Cookie Cutter Man (5 page)

“Born for— good at what? This cloak-and-dagger shit?”

“All of it. You got some rough edges, but that’s a matter of
training.”

“Training?” What had he gotten into?

“We can’t help you unless you’re in, Daniel, and if you’re
in, you’re all the way in. If you’re out I’ll take you home and you’ll never
hear from us again. But I
guarantee
you’ll hear from Them.”

“What if I give up the drugs, the dealing, everything?”

Silence from Jared.

“I’m in, then,” Daniel said. “God help me, I’m in.” Part of
him agreed with that little voice he hoped was just his conscience; part of him
did feel doomed. But it was a small part, a nervous part. He felt something
else too, and the more he dwelled on it the more he realized he was excited,
anxious to learn all the strange things that were awaiting him. He was eager to
slide all the way in, make his nightmare a reality; maybe then he could
confront it, control it, perhaps even defeat it.

“How long until your girl gets off work?” Jared asked. It
was three o’clock.

“About six more hours.”

“OK,” Jared said, driving a little faster now. “We’re going
home.”

The lights from a hundred television sets flickered across
the room. They were mounted all over the walls, stacked up on the floor, on
shelves. There was what looked like a 52-inch top-of-the-line LED, and there
was the same kind of shitty 19-inch black-and-white model his aunt in North
Dakota had. The room was in the rear of an old Victorian home, the high ceiling
hung with bright halogen lights. There was no carpet on the floor, just scuffed
concrete.

“Do you have a cell phone?” Jared asked.

“No, I’m ... Amish.”

“Pager?”

“Yeah, it’s with the horse and buggy. Really, man?”

“OK, Fletch, just answer the fucking questions,” Jared said
with a grin. “You got the phone on you? Your cell?”

“Uh, no, actually.” It was on the end table. Daniel couldn’t
remember the last time he’d left home without his cell.

“When you get home, smash it.”

“It’s like a 400 dollar phone, man—”

“Smash it, we’ll get you a clean one. Now, you have credit
or debit cards? Any electronic banking?”

“Echo has a checking account and we both have a card, but
that’s it.”

“Don’t use
yours
again. Don’t even carry the card.”

“You going to explain your backward little survey to me, or
what?” The only answer Jared gave was a nod. Daniel looked around at the
television screens. Most showed the insides of different houses or apartments.
Others were views of parks or other public places, a few of which were from
strange angles; either very low or incredibly high.

On some of the screens, people sat in chairs or on couches
and seemed to be staring right at him. Then Daniel understood. He watched a fat
man in a recliner point a remote right at him. The image flickered, but only
for a moment, and then Daniel understood.

“Those are— the cameras are in the fucking
TVs
!”

“Most of them, yeah. That’s been within the last 10 years or
so,” Jared said. “They started really pushing it when digital cable got big,
but they’ve been using it with satellite for a while.”

“I don’t have either, so how’d you get on
mine
?”

“That was a pirate broadcast. See, damn near every
television built since ’84 has a camera in it, little tiny thing, and each TV
has its own frequency. We figured out how to hijack the individual frequencies.
We can transmit into every house in the country if we want to. The ones that
have a TV, anyway.”

“Un-fucking-believable.”

“That’s our one advantage over them,” Jared continued.
“They’ve been so busy watching everybody else, they forgot to look over their
own shoulder. They don’t know we’re out here.”

Daniel’s headache was coming back. He wanted another pill,
but didn’t take one. “So any time I watched TV I was being recorded?”

“The TV doesn’t have to be on,” Jared said. “A special
device has to be installed in the standard cable jack, a converter, if there’s
no digital or satellite. They did it to you a little over six months ago. They
don’t do that to just anyone. That’s what piqued our interest.”

“Lucky me.” Daniel sat down. His head was spinning, but
this time it was something a pill wouldn’t take care of, unless he took a bunch
and washed them down with a bottle of booze.

The door opened and a tall, lanky guy walked in. “The
sweep’s done. Copper’s on the way back here.”

“Good,” Jared began. “I wanna introduce you to—”

“Daniel Rimms.” He put out his hand.

“I know.” The tall guy shook with him. “I’m Simon.”

“He’s one of our top operatives,” Jared said. “And if Copper
did his job your place is clean.”

“Did you know they’ve been following you?” Simon asked.

“
Who’s
been following me? Other than you guys, I
mean?”

“Well ...” Simon turned to Jared. “We should show him the
bird.”

They took him into the basement of the decrepit three-story
Victorian. In the lab he was introduced to Robert, a young black man wearing
glasses.

“Rob here is our tech.” Jared turned to Simon. “Go get
Daniel here a kit, would you?”

Simon slipped away. Rob led Daniel over to a small workbench
where a pigeon lay on its back, feet splayed up in the air.

“Seen this guy before?” Rob pointed at the bird.

“I see a hundred pigeons a day, man.” Daniel said. It looked
like a standard issue gutterbird to him. “Fuckin’ rats with wings.”

“Look a little closer.” Rob indicated specific coloring and
markings on the bird and tweezed open one of its eyes, which had black irises
and a red cornea.

“Yeah, OK, I’ve seen birds like this.”

“This isn’t a pigeon.” Rob picked up a scalpel.

“It’s not a pigeon?” Daniel dry-swallowed a pill.

“Well, it
is
a pigeon, but it’s not
only
a
pigeon. It’s also a camera.”

Daniel just stared.

Then Rob cut open the bird. He clamped down the sides and opened
it up wide, then motioned for Daniel to take a closer look.

He didn’t know if it was a camera, but it was definitely not
only
a pigeon. Along with the organs and intestines he expected to see,
there were mechanical servos and yards of microfilament wires. Rob pointed out
a small circuit board and two plugs running up toward the head of the bird. He
followed the plugs with his scalpel and cut open the neck, where the plugs
disappeared into the head.

“Check this out.” Rob shaved a section of plastic coating
off one of the wires and re-wired the bird to a monitor.

Rob waved his hand in front of the pigeon, and Daniel
watched it happen on the screen through the pigeon’s eyes. Daniel now
understood what he’d seen upstairs, the video feed from low angles, or from up
above. He walked across the room to take a seat, put his elbows on his knees
and his head in his hands.

Rob clicked the monitor off. “The resolution could be
better,” he said with a shrug.

“The government’s been using the pigeon camera for years,”
Jared said. “They developed the biotech just after the Gulf War ended.”

“How do you know all this?”

All this is in your head, Dannyboy. You went over the
high side, one toke over the line.

“You’ll see,” Jared said.

Simon came back carrying a metallic silver case, which he
set on the table.

“This is your kit. Set up your combination and we’ll go over
the contents.”

Daniel spun the wheels. Four left, two right, zero left.

Simon pulled out a Glock 9mm. “Here. You’ve used a Nine
before.”

Daniel stared at him, wondering how he knew.

Simon handed Daniel the gun. “You’re not as accurate with a
.45. And yes, it’s loaded.”

Simon went through the case, setting each item aside as he
named it. “For the Glock there are extra clips, all hollow points. See that
little button on the grip? That’s your laser sighting. This .38 is your back-up
piece, and it comes with two boxes of ammunition, also hollow points. There’s a
shoulder holster for the Nine, and an ankle holster for the back-up. You get
1500 in cash, binoculars, a collapsible night-vision telescope with
thermographic imaging, recording, and zoom capabilities. That’s a fun one.”
Simon wiggled his eyebrows and continued. “There’s a camera, extra memory card.
Now, your phone ... you have that new Droid, right?”

Daniel tried to speak and instead nodded his head.

“Good. Like Jared said,
do not
use it again. We got
the same model right here with all the tracking and recording software
disabled, understand? OK, we also got you three different identities including
the following for each: birth certificate, social security card, and driver’s
licenses from California, Oregon, and New York. Keys to three of our seven
vehicles, insurance card and registration for each. We’ll fill you in on that a
little later.”

Daniel swallowed hard and had a moment of vertigo when he
saw his picture was already on the licenses.

“We also have access to an ambulance and a taxicab,” Jared
added.

Simon continued. “There are keys to two of our safe-houses,
a list of phone numbers that must be committed to memory and destroyed, two
knives, some mace, and one ounce of high-grade marijuana.”

Daniel looked from the Ziploc bag full of weed to Simon,
then to Jared.

“Little signing bonus,” Jared explained. “You’ll never have
to pay for dope again. We can’t offer you fame and fortune Daniel, but we have
connections for free medical care and prescriptions. We can get you any type of
drug you want within moderation.”

“No smack, though,” Simon said. “And stay off the rock.”

“What, no 401K?” Daniel asked. “C’mon, man. What about all
those questions you asked me?”

“Listen,” Jared said. “Every cell phone in existence is
built with a tracking device inside,
comprende
? Any conversation made
from a cellular phone can be traced, listened to, and recorded. Wireless technology
is nothing more than a fancy homing device. Credit cards and bank cards are
beacons. Not as good as cell phones, but they can find you. Every call you’ve
ever
made
is on record somewhere. There are cameras in street lights,
traffic signals, fucking pigeons, like we showed you. It never ends, man.
You’ve seen those trees inside malls, right, that have been transplanted
there?”

“Yeah?”

“Full of fiber-optic wires and microphones. This is what
we’re up against. But we’re gonna take it public eventually. All of it.”

“We’re part of an organization that doesn’t exist,” Simon
said. “As far as
They’re
concerned, Jared’s been dead for seven years.”

“I don’t understand.” Daniel stared down at the pistol he
still held, trying to read his future in the gleaming surface.

“You will,” Simon said. “You’ll understand more than you’ll
ever want to know.”

Jared went on: “We were founded in the early ‘60s by two
ex-C.I.A. agents that defected when they saw the way things were going. That’s
how it started. Two guys in a basement 50 years ago. But we’ve grown. There are
offices like this in New York, Philly, D.C., Chicago, Denver, and Portland,
Oregon. There are about 75 full-time operatives, 15 cleaners, and a tech like
Rob at every office. Other than them, there’s maybe 50 other people in the
world that know we exist and are sympathetic to the cause.”

“What exactly is
the cause
?” Daniel asked, still
encompassed by the lucid surety that he was dreaming.

“We watch the watcher. Compile data, evidence, everything.
We’re gonna blow the fucking top right off the U.S. Government and start a
revolution,” Jared said, and Daniel didn’t miss the fanatic gleam in his eyes.
He could almost smell the obsession baking off him in waves, and Simon was even
worse.

Daniel kept waiting for something to wake him up ... an
alarm, a barking dog, Echo calling on the phone.

That was it: he was home, asleep, and she would call but he
wouldn’t pick the phone up until she started leaving a message. She would
apologize for waking him up, he could say he missed her, and everything would
be fine.

Right, Daniel thought.
Nothing
is
ever
fine.

Simon packed the briefcase up while he spoke. “We’re
planning a war, Daniel, between those in charge and everyone they’ve been
fucking over for the past half century. So, are you in?”

Daniel stood up and locked the case, stuffing the Glock in
the front of his pants. That was enough answer for both of them.

“Good.” Jared clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll set up
some kind of schedule for you and you can get started on the training.”

“Schedule? Look, man, what am I supposed to tell my girl?”

“Don’t worry. We’ll set you up with some phony job that gets
you out of the house.”

“A job, huh? Isn’t she gonna be suspicious when I don’t
bring home a check every two weeks or so?”

“You’ll get a check, $1500 every other Friday. Standard
salary for an entry level operative. Of course, we came to you, so you can
expect a fairly rapid advancement. Now, let’s get you back home.”

Jared and Daniel walked back out to the station wagon. The drive
was silent except for the voice in Daniel’s head, like a black lining on a
stolen silver cloud.

Daniel woke up with a start, escaping his feverish dreams.
Echo was next to the bed, watching.

She smiled when their eyes met. “How you feeling?”

“Not so good, angel,” Daniel said, stretching.

“Aww, my poor baby.” She leaned in to hug him. “Eww! You’re
all sweaty!” Echo laughed and wiped her hands on her pants.

“I musta had some bad dreams.”

“Did I wake you up again?”

“What do you mean again?” He yawned, thinking he’d heard her
wrong.