched over, an

awkward, off balance action that ended in him sliding to a painful stop

on his knees just behind the car. Now he could hear them, even as he

bit his lip to stifle any sounds of pain that might give him away.

“Do you know where we are?” asked Marsh. Her voice was calm and

even, just as Chloe had described it.

“Washington D.C.,” said Chloe, sounding just like a smart ass.

“Did you notice the building down the block? The FBI

headquarters?”

“Yeah, I recognized it from X-Files. Are your friends here agents?”

“They’re licensed security professionals on my payroll. They’ve been

keeping tabs on you and your friends for me. No, the FBI doesn’t know

about you, yet. But I’m going to have them walk you down the street

along with a fat file full of evidence against you in about ten minutes

if you don’t do as I say.”

“That would definitely suck. What is it you want me to do?”

“Give me Isaiah.”

“He’s after your kids,” Chloe said, her voice urgent. “I was trying to

warn you about that when your goons pulled me into their truck. You

need to warn them. He’s going to—”

“I’ve already warned them.”

“You’ve what? How?”

“We’ve been tapping your phone for a week now. And following you.

Do you think I trusted you and your accomplices for even a moment?

252

Geek Mafia: Black Hat Blues

Of course not. I know everything. And unless you give me Isaiah, you’re

going to the FBI.”

“If you really know everything like you say, then you know there’s

no way I can hand you Isaiah. He wants nothing to do with me! He’s

cut all ties. You want to know what I know? He’s in New York. Maybe.

He’s got a wife named Dualla. Maybe. He’s super fucking smart and

ruthless and talented. No maybes there. He’s after you and your family

and there’s nothing I can do about it. And unless you’re willing to put

your kids in witness protection and surround yourself with these hired

goons for the foreseeable future, there’s nothing you can do about it

either. Unless he screws up. Very unlikely. Or you get lucky. Not great

odds. Or you pay him off.”

“Do you imagine that I’m bluffing? The FBI doesn’t customarily have

suspects delivered to their headquarters by helpful citizens, but I assure

you they’ll make an exception for me. They’ll make an exception for

you.”

“Ma’am, I absolutely do not want to go to jail, but I swear, there’s

nothing I can do about Isaiah. Polygraph me, water board me, whatever.

I was trying to warn you! There’s nothing I can do. Put me in jail, fine.

Sucks for me. But Isaiah’s still out there. Just pay him off and leave him

alone and you’ll be fine. Don’t and you won’t.”

“Both impossible and immoral. I’m not giving in to your threats.”

“Not MY threats,” insisted Chloe. “Isaiah’s. His threats. You know

what he managed to pull off in Florida. What makes you think you’re

any better protected than they were?”

“I know he’s coming, and shortly he’ll be on the FBI’s most wanted

list.”

“And they’ll catch him right after they get Osama, I’m sure. You

don’t know anything about him. I don’t know anything… OK, listen.

Is there anything else? What else can I do to appease you? I’ll tell you

everything I know about him over and over if you want. I’ll try and

reach him again if you want. Whatever you want, but it has to be

something I can actually do. If I could give him to you, I would. But

I really, really can’t.”

“Then I don’t see that there’s much more you can do for me besides

serving as a convenient scapegoat for Ken Clover’s problems, and I don’t

need your cooperation for that.”

Paul’s knees were killing him. This wasn’t what they’d planned at

all, but Christ, he needed to do something, and he needed to do it

right now. He closed his eyes, rearranged the words he’d planned on

saying into something that might save Chloe’s ass right now and stood

Rick Dakan

253

up. “But our cooperation would help,” he said in a loud, clear voice

that didn’t quaver a bit. OK, maybe a bit, but not so he thought they’d

notice.

The two goons, Larry, and Chloe all turned to look at him. One

of the goons started reaching into his jacket, so Paul raised his hands

high above his head. Marsh had started back towards her SUV, but

had stopped dead in her tracks when Paul revealed himself. Without

looking back at him, she said, “Mr. Reynolds.” She turned and looked

at him, her expression revealing nothing. Was she surprised? Pleased?

Paul had no idea.

“I’m unarmed,” he said, walking down the middle of the space

between him and them. The goon kept his hand in his suit coat, but at

least he wasn’t pointing a gun at Paul.

“Are you surrendering yourself to the authorities?” Marsh asked.

“That makes things easier for me, then.”

“I could do that, yeah, I guess. Don’t want to though. I’ve got a bet-

ter offer.”

“You can deliver me Isaiah?”

“I can’t. No more than Chloe can. He’s in the tall grass, beyond my

reach for sure. I stick my nose in there and I’ll get eaten.” Paul stopped

when he was about five feet away. If someone tried to grab him he could

still run for it, although run where remained an unanswered question.

“But there are other things.”

Marsh’s head tilted slightly to one side, her chin raising just enough

that Paul knew she wanted him to continue.

“Right, so, here’s the deal. You’re in this for Ken Clover, right? He’s

your paying client. And I’m sure you’re charging him for all of this—