Geek Mafia: Mile Zero - Rick Dakan (acx book reading TXT) 📗

THEY talked to Winston a lot sooner than Chloe had anticipated. They got home in just over five minutes, and Chloe’s phone chimed as soon as she walked through the door. She answered and heard Winston’s voice say, “Hello, Chloe. I spoke with some of my people, and they’re having some trouble finding Eddie right now. Do you have any idea where he is from your cameras?”

“No, we’ve got no idea,” Chloe said, annoyed with her mentor’s gall. He was the one taking down their camera network and here he is asking her to use it to help him! She knew that it was just a delaying tactic, trying to keep her and Paul occupied with some meaningless task while he made his next move - whatever that was. But Chloe had other things she had to do. “Right now our cameras are all fucked up. We’ll be here at the house for another hour at least trying to get it sorted out. If you could just give me a call when you find him, that’d be great.” She hung up before he could say anything else. The more she let him talk, the more likely she was to give something away.

Bee came down the stairs with a laptop in her hand, which she handed to Paul, who was waiting for it. “This is set up to read right off our feed in the park department security cameras,” Bee explained. “You need to get over within a couple hundred yards of the hub, which is at the back of that apartment complex over there, Sandy Gables. Just park by the rear dumpsters and you should be fine.”

“Sounds lovely,” said Paul. “And we can watch our ranger friend with this?”

“The cameras there have pretty good coverage, so yeah, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Paul tucked the laptop under his arm and turned to flash Chloe a smile. “You ready to sit in the car and stare at a laptop screen for a while?” he asked.

“Oh God yes!” Chloe said in mock excitement. “That sounds awesome! And maybe later we can come back here and look at screens on a desktop while eating nails.”

“I don’t eat nails!” Bee protested.

“You’re missing out,” Paul said. “Yummy, yummy nails. Full of metally goodness.” Bee seemed to realize they weren’t making fun of her and laughed along with their joke.

“Ok,” said Chloe, “Let’s get going.”

They used the car instead of the scooter because it provided more cover and the laptop could plug right into the cigarette lighter (Bee always kept a spare car battery in the trunk just in case they killed the one under the hood). It was also kind of a long drive to the salt marshes, or at least what passed for a long drive on Key West. Out by the airport, the whole area was supposed to be protected wetlands, shielded from development. But real estate ruled in Florida, particularly on small islands like Key West, and several large apartment complexes had managed to somehow circumvent or just ignore regulations and built out into the swamp.

Not that the real estate tycoons were the first to use the marshes for something other than their intended legal purposes, although Chloe had a lot more sympathy for the region’s first cadre of lawbreakers. Ever since the park service cut some paths and laid some bridges through the thick mangroves, the spot had been a favorite spot for cruisers. Men looking for an anonymous midnight rendezvous with other like-minded gents frequented the paths, which also became haunts for prostitutes, drug users and the homeless. Although “out of sight, out of mind” was a truism in Key West as it was elsewhere, at some point the sexual shenanigans became too popular for the local authorities to ignore. And when periodic police raids and undercover stings weren’t enough, they fell back upon the last refuge of the frustrated police state: cameras.

The city had set up cameras all along the nature paths, clamped right onto the sides of trees and the occasional lamp post. Bee had spliced her way into the feed several months ago, but the park was too far away from the rest of their wireless camera grid in old town, so it wasn’t part of the main network. She had plans to some day put some boosters out there to piggyback the signal so it was in range, but the truth was, they’d never seen much need in having access to these camera feeds. The party gave them more than enough voyeuristic opportunities if that’s what they wanted, and not much else went on out here worth looking at.

Chloe parked the car in the back of the Sandy Gables parking lot, right next to the dumpster as instructed. It did indeed smell as bad as she had feared. The Sandy Gables developers had been one of those companies which had stuck its concrete in the swamp and piled up crappy, cookie-cutter condos. One result was that this position was within range of the wireless transmitter Bee had attached to the city’s camera network, so they could pick up the feeds from the comfort of their car.

She watched as Paul browsed through the twenty different camera views, each displayed in groups of four. The park was empty, despite the fact that tourist season was raging around them. Hardly anyone knew about the paths, and the habitual users waited until night (when the cameras were largely ineffective because they had no night-vision capability). It took Paul less than a minute to find the young ranger, standing in a clearing, smoking a cigarette, back to the camera but in plain view.

“Shouldn’t be too hard to find,” said Paul.

“Nope,” agreed Chloe. “Especially with that cigarette stinking up the place.”

They sat and watched for twenty minutes as the ranger wandered idly around the clearing, occasionally pushing some dirt and leaves around with a rake. Paul cycled through the camera feeds every minute or so, watching for anyone else entering the park. And soon enough, their patience was rewarded. A beat-up old pickup truck pulled into one of the small parking areas, and a man slowly levered himself out of the cab. His right hand was bandaged and he walked with a limp. In his left hand he held a flashlight. It was the killer. Winston’s friend.

“There!” said Paul. “He’s coming in from the West entrance.”

Chloe thumbed a speed dial button on her phone and said, “We see him, coming in from the west.”

“Well, that pretty much proves that, doesn’t it?” Paul said, his voice grim.

“Yeah,” said Chloe through clenched teeth. There was no doubting it now. Winston was not only in league with the killer, he was still providing the man with targets. In this case, an innocent park ranger.

She had backed into the parking space, making a quick getaway all the easier. She screeched out of the lot and zigzagged through the complex’s labyrinthine parking lot on her way to Flagler Road. Although the killer was entering from a location less than a quarter of a mile from where they were parked, it was all swamp and water between the two points. Chloe had to circle all the way back around on South Roosevelt to get to where the killer had parked, which was almost a mile. It should take the killer a little while to find his prey on the winding, wooded trails, whereas they knew exactly where they were going. With a little luck they should beat him there.

They didn’t have a little luck though. As she turned onto Roosevelt she found herself right behind a police car. No speeding, no passing. It ended up taking them ten minutes to get into position. At least the cop hadn’t decided to check out the salt marshes on top of everything else. They parked right next to the killer’s pickup and raced through the woods toward where the killer had gone. Chloe had her stun gun in hand, charged and ready for whatever lay up ahead. She skidded to a halt as she entered the clearing, and Paul plowed right into her back, sending them both sprawling to the ground. Sandee found this very amusing indeed.

“Some cavalry you guys are,” he said once he’d stopped laughing. Dressed in a park ranger’s khakis with a broad-brimmed hat and shades, Sandee was standing in the middle of the clearing, his left foot resting comfortably on top of the killer’s body. He was bound and gagged, pink-furry handcuffs clasping his hands behind his back and a bright red ball-gag strapped to his mouth.

“I see you got him,” said Chloe as she stood up and brushed herself off.

“I always get my man,” Sandee said. “You should know that by now.”

“See what wearing the right footwear for the occasion can do?” Paul said as he regained his feet, pointing to Sandee’s work boots.

“I know, right? These are steel-toed by the way,” said Sandee and gave the prone killer a nudge with the tip of his foot. “Just ask his shins. I jumped him as soon as he came into the clearing, so he never had a chance. I almost feel sorry for him.”

“He was here to try and kill you,” Paul pointed out.

“I’m not sure about that,” Sandee said.

“Why?” asked Chloe.

“Well, he’s lame and has a broken hand, and he didn’t bring a weapon, unless you count that.” He pointed across the clearing to the plastic flashlight that had fallen in the dirt. “Even if I’d been some real park ranger and not, well, me, he still would’ve had a hard time killing me.”

Chloe considered these facts. It did seem pretty unlikely that he’d showed up unarmed, expecting to murder someone. She had to rethink the situation. Paul had called Bee from Winston’s house using one of the disposable phones that Winston already knew about. They’d assumed his Crew would be listening in on the call and had laid this trap, with Sandee as the bait. And Winston had fallen for it. It was obvious that Winston had sent the man, but the question was, why?

Now wasn’t the time to sit and ponder such things. “Come on, let’s get this fucker on his feet and take him back to the car.” She and Paul each grabbed an arm and pulled the man up. He grunted and complained through his ball gag, his face more desperate than angry. He was a big guy, solidly built and in his early 50s maybe. Holding his arm, Chloe felt the solid muscle of his bicep. Not the physique of a gym rat, but rather of someone who engaged in a lot of physical labor or exercise. His deep tan and weathered face spoke of a life spent outdoors in the elements.

With his limp it took them ten minutes to get back to the car. They decided to leave his truck where it was and forced him into the back seat with Sandee sitting next to him as a guard.

“Should we take his gag off ?” said Paul. “Won’t it look strange to people as we drive by?”

“This is Key West,” Sandee said. “He won’t be the first old queen to be driven around town in handcuffs and ball gag. But are we really going to take him back to our house?”

“Might as well,” Chloe said as she started the car. “Winston already knows where we live, and it’s the most secure place on the island as far as we’re concerned.”

“And then what?” Sandee asked. “I’m not really down with the whole nonconsensual torture thing.”

“We won’t torture him,”