A Drone over New York
Chapter 8

Max’s stomach dropped as he reassembled the pieces of what had happened. He broke into a cold sweat as he began to realize that it might not be the fans who were after the drive, but a killer. A real-life, coldhearted killer. The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

His mind tried to make himself believe it was just a coincidence, or an accidental shooting. A jealous lover who had no idea a drone was outside his window. He watched the footage again, unable to take his eyes away from it.

It looked a little too clean. The killer’s face betrayed no anger. No emotion whatsoever, actually. All cold and focused. No way could it have been a lovers’ quarrel, an accident, or a burglary gone wrong.

It dawned on Max that this could mean the killer might be a professional. And that meant a professional hit man had somehow pieced together that video evidence of a hit existed. Now he was out there somewhere, trying to tie up every loose end.

Max took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. This theory would explain Jack’s “accident.” Fans were all about the rage, but they weren’t into arranging such accidents or coordinating multiple, targeted break-ins over the course of a single day. Max’s mind flew at a million miles a minute. But it always came back to a simple fact: if this guy killed once, he might kill again. He had tried already.

Max had to warn Dale.

Or … the killer might go back to finish Jack.

Or he might try and kill me, Max thought and then froze in panic.

A bolt of adrenaline shot through his body, waking him up from the scared coma. Max Overton had never been one to take something lying down. He considered himself smart and resourceful. He had been through bad situations before. He could get through this. All he had to do was put his mind to it.

He checked over his shoulder. No one there.

“Don’t jump to conclusions,” he whispered to himself, calming his mind to think better.

No way could this guy have linked the footage directly to me.

A lot of different possibilities existed. However, Max was an investigative journalist. He had learned not to give into the endless list of could be’s and possibles. There was always the explanation that Jack’s accident was just a coincidence with the current story. Jack had made a lot of enemies. Some of them were much worse than any Max had made. Any one of them could be behind it.

Max knew information was the key, so he watched the footage again, this time with a more analytical eye. He looked at the killer’s face. At least he now knew who was going to be after him. Then he remembered something. The facial recognition program he ran on the first night ran on the whole video. It ran over the whole video! It must have picked up the killer’s face!

He flicked over to the report. It didn’t take him long to find the face among the twelve the software had found. Sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

At first he was puzzled when he read that the face remained unidentified. It was unusual for the program to do this. Then he started to realize what it meant.

Max knew that could only mean that either he was an illegal immigrant who had never been identified, or someone who had been identified, only to have since somehow deleted his face from the database. The second option was far scarier. Max knew if someone was able to do that, then they could have done other things too.

But then again the killer might not be working alone. If someone could erase the link, then they could have signaled the guy somehow. That would explain how he got to NYC and how he would be targeting the types of people who ran with this sort of stuff. They wanted to get to the seller. The ransacking of Max’s place had indeed just been random. That was why they also hit Kate’s and Michael’s. Someone probably identified Jack as a person who could find the source. Everyone at MCW from Jack’s position up would be at risk. Max frowned. That might mean Rachael too now.

Then there was Dale. He must have run the facial recognition program as well. That was how he’d identified Tyell. That was how he knew to hold onto the footage and sell it to Max. But if he ran it, then he might have been traced. He probably didn’t use the IP blocking software that Max did. He could be in serious danger. Dale was not used to this kind of danger. Max had to work out a way to contact him.

Max knew if they could get to Dale, then they could get to him. The connection between them was loose, but there was enough of a digital footprint for someone to connect the dots if they knew what to look for.

That was the best chance of someone finding Max. Once the connection would be made, it was just a matter of time before they turned up on his doorstep. He suddenly felt very exposed, sitting on the steps in a quiet street. He tried to remain calm. Being out in the open was probably safe. But as soon as he left the steps, he might be in trouble. Anyone could be watching him. Anyone could follow him.

For a moment Max contemplated going to the police. He started to play it out in his head. But the footage he had would be taken and submitted as evidence. Any hope of selling it would disappear. He would be ousted as the source, and fired by his company. All that money he was hoping for would be flushed down the drain in an instant. He would be a key witness in a murder trial, as well as broke and out of work.

Other options started running through his head. He could always ignore it and then pretend to notice it at work. He would have the full footage anyway if his company won the bidding. He could even rig it so they did win.

This killer was a professional, though. As soon as the story broke, he would know which company to target. A physical attack on the people at Max’s workplace wasn’t that hard to believe. A professional might even be able to make it look like a fan attack. That meant everyone at work would be at risk. Everyone would be a sitting duck. As much as Max liked to pretend he didn’t care about them, he knew deep down that he did. At least enough to ensure they were not murdered for something he was a part of. They’d been through a lot together and they’d helped him get to where he was now. If it wasn’t for them, he wouldn’t be looking forward to a massive payday. But if his own company didn’t win, he would be handing it over to another buyer, and that would put strangers in the firing line. Also, if someone else bought it, they might not even notice the murder. Max always liked to think of himself as a little selfish, but that was a step he was not willing to take. The more hands it went through, the less valuable it became as the risk of tampering increased. Max felt he could not let this guy get away with murder.

So Max concluded that ignoring it was out, and so was handing it over to the police.

He thought again about contacting Dale. Enexup was sure to have procedures for dealing with this sort of issue. They could solve the problem. But if Enexup got involved, that meant that the other footage would be seen too, and the sale would be gone. But then again there was Dale. He needed to be warned. He might be able to dig up the footage from the server too. But that would render the footage on the drive worthless. Dale had been hacked anyway, and Max had not heard from him since last night.

Max racked his brains, trying to think of what to do. Other options came flooding through. He thought again about talking to Richard, but he had already ruled that out. Other faces and names rushed over him. All almost as impossible as the last.

Finally he settled on what he hoped to be the wisest course of action. It would have to wait for tomorrow, though. Contacting him at this time of night was out of the question. He would have to do it first thing, before work.

His mind started to calm itself. Anton would know what to do.

Max had a small laugh to himself when he thought through the logistics of contacting him. How the tables had turned. Max could work out the details of contacting him in the morning. If he went through with it, he’d have a lot of moving parts to organize. He would have to get up early to get everything ready. But he saw nothing that could stop him.

First priority, though, was to get somewhere safe. He was exposed sitting here, especially while he was still online. It might only be a matter of time before someone managed to find the IP address and track him here. Any car rolling past could contain people looking for him. He had to get moving.

Max needed to be careful now. Even heading back to his apartment would be a risky move, but he had to do it. He packed his things, looked over his shoulder, and started his way back home.

He strode back to his apartment. He felt tempted to run, but thought a fast walk would draw less attention. It also gave him time to think. Staying at his apartment was definitely a no-no tonight. Especially not after what he just saw. If the guy managed to get to Jack and potentially Dale, it was just a matter of time before Max’s name would come up. Even if it was by accident. He had to start making alternative arrangements. He would need to stay a few steps ahead. He would have to lay low until the whole thing blew over.

The lock on the building’s front door was still sticky from the day’s heat. Max climbed the three flights of stairs three at a time, locked the door behind him, and swung into action. He grabbed his few vital belongings and stuffed them into his gym bag. He made sure he had all his chargers as well as his work stuff. He rushed to his closest and started grabbing some clothes. He would be careful in packing. He needed enough different stuff to hide out in the open. That was when it hit him that he wasn’t sure how long until it was going to be safe to come back. It might be a few days, a week at most. At least until this whole thing blew over. If worst came to worst, he had some stuff he left at Callie’s he might be able to grab.

He did a check on the security recorders. If this guy was a professional, it would explain how there had been no footage earlier. The little window drone was back in place. Hopefully whoever it was did not expect it.

After only a few minutes he finally put on an old sweater and cap, slung his bag over his shoulder, and left the building.

It wasn’t until he was back out on the street, walking in the other direction from the café, that he started to think about the big question that now faced him.

Where on earth was he going?

He thought about going to Callie’s. She wanted to see him anyway. He could say it was because of the break-in. She would think nothing of it. The only problem was that her roommates liked to ask too many questions. Since Max had let the cat out of the bag regarding the break-ins, it was going to be a madhouse tonight. After everything he’d said earlier, him turning up would probably scare Callie and freak her out. She would know something wasn’t right. It would also put her at risk in case he was discovered. The young intern was still somewhat ignorant in the shady dealings of their industry. He couldn’t drag her into this.

For a few brief moments Max contemplated heading to the office hotel, but he quickly realized he would then be under too many watchful eyes. His dark email could be picked up, and monitored, but not read. Anything unusual would be noticed and logged. The boys from the IT department didn’t trust him. He had already risked a lot by checking it at work. He would also never be able to do anything about the footage there. His best bet was the old hotel. The first place he used on the Bubber case. It wasn’t the nicest of places, but it was discrete. No one ever asked any questions.

His gut told him it was a good place to hide.

It was a fifteen-block walk to the hotel, but with all the detours to make sure he wasn’t followed, it quickly became twenty-five. Twenty-five blocks on a hot summer evening was not pleasant. But no one paid him much attention. There was a guy with a dog who followed him for three blocks. But Max decided to double back and the guy kept walking. Max tried to tell himself he was being stupid, that he was safe and everything was in his mind. But after what had happened to Jack, Max’s gut wouldn’t let him relax. He stayed on his guard the whole time. It was a horrible twenty-five blocks to the hotel.

The old building was just the same as he remembered it. The old wooden floors that smelled of bleach. The old empty sofa in the lobby stained from too many times being scrubbed and washed. The old lady who sat behind the counter in the exact same position as when he first saw her. A single fan pointlessly blew air over her wrinkled face. The glow of the screen reflected on her glasses as she watched. The only visible soul sat like a zombie, unflinching as Max approached.

“Can I get a room for the night?” he asked.

“Rooms are $100 a night,” she drawled off, without turning away from her computer screen. She was watching a movie again. It was probably one of those old romantic comedies she used to be obsessed with.

“Can I pay in cash?” Max asked. He remembered the game from the first time he came. It never changed.

She looked at him over the top of her glasses, sizing him up to see if it was worthwhile. “Cash rate is $110,” she said.

Max took out his wallet and pulled out six $20 bills.

“Deposit is $10,” the lady quickly added, eyeing the bills.

Max could have sworn she licked her lips a little. He knew he was not getting the money back. But the extra $10 would buy him no questions. It was always the way. His boss before Kate had introduced him to this place. It was just shady enough for not too many questions, just clean enough to be palatable. During their first time here, Max found out how his then boss knew of the place. It was a memory that he would much rather forget.

“Can I get something on the third floor?” Max asked. The third floor was less used, and probably a little cleaner as a result.

“Room 302,” she said as she slid him the key across the counter. “Checkout is 2:00 p.m.”

Max walked up the three flights of concrete stairs. The staircase would be glad to have someone in a room on the third floor. Not everyone who came here would be bothered climbing three flights.

The room was just as dank and moldy as the ones before it. Max quickly moved to the window and let down the blinds. The windows here would never have drone privacy plating. He had to be careful.

As long as he stayed away from being seen through the window, no one would think to look for him here. The blinds would need to be drawn the whole time. There wasn’t much of a view anyway. The sterile brightness of the fluorescent light was something he would just have to deal with.

The AC worked just enough to make itself felt, but not well enough to really keep him cool. He had stayed here in winter last time, and the heat had been turned up to high. It seemed as though someone liked to keep this place warm. Max did not want to think why.

He carefully unpacked just enough to make it feel like he was not living out of his bag, but not enough to prevent him from being able to leave at a moment’s notice. He pulled out a spare bedsheet and laid it on top of the bed. He had bed bugs the first time he came here, and had learned the lesson to bring a sheet from then on.

He stripped down to his underwear and lay on top of his sheet. The AC still felt weak, but just enough to be comfortable.

As much as Max wanted it to, sleep did not come easily. Next door he could hear a young lady faking it. He knew she wouldn’t last long. The noise was the price of unanimity. It was that kind of place.

His mind couldn’t help itself, though, and whirred away, thinking and working through the morning’s plan. It was complex, but he could do it if he stayed organized and careful. The important thing was to get some cash. He was going to need to stay off the grid for the next few days.

Slowly the buzz of the traffic outside eventually drifted him off to sleep.

There he dreamt he was on a tropical island, drinking a cocktail out of a coconut. The payday he got was bigger than he had hoped for. There was a redhead there with him, and a blonde. It was a nice dream.

He awoke to the alarm clock and his reality: a hot New York City, a wallet with not a lot of cash, and a hotel where, if he stayed here long enough, he would probably catch something bad.

The shower was cold, but refreshing. He needed it at this time of the morning. He looked at himself in the mirror. The lack of a decent night’s sleep was going to show.

At some stage during the night, he had come to the conclusion he would probably either be late to work, or have to call in sick. The problem was that Kate would probably flip out. But Missy was good enough to pick up the slack. As long as he made it seem plausible, he would be fine. He would also need to let Callie know if he wasn’t going to be at work. He had a lot of moving parts to manage. He would even risk going to an ATM this morning. He was going to need plenty of cash.

Despite the weather report for a hot day, he put on his reversible hoodie and stuffed his baseball cap in the pocket. He packed his small backpack with his important belongings. He even emptied out his larger gym bag and stuffed the backpack inside it, just in case he needed to fool someone that much. All of the things that Anton had taught him to do came instinctually.

The early-morning light signaled the day was only just beginning. The work crowd was still in bed, just waking up, or already at the gym. Max wouldn’t be joining them today. He had other things to do.

Just inside the entrance to the subway station, he saw the first traces of the summer rush. On the platform, waiting for the train, he only hoped his old friend might know what to do.

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