missed connections
rants and raves
He knew a few of these. ‘casual encounters’ was notorious as a way for prostitutes to find clients and promiscuous people from every walk of life to find each other. He’d read articles. It usually involved a few anonymous emails, followed by an exchange of photos, and then, if both sides continued to email, a meeting, usually at a cheap hotel.
Where to start? Was he on a wild goose chase? He didn’t have time to waste. Maybe a few more minutes, one more group of messages.
‘Missed connections’ was an interesting category. The idea was if you saw someone you were interested in, but didn’t get a chance to “make a connection” — ask them out, you posted here. It was popular with guys who, in the moment, couldn’t find the courage to ask a cute waitress out. Josh had actually posted to it several times. If the person saw the message and replied, then there you were, no pressure. If not… it wasn’t meant to be.
He opened it and read a few entries.
Subject> Green Dress at CVS
Message: My god you were stunning! You’re perfect and I was totally speechless. Would love to talk to you. Email me.
Subject> Hampton Hotel
Message: We were getting water together at the desk and then got on the elevator together. Didn’t know if you wanted to get together for a little extra exercise. Tell what floor I got off on. I saw your wedding ring. We can be discreet too.
He read a few more. The message would be longer — if it followed the same pattern: a message within a message, decoded by the name length as a cipher. Craigslist was anonymous. The name would be the email address.
On the next page, the first entry was:
Subject> Saw you in the old Tower Records building talking about the new Clock Opera single
Promising… Clock and Tower in the subject line. Josh clicked the posting and read it quickly. It was much longer than the others. The email address was [email protected]. Josh scribbled down every fourth word then every fifth word from the posting. The decoded posting produced:
Situation changed. Clock tower will fall. Reply if still alive. Trust no one.
Josh froze. Reply if still alive. He had to reply. David had to reply.
Josh picked up the satellite phone and dialed David, but it wouldn’t connect. He had called him earlier. It wasn’t the room or the phone. What could—
He saw it. The video feed from the door outside. It wasn’t changing. He watched closely. The lights on the servers were always on. But it never happened that way — they always blinked occasionally as the hard drives were accessed, as network cards sent and received packets. It wasn’t a video feed, it was a picture — a picture put there by whoever was trying to get into the room.
CHAPTER 21
Main Situation Room
Clocktower Station HQ
Jakarta, Indonesia
The situation room was busy. Operations technicians typed at keyboards, analysts filtered in and out with reports, and Vincent Tarea paced back and forth, watching the wall of screens. “Are we sure Vale is getting a false location map?”
“Yes sir,” one of the techs said.
“Tell the safe houses to move out.”
Tarea watched the safe house video feeds as the soldiers marched to the doors and pulled them open.
The sound of the explosions turned every head in the large situation room to the monitors, which now showed fuzzy black and white static.
One of the techs punched a keyboard. “Switching to outside video. Sir, we have a massive detonation at—”
“I know! Safe houses, hold your positions,” Tarea yelled.
No sound came over the speakers. The location map was completely black where the red dots had paced around the safe houses. The only dots left were David’s convoy and the small group left at HQ.
The tech swiveled around. “He must have rigged the safe houses to blow.”
Tarea rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Thank you, Captain Obvious. Are we in that quiet room yet? Did they find Josh?”
“No, they’re about to start.”
Tarea walked out of the situation room, into his private office, and picked up the phone. He dialed his counterpart at Immari Security. “We have a problem. He took out my men here.”
He listened a moment.
“No, look, I convinced them, but he, it doesn’t matter, they’re all dead. That’s the bottom line.”
Another pause.
“No, well, if I were you, I would make damn sure you kill him with the first strike, no matter how many men you’ve got. He’ll be incredibly hard to contain in the field.”
He started to set the phone down, but jerked it back impatiently at the last minute.
“What? No, we’re looking. We think he’s here. I’ll keep you posted. What? Fine, I’ll come, but I only have two men I can bring, and we’re staying in the rear in case it goes south.”
CHAPTER 22
Clocktower Mobile Operations Center
Jakarta, Indonesia