A Drone over New York
Chapter 24

Max lay back on the bed. There was no way he was going to be able to sleep after that encounter. He drew a few deep breaths, trying to force himself to relax. It was going to be a long day. A long day of waiting. Worse, a long day of waiting in a small, one-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn. A long day of waiting around in his ex-girlfriend’s apartment, with the current boyfriend able to pop by anytime.

This was going to be a slow one.

He decided to have a shower. He decided to have it cold. He needed it. The AC was not great in the apartment. Rachael had great heating installed, but the AC always broke down. She was just lucky she was always able to get a breeze through the place to keep it cool.

Back in the bedroom Max rummaged through his meager belongings, trying to decide what to wear. His lack of options brought home how isolated he was going to be. If he tried to leave the house, his clothes and hat might be seen. He looked just like he did the day before. He was an easy target. He probably should ask Rachael to grab him something on her way home from work tonight. But that didn’t change things today.

Remembering the hotel, Max went around the entire apartment and made sure all the blinds were pulled all the way down. He made his own prison. Self-imposed, but a prison nonetheless.

He wondered about the old apartment, thinking through his escape plan. He thought about the logistics of running. Rachael was the key to him not getting caught. She could help him get to the airport unseen. Once there, he was safe.

Then it hit him. The one thing he needed to travel was his passport. It was still back at his old place. In the second drawer next to his bed. No way was he going to risk going back there himself. Not today anyway.

He might be able to send Rachael to his apartment, or have Maria get it. Ah, and Callie still had keys. He could get her to go over. No one would blink an eye at her swinging past. But then he remembered he had changed the locks. Damn! She wouldn’t be able to get in. The super had the only set still accessible, and Callie had not yet met him.

Rachael had met him, though, when Max had that water damage awhile ago. She’d had a real go at the super, and the subsequent argument was amazing to watch. Max knew the super remembered it. He still mentioned it in jest from time to time.

Max came to the conclusion that his only options were to send Rachael, or go himself. Regardless of who went, Max thought it wisest to wait until the last minute. In the meantime he needed to work out how much of a risk his apartment would be. He hadn’t been home in almost two days. He didn’t even know if his place had been broken into again. Even if it wasn’t, he should try and work out if it was being watched. If only he could see it. Just a glance around and he could notice anything out of place. He could even work out if it was watched, and by whom.

Then he remembered that it was being watched. He was watching it. That T37 drone he had bought was probably still in place. He had forgotten all about it.

But it was at his place, and he was in Brooklyn.

He thought about it for a few minutes. With some tinkering he was sure it was possible to try and get it to hone in on his new phone, or even on Rachael’s tablet. It was a bold move, but possible. It would be worth the risk. He needed to know what trouble awaited him. The deal could close at any stage today. Once closed, he would need to move quickly to get out of the city. He needed to be prepared.

Convincing himself to do it, Max went about looking up the necessary passwords and software he needed. It wasn’t too long before he’d loaded up the software onto Rachael’s tablet and punched in the codes from his email. Max smiled as the Log-in Successful came up on the screen. Without remote access to the camera, he prepared to bring it to him. Max checked the distances on the map and estimated the flight time. It would take awhile, but it would replace him.

He pressed the button and silently hoped that, on the ledge by his apartment, the tiny drone had sprung to life and was now flying its way to him.

Max sat on the bar stool and checked his dark email while he waited. Rachael had forwarded the 4.5 million offer that she had received the night before. She had come clean. At least now she was going to be honest with him. Now it was just a question of time. He had to give her the day. He had to give her enough time to sort this out. But Rachael had everything she needed. She probably had more than she needed. It was going to be a nerve-wracking day sitting around, doing nothing.

Somewhere in Max’s imagination, the idea of trying to get an even six million for the story suddenly came into existence. He thought about it for a few moments. Rachael could do it. She was smart and a bold negotiator. Six million was a big number. Even without her cut, it was going to be bigger than anything Max had ever dreamed of.

Max did the quick calculation in his head: around $1.1 million would be Rachael’s after the conversion fees. That was a lot of money too. Max was not sure if he really wanted to let that amount go. Once he got the money into his account and was out of the country, he really wouldn’t need her anymore.

He didn’t like the idea of double-crossing Rachael, but their questionable partnership was nothing that couldn’t be undone. If he did dump her after the deal was closed, she would never be able to expose him without exposing herself.

Even if she decided to take the hit, he would be far away and too much hassle to chase.

Max tried to think of the best way to do it. In transit was probably best. Once she had helped him onto a plane and out of the country, if the opportunity presented itself, he could just not board a plane that she was on and disappear.

That line of thinking made Max ask himself how Rachael might double-cross him. Now was the best opportunity. The only thing that stopped her from doing it now was that he controlled the money, and that he had promised her such a big cut.

She shouldn’t have asked for so much money.

Max was starting to worry he was overthinking things. A day like today, he would be in danger of doing a lot of it.

Knowing he still had a lot of time to kill before the small drone made it out to Brooklyn, Max settled down and started the TV. He opened Netflix and typed in the old password. She hadn’t changed it, but she had deleted his profile.

He used Rachael’s profile and found that her tastes in movies and shows had not really changed much, but only updated with the new releases. At least she did have good taste in movies.

Max sifted through the endless array of films. He was in the mood for a movie more than a show. He found some old film to watch. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

About halfway through, Max almost had a heart attack when the tablet’s alarm started to go off. The small T37 drone was nearby, and needed an open window.

Max found one of Thom’s hats and pulled it down low, then he opened the blind in the bedroom window. He held out the tablet and watched the distance meter count down to zero.

The drone landed ungracefully on the broken AC unit. Max grabbed it and pulled it inside, closing the blind behind him. He retreated to the kitchen bench, where he unclipped the camera and loaded the flash card into the tablet.

He scrolled through the footage, which contained everything from the last two days. The neighbor’s cat had triggered the camera a few times, but nothing major. There was no way he was going to replace anything useful just through visually searching. He knew the software to run over it, and switched over to the app store. A few minutes, $79.00, and Rachael’s old password later, it was downloading.

His work mind was taking over as he uploaded the footage into the program. He selected the test and tapped the little green Go key with his middle finger.

It needed a few minutes to run. It wasn’t like the laptops or computers he was used to working with, but it was going to do what was needed.

Tapping his fingers on the bench, he waited as the status bar crept its way to 100 percent. Finally, when it was done, the various scenes loaded up. The cat featured in most of them, but it didn’t take him long to replace the one he was looking for. Last night someone had come in the front door. He noticed that whoever it was had somehow managed to pick the locks and not force the door. The shadowy figure stopped at the security console and fiddled with something. Max knew instantly he was turning it off. Whoever this was, he was good and didn’t want his presence known.

He watched as the dark figure walked through his apartment, carefully inspecting things. His dark, gloved hands picked up various picture frames and then put them back down. He opened drawers, but did not really search them. He was making sure that everything remained as it had been found. He wasn’t the normal sort of thief or burglar, or even the stereotypical fan who just ransacked the joint. This was different.

The silent figured moved through the apartment for several minutes, inspecting every nook and cranny. Max watched while he tried to uncover the meaning of the intrusion. Why had this person been so meticulous in a break-in only to make sure that his presence went unnoticed?

The whole time the face of the dark figure remained hidden in the shadows. It wasn’t until he neared the window that the light finally caught him. His face was visible for a moment as a passing car’s headlights illuminated the room. But it was long enough for Max’s heart to freeze.

He had seen the face before. He had seen it on his screen two nights ago. It was the man from the drone footage. It was the man from next door to where Tyell had her wild night. It was the killer.

A murderer was in Max’s apartment. A murderer was looking for him. A murderer was waiting for him.

Max wondered if this was the guy with the raspy voice. It could be, but at the same time, it might not be. Max hadn’t got a good enough look at the guy when they’d met in the alley.

Even if it wasn’t the same person, the man whom Max had seen kill someone was inside Max’s apartment. That was not a good thing. That meant whoever went there, was bound to be seen, and followed. Or worse.

Max placed the tablet back on the counter next to the drone and let his mind begin to work. A murderer was inside his apartment. A man who had killed, who Max had evidence against, was inside his apartment. He started to feel a little overwhelmed.

“Pull yourself together, Max,” he heard himself say.

His mind was right. What else was he expecting? He was safe in Rachael’s apartment in Brooklyn. The connection between Max and Rachael was not well documented. There were no photos or anything in the apartment that could send the killer here.

Max ran his fingers through his hair. He was going to be fine. He needed to calm down and relax.

He needed something to eat. Comfort food would calm him down. The pang of hunger hit his stomach. He had not eaten properly since yesterday morning’s sandwiches.

Sliding off the stool, Max decided to raid the fridge. The gym instructor boyfriend had improved Rachael’s diet immensely. In place of hummus, chocolate, and instant meals, Max found fresh vegetables, health food, and various supplements. It was not what he wanted. He wanted a meatball pizza with extra cheese.

Thinking about it only made his stomach grumble. There was no way he was going to order it, even using Rachael’s account. She had to have something he could eat.

On a guess, he opened the far right-hand bottom cupboard. Sure enough, down the back, where it had always been, was Rachael’s special stash of snacks in case of emergency. Rachael knew her bipolar, emotional roller coaster well enough to always keep some emergency comfort food. It was the type of food Max needed right now. He pulled out the various boxes and inspected them. Thom would obviously not approve.

It was not long before he found what he was looking for. He ripped open the sachet with his teeth and dumped it into a bowl. He poured the required water in to make it the unappetizing goo before placing it into the microwave.

Around and around the bowl spun while the small counter ticked down from two minutes.

Max relished the beauty of instant mac ’n’ cheese.

He almost didn’t want to wait, but he knew it was worth it. It still had one minute, twelve seconds when Max heard another ping. It was the tablet.

Rachael must have closed the deal.

His slender finger slid across the screen, and his dark email application flashed up. Max blinked. It was not what he expected. It was from a new contact and had no subject.

To Max Overton,

I represent a collection of parties that wish to make an offer on the entirety of the footage you are currently selling. This would include all the Enexup drone footage, as well as any other files, software, or code contained on the drive you received from Dale Remford.

On their behalf I would like to offer a total sum of $15m USD for the full exclusivity of the footage.

Upon completion and acceptance of our terms, we would require you to release a statement saying that the footage released to date was a forgery. We understand the reputational impact of such a statement, and feel our price is a reflection of the risk.

Our payment will be in the form of bitcoins, held in an escrow account in Switzerland. $1m will be released upon your acceptance, $10m with the release of the statement saying it was a forgery, with the remainder to be released 30 days after the transaction has been made. This period will demonstrate that all files not transferred to us have been destroyed. The bank’s details are attached below for you to verify. A mutually agreed-upon third party will manage the release of the money.

We will also guarantee your safe passage out of the USA to a country of your choosing.

This is our first and final offer. I suggest you take it.

Dr. Ben McKenna

A million things ran through Max’s head. The offer to keep something quiet was always anticipated, but he never thought it would be so high. Someone had to really not want the footage to come to light. They also knew who he was. They had made the connection to Dale. This Dr. Ben McKenna was truly a man who knew too much.

Max read the email again. He immediately thought they were offering too much money. This was the way to suck him in. But then again his own company had already put out an offer of $4.5 million. Odds were whoever was behind the Dr. Ben McKenna account knew this, and was anticipating it going up another million today. It was over double the offer that Max thought he could get. That meant they knew. Someone knew about the bidding. Someone knew about the conversations Rachael was having with Martha.

It was a tempting offer.

He knew if Rachael got wind of this, she would rush to take it. It was a lot of money. Her cut would make it very profitable for doing nothing. But there was no mention of her, or their little arrangement. They must not know where he was.

The thought of ditching Rachael crossed his mind again. He could just take the offer and run. He could get into a cab and run right now. If they were serious about letting him get away with it, then he could get out unscathed.

Before he could even consider accepting it, he needed to make sure that it was a serious offer.

He didn’t even waste his time looking up Dr. Ben McKenna, as he figured it had to be an alias. However, he did want to verify the money. Luckily Rachael had some IP masking on her tablet, so Max could look up the bank.

It checked out.

Fifteen million dollars was sitting there, waiting to be collected. It was his. All he had to do was hit the Reply button and say “Yes.”

The risks of not accepting this were high. Max knew that they would come after him.

The only thing stopping him was Anton. Anton and his crazy theory. Max realized he hadn’t actually seen any proof from Anton directly. All he had was a trail. Dale was dead, and Jack was in the hospital because of these people. Dale had made the move that had cost him his life. Jack was collateral damage. Someone else’s wrong word at the wrong time. A word was all that was needed. A word was what cost Jack. Anton was the only person with a half-decent explanation, and a half-decent option to take them all down. He could bury them all with a single video.

But if Max gave in to this offer, then it would all be for nothing. They would have won.

The logistics of accepting the offer were also complex. Any crossing them and they would kill him instantly. There were two copies of the footage now. There was the pen drive in Harlem with the full video, and the clip on the borrowed phone. If he didn’t get the Harlem footage, then Anton would get the drive and the deal would be off. Then they would come after him.

Even if Anton got the drive, he would love to see this email as well. He could really use it. Max thought about forwarding the email. Anton would know what to do. But if he did that, then he might as well be giving all the footage to him. The sale would disappear, and Max’s life would almost be forfeit.

Hanging around with Kate and Anton had probably rubbed off on Max. Switching sides was costly, especially when it came to morals.

“In tough times just stay true to yourself. That way you can’t regret it afterward,” was something Kate had always said. It wasn’t until Anton had said it once that Max started to remember the phrase.

The sale to his company was still the best way out. It gave him money to run with. It gave him a way out and would get vengeance for Dale and Jack. He could contact Kate afterward and tell her to contact Anton. They could argue and haggle over things after Max had cleared out. That was the best bet. Rachael could get six million, he knew.

But then again $15 million was a hard number to say no to.

They could get him out of the country too. That was an interesting addition. It was like they knew he wanted to run.

They could also destroy him if they wanted to. Destroy his credibility. They knew who he was. They could oust him as the source. They could go after his parents, who had nothing to do with this. There were willing to kill. They were willing to do what was needed to get the footage. If they thought they could still get it by force, they wouldn’t be making this offer. It was a last-ditch attempt by them.

If he accepted the $15 million, though, he might as well be signing his life away as well. There was no real way they were going to let him get away with it. Anton had told him as much. The money bought only a temporary silence—a silence that would be finalized when they killed him. Dead men tell no tales, after all.

But then again $15 million was a hard number to say no to.