Chapters:

The Limo Ride

                                             THE LIMO RIDE

     The air conditioning felt like it was set to below freezing, yet the man known as California still somehow managed to sweat. Not in a post-workout-skin-dripping style, but in a clammy way that allowed him to feel both hot and cold at the same time. Clad in a t-shirt and khaki shorts, he was jealous of the man directly across from him – who in a black suit, black shoes, black shirt, black tie, and black sunglasses seemed unfazed by the temperature. No matter what weather changes the world saw, people were always going to wear black.

     Black Suit hadn’t spoken since they got into the limousine. Whether that made him mysterious or a jerk was open to debate. If you asked California what was most striking about the man, he would say his outfit made his blonde hair look freakishly yellow, and that out of every piece of his ensemble, his sunglasses were probably the darkest shade of black.

     California shivered as he stared out the window, watching the redundancy of the desert landscape roll by, like in one of those old shows where it looked like actors were driving past the same loop of background over and over. Rocks, hills, dead plants. Rocks, hills, dead plants. Not even a lizard scurrying by or roadkill to break things up. The time was long gone where he could’ve counted telephone poles. Sundown wasn’t too far away, yet the outside temperature must have been well over a hundred-and-thirty degrees, the blazing sun unforgiving on the blacktop. The past twenty years had brought normal summer temperatures into triple digits across the country, and the deserts were miles of ovens regardless of the season. Not many traveled these types of highways anymore due to the danger. If you broke down in the desert it carried a better than even chance at turning fatal. Truckers told stories of how once they got into the long stretch of highway in arid, uninhabited areas they could sometimes drive for hundreds of miles without seeing any other forms of transportation. It was the biggest of occupational hazards, but they had a good union and were paid very well.

     Judging by the road signs, right now they were traversing the hottest desert in the United States. Despite that, more than once California thought of asking to stop so he could step outside for a moment for a bit of warmth that would re-set his body temperature. But since his companion wasn’t big on conversation, he didn’t believe his request would be met with a response. The two men he had sat across from in different limousines before this one had behaved in a very similar fashion, which made sense because they were dressed like they were clones of one another.

     All made out of ticky tacky and they all looked just the same.

     He heard that somewhere. A song, maybe. An old one. He tried to go through more lyrics in his head but couldn’t come up with it. He started to hum a little bit, softly, but got self-conscious right away and stopped. The only other sounds besides the steady thrum of the engine were when Black Suit tapped on a device that looked like a phone but was probably more sophisticated. California had never seen such an item, and could only guess as to it’s worldliness. It pinged every few seconds before ceasing, returning the car to silence. Not even the leather seats made noise when you shifted on them.

     The ride continued on, mile after mile. Once in awhile they would pass a wind farm, and California would get lost in a memory. When he was younger, he’d visit Palm Springs occasionally where there had been countless rows of these structures. Back then he didn’t know what their function was, but he assumed it was important. He thought they looked like planes, and he fancied himself a pilot who would climb up to the part where the blades met and enter the cockpit. He’d wave at other pilots who were also getting into their crafts, and they’d all take off and fight an imaginary enemy in the blue skies above.

     But this was not Palm Springs, and California had no idea where they were headed. He reasoned he knew what he’d find when he arrived, though, and that was comforting. It was the right-now part of it that stressed him out to no end. He noticed he was sweating even more.

     The truth of the matter was Black Suit had just gotten some bad news on his abacus brain device. He was experienced, so masking it from his companion was easy enough, but it really pissed him off. He was supposed to be done after the package was delivered. Team January had picked the package up and driven the hundred miles to hand off to Team March in a pre-determined covered parking garage. Team January, which was made up of three identical stretch limos, departed in three different directions while Team March assumed control of the operation. After another hundred or so miles the same switch was made with the same number of cars, in a similar covered parking garage to Team April. They were supposed to finish their leg and meet up with Team November, who would see the package to its final destination. January to March to April to November.

     The plan worked well the last time. None of the teams knew where the package was going past what was their responsibility. And none of the teams knew where the previous team had come from. November was the only team that had the final location. This had been the preferred method of transport four years ago.

     Team April – Black Suit’s team – was coming up on the transfer area and he had just been notified to keep traveling their present course, and not rendezvous with November. Black Suit bit his lip so hard it almost bled. When the teams were announced and he saw the names, he knew Team November wasn’t ready for this responsibility. None of them had any experience even close to what it would take to execute this, which was a huge inherent flaw. He made his concerns known to his superiors, but in the end it didn’t matter. Above his head it was argued their rawness would make them the best team for final delivery. Who would suspect agents who have never been near this assignment in the past to actually be the anchor leg? That big idea was going to hell pretty quickly now, wasn’t it? Whatever this unforeseen event turned out to be, the only good part was that after this was over, whoever made that ridiculous decision in regards to Team November would pay for it. Definitely with their job, possibly with prison. He hoped he’d be alive to see it.

     Black Suit pressed the button that rolled the window down between himself and the driver. The whirring of the mechanism was enough to send a jolt through California who jumped at the sudden sound.

     “Fred,” Black Suit began, craning his head to speak through the opening, “we are off script. Continue on this path until further notice.”

     “Yes, sir,” said the unseen man in front.

     Black Suit pressed the button again to raise the window. He returned his attention to the abacus brain he held in his hands and typed out the same instructions to the cars they were traveling with – one ahead and one behind. When he was done he looked to the man across from him, who was intently staring at him. This is why Black Suit liked the sunglasses. It was hard to read a man’s face without seeing his eyes. Things like uncertainty remained hidden. If you didn’t show uncertainty, people usually didn’t panic.

     “Yes?” Black Suit inquired.

     “Um, what,” California began, but his voice was dry and gravelly from not speaking for so long. He cleared his throat and began again. “What does that mean?”

     Black Suit smoothed his tie. “It means we’re going to be traveling slightly differently than normal. It’s no concern.”

     “Is it because something happened?”

     “I don’t know. I’m given information and react according to what our next option is.”

     California nodded his head, but Black Suit could tell he was looking for more. “Do me a favor and look out the window.” Black Suit used his head to motion while giving a slight point of his right index finger. Nonchalantly, like it was no big deal.

     “What am I looking for?” All that was out there was blue sky. No birds, no life. California really missed the telephone poles. They had been gone for a long time.

     “What else? Trouble,” Black Suit smiled. “But you won’t find it, because we’re fine. If it were dangerous for us, we’d have been notified.”

     “But it’s dangerous for someone, isn’t it?”

     “Possibly. But not for anyone you know.”

     “But it’s someone or someones that you know, right? I mean, that’s pretty serious, no?”

     “Why are you worried about people you don’t know?” Black Suit was thinking of Team November, and who he’d be saddest about if they were dead. The woman, he thought. Definitely the woman.

     “I don’t, shit. Look, I’m just trying to get through whatever this is, and I was fine until you said things changed. You do this a lot, I’m sure. I’m not, you know, when you guys showed up? I was in the middle of transcribing an interview about a kids TV show -”

     Black Suit interrupted and put his hand straight up as if he was swearing an oath. “Please don’t tell me anything about you, sir. I can’t have any knowledge of your life.”

     “Oh whatever,” California sighed. He shook his head, annoyed.

     Black Suit thought how much California looked like he was from California. The designer t-shirt and vintage sneakers so many wore to give off the “I’m really trying hard to look like I’m not trying” look. By observing the man’s body language he surmised California thought he was better than everyone he encountered, since the people who lived in this state always did the right thing and always had the moral high ground. They were so accepting and so ready to tell you when you were wrong and full of shit. Black Suit liked what California represented – freedom to be whatever kind of loser you wanted to be: straight, gay, rich, poor, generous, a leader, a follower, sober, drunk or stoned – more than he liked the people who lived there.

     He counted to fifteen before responding. “It’s a big deal because well, if you’re dead then we’re all probably dead. But let’s just say you get away and I get captured. I don’t plan on telling anyone anything, but if I know something about you and they get it from me? That will help them get to you. Or your family. Or your friends. Or your neighbors. Or people in a bar you like to go to. They did that once, you know,” Black Suit shrugged as if to say anything can happen. “Got to a guy the second time we did this, I think? It’s famous in our offices. He didn’t have any family or loved ones so they blew up the neighborhood bar he liked to hang out in. No warning. They found out where he hung out and they did it. Did you ever hear of that one, or did we keep that enough of a secret?”

     California shook his head and looked at the floor of the car. “Maybe. That sounds like it might be familiar. There’ve been a few.”

     “So okay then. But anyway, like I said, it’s no concern right now.” Black Suit had a feeling he accomplished the exact opposite of what he set out to do, which was to calm the man. But the guy was starting to blab about his life and that couldn’t be allowed, so he freelanced a little with his story. Which wasn’t exactly the truth. He would never share restricted information, but there had been an instance very similar. It was actually the fourth time they did it, and it wasn’t a bar, it was a dog park. But it got blown up just the same. While it was full of people and dogs. So, close enough.

     They rode in silence for the next ten minutes until they saw the police cars.