Page 8 of Being Lost

“Well what the fuck is it, and how did you get it?”

Token’s face goes hard. “It just appeared on my screen, as if someone took remote control of it for a minute.”

“What the fuck?” Pennywise shouts. “Your security shit, Brother?”

Token snarls. “No it’s not. Whoever got in left no trace. I don’t even know how they did it.”

“You cleaned up your system now, Token?”

He rolls his eyes. “No, I did not.” I open my mouth to ask what the fuck is he playing at, when he provides the answer. “What I did is put everything we need kept secure behind impenetrable firewalls but left my system as it is. Thought this fucker may get back into contact and left it so the line of communication is still open.” Again, he glances at the rest of us. “I don’t like it, but to my mind, the how and who isn’t as important as the fuckin’ message.”

He’s right. We know where they are because the only other person who knows, besides the feds, is Demon, the Colorado prez, who told us. No one else is privy to that information. I have to wonder whether there’s been a leak, and where the hell from if there is.

“The marshals running the WitSec program wouldn’t have said anything,” I remind them. “They run the program like a tight ship.”

“Only lose people when they give themselves away. Perhaps either the mom or son has done that?” Token taps the table as he agrees.

“Isn’t the son supposed to be dead?” Dart frowns. “How the fuck could they have found out he’s not?”

“Demon organised a funeral. Closed casket, which was incinerated, so everyone should think he’s dead,” I tell them. “Moving the son was a precaution so no one saw a dead man walking around.”

There’s another bout of coughing from Smoker, making me want to remind him to kick the habit he’s named for. As it’s obvious he wants to speak, I wait until he’s finished. “It’s not easy to remember your assumed name. Maybe one of them gave something away. Or raised suspicions by not answering to it.”

“Or they contacted friends or family back where they came from,” Blaze, brushing his long dark hair back from his face, suggests.

This is all I fucking need. Our club’s been trusted to protect them. Nothing can happen on my watch, not without losing the respect of the other chapters. As always, in the back of my mind, I have a feeling someone is just waiting for me to fuck something up. More to the point, there’s my own distrust in my ability to handle shit as I should.

“What do you want to do, Prez?”

What I want to do is go to bed, pull the blanket over my head and forget all my responsibilities. What I don’t want is to be the person they turn to, expecting me to have the answers at hand. Been there. Done that. Jumped the wrong fucking way, and there’s nothing to say I’d get it right if I’m challenged again. Inwardly I sigh. All I can do is my best.

I rap my knuckles on the table as I think. “It said increase security, not that there was a clear and present danger.”

“The only security we currently provide is making sure that nothing looks amiss at the house,” Dart summarises. “We could increase the drive-bys, maybe. Or get inside and install mics and cameras?”

“Good idea, but how? We can’t just turn up and demand entry, we’re not supposed to know who or where they are.” Glancing at Dart I raise and lower my shoulders, in return he gives a small shake of his head.

“Who are they hiding from?” Reboot, who I still slip up and often call Lloyd, leans back in his chair. Reboot got his name from Token who’d gotten fed up with Lloyd taunting him with his own phrase whenever there was a technical problem. When Token had threatened tore-boothim right out of the clubhouse, the name had stuck.

He’s asked a good question though. I glance at Dart and raise my eyebrow. It’s his turn to shrug, then he raises his chin.Do I tell them? Up to you.

Yeah. Of course it will be up to me. I’m the prez. The buck stops here. They know about the woman and son which is the part that is secret. Letting them in on the rest of the knowledge that Demon had given to me could help if we’ve got something heading our way. Taking in a breath, I let it out on a sigh and finally answer Reboot’s question. “They’re hiding from a man called Alder Cantor. He’s into drugs, deep into drugs. He brings them over the border from Mexico. Dan Forster, as the kid’s known now, was responsible for fuckin’ up his current routes.”

“Was he bringing them in via San Diego?” Scribe asks.

I gesture with my hands—No fucking clue.

“Maybe it’s coincidence,” Pennywise suggests. “If he’s trying to establish new routes, it could be via Tijuana. Perhaps someone just knows he’s too close for comfort and the woman and man need to keep their heads down.”

“Who knows they’re here?” Dart asks but answers his own question. “The feds, Demon and us. But the feds don’t know we know. Demon would just come out and tell us if there was a problem that needed to be faced. Who else knows? And why contact us? The only person searching for a man who he believes dead is Alder. It’s crazy as to why he would be searching for a walking corpse in the first place, and, if it were him, what led him to look in San Diego?”

And that, there, is the million-dollar question.

“Let’s break this down,” I start, getting my brain cells working. “First, if there’s a need to increase security, that can only mean Alder’s on their trail.”

“Could this Dan have made any other enemies? Or his mother for that matter?”

“I can ask Demon.” I nod at Grumbler for raising the point. “We might need to do some digging. If Demon knew, I’d have expected him to tell me straight off.”

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