A Drone over New York

Max sat at the back table of Sarah’s, thinking through his plan.

He needed somewhere he could still access the drive if the deal went through, but also needed to ensure there was a way for someone else to access it should something happen. He knew it was unlikely, but it was one of those things where it was better to be safe than sorry. “If you don’t plan for it, it will happen” was what Anton used to say.

Before he did anything, though, Max needed to send an email to the office. Kate would not like the news about him not being there for the day, but Anton’s warning made him feel the need to spend the day sorting everything out. With everything now going on, he couldn’t risk going to work before the drive was somewhere safe.

He pulled out his phone and fired off a very basic email:

Hey Kate,

Hate doing this to you, but woke up and feeling really not well. Best I not come in today. If I feel better, will let you know.

Good luck with the story. Missy has everything she needs to get anything done until we have the full footage.

Call me if we get it. Be careful.

Max

He pressed Send and felt a ping of guilt. He hated lying to Kate. She was always honest with him. She was one of those bosses who everyone always talked about wanting. The kind that not only wanted to be a good boss, but could also actually be one. She really looked after her team.

Max was confident in what he had written, though. Missy could indeed pick up most of the remaining work. Kate would probably freak out and ask a ton of “What if’s,” including what would happen if another still image of Tyell’s tryst came in. Little did she know who was pulling the strings behind the scenes. He could make sure that Kate didn’t suddenly need him.

But today of all days, with everyone worried about security, it was not a good day to miss.

But he was here, in another part of town, carrying a multimillion-dollar USB drive in the small coin pocket of his shorts. There was a killer and potentially some dirty cops somewhere out there looking for him. It was going to be a dangerous day. Max knew his skills, though, and felt confident—maybe arrogant—enough to think he could pull it off.

At least that was what he told himself.

He got up, went back to the counter, and ordered a bagel to go. Salmon and cream cheese with capers. It was going to be a long day and he needed to tread carefully. He had to work out a way to hide it without being followed by the eyes in the sky. He needed some time to think. He knew of only one place he could ensure he wouldn’t be seen.

He put his sunglasses on, pulled his cap back down over his face, and made his way to the nearest subway station. It wasn’t a busy place, so he purchased a new ten-trip subway card. It was probably going to be a long day of riding the subway back and forth, so he thought he might as well do it now while there was no crowd at the machine. His contactless payment was worthless now. He should try and get hold of a prepaid credit card. The cash he had was only going to get him so far.

Standing on the platform, Max walked through the plan in his head. The small pieces were falling into place and all seemed to fit together.

Max watched the subway cars heading downtown, still busy with the last of the commuter traffic. Uptown trains were far less crowded by New York standards. Max gave a casual glance at the others heading his way. All the old lessons from Anton and Jack started to kick in. He noted what people were wearing. It was probably pointless, but it was worth getting used to watching his back. No one else was going to do it.

The number 9 train pulled up and Max blended in with the light crowd. The car’s AC blasted away as he assumed an inconspicuous place near the door. He joined the masses as everyone changed at Times Square. He made his way south on the W train, careful to ensure that no one from the previous train was following him. At 14th Street, he finally removed his hoodie and cap. Changing again, and again, and again. Each time looking for signs of people following him. He knew he was probably being stupid, but it made him feel better. Eventually he found himself on the 4 train heading north. No one he recognized was following him. Two stops later he managed to find a seat.

He waited as the train rolled into Harlem. He knew of a small self-storage site up here—an old place that had somehow escaped the corporate buy-up. Hoodie and cap back on, it was a short walk from the station. As he walked through the door, he removed his hat and sunglasses. The internal cameras would get good pictures of him, but he knew no one important was looking at the footage. He paid the guy a full month’s rent for the smallest space available: a small locker on the top floor. Perfect for what he needed.

The guy behind the counter started the process. Max handed over his old fake ID. This was not a trick Anton had taught him, but Jack. The guy was a shifty bastard, but he wasn’t afraid to help you if he thought you could help him. It was a crappy ID, but it worked nonetheless on an unsuspecting self-storage clerk who didn’t really care if it was real or not. It was easier that way. Money is money and business is business.

“You want a combination, or a key?” the guy asked.

Max needed a moment before he realized he was talking about a padlock for the locker.

“Key, please,” he responded without really thinking about it. He tried to rationalize it in his head as the guy struggled to tear open the lock’s packaging before he pulled out a pair of scissors in defeat.

It was not long before Max was holding the small, heavy lock and the two keys. He rolled it over in his hand, still trying to justify his choice in his mind. The place was under surveillance twenty-four hours a day, so no one could come in and force their way into his locker. With the keys he could control how many people could access it without his knowledge. He could keep one key, and leave the other for Anton.

The man gave Max a smile as he looked up from the screen. “All done. Now if you would follow me, I’ll show you to your storage space.”

The short, stocky man came around the counter and headed over to a small freight elevator. Max followed and watched as the man pressed the button for the top story.

The door opened to a long corridor of blue painted doors that covered more lockers than Max cared to think about.

The guy walked Max along the blue corridor of lockers—each nearly indistinguishable from the next.

Locker after locker, the long walkway made the anonymity of the place start to sink it. Each locker looked the same, with the only difference being the small padlock that secured it. And most of the locks were the ones sold here, so even that did little to distinguish the blue doors apart. Max knew that no one would think to look for it here. Even if they did, they would never know what locker to look for. They wouldn’t know the name he had used. They would need Max to tell them. It was a great foundation for his plan.

Soon enough the two stopped in front of a small locker that lacked a lock. The guy opened the sliding door and pointlessly demonstrated the features of the bare space. Max felt kind of silly, but it was the guy’s job. Max tried to pay attention, remembering an old lesson that the small details could come in handy if there was a problem. It wasn’t until the guy had almost finished the explanation that Max noted a small sense of pride in his voice. He was proud of his work, most likely to the point that he probably owned the place.

Even better, Max thought. He knew this was a good choice.

“Okay, that’s everything,” the man said. “Any questions?”

“Not at the moment. It’s perfect for what I need,” Max said. “I just wanted to get the locker now, and I’ll be back with my stuff. I just want to work out how I am going to stack the stuff before I bring it in.”

“No worries. I’ll leave you to it. If you need anything, I’ll be downstairs.” And then the guy wandered off.

Max waited until he rounded a corner and was out of sight before he pulled out the small envelope from his satchel. He sat cross-legged on the floor, pulled out an old notepad, and wrote what came to mind:

To whom this may concern,

If you are reading this, then something has happened to me and I have been unable to return and claim this.

Contained in this USB drive is a computer virus. It forms part of a long-term criminal investigation on police corruption. I have stored it here for safekeeping and to prevent it falling into the wrong hands.

Inserting it into a non-protected computer may result in the computer becoming infected.

Please return to Anton Walters in the investigative journalist division at the Associated Press New York office. There is a cash reward of $500 USD.

Thank you.

He decided it was better not to sign it. The note was a little doom and gloom, but it was better to try and put the fear into a stranger reading it than risk it falling into the wrong hands. If Max wasn’t going to be able to claim the money, then he didn’t want anyone else to either. He wanted Anton to have the drive. He would do something good with it. It somehow gave Max a clearer conscience.

As he stuffed the note into the envelope, Max began to fully realize the game he was now playing. It was a bit of all-or-nothing. Somehow a simple payday had turned into a game that could cost him his life. The stakes were high, but so was the money. Sometimes the risks were worth it.

He felt a little relief when he placed the drive inside. If something did happen, and Anton did not find the other breadcrumbs, someone would find it and send it to him. He had seen the television shows. If the end of the month came and went, and no one had come to collect it, then it was fair game for some collector. Anton would be able to pay the $500. Anton had seen the footage, so knew what he would be getting. He could probably even expense it.

Max pulled down the locked door and secured the small lock in its place. Once it was locked, he gave it a small shake. It seemed sturdy. Not that he was doing any sort of real test, but it made him feel good.

Max decided to immediately put one of the keys inside his right shoe. The other went into the coin pocket of his shorts.

Then it was back to the subway and the number 4 train heading downtown. Eight trips left on his old-school little travel card.

He tried to notice who was in the car with him. What they were wearing, how tall they were. He tried to make up a story about them to help him remember them. It was hard with so many people, but this was a habit he needed to keep until it was all over. Max was already realizing that looking over his shoulder was going to need to become second habit.

He got off at 59th Street and headed for the nearest ATM. It was out in the open, but it was something he had to risk. He entered the amount of $200. Max had somehow concluded to himself that if there was any issue with the machine, it meant they were onto him.

As the $20 bills slid out, he breathed a sigh of relief. Max so rarely used cash, it was strange to handle the green paper. But there was no time for lingering. He had to keep moving. He needed to stay a step ahead. That meant he had to get back on the subway.

He traveled down to Bleeker Street. Outside the station he purchased a prepaid Visa card for $100. He used his burn phone to log on to the Makespace app. He filled it out with Anton’s name and details. He requested that the document was to be held for fifteen days and then returned to his office.

Inside the envelope he placed another piece of paper with six numbers. He also included another handwritten note:

Rogers,

This is my failsafe. Hopefully nothing has happened, but just in case, this is the trail I am leaving.

With my upstairs neighbor, Maria, I have left a small envelope containing where to locate what you are after. She had been instructed to hand it to the person who offers the password: “Citizen Six.”

Before you follow it, though, go and enjoy a smiley face for me.

Enjoy following the breadcrumbs.

Your old friend,

Bucky

The letter was cryptic, but the message would come across. Anton would understand it. Together they could both have a laugh about it afterward. Max did feel a little guilty about mentioning Maria as he had no intention of giving anything to her, or even mentioning anything to her. She was a random person that served as a distraction for anyone but Anton.

He waited outside the random office he had selected for the guy to pick it up. He probably could have given the key to this guy, but he felt better leaving the key in a different location.

It was a nervous wait for the guy on the bike. Max was out in the open, standing in front of number 42. He glanced up to see a Enexup drone whiz past. Carrying yet another delivery for someone somewhere. Capturing an endless stream of video data. How Dale had managed to work out to run the facial recognition program over the video, Max would never know.

Max’s nerves were left to simmer for too long as the man came and went. It was a relief to hand him the package and watch him ride off.

Now it was time for Max to go and leave another breadcrumb.

He knew this was all probably stupid, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Anton was the one who taught him to be prepared for anything when on the trail of a story. A prepared person was able to handle the unexpected better. It was kind of the Murphy’s Law of investigative journalism, and Anton had been a great teacher.

He got back on the subway and headed uptown on the 5 train. Six trips left. He was going to see a lot of Manhattan today.

Again he noted what the people were wearing, trying to notice if there was anyone following him. No one from before was there now, or at least he didn’t think so. It was what he wanted to believe.

There was a small safety deposit box in midtown he was going to use. He probably could have hidden the drive there, but figured it was better to leave an extra step in the trail. Anton loved puzzles, so would probably love following this.

The ride was quick and soon he was standing in the centre of Grand Central Station. He dodged a few tourists as he made his way to the left luggage area. He always hated the way they just stood there, gawking at the ceiling. Taking selfies on the stairs. They never realized that it was a working station. People had to come and go. The locals moved with a certain fluid rhythm and motion. As a local Max could always tell which way other locals would step. But a tourist never knew, never understood. They stopped in annoying places, almost bringing the busy traffic down on top of them. They wandered aimlessly through the open spaces, making sudden stops and movements as they noticed new things. They disrupted the flow. Max hated it. It was why he never came here if he could avoid it.

Max felt a bit of surprise at finding the left luggage area nearly deserted. He put his satchel through the metal detector and paid the machine for five days. It was more than enough. He was assigned a locker at the far end of the far row. Inside, he dropped another envelope containing the key from his coin pocket. He wrote Anton’s name and work address on the outside.

He closed the locker with a sigh of relief. It was almost done. One more step and the breadcrumb trail would be complete. But Anton had taught him that when the end was in sight, you needed to be even more diligent. It was when mistakes could be made. It was when someone else could pick up the trail without Max knowing. It could be disastrous.

With the locker now secure with the six-digit PIN he had written in the Makespace package, it was onto the local DHL office.

He removed his cap and sunglasses as he walked through the door—better not to raise suspicions while he was here. DHL was a major competitor of Enexup and would never share the footage. They were also not looking for him.

He grabbed an envelope off the shelf and scribbled his letter to drop inside:

Hi Sarah,

I am sorry to do this, but I need to ask a small favor.

I am not sure he will get this far, but if he does, can you please give him the accompanying envelope?

If you don’t hear from Anton or myself within the next 30 days, please deliver it to him at the Associated Press New York office on 33rd Street.

Thank you for all the amazing coffee.

Cheers,

Max

p.s. please make sure that Anton takes you out for a drink to say thank you.

Along with the note, he placed a small envelope containing the address and number of the locker.

He glanced over his shoulder. There were plenty of locals filling the small office. Hopefully no one had followed him here. He had been careful. Done everything the way he had been taught.

Waiting in line, he tried to look calm. He dared not look at his phone. He hadn’t checked it all morning. Being out of contact for this length of time was killing him.

It was a long four-minute wait to the front of the line.

The cashier was polite and helpful, bordering on flirty. Despite the small crowd, it probably was not exactly a busy day.

As he walked out of the office, Max was quietly proud of what he had done. If something happened to Anton, odds were one of his colleagues knew all the same tricks, so would be able to pick up the trail if needed. They were all from the same mold as Anton. They would rather die than give up on a corruption story like this.

But that was the thing. They only wanted the story. Max was shooting for much more than that. Again, it was a case of Murphy’s Law.

Now it was finally time to return to his home away from home, shower, and change. Then it would be time to see if the money was going to come.

Hat and sunglasses back on, he walked down the concourse to the subway.

As he waited on the platform in the stuffy subway air, Max could almost smell the money.