Geek Mafia (21 page)

CHAPTER 17

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CHAPTER 17

When they got back to Chloe's house, there wasn't a parking space to be found - the place looked like it was full to the rafters with Crew members, but there wasn't any party going on. Paul and Chloe opened the door and stepped into chaos. Bee was there in the living room, networking together several computers, connected by a thick cord to the server room. "Hey, Chloe, Paul," was all she took time to say before bending back to her work.

"Looks like I got back just in time," said Chloe, to no one in particular. She handed Paul her backpack and said to him, "Paul, could you put this away in my bedroom. Might as well unpack your own stuff in there as well, the Crew seems to have co-opted your couch."

"Sure," said Paul, bristling a little at being told what to do, but happy to be making the jump up from couch to Chloe's bedroom. "What's going on?"

"Raff's little score, isn't looking too little anymore." She said to herself as much as to Paul, and stalked into the kitchen shouting, "Where's Raff?"

"He's in the garage," said Bee. Chloe swept back through the living room towards the back of the house. Paul followed her as far as the garage door, but she opened it and closed it behind her before he could get in a word or a glimpse. He went back to Chloe's room and dropped their bags. They'd tell him what was going on eventually, and right now he felt sticky and cold, and decided he should probably shower before he even sat down on Chloe's crisp, white sheets. She had her own bathroom, which was a nice luxury in this crowded house. He stripped down and took a shower, hoping that Chloe just might decide to join him.

As it turned out, Paul didn't see Chloe again that day. By the time he came back out, she'd gone somewhere, although none of the dozen or so crewmembers in the house seemed to know where (or, more likely, were unwilling to tell him). Bee intercepted him as he tried to go into the garage, saying that he wasn't allowed in there right now, same for the Sever Room. He had the run of the rest of the house, but no one had time to talk to him. He made himself a turkey sandwich and watched the hustle and bustle whirl around him. From his vantage he could only see the operation's periphery and couldn't even begin to guess what it was they were doing.

Bee made a little time to sit with him while she shoveled Ramen noodles into her mouth. "How was your trip?" she asked.

"Good. It was fun for sure."

"Great."

"What's going on here?" he asked.

"Not much," she replied. "What'd you do on your trip?"

"Not much really," was all he could think to say. He got the message though. Everyone here had secrets and you had to respect those boundaries and not ask questions you know people don't want to answer. They finished their meals in silence.

"You should see a movie or something," said Bee as she rinsed out her bowl at the sink. "It's not going to be very exciting or fun around here tonight."

"Maybe," said Paul. "Do you know when Chloe's getting back?"

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"Nope."

"Ok, thanks" He watched her as she jumped back into the fray. She'd spotted something that one of the other crewmembers was doing wrong and corrected him on it, immediately becoming lost in her work once more.

Paul decided against the movie. He wasn't interested in anything that was playing. The truth was, there wasn't any movie out there that was more interesting than his own life had become since he met Chloe. He ended up lying on her bed and reading a pile of the old comics left over from the comic con. He fell asleep around 1

AM with the lights on.

He saw Chloe the next morning, as she came into her room to grab a quick shower and change out of the clothes she was still wearing from the day before. Paul took the fact that she brought her clean jeans and shirt into the bathroom with her and locked the door as a sign that whatever had happened at the beach might not become a habit between them. He pretended to be asleep as she quietly gathered her clothes and then he slipped out into the living room while she showered.

Not much had changed in the rest of the house. With the shades drawn tight and the crowd of hackers hunched in front of their computers, Paul noticed little difference between now and eight hours ago. He scrounged up some cereal but had to settle for soymilk. A few minutes later Chloe came into the kitchen, still damp from the shower.

"Hey," she said. "Any coffee in here?"

"Not that I can see," said Paul into his cereal.

Chloe pulled a bag of coffee beans from the freezer and started measuring them out into the grinder. "You sleep ok?"

"Yeah. Did you manage to sleep at all?"

"Sadly, no. I'm running on fumes here. Well, fumes and a little pharmaceutical help. It was a busy night."

"What's going on?" asked Paul, still looking down into his bowl of soy soaked corn flakes. The high-pitched buzz of the coffee grinder filled the room in place of Chloe's refusal to answer his question.

As she waited for the coffee to brew, Chloe cleaned dishes and straightened up the kitchen, her back kept studiously to Paul as he finished his breakfast. He had known she wouldn't tell him what was going on, but that didn't mean he was happy about it. Let her deal with the awkwardness of the situation. No reason to make it easy for her. And so he waited for her answer in silence.

Chloe finally gave in and sat down next to Paul at the table with a fresh cup of coffee.

"Listen Paul, you know how this works right?" She sipped from her mug. "We're obviously up to something and only those, you know, 'in the know' get to, well, know."

"And I can't be in the know?"

"You're not a member of the Crew, Paul. You haven't paid your dues. This is some serious shit and no one really trusts you yet. Nor should they."

"What about the comic book thing? Didn't that prove my loyalty or whatever?"

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"Sort of, sure." She leaned forward and gently brushed his cheek with the back of her hand. He raised his head and looked her in the eye. "I trust you Paul. You know that. I've told you shit no one else in the Crew knows and I trust you to keep my secrets. Our secrets. And now you have to trust me. Trust me on this one thing.

You absolutely do not want any part of this bullshit we're perpetrating right now. This is a serious score and there's no room for mistakes. It's not phony funny books. It's not the right time. After we're free and clear on this one, then, maybe, we can talk about you joining up for real." She paused to take another sip of coffee. "If that's what you really still want to do."

"Why wouldn't I?" asked Paul, his voice taking on an edge of defensiveness.

"Why would you?" she replied. It was a fair question. Why would he? Why get involved with people like this? Chloe was thinking along the same lines. "You've just made a shit load of money Paul, if you play it right and invest it well, you probably won't have to work again, or at least not for a few decades. It's a single score that any one of us would envy. Fuck, all of us already do envy it. Why fuck around with low lifes like us?"

"I don't know," said Paul. "Maybe because this is the most fun I've ever had. Because I've got nothing else to do. Because I like you."

"I think you should take a break," said Chloe. "Spend some of that money. Have a night out on the town. Get a fancy hotel room in SF and hire a bunch of hookers. Live it up a little, my friend."

"That sounds great," he said. "Why don't you come with me? We'll live it up together."

"I can't Paul, not right now. I don't have time for you."

"I'll wait."

She took an extra long sip of coffee and was silent for a moment. "I know you will, Paul. But you can't make life decisions based on...based on that."

"Based on what?"

"Based on waiting for me."

"Oh," he said. "Yeah, you're probably right." Paul knew what she was trying to tell him. And she was right -

he'd made this kind of mistake before. By any reasonable logic she was right. But of course he didn't give a fuck about logic. However, he'd learned enough in his thirty-two years not to push her away even more by pressing the issue.

Chloe seemed thankful that Paul had gotten her message without her having to resort to blunter language. She softened the blow a little with a pat on his knee. "We will have that night on the town though, Paul. Just not right now. When we've made the score. Until then, why don't you take some time for yourself? Get out and just relax a little. I'm not going to have much time for anything but work and breathing between now and then."

"Ok," he said. "Sounds like a good idea. Maybe I'll go down to Santa Cruz or something. Learn to surf."

Chloe stood up and smiled down at him. "That's a great idea! Then you can teach me." She quickly downed the rest of her coffee. "I gotta run. Have fun. And hey, there's a cell phone for you that I left by the side of the bed. Use it all you want, it's clean and paid for."

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"Thanks," he said. "I appreciate it."

"No prob," she said as she walked back towards the living room. "And have some fun!"

Over the next few days Paul tried to do just that, although it was a little harder than he'd thought it would be.

The only time someone talked to him for more than a minute was when Popper gave him five to pay him his share of the comic con. The crew had finally sold the last of the counterfeit comics on eBay and had brought in over $80,000 in bids. Paul's share came to almost five grand. Coupled with the money he already he had, he could do whatever he wanted. It was the figuring out what he wanted part that he was finding so difficult.

He didn't want to go to any of his usual haunts where he might run into someone from work. He had no friends in San Jose outside of his former partners and coworkers, so that didn't leave him with a lot of social options. The comic book store and game store were no good either - he was friendly with the staff of both and knew they'd mention him to one of the guys he'd so recently extorted money from. Better to just leave all that shit behind and start fresh.

He did spend some time on the phone with his parents, who were understandably worried about him. They'd heard from his former partner and CEO Greg what happened - apparently Greg had been trying to get in touch with him and the only number he had left that worked was Paul's folks' place back in Florida. Paul shortened the tale considerably, saying only that he'd sold his stock to Greg and now he wanted some time alone to think about what to do next. Although they pushed him for more details, Paul's stonewalling made them give up soon enough. They were used to him not telling them much about his personal life.

Mostly he just drove around the Bay Area. He got his comics up in Berkley and wandered around San Francisco for a few afternoons. He'd never taken the time to actually do the tourist thing - he'd been working since the day he'd moved out here. Well, working or resting. Either way, he'd only been up to the city a handful of times, even though it was less than an hour away. Like all big cities, San Francisco both fascinated and overwhelmed Paul. He loved the fact that there was so much going on, so many interesting people, but without a local to show him the ropes, he had a hard time choosing one thing to do. Although he never actually encountered any crime in SF, for some reason a fear of being mugged nested in the back of his brain and refused to leave until his car was back on the highway. It was only as he headed south on the 101 that he realized this newfound paranoia's root cause. It was perfectly natural, he thought, for someone that now lived with a bunch of criminals

He liked Santa Cruz more - a small beach town like his own home turf, but it didn't feel quite right either. An inexplicable mix of hippies and incredibly high housing costs made the small beach/university town less than appealing as a permanent place of residence, but a fun place to visit, even if the Pacific Ocean was too cold to even think about swimming in, much less surfing without a wet suit. With freshly stolen money in his pocket and nothing else to do, he decided to follow through on his threat and get a motel room by the beach. It was certainly less frustrating than staying around Chloe's house.

He went by the Crew's HQ just long enough to get his suitcase. The operation had taken over almost the entire house. The living room had become a staging area and a storage place for spare parts and malfunctioning computers, without even an outlet left to plug the TV into. The kitchen overflowed with dirty dishes and pizza boxes - a sure sign that Chloe wasn't spending much time there. He never saw Chloe at all, and Bee seemed to be the one in charge of running the house-based portion of the operation. The only place where there was any peace and quiet was Chloe's bedroom, and he didn't feel comfortable there.

He had spent the first few nights after his talk with Chloe trying to figure out just what the hell they were up to. He didn't have much luck. The Crew was very security conscious and most of the really "sensitive" stuff happened in the garage or the server room, neither of which Paul was allowed even a glimpse of. Still, they were all perfectly nice to him, if a bit closed mouthed.

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Despite their best efforts however, he overhead and saw enough small details to piece together some vague notion of what they were up to. From the constant whispered references to "him" and "the guy" and "he," Paul surmised that they had one specific person as their target. Furthermore, from what he gathered, they seemed to know an awful lot about this man, whoever he was. That meant they were probably spying on him, and not just looking at his credit card records and what not.

One thing that did confuse him was that sometimes it seemed that they were spying on this person and other times it sounded like they were actually working with or at least talking to him. Or maybe there were two

"hims." Paul couldn't tell for sure. But there was no way of telling without some serious snooping, and he knew the Crew was watching him too closely for that. Getting out of the house and down to the beach was the only option he had left before his curiosity and imagination got him into trouble.