Alternative 3, p.24
Alternative 3, page 24
‘Is it over?’ she asked.
‘For us it is,’ he said. Gina was on her way home, wherever that was.
‘What do you mean, for us?’
‘We’re going straight back to Ollie to give him the disk. Then we’re taking our mil’ and getting the fuck outta here,’ said Curtis. ‘Give him a call and tell him we’re on the way in.’ Gina shot him a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding look.
‘Curtis, I’m tired, we’ve been shot at, and it’s nearly four in the morning. The disk can wait. So can Ollie. I need some sleep.’
Curtis wasn’t happy, but he didn’t argue. He just wanted to finish this. Now. The million had become a second priority. It needed to be sorted so he could focus on something way more important.
‘OK,’ he said finally, ‘but we’re getting up at nine. Where you go is up to you, but I’m on a plane by noon.’
‘Yeah, fine,’ said Gina. ‘I just need some sleep first. And a shower.’
She rested her head back on the seat and sighed. ‘I’m so glad it’s over.’ Over? Not by a long shot. She reached into her backpack and pulled out a cigarette and lighter. It was a Marlboro Light. Same as Sam had been smoking. She wound down her window and lit the smoke with a deep inhale.
‘I didn’t know you smoked?’ said Curtis. Gina looked over at him as she puffed out a breath of smoke.
‘There’s plenty you don’t know about me, mister.’ Wow. This was another side to Gina. Curtis could definitely see something in her eyes he hadn’t seen before. Maybe this was what being shot at did to people. Curtis decided to play the game.
‘How much plenty are we talking about here?’ Gina gave him a smile that didn’t say a lot.
‘Enough to keep you busy for at least a few years.’ Nice comeback. Curtis let it drop. When she finished the smoke she threw the butt out the window and wound it back up. As she curled up and went to sleep, Curtis felt himself getting tired as well. His eyes were getting heavy and he was finding it hard to focus on keeping the Camaro aiming where it should be. Trust Turk to rent a getaway car. He should have known it. Even Gina knew it.
He remembered Gina yelling at him to find the Camaro. But the thing was, Turk had only just told him what sort of car he’d rented over his cellphone. She couldn’t have known what sort of car to look for. Not unless someone told her. Curtis remembered she’d also spent a long time in the toilets. Long enough to make a few phone calls.
That’s when it clicked into place. Curtis suddenly realised what an idiot he’d been — he’d fallen for it hook, line and sinker. Gina had to be an undercover Fed. He’d had his suspicions about her being Prometheus. She knew fuck all about the stuff he should know about. But she did know about as much as any bright young FBI field agent might pick up on a course at Quantico. It was a big piece of the puzzle, but it still didn’t fit together. What the hell was she doing? And who the hell was she after? Curtis knew the FBI wasn’t after him, because he hadn’t done anything wrong. Well certainly not enough to start an undercover FBI investigation. Terry hadn’t given any suggestion that he knew about it — maybe it was too secret even for him. Curtis tried to work it out. Gina must have been using him to get close to someone. But everyone they’d got close to had been shot at or blown up. He racked his brain for something. Anything at all. But unless she was just chancing a meeting with a hacker like Curtis at DefCon, it didn’t make any sense.
Curtis shook his head as he drove. This was getting way too complicated. So maybe it wasn’t a who, he thought. Maybe it was a what. Maybe it was something Curtis was getting close to. Something like a website. Or a black-budget project that had gotten out of hand.
‘Fuck!’ he said under his breath. Was that what this was all about?
Gina lifted her head. ‘Did you say something?’ Curtis looked over at her. She was beautiful. But that didn’t make her any less of a Fed.
‘Nothing, babe. Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you when we get to Vegas.’
Gina gave Curtis a tired, sexy smile, and went back to sleep. He went back to driving, his mind spinning. His heart wasn’t much better. Music. He pulled his MP3 player out of his bag and flicked the headphones on with a well-practised rhythm. Larry clicked the band into a ballad. ‘One’. He was back where he started. As he listened to Bono walk all over his emotions, he found it easier to stay awake for some strange reason. But there was no getting away from the fact that Gina was a cop. Curtis shook his head in wonder. They’d even slept together. Is that what they did now? Sleep with their targets? Curtis felt the emotion of the hours of adrenaline they’d just gone through wash over him. He’d figured Gina was too good to be true. When he looked back without the love goggles on, there had definitely been something in her eyes. That was why he was so sure of her real identity now. And why he was so sure he had to get rid of her. As soon as they’d collected the money.
13
Curtis took the rental back to the Oasis, figuring he’d return it in the morning. Turk had left the receipt in the glove box, and Curtis noticed he’d paid for it with cash. He had no idea where Turk had found the money, but that was the least of his problems. The Oasis was where they’d last slept together. Where she’d slept as she lay in his arms.
He got the car valet-parked and they headed up to the room. They leant against the elevator walls and looked at each other as it ascended. Curtis couldn’t suppress a wry smile. They’d been through a lot since they were last here. A fucking lot. He still couldn’t quite believe she was a Fed, but in his heart he knew. As Gina headed straight for the bathroom, Curtis noticed the computer that had previously been set up on the desk was gone.
‘I’m gonna take a quick shower,’ she said. ‘You might want to think about one too.’
Thanks for the tip, thought Curtis. Compared with Jim and the truckers, he didn’t think he was that bad.
‘Hey, d’you mind if I use your lappie while you’re in there?’ shouted Curtis through the bathroom door. ‘I just have to check my mail. Didn’t get time back at the . . .’ Back where Turk got killed.
‘Sure,’ shouted Gina from the bathroom as the shower started up.
Curtis threw his things on one of the beds and pulled Gina’s laptop out of his bag. He searched through his pack for a cord to connect it to the phone socket. In an instant it was up and running. Curtis opened Gina’s mail and sent the message he’d stored in her outbox earlier. As it was sending he realised it was going to be too large for his webmail address. He’d have to log on and increase his storage capacity. That meant going from spam free to spam hell. As he was clicking his options, Curtis remembered Turk was going to send him an email, the one Curtis had asked him to send once he’d done a check on Mr Ollie Branton. He opened the inbox and sure enough, there was one message. From Turk.
Hey dude. Finished the search on your buddy Oliver H. Branton. Here’s the highlights on the attached. What’s going on, man?
Turk
Curtis read the email a few times. It was the last message he’d get from Turk. He’d written this just before his death. It was probably one of the last things he did. Like hiring the rental and driving out to the desert. All because Curtis asked him to. And he’d done it without question. And now he was dead. Curtis punched up a song. He needed some time out. Some time for Turk. The song was somehow fitting, as Turk had always been trying to throw his arms around the world. Curtis rubbed his eyes as he listened. It was all his fault. Turk would be alive right now if . . .
But what ifs weren’t good enough. Not for him. Not after this. Curtis vowed on Turk’s memory to find out who’d done it and why. This wasn’t just about clearing his own name now. It was for Turk as well.
When the song finished, Curtis opened the document Turk had attached. It was a list of all the stuff he’d asked Turk to find. First thing Curtis looked for was the list of credit-card transactions, around the date he’d met with Ollie. He found them all right. But the descriptions and locations were not quite what he’d been expecting. After buying a woman’s fur coat in New York, Ollie Branton had paid for an outrageously expensive meal at some restaurant called Manhattan. Only problem was, Ollie was supposed to have been sitting with Curtis and Gina in Vegas at the time. Feds. It hit him like a cold shower. Oliver Branton’s identity must have been a cover for an agent as well. The Ollie that Curtis had met had to have been part of the operation. Whatever that was. The million — the whole ‘project’ — was part of an FBI investigation. No wonder they’d been shot at.
While the mail finished sending, Curtis looked up News2U2day.com on the web browser. An idea was forming in the back of his brain, and Sam was a big part of it. When he found Sam’s profile, he wrote down her mobile number on the hotel pad, and pocketed it. He closed the mail as soon as it was finished, and shut down the computer. He still had time to strip, brush his teeth, and fiddle with the aircon by the time Gina had finished her ‘quick’ shower. Then it was his turn. Curtis was in and out of the bathroom in two minutes flat. He was nervous about getting back into bed with Gina, now that he knew who she really was. He decided to sleep with his boxers on. They didn’t touch much as they got into bed, but Curtis was asleep before it became too much of an issue.
He was woken by the sounds of Gina moving round the room in the half-light of the bathroom wall-lamp. Curtis had no idea what time it was — there wasn’t any daylight spilling out from the curtains. Must have been early.
‘Hey, whatcha doing?’ he said. He lifted his head off the pillow, and at the same moment realised he still felt like shit.
‘I’m meeting Ollie,’ said Gina, brushing her hair as she leant out the bathroom door. She was dressed. ‘He’s really nervous. About the project and all the attention.’ She ducked back inside the bathroom as she spoke. ‘I couldn’t sleep so I rang him from the bathroom. The sponsor’s rattled too. Ollie wants me to meet with him to settle him down. He just needs reassuring.’
Curtis started getting out of bed and reached for his clothes.
‘I’m going alone, Curtis,’ said Gina. ‘He just wants to see me.’ Of course.
‘You knew him from some time ago, didn’t you?’ said Curtis. As offhandedly as he could. Just a wee poke to see if he got a bite.
‘I’ll ring you as soon as it’s over,’ she said. He heard her open the door and close it behind her. No bite.
Curtis lay back on the bed. She’d ring him, huh? As he lay in the soft dark of the hotel room he worked on the idea he’d been mulling over since last night. It was becoming more of a plan than an idea. He closed his eyes and waited for Gina to ring. Moments later he was dead to the world.
It seemed like he’d only just put his head back on the pillow when his cellphone rang. He fumbled around on the dresser in the dark, and felt for the call button.
‘Hello,’ he said.
‘Curtis, it’s me.’ It was Gina. Now she was coming at him with the ‘it’s me’ thing.
‘What is it? Everything OK?’ He checked the clock on the dresser. It was 8.34 a.m.
‘Curtis, listen to me,’ she said. ‘I’m leaving.’ Curtis’s mind scrambled into consciousness.
‘What?’
‘The deal’s on, but I’m through with it. Ollie doesn’t know I’m ringing you. He’s expecting us to make the drop at the hotel at 10. You take it, Curtis. You’ve earned it.’
Curtis screwed his face up as he tried to make some sense of what she was saying. ‘You’re leaving? Where to?’ was the best he could do under the circumstances.
‘I’m at the airport. My flight leaves in under an hour. Don’t worry about me. I’ll catch up with you soon. I just need to get out of here. This whole thing has gone ballistic.’ Curtis sat trying to think what to say next. His mind was in a turmoil. His heart wasn’t in a good state either.
‘I — will I see you again? Where?’ he said.
‘I think you should just let me find you. It’s been fun, Curtis. The you and me bit, anyway.’ Curtis was still searching for words when she killed the call. He sat dazed. The money was still on, but she didn’t want any part of it. She was at the airport. Leaving in an hour. He tried to make sense of her leaving. Now of all times. He was sure she didn’t know she’d blown her cover with him. It must have been something else. It was clear they were taking her off the case. Either that or the operation — whatever it was — was over.
Curtis showered and got dressed, and went down to the hotel lobby. He got some directions from the front desk on how to get to the business centre, and sat down at one of the computers in the guest internet lounge. He spent a few minutes taking the machine off its ‘guest’ profile, and logged back on using one of the trainee manager’s names he’d seen behind the desk. Next he searched the web to pull together all the airlines with flights departing Las Vegas within the hour, and went data-mining for the passenger lists. One by one, he pulled together the passenger manifestos for each flight. She had to be on there somewhere. He looked through each of the lists for a first name starting with G. There were about 12. Then he went through the last names, one by one. There was no MacIntosh, not that he expected to find one. He kept looking. There was a G. Rogers. Curtis almost smiled. He checked the flight and gate number. It was going to San Diego. He clicked off and ran back through the lobby to the taxi rank. In seconds, F. Astaire was on his way to the airport.
As soon as the cab pulled up outside the terminal, Curtis flicked the driver a note and jumped out. He searched for a floor diagram, and looked for Gina’s gate. It was boarding. Curtis moved into a gentle jog as he threaded through the terminal to her gate, where people were lining up to wave their pass and go through security onto the flight. He worked backwards through the queue. She wasn’t there. His heart sank. He’d missed her. He leant back against a wall and watched the passenger queue shrink before his eyes. But as the queue filed past him, he noticed someone sitting by themselves in the gate lounge with her back to him. It was her. Gina Rogers. Curtis walked over. She didn’t look like she was in a big hurry to board. In fact she didn’t look like she was interested in boarding at all. She was sitting in a trance, her eyes bloodshot and red, like she’d been crying for a while.
‘Plane’s boarding,’ he said. Gina looked up, coming out of her trance.
‘What are you doing here, Curtis?’ she asked, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
‘Came to ask you the same question,’ he said, sitting down beside her.
The flight attendant came over to them, reminding them that the final boarding call had been given. Gina looked at Curtis. So much to say, so little time.
‘Look, I don’t care who are, or who you work for. I want to see you again.’ Curtis looked into her eyes. They said, how did you know? There was guilt maybe, and some embarrassment, but there was a toughness there as well. She wasn’t going to admit to anything. But Curtis thought he could see something else in those eyes too. He’d seen it the night they partied like Fred and Ginger. A million dollars from now.
‘Be careful, Curtis,’ said Gina, getting up and lifting her bag over her shoulder. ‘Jim was right. This thing is bigger than you, and it’s sure as hell bigger than me. Goodbye.’
Curtis sat and watched her turn her back, wave her pass at the attendant, and disappear down the bridge. Then she was gone. As the plane was pushed back from the gate, he stood close to the huge windows in front of him, opening out onto to a dry desert apron of asphalt. He put his headphones on and punched up a song as the gleam of the sun on the fuselages of wide-bodied jets reflected off the windows. He drew a deep sigh. He decided that Bono had this one all wrong. She was dangerous, because she wasn’t honest. A real wild horse all the same. The guitar merged with the sound of the jet as it pulled back from the gate. Sha la la.
The next song on his playlist jarred him out of his reverie. ‘The Fly.’ Like a cold slap in the face. Enough feeling sorry for himself. He had things to do. He walked back through the terminal, in step with the beat of the song. It helped him focus, the chorus steeling within him a reckless determination. He had things to do. When he was outside he pulled out his cellphone and dialled Sam’s number. She answered on the second ring.
‘Hello?’
‘Sam, it’s Curtis. I need your help.’
There was a pause while she thought. ‘What sort of help?’
‘The kind with a camera,’ said Curtis.
‘When?’ Curtis looked at his watch. His Wenger had been knocked. It had a tiny crack running across the glass. Half-past nine.
‘I’m meeting someone at 10 at the Orion. Can you meet me there?’
‘Who?’ said Sam quickly. ‘The history nut?’
‘Not quite. The guy who did the deal on his behalf.’ Curtis stood against a column while he talked. He didn’t want anyone overhearing. ‘Sam, I’m going to have to prove these people killed Jim and Turk. And if I can’t get proof, I’m going to make them own up. Even my parole officer doesn’t know anything about it. He says they’ve told him they didn’t find any bodies. It’s a cover-up, Sam. It’s a fucking government security fuck-up, and they’ve erased the evidence. As soon as Jim and Turk are reported missing, I’m the first person they’re going to come after. A fucking frame job.’
‘Whoa! Calm down, mister. Take a deep breath and let it go. Now I know a lot of weird stuff’s been happening, but it’s happened, Curtis. It’s history. You won’t change that.’
‘It’s history, all right. More than you’d ever know.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Sam, I think whatever’s going on out there is somehow related to those videos. I’m beginning to think there’s more to them than meets the eye. They could be real. Think about that. You saw them. And you heard those people talking about Alternative 3.’ He let it hang. It didn’t seem so silly once he’d said it.
‘Curtis, I’m booked to go back to LA. The tape was ruined, I don’t have any video, and my editor’s on my back.’
Curtis felt his frustration rising. ‘You’ll get way more than some hacking footage and some old UFO sightings, I promise you that.’
