SEED
CHAPTER 1
SEED
Greg stood at the edge of the road-side pull-off, his back toward the pothole riddled two lane road. The lush growth of the tropical forest reached out and over the rutted dirt space that passed for a scenic over-look. Greg's Toyota mini-van sat quietly behind him, partly on and partly off the bend in the road. Another van sped around the corner as it made its way down toward the town below, offering a customary beep of its horn as is hummed by. Moisture from the leaves rubbed off onto Greg’s neatly laundered pink shirt as he pressed forward, trying to hit a rotten log three meters down the hill with a stream of pee. With a few shakes a shiver, and a deep breath, he pulled himself together, straightened his shirt and turned to a clearing that opened through the branches. From this spot halfway up Mount La Guerre, the entire valley below could be seen. The town of New Rochelle was nestled in a natural harbor formed by the peak rising up behind Greg and smaller ridge to the north that wrapped around the valley, completing the 5 mile wide basin. The ridge pushed westward into the sea, breaking into a string of rocky islands as if it had tried to escape the island but was beaten by the sea and eventually gave up. With the exception of the grey roofs and colorful walls of the small buildings, the valley was a deep green of dense vegetation, spread out in neat rows. Where the flat valley floor met the steep grade of the surrounding cliffs was an abrupt change from the waste high neatly organized vegetation to the wild indigenous grown of the Caribbean paradise.
A gentle beep preceded the appearance of a translucent figure standing next to the van.
"Greg, you have an update from Charles Engels. He's 40 minutes out on the 1300 ground effect transport from Miami."
"How's traffic through the construction on route 3?"
"It's been stopped for an hour. I suggest you take the ridge road."
"All right, we better go."
"Road's clear. Go ahead." With this final advise, Greg's virtual assistant faded away as the projectors implanted into Greg's eyes that shined the images onto his retina went into hibernation.
Virtual assistants were born as soon as computers were introduced to the masses. It didn't take long for the animated paperclips to evolve into more useful general two dimensional helpers. At first they simply answered questions and searched for requested data but programmers soon found ways to make agents that anticipated user needs based on a history of recent activities. As soon as wearable net link devices were introduced, new ways were found to keep the agents at users side, jumping to meet the users every data need. At first they were faces on cell phone screens and watches then projections and finally when body heat could be harvested to run implants. Two breakthroughs changed the way people interact with computers. In 2010 a Chinese entrepreneur operating under a research grant from the East Asian technology development foundation found a way to project images directly onto peoples retinas. By tracking head and eye motion and coupling that with dynamically generated spatial maps stitched together from constant video streams and processed by thousands of distributed quantum computers, it could be made to appear that the assistant was actually in the environment, walking and interacting with real things just like everyone else. No one has figured out how to make them appear substantial yet. Their images are added to whatever is already there. They become something of problem long before they appeared so real. People began building them into their fantasy companions, forgetting that they were nothing more than poor composites of thousands of volunteer subjects whose conversational responses and mannerisms were assembled and tailored to create realistic characters In the darkness few people could tell the difference between a real image and one created in the digital world.
In 2021, a well known cyber terrorist was tried in a Japanese court for the murder of scores of virtual assistants. Nearly a million horrified people watched as their beloved digital pets were torn apart and forever erased from the net. The real charges of destruction of data property and reckless endangerment of digital resources could not be pursued in a court of law since the true identity of "red-arrow" is unknown. However, the virtual charges of murder were upheld and as a result, any realization of DA on the net is quickly quarantined by agents of the international organization for data security. The entire crime, trial and punishment exist only on the net.
Greg's virtual assistant was modeled after a childhood friend, Liam. They played little league together, built robots and spent lots of time talking about the cool machines they would build when they worked for the Navy. They had all kinds of crazy ideas about robot fish and super-subs. But Greg's buddy and his family spend part of their summers at a beachfront house in the Carolinas. The maritime event took the entire family.
Greg sped toward town, following the directions left on his van computer by Liam. The route to the GEV terminal took Greg through he town center and past the Catholic church that was once the center of western influence. The towering spires and white stone columns seemed oddly out of place amidst the colorful markets that catered to both the enviro-tourists and local shoppers. There was a conspicuous division of the sexes. Produce was peddled from under make-shift umbrellas that protected the local women from the tropical sun. The men drove the mini-busses that clogged the narrow roads. Others lingered on the street corners sizing up the white-skinned tourists and trying to sell them mysterious little packages.
The local air-strip was at the outskirts of the town. A tall chain fence and waist high grass separated the access road from the main runway. When GEVs became the preferred means of transport in the region, the runway was extended to the edge of the sea to allow the heavy aircraft to seamlessly from sea to land.
CEs GEV approached the island at 200 knots, skimming a mere 5m off the wave tops. The final bump from sea to land sent CEs stomach into his through, but the ride quickly settled and the enormous craft eased onto the runway. The stairs and short walk across the tarmac led CE into the main terminal. Although significantly improved since the Navy began energy harvesting operations it was still little more than a warehouse with a few plywood pedestals that served as customs stations. The obligatory customs agent offered a smiling human presence to the otherwise automated process. Hemispherical domes on the ceiling behind the stations contained the sensors that identified and checked the documentation of all the passengers. CE registered as:
Name: Charles Engels
ID: 872-47-7992-02
Citizenship: U.S.
Status: Civilian
Age: 62
Height: 192cm
Wt: 81kg
Occupation: Engineer
Employer: U.S. Navy: Sustainable Energy Enterprise Developments Research Center
Visa: Open Business
CEs virtual assistant, Carey, appeared to be waiting, leaning on a structural column, reading a book. Carey was young and, of course, beautiful; tall and blond with an athletic build. She wore a conservative fitted grey suit and black boots that were a little out of character for her otherwise eclectic style, oddly, because they didn't fit her style, made them a perfect match for her.
"Greg is waiting outside. Can I help you with those bags?" Care went through the motions of grabbing one of the larger bags by the handle, her hand passing through the strap; a faked stumble then another fruitless grab. "This isn't working so well. I guess I'll just give you some encouragement." She smiled and stepped aside as CE stacked the bags and pulled them the scanners.
CE was in good shape for his age. People usually guessed he was much younger. But with two days beard wrinkled suit and tussled grey hair, today he looked his age. He had spent much of his life traveling around the world working with remote communities that were part of the Navies forward energy developments. After a brief career early in life as an information technology expert, then as an entrepreneur build home automation systems, and eventually after an unusually extended stint in a navy sponsored graduate program developing miniaturized biomass fuel synthesis plants, he became one of the chief architects of the Navy Sustainable Energy Enterprise Developments SEED program. Although he had been instrumental in the SL program, this was his first trip to the remote island. Despite his cultural training and experience through over 20 years of travel, he was still anxious in new places. Carey was a reassuring presence.
Carey led CE through the swarming cab drivers and disoriented travelers, her translucent form weaving through the crowd as any “real” person might. Greg stood anxiously waiting, but fully aware of CEs movements. “Greg! It’s good to see you”
“Thanks, I’m glad to finally be here."
“I hope things are going better here than they were at SM. Their algae fields weren’t producing well.”
“No. Things are going great here.” Greg replied as he led CE to the van and helped load the bags into the back. Carey and Liam were gone now, sifting back into their digital world. “We can swing by the intake center on the way to your condo.”
Greg and CE sped off, dodging potholes as they headed back into the surrounding jungle.
An open truck approached ahead, struggling to make it up the grade. Piles of oversized green pods filled the bed.
“Are those the new plantains?” CE gestured to the truck.
“yea. They just keep growing faster and bigger.”
“Do they still taste good?”
“They never tasted good.”
Greg made his move as they approached a crest in the road and swirved around the truck. CE instinctively ducked as another truck coming the other way nearly drove them into the plantain truck. The risk proved to be of little value. Seconds after they pulled into the broken shell covered lot of the biomass receiving facility, the truck pulled in and headed over to the scales.
“Come on, I’ll show you around”
CE didn’t really need the tour but it was nice to see all the parts in person that he had studied in the read-aheads.
“I’d really like to see the generators.”
“Sure. Sure. This way.”
The two men crawled over pipes and around steaming valves toward the whine and rumble of the off-gas combustion site. They talked for a while about energy production, efficiency, bio-diesel production rates, domestic consumption and waste streams.
The power plant was able to supply the entire island of 100000 locals and an almost equivalent number of tourists with power. The island economy was almost entirely tied to energy and tourism. With the U.S. Navy providing a market for the bio-diesel, money streamed into the economy that supported port and road development. The stability offered by the Navy presence attracted investors in hotels spas and resorts and all the related industries. In other parts of the world, plants like this were almost completely automated, but in SL, where labor was cheap, everything was done by hand. The place swarmed with jump-suit clad technicians.
As Greg and CE made their way back to Greg’s office, a younger man with dreadlocks, rolled up sleeves jogged up. His unzipped jump suit revealed an oil smudged T-shirt. He went straight to Greg and whispered a message, that from Greg’s scowl, appeared important.
“I can’t hear what they’re saying.” Carey’s voice wafted into Greg’s ear.
After a brief hushed discussion, Greg turned back to CE. “There’s a problem with one of the men at the tanks. Do you think you can make it back to the villa? You can take my van. I’ll have it drive back to pick me up later.”
“Is there anything I can help with here?”
“No No” Greg waved off the idea. “I’ts a manpower thing, it shouldn’t impact the readiness report.”
CE took the keys and made his way back to the van while Greg jogged off into the maze of pipes and tanks with the orange-suited man with tentacle like strands of black hair that danced as he ran.
“Carey?”
“yes”
“You can ride shot-gun now that we’re alone.” Carey walked around from behind Greg, where she had blinked in, out of sight, and moved to her side of the van. She opened a virual door that gave some sense of reality to her motions as she slipped into the van. A computer somewhere around the world added the appropriate sounds of footsteps and the clicks and bumps of a car door. As Carey settled into her chair, she pulled out a banana and started to eat.
“Put in your report a thank you from me for picking all these bananas, squishing them, cooking them into gas, selling the gas, and buying electronics, so I can exist to eat this banana.”
“It’s a lot of work to keep a virual monkey alive”
“You’re a real monkey”
They sat quietly as CE made his way back toward town. Carey offered directions as they made their way back down the way they had come.
“Carey…Start a report…The SL facility appears in adequate condition for transfer to SL oversight…insert a summary of last month’s operational details.”
“ok”
“The latest upgrades have been installed and are fully operational.”
“Do you want a full listing here.”
“sure”
“Greg E continues as executive director as leadership roles are staffed. There appeared to be an issue during our visit today that required his direct attention…Carey, have you synthesized any meaning from the comint.”
“No there were some voice communications from the area but they were scrambled. There’s no visual surveillance from the area that showed anything and Gregs optical video feeds are not available.”
“hold this report, I need to watch where I’m going”
As Greg entered the town, he turned onto a small road with open cement channels 1 meter deep on both sides. Wood planks spanned these run-off channels connecting the houses, that were not much wider than the doors and a small window, to the street.
“are you sure this is the right way?”
“there should be a left up here”
Parked cars along the burm made advancing difficult. Greg slowed to little more than a crawl. A group of men appeared on a stoop just as Greg approached the end of the street. Cars pressed in from the sides and it quickly became appearant that going forward was no longer possible. One of t he men from the group stepped forward and approached the car just as Greg came to a stop. The man’s gold rings and chains matched the mouth full of shiny gold teeth. They glinted as as the man leaned forward into Greg’s open window and looked into Greg’s eyes. On his right, Carey shrugged and whispered “I have not idea who he is.”
“Hey man, you want good smoke?”
“No thanks I’m trying to get to Rale Villa”
“I got something new”
“No No thanks” Greg’s heart pounded and his mouth went dry. Greg was sure he had made a big mistake pressing forward when he had no data to guide him. As the gold toothed man gestured to one of his compatriots, Greg quickly ran through his options on how to get out fast.
“Manuel will show you how to get there. Follow him. You can give him some money for lunch.”
The shirtless Manuel stood behind the van and waved for Greg to back up. The Gold toothed man smiled and backed away. Manuel guided Greg back to a cross street and ran ahead, waving for Greg to follow. A left and a right and they were back on the main route. Greg held out a currency card. “Carey, put 5 units on there”
Manuel waved it off and pressed his finger to his palm “dollars” Greg drug into his wallet and took out 10 U.S. dollars cash and handed it over with in insincere smile and thanks.
“That was weird, I thought we were done for”
“You mean you were done for. I don’t really exist”
“why didn’t this guy show up in the data base. I thought Greg had the drug crews logged.”
“According to his reports, the drug trade has moved off shore. This guy must be new or altered.”
“I find that hard to believe. He didn’t just find all that gold. Did you get enough data to add him to the data base.”
“Pictures voice and location. I got nothing on Manuel.”
“Any idea on what he was talking about by ‘something new’?”
“No”
Role Villa was in a small gated community on the bay near town. Carey directed them in and provided the clearances to open the gate. There did not appear to be anyone else in the community. Driveways were empty, no boats were at the slips, and the communal pool babbled behind the high walls. Greg was very well isolated from the surrounding community.
By the time CE reached Welcome it was clear that she was dead.
SEED
Greg stood at the edge of the road-side pull-off, his back toward the pothole riddled two lane road. The lush growth of the tropical forest reached out and over the rutted dirt space that passed for a scenic over-look. Greg's Toyota mini-van sat quietly behind him, partly on and partly off the bend in the road. Another van sped around the corner as it made its way down toward the town below, offering a customary beep of its horn as is hummed by. Moisture from the leaves rubbed off onto Greg’s neatly laundered pink shirt as he pressed forward, trying to hit a rotten log three meters down the hill with a stream of pee. With a few shakes a shiver, and a deep breath, he pulled himself together, straightened his shirt and turned to a clearing that opened through the branches. From this spot halfway up Mount La Guerre, the entire valley below could be seen. The town of New Rochelle was nestled in a natural harbor formed by the peak rising up behind Greg and smaller ridge to the north that wrapped around the valley, completing the 5 mile wide basin. The ridge pushed westward into the sea, breaking into a string of rocky islands as if it had tried to escape the island but was beaten by the sea and eventually gave up. With the exception of the grey roofs and colorful walls of the small buildings, the valley was a deep green of dense vegetation, spread out in neat rows. Where the flat valley floor met the steep grade of the surrounding cliffs was an abrupt change from the waste high neatly organized vegetation to the wild indigenous grown of the Caribbean paradise.
A gentle beep preceded the appearance of a translucent figure standing next to the van.
"Greg, you have an update from Charles Engels. He's 40 minutes out on the 1300 ground effect transport from Miami."
"How's traffic through the construction on route 3?"
"It's been stopped for an hour. I suggest you take the ridge road."
"All right, we better go."
"Road's clear. Go ahead." With this final advise, Greg's virtual assistant faded away as the projectors implanted into Greg's eyes that shined the images onto his retina went into hibernation.
Virtual assistants were born as soon as computers were introduced to the masses. It didn't take long for the animated paperclips to evolve into more useful general two dimensional helpers. At first they simply answered questions and searched for requested data but programmers soon found ways to make agents that anticipated user needs based on a history of recent activities. As soon as wearable net link devices were introduced, new ways were found to keep the agents at users side, jumping to meet the users every data need. At first they were faces on cell phone screens and watches then projections and finally when body heat could be harvested to run implants. Two breakthroughs changed the way people interact with computers. In 2010 a Chinese entrepreneur operating under a research grant from the East Asian technology development foundation found a way to project images directly onto peoples retinas. By tracking head and eye motion and coupling that with dynamically generated spatial maps stitched together from constant video streams and processed by thousands of distributed quantum computers, it could be made to appear that the assistant was actually in the environment, walking and interacting with real things just like everyone else. No one has figured out how to make them appear substantial yet. Their images are added to whatever is already there. They become something of problem long before they appeared so real. People began building them into their fantasy companions, forgetting that they were nothing more than poor composites of thousands of volunteer subjects whose conversational responses and mannerisms were assembled and tailored to create realistic characters In the darkness few people could tell the difference between a real image and one created in the digital world.
In 2021, a well known cyber terrorist was tried in a Japanese court for the murder of scores of virtual assistants. Nearly a million horrified people watched as their beloved digital pets were torn apart and forever erased from the net. The real charges of destruction of data property and reckless endangerment of digital resources could not be pursued in a court of law since the true identity of "red-arrow" is unknown. However, the virtual charges of murder were upheld and as a result, any realization of DA on the net is quickly quarantined by agents of the international organization for data security. The entire crime, trial and punishment exist only on the net.
Greg's virtual assistant was modeled after a childhood friend, Liam. They played little league together, built robots and spent lots of time talking about the cool machines they would build when they worked for the Navy. They had all kinds of crazy ideas about robot fish and super-subs. But Greg's buddy and his family spend part of their summers at a beachfront house in the Carolinas. The maritime event took the entire family.
Greg sped toward town, following the directions left on his van computer by Liam. The route to the GEV terminal took Greg through he town center and past the Catholic church that was once the center of western influence. The towering spires and white stone columns seemed oddly out of place amidst the colorful markets that catered to both the enviro-tourists and local shoppers. There was a conspicuous division of the sexes. Produce was peddled from under make-shift umbrellas that protected the local women from the tropical sun. The men drove the mini-busses that clogged the narrow roads. Others lingered on the street corners sizing up the white-skinned tourists and trying to sell them mysterious little packages.
The local air-strip was at the outskirts of the town. A tall chain fence and waist high grass separated the access road from the main runway. When GEVs became the preferred means of transport in the region, the runway was extended to the edge of the sea to allow the heavy aircraft to seamlessly from sea to land.
CEs GEV approached the island at 200 knots, skimming a mere 5m off the wave tops. The final bump from sea to land sent CEs stomach into his through, but the ride quickly settled and the enormous craft eased onto the runway. The stairs and short walk across the tarmac led CE into the main terminal. Although significantly improved since the Navy began energy harvesting operations it was still little more than a warehouse with a few plywood pedestals that served as customs stations. The obligatory customs agent offered a smiling human presence to the otherwise automated process. Hemispherical domes on the ceiling behind the stations contained the sensors that identified and checked the documentation of all the passengers. CE registered as:
Name: Charles Engels
ID: 872-47-7992-02
Citizenship: U.S.
Status: Civilian
Age: 62
Height: 192cm
Wt: 81kg
Occupation: Engineer
Employer: U.S. Navy: Sustainable Energy Enterprise Developments Research Center
Visa: Open Business
CEs virtual assistant, Carey, appeared to be waiting, leaning on a structural column, reading a book. Carey was young and, of course, beautiful; tall and blond with an athletic build. She wore a conservative fitted grey suit and black boots that were a little out of character for her otherwise eclectic style, oddly, because they didn't fit her style, made them a perfect match for her.
"Greg is waiting outside. Can I help you with those bags?" Care went through the motions of grabbing one of the larger bags by the handle, her hand passing through the strap; a faked stumble then another fruitless grab. "This isn't working so well. I guess I'll just give you some encouragement." She smiled and stepped aside as CE stacked the bags and pulled them the scanners.
CE was in good shape for his age. People usually guessed he was much younger. But with two days beard wrinkled suit and tussled grey hair, today he looked his age. He had spent much of his life traveling around the world working with remote communities that were part of the Navies forward energy developments. After a brief career early in life as an information technology expert, then as an entrepreneur build home automation systems, and eventually after an unusually extended stint in a navy sponsored graduate program developing miniaturized biomass fuel synthesis plants, he became one of the chief architects of the Navy Sustainable Energy Enterprise Developments SEED program. Although he had been instrumental in the SL program, this was his first trip to the remote island. Despite his cultural training and experience through over 20 years of travel, he was still anxious in new places. Carey was a reassuring presence.
Carey led CE through the swarming cab drivers and disoriented travelers, her translucent form weaving through the crowd as any “real” person might. Greg stood anxiously waiting, but fully aware of CEs movements. “Greg! It’s good to see you”
“Thanks, I’m glad to finally be here."
“I hope things are going better here than they were at SM. Their algae fields weren’t producing well.”
“No. Things are going great here.” Greg replied as he led CE to the van and helped load the bags into the back. Carey and Liam were gone now, sifting back into their digital world. “We can swing by the intake center on the way to your condo.”
Greg and CE sped off, dodging potholes as they headed back into the surrounding jungle.
An open truck approached ahead, struggling to make it up the grade. Piles of oversized green pods filled the bed.
“Are those the new plantains?” CE gestured to the truck.
“yea. They just keep growing faster and bigger.”
“Do they still taste good?”
“They never tasted good.”
Greg made his move as they approached a crest in the road and swirved around the truck. CE instinctively ducked as another truck coming the other way nearly drove them into the plantain truck. The risk proved to be of little value. Seconds after they pulled into the broken shell covered lot of the biomass receiving facility, the truck pulled in and headed over to the scales.
“Come on, I’ll show you around”
CE didn’t really need the tour but it was nice to see all the parts in person that he had studied in the read-aheads.
“I’d really like to see the generators.”
“Sure. Sure. This way.”
The two men crawled over pipes and around steaming valves toward the whine and rumble of the off-gas combustion site. They talked for a while about energy production, efficiency, bio-diesel production rates, domestic consumption and waste streams.
The power plant was able to supply the entire island of 100000 locals and an almost equivalent number of tourists with power. The island economy was almost entirely tied to energy and tourism. With the U.S. Navy providing a market for the bio-diesel, money streamed into the economy that supported port and road development. The stability offered by the Navy presence attracted investors in hotels spas and resorts and all the related industries. In other parts of the world, plants like this were almost completely automated, but in SL, where labor was cheap, everything was done by hand. The place swarmed with jump-suit clad technicians.
As Greg and CE made their way back to Greg’s office, a younger man with dreadlocks, rolled up sleeves jogged up. His unzipped jump suit revealed an oil smudged T-shirt. He went straight to Greg and whispered a message, that from Greg’s scowl, appeared important.
“I can’t hear what they’re saying.” Carey’s voice wafted into Greg’s ear.
After a brief hushed discussion, Greg turned back to CE. “There’s a problem with one of the men at the tanks. Do you think you can make it back to the villa? You can take my van. I’ll have it drive back to pick me up later.”
“Is there anything I can help with here?”
“No No” Greg waved off the idea. “I’ts a manpower thing, it shouldn’t impact the readiness report.”
CE took the keys and made his way back to the van while Greg jogged off into the maze of pipes and tanks with the orange-suited man with tentacle like strands of black hair that danced as he ran.
“Carey?”
“yes”
“You can ride shot-gun now that we’re alone.” Carey walked around from behind Greg, where she had blinked in, out of sight, and moved to her side of the van. She opened a virual door that gave some sense of reality to her motions as she slipped into the van. A computer somewhere around the world added the appropriate sounds of footsteps and the clicks and bumps of a car door. As Carey settled into her chair, she pulled out a banana and started to eat.
“Put in your report a thank you from me for picking all these bananas, squishing them, cooking them into gas, selling the gas, and buying electronics, so I can exist to eat this banana.”
“It’s a lot of work to keep a virual monkey alive”
“You’re a real monkey”
They sat quietly as CE made his way back toward town. Carey offered directions as they made their way back down the way they had come.
“Carey…Start a report…The SL facility appears in adequate condition for transfer to SL oversight…insert a summary of last month’s operational details.”
“ok”
“The latest upgrades have been installed and are fully operational.”
“Do you want a full listing here.”
“sure”
“Greg E continues as executive director as leadership roles are staffed. There appeared to be an issue during our visit today that required his direct attention…Carey, have you synthesized any meaning from the comint.”
“No there were some voice communications from the area but they were scrambled. There’s no visual surveillance from the area that showed anything and Gregs optical video feeds are not available.”
“hold this report, I need to watch where I’m going”
As Greg entered the town, he turned onto a small road with open cement channels 1 meter deep on both sides. Wood planks spanned these run-off channels connecting the houses, that were not much wider than the doors and a small window, to the street.
“are you sure this is the right way?”
“there should be a left up here”
Parked cars along the burm made advancing difficult. Greg slowed to little more than a crawl. A group of men appeared on a stoop just as Greg approached the end of the street. Cars pressed in from the sides and it quickly became appearant that going forward was no longer possible. One of t he men from the group stepped forward and approached the car just as Greg came to a stop. The man’s gold rings and chains matched the mouth full of shiny gold teeth. They glinted as as the man leaned forward into Greg’s open window and looked into Greg’s eyes. On his right, Carey shrugged and whispered “I have not idea who he is.”
“Hey man, you want good smoke?”
“No thanks I’m trying to get to Rale Villa”
“I got something new”
“No No thanks” Greg’s heart pounded and his mouth went dry. Greg was sure he had made a big mistake pressing forward when he had no data to guide him. As the gold toothed man gestured to one of his compatriots, Greg quickly ran through his options on how to get out fast.
“Manuel will show you how to get there. Follow him. You can give him some money for lunch.”
The shirtless Manuel stood behind the van and waved for Greg to back up. The Gold toothed man smiled and backed away. Manuel guided Greg back to a cross street and ran ahead, waving for Greg to follow. A left and a right and they were back on the main route. Greg held out a currency card. “Carey, put 5 units on there”
Manuel waved it off and pressed his finger to his palm “dollars” Greg drug into his wallet and took out 10 U.S. dollars cash and handed it over with in insincere smile and thanks.
“That was weird, I thought we were done for”
“You mean you were done for. I don’t really exist”
“why didn’t this guy show up in the data base. I thought Greg had the drug crews logged.”
“According to his reports, the drug trade has moved off shore. This guy must be new or altered.”
“I find that hard to believe. He didn’t just find all that gold. Did you get enough data to add him to the data base.”
“Pictures voice and location. I got nothing on Manuel.”
“Any idea on what he was talking about by ‘something new’?”
“No”
Role Villa was in a small gated community on the bay near town. Carey directed them in and provided the clearances to open the gate. There did not appear to be anyone else in the community. Driveways were empty, no boats were at the slips, and the communal pool babbled behind the high walls. Greg was very well isolated from the surrounding community.
By the time CE reached Welcome it was clear that she was dead.
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