01:06 Escape – Leaving It All Behind

<<Table of Contents - link to be added later>>

<<Previous Chapter>>

*******

After leaving the bank branch, Grey returned to his Enterprise rental, a dark Green Jeep Sahara, parked in a far corner of the plaza parkade, got in and drove to the closest airport. Since the airport was in a nearby small city across the river from whence he'd just departed, it didn't take long to arrive and return the rental by just dropping the keys in the rental company's drop-box.

Entering the terminal, donning a medi-mask as he passed through the auto-door, Grey headed to an ATM-like ticket kiosk. Not even taking three minutes to print, he obtained his ticket upon entering his pre-arranged confirmation number. With ticket in hand, Grey headed towards the security line-up to enter the main terminal area where numbered gates awaited the various departing passengers.

Quickly clearing security, Grey was at Gate 06 immediately since it was across from the line of Security x-ray conveyors. He considered wandering away from the gate to obtain a quick coffee, but an announcement over the terminal speakers could be heard, "Flight WJ105 departing Gate 06 - First Boarding Now!" So, Grey stayed and after seeing one, two and then three passengers head to the gate line-up, he himself stepped forward.

Grey was on the plane and buckled into his seat in row 3, seat F in another five minutes. He only had a small briefcase with him, so he slipped it under the seat in front at his feet. Nothing much of consequence was in it, and he had checked no luggage for the flight, since everything he needed for his visit to the nearby city had been pre-arranged by himself to be loaded into his rental before arrival. The same sub-contractor he chose would have by now removed those same items shortly after he dropped off the rental at the airport.

So, Grey leaned back into his seat on the plane, looking out the window, knowing he need not worry about being bothered to rise to let someone into their seat next. He'd decided against purchasing the other eleven seats adjacent his own this time - only the two between himself and the aisle. Since this was a layover flight to a further destination to which he would not arrive, he needn't the distracting buffer to throw off anyone following electronically.

At the lay-over, he'd rise and get off as smoothly as possible, causing no disruption or attracting attention.

He decided to doze off, not waiting for the plane safety display by the attendants. He knew the drill. His phone was already in Flight Mode.

-------------------------------------------------

Willow was in a sour mood once she left the café. Reading the itinerary Red had given her made her dread the proposed meeting next Thursday. She had a million things to do - to organize and plan - yet she took the time and sat on the floor of her bedroom, noticeably in disarray with papers and clothes scattered about. She just wanted to remain still.

She decided after five minutes of silent meditation that she would call up Chris. Then, she’d clean out Suzie-Q. Once that was done, she’d relax.

Willow grimaced deeply at that term. Relax! It felt foriegn to her. In her mind, people only relaxed because they were lazy and their minds were stagnant. But, she realized that mindset came from her father more than anything. And she wanted to keep away from any old mentalities that would keep her down.

-------------------------------------------------

His plane now descending, not even an hour and thirty minutes since he originally boarded, Grey awoke feeling the cabin pressure change. He checked his watch and noted the time, switching to his original time zone on his Casio G-Shock - always nice to know he could do the math in his head though for the trip difference.

Within fifteen minutes, the plane was on the ground, and he walked off without a word from an observing eye or flight attendant. Briefcase in hand, he strode purposefully through "his home" terminal to a private parking garage adjacent the terminal for premiere regular passengers. As he approached the garage, thumbing the latch on the briefcase, he quickly opened and removed his security tag, key-chain, with key and remote. Holding the tag under the remote, with thumb on the tag, his index finger depressed the unlock button to allow him entry into his 2006, metallic grey, Toyota 4Runner Limited.

He'd certainly been the envy of many at a local golf club when he first obtained the 4Runner new. He rarely drove it, deciding upon its purchase for only special purposes. He drove it on any excursion over fifty kilometers, like the airport commute from his home or to his isolated special mountain location retreat on rare occasion. Yes; a close confidante would occasionally deride him for the vehicle choice. But the friend knew better to disagree with Grey on such things. Especially since Grey had other vehicles all meant for special tasks. No one person would never know about all the vehicles, unless they entered "his garage" back on his private estate.

After the security systems deactivated on the 4Runner, Grey opened the door and though he checked his back seat before entering did look in his rear-view mirror quickly after seating himself in the driver's seat. No adjustments required, since he was the only one that drove it last and he never left the seat positioner programmed for anything but nap or full forward, he inserted the key, turned the on engine, placed the vehicle in “Drive” and pulled forward out of his private parking garage which he'd opened prior to entry from his security tag. After the vehicle was fully out of the garage and turned into the exit lane for the parking garage complex, Grey pressed the center button on the upper console, between the interior forward "dome" lights in his 4Runner. Watching the private garage door fully close, Grey then continued along the exit lane until turning right and onto a ramp that would merge traffic into the terminal road traffic. At this point, he knew he was only forty-five minutes from the gate to his estate entry road.

-------------------------------------------------

Willow picked up her phone and got a hold of Chris, a man who worked closely with her father as chief software architect, a tall - six foot, one - Germanic man with blonde hair, brown eyes and a bit younger than Willow. He was twenty eight, she was thirty four - a fact that Chris liked to tease her about.

“Yo.” Willow heard his deep, almost faraway sounding pitch and moved her ear away from the phone for a moment. “Chris, do you have me on speaker? I hear some feedback.”

“Yeah. Gimme a moment.” She heard a shuffling and then, “What up?”

“Chris, I’ll be needing to borrow your stuff. For a driving range, next week.”

“Oh? You’ll need it when? And I suspect you’ll want my lucky range ball, too.”

“Well, I certainly don’t use the trash they have there. Tons of people smashing into their old, worn down crap,” Willow said, almost haughtily, “I need something more…”

“Good. You’ll need something good,” He responded sharply. “Whose it for? A date?”

“No. It’s for a contractor I’m going to meet. How’s it going with your work up there?”

“Fine. But you are aware computers are not magical devices that can just conjure up whatever you wish on a star for? Right?” He coughed, laughing with a slightly sarcastic tone. “Like, it can’t just be all stardust and fairies. It has a set of instructions and it reads it to the letter. Or in the binary way, zeroes and ones.”

Willow rolled her eyes. “Anymore paltry lessons today, Chris?”

“Girl, please, you need to go out. Get some pretty little blouse and boots and go to the club. Come out with me this weekend.”

“I left my apple bottom jeans in another life, Chris. Just tell me you’re on the right track.”

“Did you enjoy that CD mix I made for you?”

She sighed, shaking her head as it always took several requests for information before he answered a simple question. “I did. Though it was an interesting musical perspective; with jazz, rock, rap and just,” – “well, some strange tracks I’ve never heard before.”

“Did you get to hear some Hollywood Undead?”

“I heard Renegade. Not really my thing. I enjoyed the song Between The Bars. I know it’s an original Elliott Smith. I just prefer Peyroux.”

“That’s a bit blasphemous, Willow. Elliot was, and is, the pioneering genius of most indie-inspired artists and folkish music.”

Willow sighed again. She usually enjoyed these conversations but wasn’t in the mood. Chris didn’t wait for her to respond; he hated silence and started talking.

-------------------------------------------------

In his 4Runner, Grey approached the front gate to his estate, along Telegraph Trail. When he was about 50 feet from the gate, he pressed the right button in his upper ceiling console. The gate started to open; seeing the inner road security measures retract and then others engage, Grey slowly pulled through the gate onto his country estate. Once inside past the security perimeter, he activated the upper ceiling console button once more, watching the gate close. With entrance now complete, Grey applied only a modicum of acceleration along his estate road, winding as it was, since he always enjoyed the solace of the view around his estate. It wasn’t long before his house was in view but instead of parking in front, he took a left turn just prior to the house, and pulled up before his garage – a seemingly out-of-place large Quonset hut structure. A press of the left button in his upper console slid the Quonset door wide giving him ample room into which he could drive. Pulling in and to the left into an empty parking spot on the concrete, Grey wasn’t long dawdling to admire his collection within, as he wanted – no needed - to be back in his house.

To the right inside the Quonset doors, occupying the second and third parking spots, were an older navy blue '85 Jeep Cherokee - a standard 4 on the floor, with interior 4 wheel drive Hi & Lo rotary switches - that had extra rear lift created by a spare leaf spring, outfitted with Goodyear Wrangler tires; and, another Jeep Cherokee – an automatic forest green, '91 Limited edition - also with full interior 4 wheel drive controls but with new Wrangler Duratrac tires on the OEM rims.

In parking spots opposite the Cherokees, along the other wall, sat parked two sports cars. The first an automatic cherry red '92 Ford Probe GT, so well suited for racing the mountain or highway roads in dry good weather, with its Pirelli racing tires he’d kept as a keep-sake - a memory of times best forgotten. The other, with its hood up, a silver Suzuki Aerio, raised on a hydraulic platform.

Quickly becoming his favourite, though needing some work, his recent acquisition being a silver 2005 Suzuki Aerio, five on the floor, it was a small car but non-descript and fun to drive. His main reason for its purchase was for quick runs into the nearest town fifteen kilometers for any grocery he may require. Though it had to sit idle now, given he'd burnt out the clutch on his last drive through the hills back to his seventy-three acre estate. He'd been meaning to replace the right front wheel bearing in the car - the part had arrived just the day before he flew out. Now he thought he'd best wait until a new clutch was delivered before tackling them both as a combined Do-It-Yourself (DIY) project.

Off to the back of the garage – with its front pointed towards the main door – parked in front of a heavy looking double door, looked to be a 2003 Dodge Durango; a veritable beast with its 5.3 Hemi engine and cargo capacity. This was Grey's favourite for the long interval mountain retreat training sessions. Again, Grey, though staying with the Dodge OEM rims, decided to install a set of 18 inch Duratracs on it. It was like a tank to drive and it sucked gas just as much but he knew it to be reliable for cargo torque and its speed.

Grey strode purposefully out of the garage, turning to press “Close” on the garage building security pad, knowing that doing so would send an encrypted signal by wire to a receiving controller for the door actuator inside the garage. He felt somehow; that, he’d not have much time to himself and wanted to get into the house quickly. He wasn’t sure why but he did know he’d not be caught unprepared, should he encounter his former employer again. It was his first near encounter with them since he’d left some years ago.

-------------------------------------------------

“So,” Chris prattled on, “I take it you haven’t spoken to Frank in some time. He hasn’t been doing well. He’s making me update and implement new strategies for security and support - I’m reworking a lot of our old software for our ledger that holds the client database. So I need to update the cryptography for all systems.”

“So I believe everything will be in a bit of a static - stasis-like - sort of rebooting until you get it all squared away,” Willow said softly - almost to herself - sighing again.

“Hmm; I guess. With the proof of work system, the way the confirmations are handled in the block-chain, it’s not likely to be taken in a subtle or even direct attack. It’s not like in Jurassic Park where shit is completely down for hours, and the integral systems of their security will fail - letting out the dangerous predators, i.e. your dad, out to play with full freedom.”

“But it is like Jurassic Park. And you are ‘that guy that goes to get a soda’ and never returns while everything goes to chaos,” Willow shot out in a teasing way.

“No, no. I’m the ‘Hold on to your butts’ guy. He’s cool; he’s suave, he’s awesome,” Chris countered.

Willow made a clicking sound with her teeth. “I see that you’d be the first to be eaten. That lovely couple that made up the dilophosaurus truly would have a feast. Your long legs alone could last a fortnight.”

“Aha. I knew it. That’s the real reason why you keep in contact with me. It’s my sexy gams. Ain’t that right, Willow?”

Willow held back her laughter and bit her tongue. “At the very least, you keep things; weird.”

“Weird is my lifestyle. Yet, the ladies tend to enjoy my hacker profile.”

“How long before do they stop and see your true colors?”

He laughed in an obnoxious manner. “Oh, dear.” He coughed again. “You got me. But what of your negative? I wonder what it would read off if we could get that imprint out of you?”

“A fastidious, scrupulously minded individual with a heart of gold,” Willow sarcastically drawled. “Besides, what the hell is a negative?”

“Oh. I meant your photo negative. It should act as a blueprint, I’d say. Like for a photograph. The lightest part is darkest. The darkest parts are the lightest. Everything is inversed.”

“So, I believe your darkest parts will finally be out in the open. Your light will be darker—-easier to sort through,” Chris ended his explanation in a cough. “What will your colors say?”

“They’ll say something about how you are so pretentious and annoying. You aren’t Sigmund Freud.”

“Your sarcasm is a bit off today, my little apple cider, I’d get some rest.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“You’re as rich and sweet like cider, Willow. Don’t ever change.”

“You only saw me bring in apple cider one time!”

“It wasn’t one time! It was like, three days in a row.”

“Yeah. Like five years ago.” She sighed. “Just like Andy calling Jim, ‘Big Tuna,’ because he brought in a tuna sandwich for lunch one day in The Office. It’s all a flimsy kind of way to attach meaning to yourself. Like, I’m so important to you; so, I gave you a special nickname and it’s like a part of you is mine.”

Chris coughed, but it turned into a loud chortle. “What the ever-loving fuck are you talking about? I never said you were mine.”

“Get that cough looked at, Chris. I’m worried.” She cleared her throat. “Would you be willing to share what you know with the contractor? Any and all types of malware you are looking to finish - I also would appreciate a look’sy.”

“Absolutely-fruitly,” replied Chris.

****

<<Table of Contents - link to be added later>>

<<Next Chapter>>