Geek Mafia: Mile Zero (12 page)

"It seems to me it had to be something she knew. Either that or something she was going to do. She'd obviously talked with Isaiah about this project beforehand and may have even been planning it with him from the beginning."

"It might even have been her idea," Winston pointed out. "We have no way of knowing."

"Good point. I hadn't thought of that. Plus the fact that she had worked with Eddie and his Crew very recently can't be a coincidence either. My guess is, she was checking them out for Isaiah. Seeing if they were trustworthy or competent or had the money-moving experience they claim they have. Something like that."

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"Go on," said Winston.

"So my guess is that, in all her checking stuff out, she found something. Maybe through her law enforcement contacts. Maybe when she was working with Eddie. Maybe something that we have no hint of. But she learned something that would have impacted this plan in a big way. And someone didn't want her to pass that info on to the rest of us."

"That makes sense, as far as it goes," said Winston. "But I find it hard to believe that someone would kill her over a piece of information that might scuttle a project that hadn't even been launched yet."

"Ahhh," said Paul, possibilities bubbling up in his brain and coming out his mouth before he could censor them. "But what if it wasn't something that would have stopped Isaiah from proceeding? What if the killer was someone who didn't want us to do this corporation thingy? Maybe Raquel would've sealed the deal, but now that she's dead it throws things into doubt."

"That is a devilish possibility," Winston said. "And on the other side of the coin, someone who has become passionately attached to the plan might no longer be thinking rationally. And once rational thought leaves the equation, senseless violence often finds its way in. Trust me, I speak from experience."

Paul knew that Winston had started his underground life as a member of the violent, anti-war group The Weather Underground. In the '70s they'd bombed government and corporate buildings in an effort to "bring the war home" and exact a cost for the Vietnam War. Paul suspected that Winston regretted the bombings in his past as very misguided, counterproductive acts of protest.

"So, either way, we're talking about someone with an agenda here," said Paul. "Someone who really wants this thing to succeed or someone who really wants it to fail."

"That sums it up nicely."

They fell into silence then, neither of them quite willing to say out loud what they both had to be thinking.

The only person likely to be passionately interested in seeing the plan move forward was Isaiah. As for possible player haters, Paul didn't have any suspects, but that was only because he didn't know enough yet.

"Winston, can I ask how much of Isaiah's plan you knew before you came out here?"

He laughed. "I admit, I knew more than you. I knew he was trying to organize the Crews in some way. I didn't know the corporation angle. I didn't know he had a target in mind."

"Did you know about Raquel and Eddie?"

"I knew Raquel was somehow involved. I didn't know anything about Eddie until I met him at the same time you did." Winston seemed like he was about to say something more, but then he didn't.

"So Eddie could've known more too," Paul mused. "We all played dumb in there a little. Well, except me. I genuinely didn't know what was going on. But still, Eddie could've already had the skinny on Isaiah's plan."

"And so he might've already formed an opinion about whether or not he wanted it to go forward," Winston concluded.

"We just don't know. Something else to find out." Speaking of which, thought Paul. He needed to check in with Chloe and see what they actually had found out. "Do you mind giving me a minute to make a call?"

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Winston glanced around the empty side street they'd found themselves on. There was no one in sight. "I can make my way home from here," he said. "You go help Chloe. I'm sure the two of you have a busy night ahead."

"Thanks," said Paul, relieved to be freed. Like all gamers, he hated escort missions.

"And if you need any help, Lily and I are just a phone call away," Winston said.

"You bet," said Paul. He'd never had so many offers of help since he'd gone underground. Unfortunately he didn't think he trusted any of them except Winston. "You'll hear from us soon, I'm sure."

"WE need to move the body," said Chloe. She, Paul, and Bee were standing in the alley behind the guest house where Raquel lay dead in her bed.

"I was afraid you'd say that," said Paul.

"You're not surprised?" asked Bee.

"I was going to suggest it and then hope you two would talk me out of it. We can't let the police get involved in this thing. Definitely not in a murder investigation. And the maid is going to find her tomorrow morning or she's going to start smelling, and then they'll find her for sure."

"That's what she said." Bee pointed to Chloe. "I don't know if I can..."

"Actually Bee," Chloe interjected, "If you could run home and get the car, that's all you have to do."

"Ok," she said. "Um... where are you going to put her?"

"In the freezer," said Chloe.

"The freezer in my workshop?" asked Bee.

"I'm afraid so. It's the only place..."

"For how long?"

"Not long," Paul assured her. "We can't keep a body in our house. We'll get Winston or Isaiah to help us..." he was going to say get rid of it, but that sounded so cold and heartless. "They'll help us."

"This is crazy," said Bee.

"Yep," Paul and Chloe both replied at once. They smiled at each other, although nothing they were talking about was very funny.

"Christ," said Chloe. "We've spent too much time together."

"Not enough lately," said Paul before he could think. This was not the time for that argument, and Chloe shot him a glance that said as much.

"Ok," Chloe said. "Let's get this show on the road. Time's a wasting." She looked around the dark alley they were standing in. There were street lights at either end, neither of which provided much illumination here in the middle. "I don't want to spend any more time here than we have to."

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"Sure," Bee said as she set off at a trot down the alley. Paul knew she was hating every minute of this dead body stuff. That made two of them.

"So," he said to Chloe. "How're we getting her out of there?"

"The same way they got her in. Through the window there."

Paul looked at the window. It was certainly large enough to easily fit a body through, assuming you removed the panes. "Do we have to go back in through the front?"

"Fuck no. Bee and I unscrewed it from the inside. Actually that's how we left, just to make sure we could."

Paul walked over to the window and looked close, but it was hard to make out any details in the darkness. He touched it gently and found that the sliding pane was just leaning against the frame, not inside it. "Can you reattach it from out here?"

"No," said Chloe. "And neither could the killer. He had to have done it from the inside."

"Which means he didn't leave out the window," concluded Paul. "Our tenant comes on duty as receptionist tomorrow. We'll ask her if she saw anyone that might be our guy. You said Raquel was moved here after she was killed?"

"From somewhere wet and salty," said Chloe. "But I don't know how long she's been dead. The body felt cold to me, but I can't translate that into a time of death."

"I've always said this Crew needed a team forensics expert," joked Paul.

"I thought you wanted to stay small," said Chloe.

"I was kidding."

"I know."

"But you weren't?"

She looked away from him. "Well I don't want a team forensics expert. Unless they're also a kick-ass hacker."

"But you do want a bigger Crew?" asked Paul, knowing full well that he was starting an argument he didn't want to have, and yet he seemed incapable of stopping himself.

"It sure would be useful right about now. Four is small."

"Four is Fantastic," countered Paul. Chloe groaned at the pun. "Seriously. We know we can trust each other.

And Bee. And now Sandee. And we've never needed more."

"On this fucking island, no, we haven't."

"So what's the problem then? It's not like we're going to make a habit of hosting gang summits and investigating murder scenes is it?"

"God, I hope not," said Chloe. "But what about off the island?"

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"We're just now getting things set up here the way we like them," insisted Paul. "We've only had an almost positive cash flow for like two months. The party's in full swing. Bee's cameras need another six months to cover the island. A few more properties to manage and..."

"I know, I know. Secure base of operations. Vaguely dependable income. Total security. It's not like we haven't had this conversation three or four times a week for the last year."

"Then why..." Paul started to say, but stopped himself. She was right, they had had this conversation over and over again and he had started to lay out his next argument as if it were a line in a play, he'd said it so often. He was tired of fighting about it. And looking at Chloe's expression, she was too. He bit back his words and remained silent.

"Why what?" she asked.

"Never mind."

She glared at him a moment then turned away, walking back to the end of the alley. After a minute loitering in the dark, Paul followed her to the corner. They stood in silence, waiting for Bee.

"How was the meeting?" Chloe asked.

"Pretty interesting," said Paul, glad to talk about something less likely to end in yelling. "Isaiah's got some ambitious plans."

"So I gathered. Did he give any specifics yet?"

"Yeah, he got into specifics. Or rather Amelia did. She laid out a plan to go after this big corporation that's up to no good. The fourth Crew guy, Eddie, he wasn't interested in the theory stuff. He wanted practice."

"Sounds like my kind of guy," said Chloe.

"Actually he's kind of an asshole. But he seems to know what he's doing. His Crew must have some mojo for Isaiah to put up with his shit like he did. I could tell Winston didn't care for him much either."

"Hmm," said Chloe. "Well, give me the Cliff 's Notes version."

Paul recounted everything that had happened at the meeting, including Amelia's details about the target corporation and how going after them would benefit the member Crews and how Eddie had reacted to everything. He then filled her in on his talk with Winston about possible suspects.

"So basically it could be anyone," said Chloe. "Either someone who really likes the idea or someone who really hates it or someone who had a beef with Raquel."

"Yep," said Paul. "Or just some random psychopath, although that's not likely."

"I guess we need to start investigating our guests, huh?" she asked.

"Well, I know we didn't do it, so yeah. The other question is, when do we bring the others into the loop?

Isaiah and Winston both offered to help any way they could."

"I'll bet they did. But we should keep as much to ourselves for as long as possible, at least until we know more."

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"They're not going to like that," said Paul. "But then, I don't like people getting murdered on my island."

"Your island?"

"Our island."

"Our island?"

"This island."

"This goddamned island," said Chloe. "It's too small..."

Paul didn't rise to the bait again. "Anyway, it's our turf and I agree with you, we'll handle it without their help.

Letting them into the investigation will inevitably reveal other aspects of our operations. The only problem is, there's going to be insane pressure from Isaiah for details. And from the others, too. I don't think Eddie's got much respect for us."

"I'll handle those guys," said Chloe. "Don't worry. I've got a plan."

"An abso-fucking-lutely brilliant plan?" asked Paul.

As he hoped, she smiled at this reference to the day they'd first met. "Of course!" she said.

"Does it involve wigs?" he asked.

"Definitely."

"Then I'll leave them to you."

A pair of headlights swung into view. It was Bee, driving the larger of the Crew's two vehicles, a gray, rust stained conversion van. Plenty big enough to transport a body in.

"Time to get to work," said Chloe.

"This is only the second time I've cleaned up a murder scene," said Paul, remembering the hotel room in San Jose with her and Bee.

"Me too," said Chloe.

"Let's try not to make a habit of it," he said.

"Agreed."

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Chapter 11

IT was 3 a.m. by the time they'd secured Raquel in the freezer in Bee's workshop. Bee collected an armful of equipment as they left the air-conditioned shed. Paul knew she wasn't going to want to go back in there until the body was gone, and he couldn't blame her. Having a murdered corpse in their home, even in the secured shed outside, made him nervous as hell.

They rented their house from a property management company that represented several dozen different wealthy owners from all over the world who had winter homes in Key West. Few of them ever visited more than once a year, renting the places out to vacationers or local residents the rest of the time. The owners looked at them as investments, and as soon as they had two years in a row without a hurricane coming through, they would sell them for a massive profit. Until then, the less they had to think about them, the better.

When Chloe, Bee, and Paul had arrived in Key West last year, they'd rented a pair of apartments in New Town while they looked for a more permanent base of operations. Key West was filled with charming old houses that had been subdivided, rebuilt, damaged, refurbished, and worn away again over the years. They had wanted something big enough to set up a solid base, but not too fancy or expensive. This particular house, right across the street from Key West's cemetery and its above-ground stone tombs, had fit the bill perfectly.