Shadow Tag

7

Khoury was slumped on the damaged mattress, his back against the wall. His fingers twirled around bits of cotton that the lead goon’s gunshots had kicked up. “You think anyone’s looking for us?”

“I don’t know,” Berry replied. He was laid out similarly, on the opposite wall. “Elizabeth is in southern France with a couple of her girl friends. What about Suellen?”

“She’s on a canal barge with her dad in the middle of nowhere.”

“So they might not notice we’re gone for another day or two?”

“It’s possible.”

Berry nodded, to himself. This was looking bleak. “You know we can’t do this.”

“Of course, we can’t. But we have to figure a way out of this. That’s the brilliant plot we need to come up with.”

“And it needs to be something that involves us being part of the master plan. That way, they don’t kill us off after we give it to them.”

“Not an easy job.”

“No choice. In the meantime, we have to give them something to buy ourselves some time.”

“The guy didn’t know about Dr. Evil or about Nelson DeMille’s books,” Khoury said, an idea blooming. “He doesn’t seem too well versed in popular culture. We can use that. Why don’t we just give him something that’s been done before.”

“Dangerous. They might catch us — or they might actually go out and do it.”

“If they catch us, we can just claim we never read it or saw it. And as for them going and doing it — what are the odds of these morons actually pulling off something that big?”

“They just might,” Berry said. “Remember Debt of Honor? Tom Clancy had a pissed off Japanese Air Lines pilot crash his jumbo jet into the Capitol building during a special joint session of Congress killing the President and everyone else, and that was seven years before 9/11.”

“You think Bin Laden read Clancy?”

“Maybe. He was a jet-setting Saudi millionaire before he turned into an asshole.”

“Okay, let’s get back to our asshole,” Khoury said. “What bone can we throw him to buy some time?”

“He wants big. Epic. And no bombs or viruses.”

“Something from a Bond movie?”

“Risky. Too popular.”

“Maybe you’re right. If he hasn’t seen them, one of his goons probably has.”

“Okay, so let me ask you this,” Berry asked, “what’s the best plot you ever read? Or saw? What’s the one you wish you’d come up with?”

“In terms of a brilliant plan, I’ve got to go with the first Die Hard—”

“Genius—”

“Totally. But our guy is no Hans Gruber. And there’s another problem. Like a lot of these stories, it’s about personal gain, not destruction. The fireworks, like Goldfinger’s nuke, are just a sideshow to the real motive: money.”

“This guy didn’t give us much to work with.”

They both mulled over the question.

“Okay,” Berry offered. “What about the second Die Hard? Bringing down airliners by hacking into air traffic control.”

“Nasty. But scarily doable, don’t you think?”

“Nah, come on. We both know there are all kinds of firewalls built into these things. It’s virtually impossible to pull off — if you’ll pardon the pun.”

“But what if it wasn’t?”

Berry thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “Too risky, you’re right.”

“Yeah, but the hacking thing might work. In fact, it’s perfect. No explosives. Nothing basic that could kill lots of people. And it’ll be too sophisticated for them to be able to control every aspect of it.”

“Meaning we’ll have plenty of opportunities to shut it down if it ever got that far.”

“Exactly. Have you been watching this new TV series, Mr. Robot?”

Berry shook his head.

“It’s very cool.” Khoury considered it briefly, then smiled. “Yeah, I think this might work.”