The
Black Knight Squash Fiction League Match #3 The Loose Strings
The Racketeers
CHAPTER THREE
Trouble for Academics
by Al Tommervik
As soon as Ollie was sure Hayden had left,
he removed the lid on the toilet tank and extracted a plastic bag he
had taped there. He removed the cell phone inside as he carried the
package to his desk, where he attached a charger to the phone.
That done, he slumped into his Aeron desk
chair and broke into a cold sweat. Who would have thought that an
associate professor in physics at Cooper Union would end up the target
of some surreptitious attack? Hell, he had thought they were in the
clear after six months.
When they had first discussed the idea of
rescuing Dr. Marpue Karwah, it had seemed so right. Whisking a
theoretical physicist out of Liberia to protect her from the ebola
epidemic was the humane thing to do.
Why would anybody care? The scientific
community scoffed at Dr. Karwah’s speculations on low energy nuclear
reactions, called cold fusion in the popular press. No one took her
seriously. An African theoretical physicist? Humbug! And a woman? No
way! She couldn’t get published in reputable journals and she couldn’t
get adequate equipment in Liberia to test her hypotheses.
However, her self-published treatises on
the internet had caught the imagination of a young set of physicists in
Manhattan and they had set out to bring her to New York. She lacked
official sponsorship, so with the ebola epidemic growing in severity in
Liberia, she was refused admittance to the United States.
It was Jock who suggested that they spirit
her out of the country. He had some connections to an underground
student hackers group and thought they could be of assistance.
The kids were fantastic! With their help,
the physicists got Dr. Karwah out of Liberia and into France. A few
weeks later, they moved her from France to Canada. And then Ollie had
gone to Canada and brought her into the United States.
Someone had said it could be dangerous, but
Ollie and Jock had scoffed at that idea. What could be the problem?
Even if they were caught, it would only be a slap on the wrist.
Academics acting up, not terrorists threatening mayhem. Good grief!
Even so, they had set up a backdoor means of communication if anything
went wrong. And now Ollie was waiting for the cell to charge so he
could activate the warning system.
His thoughts turned to Hayden, both angrily
and wistfully. She had sure played him for a sucker! And he had thought
maybe she was The One. Ollie’s shyness had prevented him from getting
close to a woman. And then came Hayden, a ray of sunshine and a total
joy. He wished that that things had played out differently. Maybe there
was some rational explanation that didn’t damn her.
Now he concentrated on what he had to do
next. He was on a year’s sabbatical from Cooper Union. He’d arranged
that so he could assist Dr. Karwah in her attempts to build
experimental devices that would support her theses on cold fusion.
So he could run for it. Thinking along
those lines, he grabbed his spare squash carry-all and started stuffing
necessary items into it. He would be leaving his loft for at least one
day.
Finally, the cell phone was ready! He sent
the text: “Our plan is compromised. Meet at the agreed place at 1600
hours.” Ollie stared at the text and grimaced. The best they could do
for encryption was to use Greenwich Mean Time in their texts. They were
some kind of big-time covert operators. NOT!
He grabbed his laptop, typed a quick note,
and sent it to the printer. After checking to make sure the file
printed correctly, he shut down the computer and added it to the stash
in his squash bag.
He changed to cargo pants and a plaid
long-sleeved flannel shirt. Pockets and warmth were what was called for
right now. His iPhone had charged during the night so he grabbed it and
the charger. The iPhone went into his shirt pocket and the charger into
his squash bag.
His contingency phone buzzed. A text from
Genevieve. “Moving Dr. Karwah by 1800 hours. Stay safe.” Still no word
from the others. Maybe they had become so complacent after six months
that they had treated their phones like he had treated his -- stuck in
a safe place where the battery would run down.
Ollie wandered the loft, examining each
item. Take it or leave it? If leave it, remember it and its placement
so he would know if it was taken or moved. Soon his pile of take-its
was too big to fit in his spare squash bag. Empty the other bag? No
way! Wherever he was headed, he was going to be playing.
The cell rang, startling Ollie. Nobody was supposed to have this number. He answered, but didn’t say anything.
“Ollie, it’s Jock. What the hell’s going on? Are you sure you’re not overreacting to something?”
A pissed Ollie shouted, “You dumb shit.
Nobody’s supposed to call on this phone. And no I’m not overreacting.
Someone or someones are planning to quote-unquote nail me this
afternoon. Why are we even having this discussion? It should wait until
the whole group can hear at the meeting.”
“That’s the thing. We are the meeting.
Waggoner is in the Far East and Hespeth is in Houston. Thank god,
Genevieve is available and is acting. Give me more details about being
nailed.”
Ollie explained. It was painful, admitting
that the love of his life, or at least the love of this summer, was in
the process of betraying him. The messages Hayden had received and that
he had seen were sent as group messages. So he assumed that more than
two people were involved. The sender’s ID was blocked.
Jock was dumbfounded. “Good shit ... after
six months? There wasn’t even a fuss in Liberia when she disappeared.
Did you tell anyone that you snuck Dr. Karwah into the country?”
“Of course not. I can’t figure out who would care either. It’s not like she was a world-famous scientist.”
Jock was silent for what seemed like an
eternity. “Well, you need to make yourself scarce while we formulate a
plan. Here’s what you should do.” Jock went on at length about the
steps Ollie needed to take immediately. Then he abruptly hung up.
Ollie looked forlornly at his contingency
phone. Jock had told him to destroy it, but it was his only secure link
to the other conspirators. Well, Jock had set up a rendezvous for
tomorrow morning. They could work out new communication protocols then.
So he set the phone on the floor and
stomped on it. It was more durable than he thought and he eventually
took a hammer to it, pounding it into pieces small enough to flush down
the toilet.
He went to the printer and took the
printout. Then he wheeled his desk chair out into the middle of the
loft. He scotch-taped the note to the back of the chair.
HAYDEN! SOMETHING’S COME UP. CAN’T MAKE IT TODAY. LOOKING FORWARD TO SEEING YOU SOON.
He shouldered his two squash bags and left.
Al Tommervik is a journalist, tech writer, and pseudo-techie.
The Loose Strings
The Racketeers 
