Day 80 - Darwin's Game - Chapter 29 (2315 words)

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DARWIN'S GAME

By Wayne Webb

CHAPTER 29

“Is what we are seeing the beginning of the Gamification of Justice? What's your opinion on the meaning of Darwin's Game? Our lines are open and we want to hear from you!”

Blake had the radio on and was listening to commentary from the talk-back host and the callers as he worked on the plan for the week. He had left the hotel after talking to Jacob a few days ago, after he had the conversation with that orderly who knew something, but nothing that would be of any use. He had reached the conclusion like Edgerton had, that if Darwin wanted to get to them then it was more likely he could than they could stop them. They had plenty of faith in the Dragon Ridge security team, but they were at a massive disadvantage. Darwin knew who they were, what they were trying to do and how their security worked. On the other hand Dragon Ridge and the Facts Alone team had no idea who or what Darwin was, or what the hell he was trying to do, it was all guesswork based on rumour.

“IS it justice though? I don;t know about y'all but if a rapist and a murderer, a confessed and guilty one that was going to die anyway, and he dies and it ain’t on the states dime, it ain’t on my dime. Y'all feel me?” The voices on the radio were popping through the loose sub-conscious listening as Blake prepared the plan for the week.

Jacob had the security tapes from Russell-Watts to review and he found nothing, did not tell the FBI about Eugene, was going to keep that nugget to himself because, well it did not seem like it would lead anywhere except to punish a man who was not guilty of anything and deserved every penny of his fathers settlement. There were no cameras on that spot where they had met and the cameras that covered some of the car park, did not show anyone come or go through the area at that time. Manson showed up, getting out of his car and then changing vectors and heading off camera for a time before showing up again walking into the building. There were blind spots and it validated what Eugene had reluctantly told him, after extracting a promise to not name him or turn him in. It was an easy promise to make, Jacob found exactly what he expected, nothing at all. He had explained as much to Blake who then suggested he follow the money, but that too led to more questions, some of which they really could not ask without exposing Eugene. They could have pushed, but they were sure to find more dead ends, and more threads to follow that would lead them ultimately to a place where the trail ran cold or into a false identity. It did not feel right to make Eugene pay for curiosity that would not lead to Darwin anyway.

“It's a slippery slope, no one should be watching it, but the problem is that everyone already is! Every time we put more about it on air, we can denounce it or support it, it does not matter, it's air and giving it air just makes it grow. Attention feeds this beast and I just can't help feel that it's the start of something much worse.”

Blake was back in his office, the radio was on and streaming over his phone which was blue-toothed to the wireless speakers in his office, it was late in the evening and there were federal agents downstairs in a car out the front keeping an eye out and he had one Dragon Ridge man in the main office at a desk playing some online game, while he went back to his life. So much was happening and no one seemed to be paying attention while the Game was still being played. Government was still passing laws they should not and refusing to pass laws that they should, but right now there was so much attention on the law and order part of governnance, no one was paying attention to the maintenance of the country. Senators and congressmen still argued their bills and represented their constituents and their special interest lobby groups, but it was with much less media scrutiny. Partisan politics continued, the votes went along party lines as per usual, but there were no polarising debates chewing up the news hours, instead they were commenting on the right and wrong of the game and phoning in their support, defence or attacks on legislation. It made Blake smile that the system worked in that even when not paying the attention they usually did, still they could manage to get nothing of substance changed.

“I feel no sympathy for these criminals, hell give me a gun and twelve bullets, I could make the whole season in one show, it'd all be over pretty quick. I would not even call it a Game. I'd name it Darwin's Fish-In-A-Barrel, yeah that's what I'd do. God damn right!”

Tracing the money, the decision to push the settlement to Eugene Manson and his family had been hard to do without raising suspicion, but then Manson himself gave them more useful information by bringing his lawyer in on the conversation. He was covered by not only attorney/client privilege, nut also by blatant self interest. If the money were tainted, if the cases was somehow corrupted or influenced then the legal fees and the financial windfall his small firm was suddenly a partner in would evaporate and he'd be out of pocket as would the Manson family. No one called them the Manson Family of course, they made that joke more than once when talking with the folksy and happy lawyer who put them in the picture. He had got an unsolicited email, one that had been traced and found nothing but proxy servers and anonymous gmail accounts and the end of the trail. That same email had gone to the judge and to the court reporter, the local branch of the insurance company and the CEO of the corporation that owned them. It was all above board and the content of the email, it was not contested or denied by anyone. An out of court settlement was reached and a confidentiality agreement was signed. They made Jacob sign a paper stating he would not disclose the information, but he was never interested in that, just the source and how they got the information. The insurance company would not cooperate, they had looked for their leak and come up short. They assumed a hacker had found a compromised staff member and managed to find their way through emails and notes to the evidence they used. No other evidence was used in any other current cases, they counted themselves lucky, paid Eugene and his family off as soon as possible and wanted to move on.

“I hope they all die, I really do, I mean do YOU want the winner to be free, walking our streets? I mean to say the Survival of the Fittest is all well and good, but aren't we then talking the worst of the worst? This is the person who survives the machinations of serial murderers and rapists, socio-pathic killers, people with no remorse and no conscience. Of course they would have all been alive anyway if the game had never happened... no wait... if eleven of them died, then yeah the worst might be the survivor, but the other eleven assholes would have gone first! I've changed my mind! Oh sorry, can I say assholes on the air?”

The office was empty when Blake stuck his head out to check on his bodyguard, but he was not there. He stepped back into his office for a second and considered locking himself in, but then the sensible part of his nature kicked back in and he took a deep breath and started looking about. He found the man in the kitchen a few seconds later making a cup of coffee, he had a clear line of sight to the front and side doors to this half of the office, having previously set the alarms on the south entrance to the stairs. He looked up and indicated the coffee with an arch of the eyebrows, asking if Blake wanted one and got a nod in return. Blake lifted a finger and pointed it up for a half second before turning on his heels, returning a minute later with a silver flask and a grin on his face. The Dragon Ridge man sighed as if put upon, looked at his watch and the made an over exaggerated 'what-the-fuck' shrug and held out both cups.

“I just think these boys, they can't be rehabilitated.” The radio was drifting in from the office wheer Blake had left it on just before.

The two men sat in silence and sipped on the acceptable coffee with the more than excellent single malt wafting out of it. Blake had a taste for the smoky peat of Islay malts, the cask strength from a moth balled distillery was his favourite at the moment, but that title tended to change as soon as he finished one bottle and moved on to the next find. Before the Game he favoured the peppery flavours of the Speyside Malts, before that mellow and harder to find lowland distilleries. The peaty strength of the far north islands or the western isles suited him for now and it took him back to the festivals, the side trips when in the United Kingdom, those days of carefree time aside seemed an age away. While the Game was being played, if you could call it that, there was no respite and nowhere to run away from it all. When this was done, he promised himself a trip to Scotland, land of his forefathers, albeit a few generations removed, and maybe a few new drams to lighten the damp cold of the north. He had an ex-girlfriend there, she was a writer and had ensconced herself in the Orkney Islands a few months ago, it had been over a year since they broke up but they stayed in touch. Maybe a trip through the Scapa Flow would be a good get away from all this business, if it didn't end badly that was.

“You've good taste. Islay?” The man from Dragon Ridge was speaking to him but watching the doors, drinking but barely denting the contents, getting the flavour but not the full effect of dulling alcohol when on the job.

“Yeah, yeah I was there a few … months, maybe years now, ago. Time flies.”

“Tempus Fugit.” the man nodded in agreement, his eyes still scanning outside of his friendly body language.

“For a security guard, you're well read?”

This was the first time that the man turned to actually look at him and settle his gaze more than a brief glimpse, it was not a withering look of contempt, but he managed to insert a decent amount of ' don't underestimate me ' with a dash of ' don't fuck with me' at the same time.

“I spend a lot of time waiting, training like fuck... then waiting... then well you get the picture.” The man went back to looking at the entry and exit points in sequence, before sticking out his hand and offering it without eye contact to his charge. “Pete.”

“Blake. I guess that you already know...”

They sat there for a few more minutes and enjoyed the silence and the malted coffee before Blake called it a night. As he went to leave the office he sent Pete to the alarm box, which was in the coffee station near the lifts, not the main kitchen, just a brewer and fridge with cups and a water cooler for the guests in the lift lobby/reception on this floor.

“I'll give your man this for sure, he's definitely good.” He was waving an envelope, one of those envelopes but it was only 4 days since the previous episode. Blake took it and felt the disc inside, but he didn't really need to, he could see what it was before it was handed to him.

“There was an envelope taped to the alarm code box. I was watching the entryway, he would have to have come through the south, without tripping the alarm, which is hard but not impossible, and walked the long way around, when we were in the kitchen, planted this and reversed his tracks in the two hundred and forty odd seconds it took for the water to boil and the coffee to be made.”

“Well, nothing surprises me now.” Blake was more interested in seeing 'part two' of the Vargas escape and uploading it to the site, he already had his phone to text through to Jacob and to alert the FBI once he had it uploaded, he still did not trust them to not interfere, even though that ship had well and truly sailed.

“No? Maybe you should check your camera feeds, see who is tapping into them.” Pete pointed at his chest, but really was pointing through his chest, backwards at the camera over his left shoulder where his gesture would not be seen from that angle. “They/He must have seen us go to the Kitchen, timed the the intrusion and ex-filtration for the right time. I didn't tell anyone, you I assume did not?”

“No. No? Oh right. We'll look later, work to do.” He tried to not look disturbed, but he was. He rubbed his temples, closed his eyes and pictured the sunken warships in Scapa Flow, it was his way of looking forward.