Wired - Douglas E. Richards [59]
Desh removed the thick wad of hundreds from the case he had brought and held them out in front of his face to show Griffin. “An ample supply of cash can prove just as useful in certain emergency situations as a weapon can,” he said, and then shoved the bills into his front pants pocket.
Griffin raised his eyebrows. “And here all these years I was under the impression that carrying a huge amount of cash actually put you in greater danger, not less. Who knew?”
Desh grinned. “Do you have a cell phone on you?” he asked.
Griffin nodded.
“Leave it. I’m sure you know they can be used as homing beacons.”
Griffin pulled his phone from his pocket and set it on his desk. “Okay,” he said, nodding toward Desh. “What about your phone?”
“It’s a special design issued by my firm. It can’t be tracked. You can’t protect people effectively if their enemies can track you.”
Desh slipped out the door and scouted the area for ten minutes, until he was satisfied the coast was clear. Even so, they took separate exits from the building, keeping their heads down and walking as unobtrusively as possible.
Griffin retrieved his car, a blue Chrysler minivan, and met Desh two blocks from the apartment complex. Griffin slid over into the passenger seat. Desh jumped in, quickly adjusted the seat and mirrors, and drove off. The minivan hadn’t had a bath in some time and it was cluttered with empty water bottles, Starbucks containers, and even an empty pizza box.
Desh turned to Griffin and raised his eyebrows. “A minivan?” he said with a smile. “Interesting choice for a single guy like you, Matt. I hear these are real chick magnets.”
“You Special Forces sissies may need flashy sports cars to attract the fairer sex, but not us hackers,” responded Griffin with mock bravado. “Women find us irresistible. We get swarmed like rock stars.”
Desh laughed. “I see. So the minivan is actually a tactic to fend them off?”
“Exactly,” replied Griffin with a grin.
“Good choice, then.”
Griffin laughed. “Actually,” he said, “I use it to haul around scores of old computers, sometimes rebuilding and reselling them and sometimes cannibalizing parts.” He smiled slyly. “And as for women, I do very well for myself. And I really don’t need a fancy car. I meet and attract them all the old fashioned way.”
Desh gazed at Griffin quizzically.
“Online, of course,” he said in amusement.
Desh’s smile remained for several seconds. When it was finally gone, a grave expression replaced it. “All right, Matt,” he said. “It’s time to tell you what I know, incomplete as it is.”
Griffin’s face reflected both eagerness and anxiety, in equal measure.
Throughout the long drive to Emporia, Desh told Griffin everything he knew and the current state of his analysis, forcing himself to obey the speed limit as he did so; battling his nature so they wouldn’t risk getting pulled over. The day remained overcast, with intermittent rain, although it appeared they were driving away from the rain rather than toward it.
When Desh had finished, Griffin was dumbfounded. “This is truly astonishing stuff here, David. If any of this is true the implications are staggering,” he said.
Desh pursed his lips and nodded in agreement. “I know I’ve managed to put you in the middle of all this, but if it makes you feel any better, you and I could be standing at the crossroads of human history. The decisions we make now could well play a role in stopping a bioterror threat and bringing the fountain of youth to the world.”
“Thanks David,” said Griffin, a pained expression on his face. “Now I feel a lot more relaxed.”
“I was shooting for inspiration.”
“And you succeeded. I’m inspired and freaked out