Page 43 of Perfect Chaos

“Can you find me a safe place to hide out while I finish this?” I anxiously bite the skin on my lip while waiting for his answer. I never liked asking for help.

Ramos pauses on the other side of the phone as if thinking over his response. “Are you going to tell Atlas what is going on?”

My stomach drops at his question. I knew Ramos would ask, but a part of me was hoping he wouldn’t. I let out a sigh, “And what? Put him even more at risk? No. You can't tell them either.”

“This isn’t your responsibility, Gavin. You can still back out.” He hides everything behind his carefully created mask. Not a hint of an emotion slipping through.

“I appreciate what you're trying to do, Ramos. We both know that's not true, though.”

“Fine. I see you are going to be stubborn about this. What are you telling them? So I know what lie I am going along with.”

“That their relationship is better off without me in it…” I murmur the words, feeling like a coward as they leave my mouth.”

“Wait! What the hell did you just say?” His voice pitches higher at the end of his sentence. I guess I finally rattled his otherwise calm demeanor. If only I were in the mood to enjoy it.

“You heard me, Ramos.” My words sound as defeated as I feel.

“Yeah, I heard you. I don’t think I understand what you just said. You have been back for less than a month and managed to get involved with Maizyn? Does Atlas know?” The skepticism affecting his cadence.

I scoff at his accusation. “Of course he fucking knows. It’s not what you think. You know I wouldn’t do that to Atlas. It’s- I’m not sure what it is yet. Well was. But Atlas knows. Honestly, he started everything.”

“You love her?” His tone only proves he is asking a question he already knows the answer to.

Is it that obvious? “It doesn’t exactly matter how I feel, now does it?” I’m lacking the conviction I hoped to have.

“Damn. Okay look, I know of a secure place you can hide out in until it's over. I'll send you the address. Text me through the encrypted app only from here on out. Better safe than sorry.”

The line ends before I get the chance to respond, a notification from the texting app following shortly after.

R: 1248 West Oaks St. It’s got a high-tech security system but I linked you into the system. Your thumbprint should get you in.

G: Thanks. I owe you one.

R: Nah you don’t. I owe you for taking the risk. Just be safe. Call me if you need me.

Plugging in the address into my phone. I see that it's a secluded house just on the outskirts of town. It's a forty-five-minute drive from here because you have to go through downtown to get there. I contemplate going back inside to tell them that I'm leaving the house. But deciding against it, telling them bye while knowing it might actually be my last time I see them would kill me, or I would cave and back out of leaving altogether. I take one last longing look at the door before forcing myself to walk away and climb inside my car. As I drive away from the house, it feels like I'm leaving a part of my soul behind.

I follow the maps on autopilot, not even realizing I've arrived until the robotic voice on maps notifies me. I don't remember the drive here; it's slightly scary. I can't even remember stopping for stop signs or red lights. The past forty-five minutes are a blur, so lost in thought I completely checked out. Turning the engine off. I take a grounding breath before finally climbing out of the car and walking towards the front door. Surveying my surroundings as I walk up the drive, I clock a total of nine cameras just on the front side. Ramos wasn't lying when he said it was high-tech. The camera covering the front door has automated tracking; it’s one that I recognize as being equipped with facial recognition as well. If I ever make it back home, I will be setting one of these systems up at our house, whether they like it or not. The door lock looks like a basic keypad, but flipping the numbers down revealed a thumbprint scanner. Placing my thumb flush to it causes it to light up green before the lock disengages.

Stepping through the doorway. I can't help but think this house is fancier than I thought a safe house would be. It's not over the top, but it's modern. It's minimalistic, having nothing more than what is necessary. The walls are white, with all the furnishings being either black or gray. I could explore the rest of the house, but I'm not here for that. I'm here to get a job done. There's just something I need to do first. I place my laptop down on the couch and pull out my phone. Maizyn and Atlas will have noticed I left by now. I can't have them worrying about me or coming looking for me. I debate whether or not I should text or call. I feel like if I call, they will hear in my voice that I'm hiding something. Atlas knows me too well to pull that conversation off. I stare at both their contacts before clicking on the one that says Little Tornado. My thumb hovers over the key, not sure how to word the message. I type the truth first before deleting it. No matter how bad I want to tell them, they can't know. I typed the words I'm sorry and then deleted that as well. Nothing I say will be good enough. Anything I send right now will hurt us all. My throat closes up, my eyes begin to water as my fingers swipe across the keyboard. One more part of me is breaking as I send a text that will make my best friend think I abandoned him and the girl I see forever with, think she is no longer good enough. Scrolling through my contacts again, I scribble Ramos’ number on a napkin before shoving it into my pocket in case I need it later. I shut my phone off and toss it aside. I know my phone is bound to explode with an onslaught of texts from them. I can't risk the temptation of answering it right now.

I pick my laptop back up from where it rests on the couch cushion before sitting down at the conveniently placed desk, where you would expect a dining room table to be. Opening my laptop and powering it on, it finally dawns on me that I need access to Wi-Fi in order to work. I would have to turn my phone back on to text Ramos, so I opt to figure it out on my own. There has to be some kind of Wi-Fi here. I just need to find it and hopefully a password. I rummage through the desk drawers, starting with the left one, finding paper, pens, and sticky notes. Basically, anything you could expect to find on a desk. Shoving the drawer closed a little harder than I needed to, I opened the right one next. The hacker god seems to be on my side when I lift a notebook revealing a pocket MIFI Unit. Popping open the battery cover to reveal the wifi name and password.

As soon as my laptop successfully connects to the Wi-Fi, I get to work. I open up a listening server on the laptop to intercept any incoming transactions before opening Python, starting to work on a script that I can send through the mainframe. Through remote code execution, the code is ready to go in a little under twenty minutes. Now it's just a waiting game. But from what I saw in the other shell company, his transactions should be like clockwork.

I leave the system running while making some things to eat. With this acting as a safe house, most of the food here is nonperishable or has a longer shelf life. So my options are limited, and I opt for a box of Mac and cheese, eating it straight from the pot with a giant mixing spoon. The spoon reminds me of Maizyn and the guilt of lying to them twists in my gut. Even if I did find a way out of this, she may hate me forever. Part of me believes Atlas will understand why I did it. I try shaking the thoughts from my head, but it's of little use. This is so much harder than I thought it would be.

Just as I finish off the last bite of mac and cheese, my computer dings, letting me know we have action. Rushing back to the laptop, I see that the script initiated a connection to the listening server, directing the interface over to me, allowing me to access system commands from my laptop. A few keystrokes later and I'm in, the entire transaction list pulled up on my screen, and I scroll down to the timeframe. Ramos mentioned looking for any abnormally large deposits, raising red flags. It takes me an hour of digging through the money, tracking what's coming and going, and who it’s coming from when I find it. Three million dollars paid to the shell company from WD Navicorp; this has to be it. I can't think of any other reason for payment that high. I need to get a hold of Ramos, but not from my phone. Googling the closest corner store on my laptop. I memorized the easy directions before rushing out the door of the house.

I speed to the store, parallel parking as close to the front door as I can get. Entering the store in a rush, I grab the first burner phone I see. Then head to the checkout counter. I pay the lady with cash, telling her to keep the change before racing back outside.

I fumble with the burner phone, rushing to pull it from its pack. Discarding the trash in the nearby trash can. This call can set everything in motion; excitement and fear intertwine in my chest. I just hope the information I found is enough to put the nail in the coffin. Pulling out the crumbled-up napkin containing his number. I quickly type it into the keypad and hit call before throwing that into the trash as well. The hair at the back of my neck stands at attention. It’s very possible someone followed me here. I hurry to my car, cranking the ignition, just as Ramos answers.

“Ramos speaking.”

“It's me, Gavin.”

“Are you calling from a burner?”