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Grant, you’ve left your mark on the movement. I am glad to have helped you birth your vision. Thanks for the gift of your notebook. Burn your phone. AN
AN, “Apocalypse Now.”
Grant, sighed happily. No more souvenirs. He took the chip out of the phone and flushed it down the toilet. Then he opened the door all the way for the room service waiter and his double cheeseburger.
CHAPTER 90
I WAS WORKING late at my desk, moments from shutting off the computer, when Jacobi appeared in front of me.
“Glad I caught you.”
“Only good news, please, Jacobi.”
“Task force needs you.”
“No, no, no, they don’t. I’m wiped. I’m done.”
Jacobi continued talking as if he hadn’t heard me, and I was quite sure there was nothing wrong with his hearing.
“Do you know of a Dylan Mitchell, goes by the name of Haight?”
“Hate?” I said. “What’s that? Some kind of tag?”
Jacobi said, “H-a-i-g-h-t. Like the street.”
I shut down my computer. Drank down the dregs of my coffee, threw the container into the trash.
“Don’t think so. What about him?” I asked.
“He’s a big player in the terrorist underground. He grew up on the flower-power down-with-the-government revolution and has turned into a cheerleader for the new suicide bomb generation.”
“I’m not sure I’m following.”
Jacobi laughed. “My fault. See if you follow this. This guy Haight is a pot stirrer. He disseminates videos on the so-called inevitable breakdown of the system. His motto is ‘Power to the people by any means,’ especially violent means. He’s shrewd. Has a quick delivery. But we know where this leads. Bloody hell. Problem is, he just informs and rants but doesn’t dictate or advise. So technically what he’s doing is not illegal.”
“I’m waiting for the punch line.”
“Patience, Boxer. I’m briefing you on your assignment.”
“If I choose to accept it.”
He ignored me. “DHS went through J.’s computer, which he attempted to scrub and left behind in that tenement in the Tenderloin. Also, DHS went through Yang’s computer. Ingleside. They found a connection between those two and Haight.”
Now I was interested. Very.
Said Jacobi, “J.’s computer and Yang’s have something in common, what the gearheads call hash code. Like a fingerprint, showing contact with Haight’s computer, which the Feds have been hacking forever.”
“But is it a crime that these three were in contact?”
Cops all around me were leaving for home. I said good night to Chi. Waved at Cappy. Samuels said, “Do you need help here, Boxer?”
“I’m okay.”
Jacobi sat on the corner of my desk.
“Boxer.”
“I’m listening.”
