The Book Keeper (9 page)

I shook my head at her in disbelief.

‘Spill the beans White Girl,’ I said cautiously.

‘I come here to warn you. Mr Rubin is a very dangerous man.  We have been monitoring him for quite a while, gathering evidence, using higher intelligence to nail him.  He is planning to use you as the guinea pig of the MR Implant, and then deal with you, if you know what I mean. You have be
en very clever Cohen, in your ability to outwit him so far.  He doesn’t like you having the upper hand over him.  He is tracking you, we are tracking you, and we are tracking his trackers.  The game is on.  Act naturally at all times, and you need an SOS word, so that we can step in to save you.  What will the word be Cohen?’ Mia was straight to the point, no frills attached.

I looked at her for a moment longer, half shocked, half surprised, add a tinge of fear.

‘RED!’ I responded, no frills. “Red is my SOS word to save me from whatever occurrence that you think is going to happen to me.’

‘Red it is Mr Darcy.  And now for a code to use to see who’s hands you are in.  Remember this Mr Darcy – your line is….you wish…..our trackers will answer with…..jellyfish.’  I looked down and laughed to myself.  How absurd.  How ridiculous….you wish jellyfish!
  I could hear the sarcasm in my own voice.

‘You find the situation amusing Mr Darcy.  Believe me, when you look in the eye of death, you will not find it amusing.’  Her face was void of emotion.  I raised my eyebrows at her, lifte
d my glass of scotch and said cheers.  She nodded back at me.

‘Does he know Mia? That you lead a double life?’ I asked.

‘If he did, he would have my head as an ornament Cohen.  I have protectors all around me.  They are even here in the pub, as are your trackers and their trackers. It is like a game, though deadly.  And we must use our higher intelligences. Outwit, outlast.  Our mission is as peacekeepers on the Earth.  There are technologies that must not be shared with some.  Do you understand what I am saying Mr Darcy?’ Mia asked me, her green eyes piercing the depths of mine, searching for my conscience.

‘Yes,’ I answered, no frills
, maintaining her piercing eye contact..

She left me then, and headed to a corner booth.  She sat with a strikingly handsome man.
Was he her protector, a tracker, or a boyfriend?  Only observation of their connections would establish the answer to that, and I did not have the time to sit here to be a spectator of life.  I had a lot to think about.

I headed out of the pub, and Max was there waiting for me.

Who paid his wage I wondered?  Do I trust him or not? 

Chapter
  10

I entered my apartment via the right double door, to be visible on their surveillance. The aroma of chicken cacciatore awakened my dormant stomach. In silence I served it on a dinner plate, and sat at the dining table to eat it.  Will my life be forever like this? Monitored, analysed and interfered with?  Is it possible to press the eject button and disappear off the radar?  I expected not.

I did not watch the sport on television tonight as I had done routinely since my awareness of the surveillance cameras.  Instead, I headed in to shower, fogging up the bathroom to add to my plans of interfering with their surveillance vision – I had nearly finished. Then I lay in bed, in the darkness of my room, wide awake, trying to make sense of the new information that I had been given.

According to Mia, the White Girl, who is not really the white girl, Mr B. Rubin has bad intentions with the mind reading implant.  He has me under surveillance, has me tracked and will use me as the guinea pig for my invention, after which he will then kill me. But, Mia who claims to be like a secret agent, has trackers following my trackers, who will step in to save me if I use the SOS word RED. 

She called it a game.  Outwit, outlast were her words.

Play the game. Play it better – mine.

I have to be very astute, alert at all times, one step ahead.

I also had to deal with Georgia as soon as possible, and end our communications, for her safety.

Under the darkness of the thick blankets, I turned on my fake name cell phone.

FROM: Tim Jennings

SUBJECT: Book Questions

DATE: May
13 2011   23:23

TO: Georgia Harrison

Dear Georgia,

I was rather pleased to read your book.
You obviously used Higher Intelligences to write it.  I would like to meet you at Café Ooh Laa Laaa! tomorrow at 3pm, to discuss possible publication of your piece of fascinating, intriguing writing. Please reply if you are unable to make this appointment.

Tim
#booksmakeforverygoodfirefuel.

SEND….

Within three minutes I received a message from her.

FROM: Georgia Harrison

SUBJECT: Book Questions from me.

DATE: May 13 2011  23:26

TO:  Tim Jennings

Dear Tim,

3:07 pm would be preferable. I am sure with your higher intelligence after your brain studies you should be able to organise your time schedule to meet at that exact moment in time.
  How was your date?

Georgia
#theownerofthebookthatyoulovesomuch
.
 

FROM:  Tim Jennings

SUBJECT:  3:07PM

DATE: May 13 2011  23:35

TO: George Harrison

Dear George,

My schedules can only be arranged hourly.  3:07 pm does not exist in the higher intelligence scheme of things. Meet me at 3pm.  Shall I order tea for you?

Tim #the3pmtimeisnotnegotiable.

PS –
It was not a date.  I don’t do girls remember!

SEND…..

FROM: GEORGIA Harrison

SUBJECT: 3:07pm

DATE: May 13 2011  23:40

TO: Tim Jennings

Dear Timothy,

George is a boy.  I am not.  Perhaps you should date some girls to understand us better. What if I don’t feel like tea tomorrow?

Georgia #teafortwosoundsnicebutitdependsonthecompan
y


FROM: Tim Jennings

SUBJECT: The
Tea Company?

DATE: May
13 2011   23:45

TO: Miss Georgia Harrison

Dear Georgia,

I do not know the name of the company that makes the tea, but
I shall order tea for you anyway.  See you tomorrow at 3pm.

Tim
#SuperGeek@MetropolisofNerdvilleUniversityLibrary.

SEND ……

There was no reply. I concealed the fake user cell phone in an inside pocket of my black clothes, and
awaited 2:13am, the final installment of operation black dot on CAI surveillance cameras.

Play the game. Play it better
.

Up at 6am. Gym, shower.  Grab breakfast along the way. Work.  My usual routine.  Nothing out of the ordinary.

The graffiti wall of eye and brain art was coming along slowly. As my hands worked on the transferral of the detailed brain diagram onto the wall, in correct position and scale to the eye, my own mind visualised the workings of the mind reading device,  over and over in every single detail to the nth degree.

When finally I had finished drawing the brain, I stepped back to consider the reality of the device that would be implanted.  It dawned on me then that, I was out of my depth.  I now required the medical professional’s knowledge to continue this quest. But who would choose the doctors – Mr B. Rubin, or me?  Perhaps I should talk to Mia about it.  She would advise me on what to do in this instance for sure.

Tim Jennings’ cell phone vibrated in my pocket.  It was time to meet with Georgia at the Café.

I hightailed it out of my office, past Black Suit Man, down to the ground floor and out the stupid revolving doors.  I arrived at the Café at 2:55pm, order
ed tea for two, and sat and waited at a table. 

The door jingled a
t exactly 3pm. I looked over and saw Georgia entering the café. I stood.  She looked amazing in her light summery dress. I smiled at her and then sat down after she did. It was good manners - gentlemanly.

‘All before 3:07pm Georgia.  Very impressive,’  I commented with a smirk on my face.

She smiled at me, with her beautiful blue eyes as well, and then placed the bloody book down on the table in front of me.

‘Ah….fuel for the fire I assume?’ I teased her. She frowned at me, annoyed by my comment.

‘No Cohen.  Some pages are missing.  You must have them,’ she accused.  I shook my head at her.

‘Only one page came out of the book.  But I put it back
into the book Georgia,’ I explained.

Our tea for two arrived.  Georgia proceeded to pour the tea into our cups.

‘Look inside the book Cohen.  Look at the page numbers.  Some are missing,’  she insisted.

I opened the bloody book and flicked through the pages looking for numbers.  But I saw nothing but white paper – an inkless book. I shook my head as I inspected the bloody book.

Georgia grabbed the book from me, flicked through to a certain page and gave it back to me.

‘R
ead it out loud to me, followed by the very next page,’ she whispered aggressively.  She was insane.  I hesitated before I spoke to her.  Then I sipped my tea, wondering how to respond to her request.

‘Georgia.  This book has intrigued me since it turned up at my apartment.  When I look at the pages, I don’t see anything.  It is completely blank.’
I decided to be honest.  There was no other way.

Her jaw dropped open, and she snatched the book from me, and flicked through the entire book rapidly, as if in a panic.

‘Cohen….Cohen, that is impossible.  Clearly there are black handwritten words in this book.  Look again.’  Georgia thrust the book back into my hands.  Again I fingered through each of the pages, and saw nothing. I looked into her eyes, and shook my head.

‘Read to me Georgia.  I want to hear what I cannot see,’ I insisted, keeping m
y voice calm.

‘Not here Cohen.  We will have to meet again at a different place.  A place where your trackers will not be.  How did you know that I owned the book, if you cannot see any words in the book?’ she asked, her voice a whisper.

I leaned in closer to her, her sweet perfume exciting my sense of smell.

‘I accidently discovered that if I held it on an angle, under a certain soft light, the indentations of the words could be seen.  Then I took it to my study, and did a soft pencil rubbing.  That is when you name, address, email and phone number appeared, and I contacted you,’ I explained, my voice quiet, clear and succinct.

Georgia blinked at me, closed the book, and wiped a tear away.

‘We really must talk Cohen, but not here.’  Georgia sipped her tea, looking into my eyes.

‘I will organise a time and place to meet Tim. And, you should really get your eyes tested Cohen.  You obviously can’t see properly.’

I smiled at her audacity. I’ve only known her for a split second, and she is telling me what to do.

I sipped my tea slowly and gazed at the beautiful Georgia. She looked deeply into my eyes, then closed her eyes and licked her full lips, sucking her bottom lip before opening her eyes again. Oh my……I don’t do girls, or do I?

‘Well, if we are done here.  I will go,’ she said, as if detached from the situation, puzzling me.  I laughed quietly at her.

‘You are the one who wanted to meet Georgia.  If you say we are done, then we are done,’ I responded, and then stood when she did.

‘Good then.  I am sure that if we had met at 3:07pm, the outcome of this meeting would have been different Cohen,’ she remarked.

‘Time is relative Miss Georgia.  I enjoyed tea for two with you.  The company was interesting, and pleasant.’  I smiled coyly at her, and nodded my head slightly.

Her cheeks flushed as she smiled gently back at me.

‘Cohen,’ she breathed as she rolled her eyes at me, before she turned and left the Café. I watched her walk confidently out of the café, heads turning to admire her. 

I left almost immediately after her.  I decided it was my turn to be a tracker.

I followed Georgia from a safe distance along the street.  I did not know what she did for a living.  She had said that she designed, researched, created.  She also said that she could not tell me what she was working on, or where she worked.

She turned into the entrance of a medical research centre, and then was lost to my view.  At least I knew the name of the medical
research facility now.  I would look it up to see what they did there.

4
pm. It was still early.  I did not want to return to CAI, nor to my apartment.  I headed to the park to clear my head, and sat under the shade of a beautiful old oak tree, overlooking the lake.  My tracker and his tracker were within my proximity. They did their best to look ‘normal’, but their odd little behaviours told me that they were working, watching me closely, reporting my behaviours, my location.  I smiled to myself.  What an odd occupation.  It was like playing spies at school in the playtime, hiding behind trees, spying on others, pretending that you were invisible.  I wonder if the tracker knew that he was being tracked?  Surely he would.  If you were a tracker, wouldn’t your observation of surroundings and people be astute. Surely he would know if he was being tracked?