The Backup Asset

…35

He closed the door behind him and leaned against it for a minute. It felt good to be home after such an emotionally draining day. He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath, loosening his tie. He’d made it home in one piece, documents included. He could make the drop now, and that was going to be easy.

He went straight for the dining room table, where he placed his briefcase carefully on the shiny surface. He pulled the curtains shut, making sure their edges overlapped to ensure perfect privacy, and only afterward he turned on the lights.

He opened the briefcase and carefully tugged at the bottom lining, separating it from the edge on one side. He gently pulled the file folder from underneath the lining, and then he stuck the lining back under the edges with his fingernail.

Photographing was next. He took an older digital camera, one that didn’t connect to anything via any technology, Internet, or Bluetooth; one that didn’t have a GPS built in. It was a simpler model, one of the first to use an SD card. He opened the file folder and started photographing the pages one by one, in the right order.

As he worked, his hands steadied and his heart rate dropped to more normal levels; he was getting used to the idea of what he was doing; he was getting more comfortable walking on the path of no return. He had no regrets… he was actually happy he was going to even the score with his employer… the bastards deserved what was coming to them, and more. That feeling of accomplishment, of setting things right overcame all his fear — fear of getting caught, of spending the rest of his days serving a life sentence for treason, fear of death.

He paused after each file, verifying his work on the camera’s tiny screen. All three documents were going to make his handler very happy. Not bad for his first drop: the capabilities assessment for Zumwalt-class destroyers, the evaluation memorandum regarding the compatibility and readiness status for laser cannon installation onboard the USS Fletcher, and the performance and capabilities assessment for the laser cannon. Yep, not bad at all. Well, actually too good. Why give him everything in one drop? He could make more money if he delivered the valuable goods one gem at a time.

He chose the evaluation memorandum for the drop, and brought an extra SD card to store the other two files.

When he finished photographing the last page of the memorandum, he verified the images on the camera; they were all there. He removed the SD card from the camera, then packed it neatly in a small Ziploc bag.

He took the documents and camera out of sight, hiding them in a kitchen drawer. He made a quick call to his favorite messenger service, FastLite, asking them to pick up a package.

Taking a new canister of three Dunlop tennis balls, he carefully opened it, making sure the clear wrapper stayed as intact as possible. Using a box cutter, he cut the tape sealing the cap on the clear plastic wrapper, and took two of the balls out. He carefully made a small incision in one of the balls, slicing along the gum line for about an inch. Then he slid the packet containing the SD card in its Ziploc bag inside the tennis ball. He verified carefully; the cut wasn’t visible at all, hidden in the green fuzz at the edge of the gum line. Satisfied, he put the ball on top of the remaining one in the canister, then topped it with the third ball and sealed the package with a fresh piece of tape.

He finished everything moments before the messenger rang his doorbell. He opened the door promptly.

“Got a package, sir?” A kid, no more than sixteen years old, wearing a FastLite tee and cap, stood in his doorway, still mounted on his bike, leaning sideways on one foot.

“Yeah, just this,” he said, showing the boy the set of tennis balls. “It’s my kid’s birthday; I need these to get to him tonight. It’s not far… Can you do it?”

“Sure… that’s what we do,” the boy answered, a bit confused by the question.

“Great, just give me a second, let me wrap this real quick.”

He took gift-wrapping paper from one of the drawers and packed the tennis balls quickly, slapping some tape at the ends so it stayed wrapped. He handed it to the boy, together with two twenty-dollar bills.

“No card?” the boy asked.

“Huh?”

“It’s his birthday… no card?”

“N — no,” he said, caught off guard. “I called him earlier.” Fuck… he thought. That’s really sloppy work, damn it.

“Ok, I’ll go, if that’s it,” the boy said, filling out a small form and handing it over. He started looking for change, but the sender stopped him.

“Nah… keep it!”

“Thank you, sir!”

He closed and locked the door carefully, and put the chain on. He had one more thing left to do before calling the job done. He had to destroy the documents.

He pulled the file folder from the drawer and took it in the garage. He grabbed a bucket and filled it halfway with hot water, tore the papers in a few pieces, then submerged them in the water, one by one. The water dissolved the bonding agent that held the cellulose fibers together, and the paper quickly turned mushy. He helped the process stirring the contents of the bucket with a long screwdriver, and, within minutes, the paper was mashed up in small little bits, the writing on it gone, liquefied by the hot water.

He carried the bucket to the bathroom and flushed its content down the toilet. He put the bucket back in the garage where it came from, and looked around to see if everything looked in order.

Finally, he did the one thing he’d been waiting for the whole day. He poured himself a double shot of whiskey neat, and gulped it with a couple of antianxiety pills.

“I need to get better at this,” he heard himself saying. “Way better.”