A Drone over New York

It was a long subway ride back to Manhattan. Long, slow, and thankfully almost alone. At that time of night, the subway was all but dead, especially in the direction Max was going. Few partygoers were heading out or going home during the dead of night on a weeknight. Still, Max did his best to remember who was on the car, noting who got on and where, and who changed lines with him. It was a lot easier at this time of night. Plus his mind was calm and alert. There was the drunk guy still in a suit, obviously rejected from a cab and forced to ride the subway home. Two friends chatted away on opposite seats as the taller one complained loudly about their boss. There was even a couple in the corner who were finding it hard to wait until they got back home. Then there was Max, sitting alone, face still beaten and bruised, but looking a lot better than he did earlier. He was also completely unaware of what awaited him at his little rendezvous.

Plus Rachael had not been easy to convince to let him go alone. Max had to explain about his source of the other rumors to get Rachael on his side. He never mentioned Anton by name, or the AP. But she was kind enough to give him her subway card.

But it wasn’t as simple as that. It was a little dangerous to leave Rachael so soon after striking the partnership. She could easily sell him out to Martha, who would pay well for information like this. Then she might hand him over to one of Ted’s goons to get all the information out of him. He had always wanted to see one of the former CIA team do an interrogation, but not when he was the one sitting on the other side of the table. Max only hoped there was enough money in the deal to keep Rachael on his side.

“We’re partners now, so we are going to have to trust each other,” he had told her. She was only willing to let him go after he promised to bring back a copy of the footage for her to see. He had no intention of doing it, but agreed to it so she would let him go. It would be easy to construct some sort of lie about it later. Anton had been so adamant about hiding it, and considering the day Max had just had, there was no way he was going back to the self-storage unit tonight.

The remaining locker key was still hidden away, stuck in his shoe, under the arch of his foot. It hurt a little when he walked, but he tried not to let it show. He knew he could have probably left it at Rachael’s, but he still didn’t trust her enough yet. It was safer with him. He might have to try and hide it tonight.

Max sighed from deep in his chest. He had no idea what Anton had in store for him. If it was anyone else, Max would have refused. But Anton was one of the guys who always gave it to you straight, even if you never wanted it that way.

It was not hard to find the small bar on the street corner. It was one of the few places still open this time of night. Max cautiously walked down the short flight of stairs and stepped into the dim light.

The place stank of stale beer and a long night. Old grunge music covered the pointless, meaningless chatter of those still able to talk. Most of the small crowd were on their way down from a long evening of something, choosing this bar to nurse the way back to reality. It was an odd mix of serious partiers who had chosen to get away from the cool scene, and those who clearly were never part of it. The old beer brand light above the bar barely worked, occasionally flickering.

It was a perfect meeting place.

After his eyes adjusted, Max needed a few moments before he could spot Anton. He was hidden away in the corner booth, nursing an unknown beer. He looked nervous, bordering on jittery. It was almost like he was coming down, and getting twitchy in the process. He fit in perfectly, but it was not a good sign. Max had only seen him like this once, when things got really bad on the Bubber story. Back then Anton held it together better than Max did. This made Max worry.

They exchanged a momentary glance as Max headed for the bar. He ordered the only beer he knew and then slid into the booth.

“What’s up?” Max asked, genuinely afraid of the answer.

“I need to see the footage again,” Anton said in a hushed tone. His voice sounded a little more sure than his face looked.

“What?” hissed Max. This was a little unexpected. Anton was the one who had told him to hide it, and to ensure no one could get to it. He had to know the cost and risks associated with digging it back up.

“I need to see the footage again,” Anton said in his strangely calm voice. “The less you know, the better right now. Wherever you have it stashed, go get it. This is important, Max, and we need to do this quickly.”

As Anton talked, Max realized that Anton’s deep, embedded training was keeping his voice calm. It reeked of PTSD. It made Max hesitate. A journo of Anton’s standing acting like this worried Max. Actually it screamed for Max not to trust his friend.

“No,” Max said as firmly as he could. He didn’t like this new game Anton was trying to play. Whatever it was, Max had a right to know. He was going to get the truth first.

A confused look flashed across Anton’s eyes.

“Not until you tell me what is going on,” Max said.

Anton checked over his shoulder and leaned in close. “Okay, this is your story, so fine. I was going to try and keep you out of things, but you’re going to be in the middle of it regardless. Look, I’ve done some digging. This is big. We potentially may have another ProBlez on our hands.”

Max felt the blood drain from his face. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“I need to see the footage. Actually I need to run some software over it. I’ve got a contact in the whistleblower community. They told me what to look for. They wanted to see it, but I told them no. I never mentioned you or your story. So we came to a middle ground and they told me what to look for.”

“Look for what? What software? And what do you mean, this could be another ProBlez?” Max said, feeling a mix of confusion and fear, and not sure at all where Anton was going with this.

“I mean, I think there may be something on that footage, potentially in the background somewhere, that could bring down Enexup.”

Max went pale. This was not the sort of news he wanted to hear. Anton was all about the truth, but he knew Max wasn’t.

“I’m not jumping to conclusions here,” continued Anton, “but just think, you could be another Andrew Svenlatan.”

“And we all know what happened to him!” Max snapped back a little too loudly. It got a few looks from around the bar before people turned back to their business.

Anton didn’t say anything. He was letting Max calm down a little. He was letting him think through it. “A thinking mind is a calm mind, and a calm mind allows good thinking” was a phase that Martha liked to use. It was working. Max sat back and stared at his old friend.

“I don’t want this,” Max replied, this time slowly and quietly.

“Well, you’ve got it. What you do with it now, that’s your decision. You were the one who contacted me, remember?”

Max swore under his breath. He tried to tell himself it was only a suspicion. Anton was only poking around to see if something would stick.

“Max,” Anton said, his voice close to pleading now. “Come on, you know me. I wouldn’t be saying anything unless I believed it to be in your best interest. You’re my source on this. You know how I treat my sources.”

Max thought about it for a moment. It was true. Max was a source now. Anton would bend over backward to protect him, no matter what. He would even be willing to go back to prison. Their Bubber source only wanted to deal with Anton. Max had heard Anton talk about previous sources, how some were hesitant, but normally caved in the end. Here was Max, listening and not believing.

“I need to protect my asset,” Max said. He had to play the game and get Anton to offer something in return.

“Okay, Max, I’ll play it your way. But I can only offer you two things. First, I will hide your name from everything. No one will know your involvement unless you want them to. Second, if everything hits the fan, I will protect you. I can organize somewhere for you to lay low and be safe. Deal or no deal, story or no story. That’s all I can offer.”

Max nodded. He had a good point.

“All I want is to see the footage again,” Anton said. “I need to see the original material. Then we can decide what action to take.”

“I need to talk to the buyer,” Max said quietly, almost fruitlessly. He knew the response that Anton would give, but couldn’t help it.

“No good. Too many hands, and the goods will be considered tainted. Especially considering the people who are going to buy it from you. You know that. It’s hard enough trying to piece together the story with just you.” Anton paused and stared at Max for a moment, then said, “Max, I have some bad news. I looked into your friend, Dale. You knew him from your school days, right? He was the guy who you said sold this to you. Well, guess what? Dale is dead, Max. He’s dead!”

Max’s heart froze and jaw dropped. He knew something hadn’t been right since that email, but couldn’t believe it. He didn’t want to believe it.

“Oh my God,” was all he could say.

Anton said nothing as Max stared blankly into nothing. Dale had been a great contact and an old friend.

It was several more moments before Max’s mind started up again. There were questions that needed to be answered.

“How?”

“He was killed while jogging a couple of nights ago.”

Max’s mind went into overdrive, his eyes went wide and he leaned in. “Jogging? When? What night?”

“Two nights ago. You can check for yourself if you want. This is all just a little too convenient, Max. You know that if I can piece this together, then I am sure whoever is after you can too. This sort of stuff is not a coincidence.”

Max frowned, knowing Anton was right. Too many pieces starting to fit together a little too well. Plus Anton was not one for lying to him. The more Anton knew, the more he could help.

“They found me today,” Max said.

“Is that what happened to your face?”

Max nodded.

“What’d they get?” asked Anton.

“They trashed my stuff. I lost my burn phone, a laptop and phablet I just bought, a spare change of clothes. They found me where I was staying and then caught up to me later.”

Anton swore. “Wow, that was fast.”

“Tell me about it.”

“You definitely know they were after you?” Anton asked.

“The guy searched my wallet and said I was him. And they specifically asked for the footage.”

“Ouch,” was all that Anton could say. Max could tell Anton was processing the new information. “You okay?” Anton asked.

“Yeah,” Max replied as casually as he could. “Found somewhere to lay low. Somewhere that no one would ever think to look for me.”

It was true. No one would ever think to look at Rachael’s for him. Too bad it was too late for Dale. Murdered out on the street. Just then an idea popped into Max’s head.

“Wait, you said Dale was jogging, right?”

Anton raised an eyebrow and gave a small nod.

“Anywhere near the bridge on the East Side?” Max asked.

“Yeah, under the bridge.” Now Anton furrowed his eyebrows and stared at Max. “How do you know that?”

“Double-crossing bastard,” Max spat. “I think he may have sold the footage to someone else.”

Max sat in silence for a moment, processing that more people might now be involved. This was not good news for Anton either. Whatever Anton planned to do, he would have to move quickly. Max gave Anton a look, trying to work out what the veteran journalist had up his sleeve. But Max saw a look on Anton’s face that said he was not finished telling Max everything.

“Wait, there’s more?” Max asked.

“I think it was a professional hit, Max. I think it was made to look like a mugging gone wrong.”

“So you think the mob knows?” Max said, having a hard time keeping his voice down.

“Mob, NSA, Enexup … Who knows? At least it rules out fan retaliation. There is no way fans could link the footage to Dale.”

All Max could do was swear a single word under his breath.

“Things are getting dangerous, Max. I mean, Dale is dead. Your friend Jack is in the hospital. I’ve looked him up too. He’s lucky to be alive. Not many people survive a fully laden drone falling out of the sky like that. Max, you need to be more careful. People are looking for you. And they are not the sort of people you want finding you. They are putting a lot of pieces together. Your absence from work will have been noted. They will start putting things together. They have access to information. It had to start at the source, so in my mind, it’s most likely a government job.”

Max had heard this all before. Anton loved this kind of thing. Expose the government’s backroom dealings. This could be his ticket to immortality. He could be the next Deep Throat, Julian Assange, or Edward Snowden. It just made Max feel sick inside about the whole thing, and Anton must have read Max’s expression, because he leaned forward a bit.

“Look, I’m not asking for you to hand everything over just now,” Anton said, clearly trying to backpedal out of the hole he had dug for himself. “I’ve got a tech guy I know. Real computer wiz. He has a computer that we can wipe after the analysis. You’re technical enough to know if he has wiped everything. He has a bunch of tests I want to run on it. Please. If the tests are negative, I’ll leave it alone. I’ll let you do what you want to do, no questions asked. I’ll even help you if you need me to.”

The offer to help was a big one. Max knew that Anton hated the idea of selling this to the highest bidder. But if Anton truly was willing to help him—and Max just might need that sort of help if he was going to pull this off—then it would be worth the risk.

“Okay, let’s do the tests.”