Following the August 27 release of my Random Origins story collection, I present the last part of Cyber Radio as part of my ongoing #SaturdayScenes initiative. Make sure you join my Reader’s Club to get the other free stories I offer to my subscribers, and to get further notifications regarding the release of future stories!
Martin watched the SUV approach. At Martin’s request, Vincent had arranged for Julian’s drop-off to happen away from the casino. Good call on Martin’s part. Already he’d received three texts from Cynthia: the first to ask where he was, the second to let him know they had a lead on Julian’s location. The third had come a few minutes ago.
“We’re in Coachella,” it said. “Julian in casino.”
“Whoa,” Julian said when Martin showed him the text. “How did they get to me?”
“Because you suck at this, maybe?”
“Hey, easy there, bro.”
“Don’t call me bro. Right now I’m a quarter of a million poorer. And I’m going to have to figure out how that happened without Cynthia knowing. Got any bright ideas? Maybe with some air-gapping?”
“Hey, I’ll pay you back.”
“Oh, sure. Like that’s really the big problem.”
“I can help you spoof it, if you prefer.”
Martin shook his head. “They showed me the surveillance video. This isn’t just about money, Julian. You spilled, man. You spilled large.”
“What?”
“You told them about the air-gapped defense project.”
“It’s just a proof of concept. The feds didn’t even—”
“You told them, how did you put it? Oh, yeah. ‘The feds are really interested.’ Then you mentioned the agency name, Julian. Now they know what we’re working on.”
“Well, if we were working on it, that might be a problem. But since we’re not, since the feds aren’t funding it, it’s all less than phantomware, isn’t it?”
“Except you showed them how it works by hacking the casino, Julian.”
Julian nodded and half-shrugged. “Yeah, I guess you gotta point there.”
“I gotta point? I gotta point?”
“Hey, man. You’re getting majorly emotional. They know it can be done, but not how. That’s all in my code, in my laptop.”
Martin took a deep breath. Julian was right about that. Martin knew he had every right to be mad, but it wouldn’t help any. Yelling at Julian wouldn’t help. Banging on the dashboard wouldn’t help. Running off the road in a rage would help even less.
He slowed down, now passing through Johnson Valley on his way to Lucerne Valley, where he’d turn north on the 247, like he’d scoped on his secured smartphone while he waited for the casino guys to show up with Julian. Stick with this plan, stay on side roads, and he’d make it. He and Julian would make it.
In a lower voice he said, “You know why I’m doing this Julian?”
“You want to keep me out of hot water.”
Martin forced himself to shrug. “And why would I do that?”
“Because you’re cool.”
“Because I’m cool. Right.”
“Well, you are bro.”
“I’m not your bro, Julian. What I am is the head and owner of an up and coming company. And I’m not going to let your stupidity sink it.”
Julian shifted in his seat. For a moment he looked like he wanted to say something, but then he turned his head to admire what little they could see of the scrolling nighttime desert landscape.
“You’re not going to ask where we’re going?” Martin said.
“OK, Martin. Where are we going?”
“We’re going to drive all night to Reno. Once there, I’m going to find you, playing blackjack. I’m going to call Cynthia and her team. I found you, and you’re all right. Just needed to blow off some steam. Didn’t do any dumb gambling either. Not what you’re supposed to be doing, but you kept it safe and sane.”
“Huh.”
“And this, what happened back there? What almost happened? A bad dream that you already forgot all about. Got it?”
Julian shrugged. “Yeah, man. I’m already hitting the erase button.” He seemed to hesitate. “But what about those casino guys? What if they talk?”
“Then we’re cooked. Both you and me.”
“Tell me that you did something about that.”
Though he knew he shouldn’t, Martin grinned. “Yeah, you owe me another fifty K.”
Julian shifted in his seat and leaned forward. Out of the corner of his eye, Martin saw him tinkering with the car’s GPS.
“Hooking up with 395, taking that to Reno,” Julian said.
“That’s the plan.”
Julian waved his hand. “Las Vegas is closer. By about four hours.”
“Yes it is.”
“Could be there playing tonight instead of tomorrow morning.”
“Yeah, but then you wouldn’t have hired a guy to look like you, jump on a plane to Ontario, then go impersonate you at this Coachella casino, when he could have just gone up to Vegas, right?”
“Huh? That sounds kind’a complicated.”
“Or random, right?” Martin shot Julian a wink.
“I guess it would be, in a stupid—”
“Unpredictable. That’s what we’re going for.”
“You think they’ll buy it.”
“We’ll have to sell it.” He pointed at Julian’s passenger side window. “Which reminds me. Once we’re on the 395, make sure to toss that wire and gadget. Wouldn’t want them to find it on you when they come rescue us in Reno.”
They had passed Victorville and joined the 395 a few minutes ago. The highway didn’t look deserted enough, so Julian hadn’t tossed out his wire harness gadget yet. He figured they would have plenty of time over the next seven hours or so.
“What kind of vehicle did that chick take you on?” Martin said.
“Huh?”
“Was it a van?”
“Yeah.”
“Dark color.”
“Gray, I think.”
Martin frowned and squinted at the rearview mirror.
“What gives?”
Julian looked over his shoulder. He did some squinting of his own, but he saw only two large headlights. He guessed they might ride higher than those of a typical car, maybe just high enough to belong to a van. But he had no idea.
They drove in silence another five minutes or so. By now the road had narrowed to two lanes, one north, one south. Martin slowed below the speed limit. He kept peeking at the rearview mirror and stealing glances at his side mirror. The car behind them didn’t pass, even though, close to midnight, oncoming traffic was sparse.
Martin drove on for another five minutes like that. He wiped his brow and took a deep breath.
“OK, stay put,” he said. “I’m pulling over.”
“You want me to pitch my—”
“Do not.” He aimed an index finger up. “Stay put, like I said.”
He kept slowing, eventually veering off the road and onto the dirt shoulder. Underneath them the tires crunched and slid. The right side of the car bounced and lurched a little. Julian held on to the door handle.
Julian looked back. The headlights kept their distance. They also pulled over.
“Stay put, and hang on.”
Julian kept looking over his shoulder. Sneaking a peek at Martin, he saw him tense up, wound up like a spring. Julian also noticed Martin had kept the transmission in D for Drive. With another glance over his shoulder, he saw a silhouette.
Martin took a loud breath. “In one, two, and…”
Martin punched it. In another second he turned hard left and the car’s back end fish-tailed. Martin turned the wheel back, hand over hand. He over-corrected, and the back end fish-tailed in the opposite direction. By the time he regained control, they were screeching past the van.
Valerie stood there, gun at her side, giving them a hard, blank look.
“Is that her?” Martin said when they’d cleared the van’s rear bumper.
“Yeah.”
“Thought so.” He opened up and the car sped down the highway. “Get my phone. It’s in the console.”
Julian did as told.
“Dial pound-1-1. Put it in speaker mode.”
Julian complied. “Who are we calling?”
Martin didn’t answer. Instead he looked through the rearview mirror and shook his head. Julian didn’t have to look back. They were coming. It probably would take the van a slow three point turn to come south, but they were coming with all they had.
The phone rang twice before a familiar voice picked up.
“Martin, where have you been?” Cynthia said.
“Now you know,” Martin replied. “Need your help. I have Julian with me. Hostiles on my tail.”
A pause followed. “Coming to you. From up top. Stay on the line so we can geolocate you.”
“How far out?”
Another pause. “Four to five minutes.”
Martin glared at the rearview mirror. Then he let up on the accelerator.
“Why are we slowing down?”
“Because we don’t need to outrun them,” Martin said. “Not anymore.”
“Cynthia and her team are coming.”
“Yeah.”
Julian frowned. He looked down at the phone and muted it. “What’s our story, then?”
“I found you in Vegas. I’m bringing you back.”
“But we’re on the 395.”
Martin thought about that for a second. “I thought they were following us, traffic got heavy at Barstow, so we got off Highway 15 and went west.”
“Why are we going south?”
“Because that’s where I knew Cynthia would be.”
“You’re running to her. For help.”
“We are running to her for help.”
“Uh-huh. So we’re running because you, what? Got a feeling someone’s got it out for us?”
“Right. I couldn’t tell for sure, but I thought they were following me the minute I left Milpitas to go find you.”
Julian had to snicker at that. “That’s some story.”
“And you’re going to memorize it.”
“Good thing I have a photographic memory.”
Martin shook his head and glared at the rearview mirror again. More or less at that moment, something clunked on the car’s roof.
Julian looked up. “What the—”
A shape bounced onto the hood. Something from it swiveled, aiming at Julian, then at Martin.
“Drone?” Martin said. “Drone,” he said again.
Julian leaned forward to get a better look, then back. “No explosives. Same drones she had in the van.” Same radios, too, he was about to say, but he didn’t have the time to get out the thought.
The car lurched forward. Julian felt himself pressed against his seat from the acceleration.
“Hey,” Martin yelled. He pumped his leg. “Brake’s not working.”
The engine roared. The car sped ahead.
“Unmute us,” Martin yelled.
“What?”
“The phone!”
Julian fumbled to tap the mute button on the cellphone.
“Cynthia,” Martin said. “We’ve lost control of the car.”
“Stop, then. Pull over,” she replied.
“You don’t understand. They’ve hacked the car.”
“What?”
“They hacked the car,” he screamed.
“Almost there. Hang on.”
The road curved slightly to the left. Julian hung on, gripping the handle on his door with his right hand, while his left pressed hard against the glove compartment. He eyed the speedometer. From his vantage point he couldn’t see but a sliver of the needle.
“Sorry. I got nothing, bro,” Julian said. “I have no way to disable it or jam it.”
“I know,” Martin replied through gritted teeth. His hands gripped the steering wheel, vibrating with it.
They saw it then, flying directly over the highway, with its white beam aimed at the ground. It swooped over them. They felt its downdraft a second later.
“Here now,” Cynthia said over the phone. “Taking them out.”
“No, wait—”
Martin had spoken too late. A white-yellow flash erupted behind them and lit up the inside of the car. As much as he was able, Julian craned his neck to shoot a sideways look through the rear windshield.
“Whoa,” he said.
Martin pumped at the brake pedal again. He cursed. “Here we go,” he said, just ahead of a sharp curve.
The car lost contact with the ground. It flew over a shoulder embankment and came down with a rattling bang on a field, sheering through wire fencing, then scraping brush and shrubs and Joshua trees, and bouncing on uneven ground. The tires lost contact with the ground again. When they came down, the front set jammed into a ditch.
The car lurched forward, lifting its rear end, then crashed down. Both airbags exploded. Julian’s pounded him back into his seat.
Had they stopped? The engine revved with angry fury. The front tires spun and scraped at the ground.
“Get out!” Martin yelled.
Julian looked to his left to see the driver side door open and Martin, bending down beyond it, waving his arms.
“Get out!”
Julian elbowed the airbag aside and pulled on the door handle. He stumbled out and fell on the ground just as the front tires ground themselves out of the ditch.
He stood, looking down the field, as the car careened and plowed ahead. The shape of the drone on the roof remained visible for a brief second. They’d used two of them, then: the one on the hood, and the one on the roof, up close and personal.
Pointing at the speeding car, he looked over at Martin. “That’s one rad hack.”
Martin opened his mouth, but no words came out. He fell to his knees. A beam of light caught him there, doubled over, throwing up. In another second Julian found himself doing the same thing.
It takes Martin and me a minute or so to get it together. We stand and stare at each other.
“You don’t have to you laptop,” he says. “Or the electromagnetic gadget.”
I take off running first, following in the tracks of the runaway car. Martin chases after me.
“Quite the adventure,” Cynthia said five hours later, back in the comforts of an InfoStream state of the art conference room she’d turned into a debriefing hole.
Martin shrugged. With Julian out of the room now, Cynthia’s tense demeanor faded.
“You’re lying to me,” she added. “Both you and Julian. He because he’s a dork and loser. And you…” She twirled her hand and smiled.
Something about the way she did that told Martin she would let him off the hook. But not before she had her fun with him.
“Any survivors in the van?” he said.
“Two burned bodies.” She narrowed her gaze. “Too bad, isn’t it? That we can’t ask them about what went on.”
“Yeah.” He nodded, thinking, no, not bad, actually. A good thing. If they’d gotten caught and interrogated, his and Julian’s story wouldn’t stand for long.
“You scared me, Martin.”
“I didn’t mean to do that.”
“I know. I’m glad you called.”
“Didn’t have much of a choice.”
“You had a choice when you went on your own to rescue your hacking buddy.”
“Is that what you think I did?”
“You’re covering up for him.” She let that hang, narrowing her gaze a bit, as if to gauge his reaction.
He made himself take smooth, even breaths. Reminding himself she had nothing but his story that he’d caught up with Julian to have some clean, well-controlled Vegas fun, he stared back at her with a soft smile.
“He needed to let off some steam,” he said.
“Because his cute little project got canned.” She leaned forward. “And you decided to let off some steam with him.”
“I wanted to make sure he didn’t overdo it.”
She smiled back. “It’s cute. How you cover for him.”
“Thanks.”
“Like he’s your little brother. The little brother Martin never had.”
“That’s not how it is.” He said that meaning with every bit of himself to make her believe the opposite. Because it worked in his favor, didn’t it? Letting her read into him her fallacious psychoanalysis. Without him even trying.
“I’m sure that’s what you think. Or want to think. It’s still cute.”
“OK, so I went to rescue my little brother.”
“More wishful thinking. I think you went to cavort with him.”
“Cavort? That’s a big little word.”
“Maybe you didn’t plan it that way, but why sneak off without telling me unless that’s what you wanted in your heart of hearts. Except you have to remember. You and Julian have lots of nasty eyes on you.”
“I thought I could handle it.”
She nodded. “And you did. Rather well, I’d say, over hundreds of miles. But do me a favor. Next time, go to a police station, tell them to lock you and Julian behind thick bars, and call it in?”
“As long as there’s no strip search involved.”
She smiled again. Came over to him. Sat by him and draped her arm around his shoulders. “It’s all terribly quaint, but don’t overdo it, OK?”
“I told him that was his last escapade.”
“Oh, God. I hope so. We only need him for a little longer, right?”
“He’s almost done with his part of the code.”
“And then we let him go with a golden handshake.”
He had to swallow. “Yeah.”
“And you’ll be OK with that.”
“It wasn’t my idea to bring him in.” He looked her in the eye, knowing his words reflected truth, and that they also left out the rest—that he didn’t like the practical side of letting Julian go. That he didn’t think it was the right thing to do, either.
She leaned in and kissed him on the lips, but only with a little peck. Nothing too moist here in the sacrosanct workplace.
“Good,” she said.
Martin let himself ease off, knowing their little conversation had come to an end. Not the way he’d envisioned it, but the way she wanted it to end, and the way she desperately wanted to see it, or not see it. Whatever the case, they would keep this tentative equilibrium of theirs—the one that kept InfoStream afloat and their fraying dreams alive. For now.
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