[Steven Lyle Jordan]

8: Hit and Run

I had nailed it almost to the second: As I sat there waiting for Gail to come out of Starbucks, my Toughbook registered the second Merc attempt. Again, my program spoofed its login, and the NASDAQ servers rejected them both. “Yes,” I hissed to myself, and immediately got busy encapsulating the traffic info and sending the packet to the FBI.

A moment later, Gail’s door opened, and she got in. “Here you go,” she said, holding out my cup. “What news?”

“Attempt number two, like clockwork!” I said triumphantly, finishing up my keystrokes, then reaching out and taking my espresso. “Perfect! Let’s get to checkpoint Charlie!”

“Gotcha, boss,” Gail said, and started the car.

I’d guessed we had enough time to get to the mainland before the next hit… after that, they were sure to come closer together. We were also sure to have FBI agents that much closer, too, so we’d have to keep moving. By now, the FBI agents tracking this stuff would have detected my signal at the wireless node of the Starbucks we’d just left behind… checkpoint Bravo. Hopefully they’d blow some time searching for us in the immediate area, and may not have been aware enough of my “known associates” to know that they needed to be looking for a white Eclipse, before they started to put two and two together and figured out my stragedy (as a certain bunny I used to idolize would say). Once that happened, by window of opportunity would be that much smaller… it was anyone’s guess if I’d get my work done before I hit the final stop, which I’d designated my “safe spot”… appropriately, checkpoint Gail… if I got there, all would be well.

As we crossed the San Diego-Coronado Bridge, I was sure I saw two more unmarked cars heading across the bridge in the other direction. Gail was in the right lane at the time, and I stayed scrunched down in my seat. The band in my head was getting a bit louder… the saxes were winding up. “Reinforcements,” I said to Gail.

“What?” Gail said.

“Huh?”

“I couldn’t hear you over the band.”

That earned me a high-C right behind my left ear. “Hit the National exit,” I grinned.

We back-tracked to Harbor Drive and headed north-west with purpose. Reaching our next destination, at West Harbor and Front, Gail took the left and drove into the parking lot. Within seconds, I was getting the Starbucks wireless signal and connecting.

Gail pulled into a spot and cut the engine. “Anything yet?”

“Not yet,” I replied. “So we sit tight. And watch for guys with dark glasses and cheap suits.”

“I’d much rather watch you,” Gail said, and she leaned over and kissed me. For a moment, she seemed about to crawl over the gearshift and have a go at me right there… but she restrained herself, and settled for kisses. Trust me, I didn’t mind at all.

Then the Toughbook beeped at me. Gail glanced down at it, and muttered, “Killjoy.”

“I’m hip,” I said as I opened the laptop. After another moment, I said, “Hit number three, logged… spoofed… and… blocked!”

“Like clockwork,” Gail commented. She started the car as I encapsulated the third hit data, and sent it off. “Ready?”

“Go,” I cried. “On to checkpoint Delta!”

“You don’t think this ‘Alpha, Bravo, Charlie’ stuff is gonna get old by the time we get to the end?”

I thought about the fact that “Gail” was my last stop. “Hells, no! Stomp it, baby!”

Gail beamed in response to my enthusiasm, and floored it, just catching the light in time to head into town. But underneath my bravado, I was concerned. We’d just hit our second Starbucks in a row, and were heading for our third. Even TV cops weren’t stupid enough to not pick up that trail. I’d carefully chosen our route, so it wasn’t likely they’d figure out which shop I was gonna hit next… but then, there were enough of them to eventually get around to staking out every Starbucks in town when they get it figured out.

It was gonna be real close.

When we reached checkpoint Delta, Gail muttered, “Uh-oh.” I joined her in glancing about. There was no place to park on the street… all the nearby spots were filled. I checked the Toughbook, but we were too far away to get a signal.

I quickly pointed. “Let me off here, and U-turn at the end of the block.”

“U-turn?” Gail blanched. “In this traffic?”

“I have faith in you,” I said, and opened the car door before she had come to a stop. “Be back soon,” I said as I climbed out.

I had to cross the street to get to the Starbucks. Once I was outside, I had planned to just sit at one of their sidewalk tables and do my thing… but a drone in the sky alerted me to look up. I ducked into the place just before a helicopter came into view above the San Diego streets. And I was just paranoid enough to believe that they were looking for me. That was close. Quickly I slipped into a chair and opened up the Toughbook. I checked… but there was no fourth attempt yet. Damn! Had they given up? It was too soon! Or were they just biding their time, maybe hoping whatever glitch was blocking them at NASDAQ would clear up? How long could I leave Gail circling around out front?...

Then—Hallelujah! The fourth hit came. The spoof program did its job, and I quickly encapsulated the data and sent it off. Then I closed my Toughbook and left, non-chalantly, so as to not attract the notice of the Starbucks baristas. I hit the sidewalk, glancing surreptitiously to make sure there were no copters overhead… it had left the scene. Then I looked for Gail’s car. I looked left. I looked right.

No car!