The Blueprint (The Upgrade Book 1) (2 page)

It wasn’t like he was going to complain. Being a soldier was his life for as long as he could remember, and he was good at it. He rolled down the window and deeply inhaled cold air.
Focus
, he said to himself. The easiest missions end up as a bloody mess when people don’t pay attention to what they’re doing. He checked the photos on his cell phone again, to make sure he’d recognize his clients the moment he saw them. The woman was pretty. Petite, with high cheek bones and symmetrical features, her jet-black hair coming down on her shoulders in long lazy waves. The man wore a full beard and shoulder-length hair. His puffy cheeks betrayed a lifestyle of someone who liked his food, but didn’t exercise much. There was something about the man’s eyes that looked vaguely familiar, but Mike was positive he’d never met the man.

Finally his phone sounded a warning signal, informing Mike that the other agent, who had been shadowing his clients until now, was rotating out.

Almost immediately, he saw the glass doors open, and the couple stepped outside of the airport building. Mike released the brakes, cut the yellow cab that was one second too slow, and smoothly pulled over in front of his clients. He jumped out, smiling from ear to ear, and enthusiastically grabbed their bags.

•     •     •

“Is it me, or the guy in gray suit keeps on checking us out? He’s been doing it the entire flight,” Jason Hunt whispered to his wife Rachel as the plane’s landing gear had touched the ground and loud rumbling masked his words.

“The guy by the window?” Rachel looked around, trying not to stare. As soon as her eyes met the eyes of a young man in an ill-fitted gray suit, the man looked away. “I think you’re right. This is a little creepy.”

“Actually, it didn’t register until now, but now I realize that he’s the guy who followed me to the bathroom,” Rachel said. “He didn’t try to talk to me or anything. Just stood there. Should we tell someone?”

“Tell what exactly?” Jason allowed a quick glance at the man’s direction, but now the man in the gray suit seemed to be genuinely occupied with his carry-on. “It’s not like staring is a crime. As long as he doesn’t try to stalk us once we’re out, I think we’re fine.”

Jason watched the man with a growing sense of unease.
What could they tell and to who?
He thought about it for a moment and decided to let it go.

They got out of the plane, doing their best to inconspicuously watch the man. The gray suit followed them to the luggage pick-up area, but once they headed to the airport’s exit, he walked right by them, playing with his cell phone, and continued in a different direction.

“Well, I guess he’s not going to try to persuade us to have a threesome,” Jason said as he held the glass door for Rachel.

The harsh February wind clawed at them as soon as they stepped outside.

“Not Fort Lauderdale, huh?” Rachel pulled her scarf higher trying to cover her nose.

“I’d forgotten how depressing New York can be this time of the year.”

Jason didn’t answer as he was looking for a taxi. A town car pulled over, and a tall handsome driver jumped out and enthusiastically grabbed their bags.

“Where to, folks?” he asked, stacking their luggage in the trunk. “Wherever it is, I’ll get you there two times faster than those charlatans who call themselves drivers.” He dismissively waved his hand in the direction of other taxis waiting in line. “They all complain about the weather. What weather? This is a fine New York day if you ask me. Yes it is.”

He helped Rachel get in, closed the door, and went back to the front seat.

“We are heading to SoHo,” Jason said, watching the driver with amusement.

“What is your name?”

“Mike Connelly, sir.” The driver flashed two rows of perfect teeth in the rearview mirror. The car accelerated into the traffic.

“I’m Jason and this is Rachel. It’s nice to meet you, Mike.” Jason couldn’t help but smile in response. “Where are you from?”

“Brooklyn, sir.” The driver smiled again. “Born and raised. Did four tours in the Middle East, driving Humvees and Growlers. Just got back to this fine city two months ago. Nothing like being home, sir.”

“I can’t imagine.” Jason smiled back.

Jason watched the driver in the mirror. He liked the guy. Mike was a pleasant change from your usual New York City cab driver, but there was something about him that Jason couldn’t quite put his finger on. There was an amount of confidence, some aura of self-assuredness about the man that Jason didn’t see every day.

The limo pulled onto the highway and picked up speed. Traffic wasn’t as bad as Jason feared it would be. The three lanes of Interstate 278, more commonly known as the BQE, or Brooklyn-Queens Expressway, were almost empty save for a few cars. Jason and Rachel relaxed and started to doze off.

“This is odd,” the driver said, looking in the rearview mirror. “This might sound to you a bit ridiculous, but I think we’re being followed.”

“What?” Hunt sat up in his seat and turned back, squinting through the rear window. “What do you mean we’re being followed? I don’t see anybody.”

“Look now,” replied Mike. “That black SUV, right behind us. They’re gaining. We’re about to go onto the Williamsburg Bridge. Maybe they— what the—?”

A few rapid thuds shook the taxi. For a split second Jason thought it had started hailing.

“Get down!” Mike shouted and floored the gas pedal. Jason grabbed Rachel and shoved her onto the floor of the limo, then fell on top of her. Another series of thuds rattled the town car as, with a loud pop, the window in the back exploded in a shower of glass shards. The cacophony of howling wind and bullets hitting the car filled Hunt’s ears as he pressed on Rachel, trying to cover her body with his own. With strange calmness he saw two holes appear in the right headrest, at the level where his wife’s head had been just few seconds earlier. A mighty roar of the pursuing vehicle filled Jason’s ears, then a massive blow shook the town car as the SUV slammed into them from behind.

They veered left and right as Mike fought to regain control of the limo. Another salvo of bullets assaulted the town car, ripping the insides of the passenger seat and shattering the rearview mirror. Before they were able to correct the course, the SUV hit them again, sending the limousine skidding into the barrier on the right side of the road. Juxtaposition of sounds, metal scraping concrete, and bullets hitting the vehicle overloaded Jason’s senses, but Mike was able to use the minor collision to his advantage. After sending a fountain of sparks and leaving scorch marks on the barrier, the limo shot out in front of their pursuers.

Mike stepped on the gas, and the engine roared like a wounded beast in hot pursuit. The distance between them and the SUV started to grow, but not for too long. The limo was too heavy to win this race.

“Hold on,” Jason heard Mike yell against the noise, as the driver squeezed every ounce of power out of the overloaded engine.

Mike hit the brakes. The car violently decelerated with a thunderous screech, smacking Jason head-first into the divider. He scrambled, looking for something to get a hold of. His hands caught the end of the seatbelt, but before he could right himself, the limo swerved to the left, then immediately to the right. A mighty blow threw Jason against the door, knocking him unconscious.

“So this is the guy you’d be working for?” Jason picked up a tabloid magazine from the coffee table and looked at the picture on the front page of a handsome man in a sharp business suit. His salt and pepper colored hair was perfectly cut, and he was casually hugging two women who looked like supermodels.

“Let’s see.“ Jason started reading it out loud to Rachel with exaggerated articulation.

“The only son of pharmaceutical tycoon Simon Engel, Alexander was born into a life of privilege. He joined his father’s company, Guardian Manufacturing, right after graduating from John Hopkins University and quickly rose through the ranks, officially taking the helm of the company in 2010. Number #209 on the Forbes 400 with an estimated fortune of 3.6 billion dollars, Engel does not shy away from the finer things in life.”

He paused and rolled his eyes.

“Aha, multimillion dollar townhouse in Manhattan, luxurious mega yacht. Okay, never married, often seen with different women. Oh, this is great, sometimes more than one!” Jason took another look at the guy on the front cover. The billionaire was staring back, but now Jason couldn’t see the hedonistic playboy the tabloid was describing. His mouth was still smiling and his hands were still wrapped around two scantily clad women, but his eyes were hard and without a hint of irony. They were the eyes of a shark.
The eyes of a cold-blooded killer.

He put the magazine back onto the table. “This guy sounds like a real charmer.”

“Geez, if I didn’t know you better I’d think you were jealous,” Rachel said, taking off her white lab overalls and sitting next to Jason. “Is that how you treat the wife who had to work half her Saturday?” she jokingly scolded.

Jason said nothing as he stared across the room.
I do sound like a jealous idiot,
he thought.
Instead, I should tell you what Max had found… if only what he’d found was tangible.

“First of all, I’m not going to be working directly for Mr. Rich and Famous here,” she said. “Asclepius is a quasi-independent company. Guardian still pays the bills, but can’t control what they research. But please be serious for a second.” She brushed her long, jet black hair out of her eyes.

“This is a real opportunity for me,” she continued. “What they do is cutting edge. Their lab in Brooklyn has done more in the last year than my company here for the entirety of its existence. I might never get a chance like this again.”

“And you don’t mind giving up Florida’s sun for a nasty New York winter?” Jason smiled and waved his hand at the window. King palms, colored by the dark orange of the setting sun, lazily swayed back and forth in a light breeze. “Seriously, though, I wouldn’t mind going back to the city. Besides, we still have the apartment.”

“I thought you didn’t want to live in that apartment, after, you know.” She trailed off softly, looking at her husband with sadness in her eyes.

“I didn’t,” Jason said, got up and went to the window where he stood for some time watching the trees.

“It’s been almost ten years,” he said at last. “I guess I’m finally Okay with the fact that what happened that night was just an accident.”

I wish I could actually believe it,
he thought, mesmerized by the movement of the palms,
I wish I could leave it behind. God damn you, Max! What the hell am I supposed to do now? And how do I even know what you had found is true?

He finally turned around and looked at Rachel with a smile.

“It would be great to see Max, though. I miss that guy.”

“I miss him, too,” she replied, “but what about your job?”

“I dunno. I guess I could try to get myself transferred to Manhattan’s office. But at the end of the day, even if I can’t, I’m pretty sure there’s a greater need for accountants in New York than in Fort Lauderdale.” He looked at his watch. “When are you supposed to find out?”

“Well, in about.” She glanced at the wall clock. “Two minutes I guess. I forgot to tell you; it’s pretty weird. This lady from HR tells me somebody’s going to deliver the offer at four. I tell her sure, I should be at home around four, and then she cuts me off and says the package will arrive at
four o’clock sharp
. She didn’t look like she was joking either.”

The doorbell rang.

“Wow, she wasn’t joking indeed.” Jason went to open the door and a few seconds later came back holding a large box with an emblem depicting a pair of stylized white wings. “What is this? This is heavy!”

They opened the box together to find a small booklet named “Terms of the Offer”, three large binders labeled “Non-Disclosure, Non-Compete Agreement part 1, 2, and 3”, and a smaller binder called “Personnel Security Questionnaire”.

“I’m a little confused,” half-jokingly said Jason, weighing the binders. “Are you going to be working for a small R&D company or the CIA?”

“I’m not sure I care at this moment.” Rachel turned around and opened the “Terms of the Offer” so Jason could see it and pointed at the top line. “Look at this number, mister.”

“Whoa…,” he looked at his wife, then back at the number, “I guess we’re going back to New York. I also think this offer calls for a little celebration.”

•     •     •

Sitting under a light tent in their favorite restaurant, La Buena Vida, Jason was watching the yachts moored at the pier, gently rocking back and forth. It was a balmy evening and the breeze coming from the water felt pleasant on his face. It smelled of sea and oiled wood. Soft sounds of
bossa nova
were flowing from the back of the restaurant.

“Being here makes it easy to forget how ugly the world has become in the last ten years,” he said, sipping his wine. “I’m sorry, but I’ll never understand why you think your company’s work is so important. People will never embrace anything more radical than the prosthetics for amputees and accident victims.”

“You think so?” Rachel cocked her head and looked at her husband with a crooked smile. “You sound like a husband who’s jealous that his wife will be making more than him.”

Jason laughed and tipped his wine glass, “I’ll drink to that.” He then turned back to the canal and creased his forehead.

“But do you think I’m wrong? I mean, look around. We’re the lucky few who are still able to enjoy this life. When we’re driving back, look at the shacks, just a few years ago there were nice condos. Do you think people who live there now would care for any enhancements that your company’s going to put on the market few years from now?”

“Maybe not in a few years,” she said, playing with her raven hair. “But eventually they will. Like any other advanced technology, before it’s available for the masses it’s expensive, and exclusive. The first tourist to go to space paid the Russians over twenty million dollars back in 2001. Now you can do the same thing for a quarter million! Yes, it’s still very expensive but it’s not even close to what it was back then.”