Geek Mafia: Mile Zero (39 page)

"Yeah, yeah," said Paul, his voice mocking and dismissive. "We've been fucking with you since the beginning. And why not? It's our town. You're on our island, and if we want to check you out or spy on you or just fuck with you, well then, that's our goddamned business isn't it?"

"Is that what you think?" Eddie said, taking another step forward. Behind him Marco was getting out of the car and rushing forward, although Chloe couldn't tell if he was coming to back his friend up or calm him down. At the same moment she heard the front door of the house open up behind her. Both Eddie and Marco stopped in their tracks at whatever they were seeing.

Chloe looked back over her shoulder to see Bee and Sandee standing on the front porch with really big fucking guns in their hands. Bee held what looked like a freaking bazooka that was as long as she was tall.

She had on some sort of high-tech looking helmet that covered her left eye with some sort of digital heads up display. Beside her stood Sandee in boy form, an AK-47 slung at his hip, legs wide apart. He wore a skintight camo T-shirt and thong underwear.

Chloe had to stop herself from laughing as Sandee shouted, "Get off my property!" in a thick redneck accent.

Eddie started to say something, but Marco grabbed his arm and pulled him back toward the car. Eddie cursed under his breath as he climbed back into the driver's seat. Just before Marco got back into the car, his eyes met Paul's and he gave the slightest nod. Respect? Fear? Some sign that he approved? Chloe couldn't tell.

After they'd driven out of sight, Sandee was the first one to start laughing, although Bee's giggles came right behind.

"Jesus," said Chloe. "You two look ridiculous."

"It worked didn't it?" Bee said.

"Good thing Eddie's scared of water balloons," Paul said, taking the "bazooka" from Bee and admiring it.

"What's the point of having fake guns if you can't fake people out once in a while?" Bee asked.

"And you!" said Chloe to Sandee. "You're the sexiest damn guerilla I've ever seen."

"You better believe it," Sandee said, tossing Chloe the plastic gun. "Now come inside and tell us what that was all about."

"I don't exactly know what it was all about for sure," said Paul as he led them inside. "But we don't have time to worry about that just this moment. We've got a plan to execute."

"A new plan?" asked Bee excited, still riding the adrenaline high from her showdown with Eddie. "Is it brilliant? Those are my favorite kind."

"It's not brilliant," said Paul. "It's abso-fucking-lutely brilliant."

Chloe smiled as the Crew piled back into the house. This was it. This was how life was supposed to be.

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Chapter 32

PAUL seethed on the inside, but he did his best to hide it from Chloe as they drove on her scooter over to the house they'd gotten for Winston. He was still angry from his lunch with Chloe, of course. Angry that he had to commit himself to this insane plan of confronting Winston and blowing the whole thing open just to get on Isaiah's good side. He'd been relieved when he realized that the end was in sight. Yes, it had been a kind of defeated, broken, and abused sense of relief, but it had been relief all the same. Winston had used them and killed someone and that hurt like swallowing barbed wire, but at least it was over. They could get back to life as normal.

But then Chloe had made it clear that life as normal was not an option for her and that therefore it was not an option for him either. He'd known she wasn't happy. It was impossible not to know that. He should be happy actually - for months he'd been trying to find some way to improve her mood and had failed at every turn. No party was quite wild enough, no scam entirely satisfying. Now at least he knew what he had to do, even if it was going to be a royal pain in the fucking ass. He'd do what had to be done to keep them together, but that didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

They arrived at ten minutes after 3:00 p.m. Winston greeted them at the door with a smile, ushered them into the living room and offered them drinks from the pitcher of margaritas that he had ready and waiting. Paul and Chloe both accepted and they listened for a while as Winston chattered about what a wonderful, fun place Key West was and how much he liked the people here. There was not a hint of urgency in his voice, not even when the conversation finally did roll back around to more serious matters.

"So," he said, "Any luck on the search for the killer?"

"No," Chloe replied, "There's no sign of him anywhere. Not after last night."

"What happened last night?" Winston asked.

"Paul and Sandee had a little run-in with him over by the library," Chloe explained. "I thought he told you this morning."

"I forgot," Paul said. "With everything that happened at the meeting, I just somehow assumed you already knew."

"That's all right, Paul," said Winston. "It's a trying time for us all. Can you tell me what happened?"

"After you left last night, we found the woman Jeanie again. The one Raff says you know from way back."

"But of course I don't know her," Winston reminded him.

"Of course," said Paul. "Anyway, we found her on the cameras again and tracked her to this little garden by the library. Sandee and I went to catch up with her, and while we were watching her, the killer showed up."

Paul paused to see if Winston was going to react, but the old man just sat there, waiting for him to continue.

"Well of course we thought we had our proof right then and there, but no, as it turned out they weren't in it together." He paused again, hoping Winston would jump in and say something stupid, but he didn't. "Turned out, we were wrong. Instead the guy tried to kill her. Stabbed her with a screwdriver. Sandee and I stepped in and sort of saved the day. But the bad guy got away."

"Which is how you got the nasty cut on your head?" Winston asked.

"Yeah."

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"Looks like it must have hurt quite a bit."

"Oh yeah," Paul said, gently touching the tender spot. Winston sat there, waiting for Paul to continue. "And that's pretty much it. He got away and we've been looking for him, but haven't had any luck."

"He's not showed up on any of your cameras?" asked Winston. "And what about your contact, Chloe? What did she have to say?"

"Oh, she led me right to the guy. He was out on an island chilling with some homeless people. But he gave me the slip and I wasn't able to ever catch up with him after that."

Winston sat and nodded, sipping his drink. "So what do we do now?" he asked them. "Do you have a plan?"

"We're still trying to make some sense of the situation," Paul answered. "In light of all we now know, things are kind of complicated."

"How so?"

"For starters, there's the fact that the killer attacked Jeanie. I take that as pretty strong evidence that they're not working together and that Raff and his Crew aren't behind Raquel's murder."

"Perhaps they had some sort of falling out," Winston suggested. "Certainly you two know better than most what kind of betrayal Raff is capable of."

"Possible, I guess," said Paul, "But it seems unlikely."

"Unlikely to be sure, but not out of the question. And that is the problem that faces us here, is it not? We just don't have enough information about what is really going on. In particular, we don't know anything about the various players and their motivations for doing what they do. Raff may have had a very good reason for betraying his partner. Or maybe she had a very good reason for betraying him. It's impossible for us to say.

"With others - that is to say, with average people - it's often a straightforward piece of analysis to determine their motives because their lives are so simple. They work for some monstrous, faceless corporation. They do their time in office or retail purgatory each day and collect their check at the end of the week and go home and watch TV. They have their families and their friends and their hobbies and their problems, all of which box their lives in. It's easy to figure out why they do the things they do.

"But for us - those of us who truly live free in the world - it becomes infinitely more complicated. We need money and food, certainly. We have friends and families and hobbies, no doubt. But our priorities are our own, as are our methods for achieving them. Working in the lacunae of society, taking what we need when we need it. It is a life as rewarding and fulfilling as it is complex and dangerous. And the more rewarding it becomes, the more difficult it is for outsiders to read your motivation with anything approaching accuracy.

"And that is the problem we face now, trying to solve this murder of poor Raquel. There are too many factors to consider. Too many suspects. We still don't even know for absolute certain that the killer has anything to do with us. It seems likely, I agree. Very likely. But we do not know. Nor does it seem likely that we can know.

That is our problem and, moreover, it is a problem that doesn't seem to have any easy resolution. Nor even a difficult resolution. It seems destined to remain ambiguous to us, as do so many things in this life."

"Uh huh," said Paul, trying to sort out all the double meanings, hidden warnings and obfuscations in Winston's speech. Was he telling them that they would never understand his motivation and should just let it go? Or was he just throwing up smoke to discourage them about the whole affair in hopes they would give up? Or was he Chapter 32

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just talking philosophy because he's Winston and that's what he likes to do? Paul suspected some combination of all three.

"So, let's agree that we don't know what we don't know or whatever it is you're saying," said Chloe. "We still have to do something don't we?"

"Of course," said Winston, although something in his tone seemed to suggest that he didn't actually agree.

"Don't we?" Chloe asked again, doubt creeping into her own voice.

"If there is something we can do, then we should do it," he said. "But what to do? I for one am at a bit of a loss."

"What about Isaiah and the rest of them?" asked Paul. "What about his whole plan?"

"As we discussed at the meeting this morning, Paul, it seems all but doomed, doesn't it? Which is a shame.

Isaiah's a brilliant, visionary man. But I don't see how it could work."

Chloe started to say something, but Winston kept on before she could get a word out. "But I don't see any reason why the three of us couldn't continue on and do something of our own in the same vein. There are a lot of merits to Isaiah's scheme, although I still think forming an actual legally recognized corporation produces too much exposure and creates power relationships and thought processes that are inherently unfair and unfree. But we three and our two Crews should be able to put our heads together and come up with a more democratic system that could achieve much of what Isaiah is aiming for."

"You mean, have our Crews cooperate?" asked Chloe. "Yours and mine?"

"And others that I know of," Winston said. "As has been pointed out, I've contacts with other groups all across the country and beyond. Organizing that power to some greater goal is a worthy endeavor and one I've avoided for far too long. I'm getting old now, and in the years I have left I want to do all I can to make a real difference. And with your youthful energy and creativity and ability leading the way, I think we can."

Paul sat in awe at the genius of Winston's surprise gambit. Whatever he'd been expecting the old man to say during this meeting, it wasn't that. Winston had just offered Chloe and Paul exactly the right thing, almost as if he'd been reading their minds. Chloe idolized Winston and had for years (and Paul admired him a great deal as well), but the old mentor had long kept her at arm's length, never letting her into his inner circle. Now he was proposing to do exactly that, which would let Chloe spread her wings and expand her activities beyond the shores of Key West, just as she dreamed. And for Paul he was offering a safer alternative. He was saying, get rid of all these murder investigations and Raff and Isaiah and Eddie, and get back to a world you know and love. Only work with someone you trust.

All they had to do was ignore the fact that he'd committed one little murder - a murder he hinted he might have had very good reasons to commit - and they could both have everything that they wanted. Paul didn't know what to do. Part of him wanted to just say, "Ok!" and be done with it. So did a second part. Even the third part, the doubting part, was doubting its own doubt. He looked over at Chloe and guessed that she was running through a similar set of mental gymnastics, but he couldn't tell for sure what she was going to do about it.

"That's..." Chloe started, then stopped. "That's... It's a very interesting point you bring up. Lots of interesting points. Lots to think about."

"No decisions need to be made right away," Winston assured them. "Think it over. In the meantime, you were Chapter 32

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absolutely correct when you said we needed to discuss our current plan of action. If we can find this killer, we should, just to be on the safe side."

"We're kind of with you about not being sure what to do next," said Paul. "We've been having some hiccups with our camera network that've made it pretty difficult to track anyone."

"But we do have the guy's pic out to our contacts around town," Chloe added. "One of them might spot him again, like Cassie did the other night."

"If he is even still on the island," Paul said. "After the beating Sandee gave him, he might've just made a run for it. We checked the hospital, and he didn't show up there." In fact they hadn't checked the hospital because they knew where he was, but they had to keep up the illusion that they were looking for him for their plan to work.

"It does seem probable that he has gone to ground," Winston said. "If he's merely a lackey for one of the other players like Eddie or Raff, then in all likelihood we'll never see him again."

"Well," said Chloe. "There's only one road out of town, and we're still tapped into the red-light camera there.