Tether by Jeremy Robinson

Author:Jeremy Robinson [Robinson, Jeremy]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Breakneck Media
Published: 2019-09-23T16:00:00+00:00

26

“How is this possible?” I ask, standing in front of a private jet parked inside a hangar at Logan airport. The plane is sleek, shiny-new, and it sports a wavy blue design on its side. It shouts wealth and power. When we approached the gate, I was sure the TSA would search us, ID us, and arrest us, but Reggie’s ID—not Garcia’s—was enough to get us whisked past security.

What Garcia did do with her knowledge of FBI protocols, was call in a very convincing and anonymous tip about a terrorist threat to Chicago, citing the destruction in Cambridge and Boston as proof of what was coming. The general public might not know the extent of what happened in Boston, but the FBI certainly does. If they believed her, hopefully they’ll get enough people out of the city to limit the death toll, should Brute or Wisp make another appearance.

“This is a Cessna Citation X,” Garcia says. “It’s one of the fastest private jets in the world.”

The side hatch opens, stairs extending down. A handsome pilot—who looks like he spends equal time at the gym, the hair salon, and the beach—stands in the open hatch, smiling at us. “Good to see you again, Dr. Adisa. We received your itinerary. We’re fueled up and ready to go.”

“Thanks, Chuck,” Reggie says.

“No luggage today?” Chuck asks.

Reg shakes her head. “Day trip.”

“Very good,” he says, and he slips back inside.

Somehow Reggie arranged all this from her phone, even after swapping out hard drives. While I don’t understand the technical aspects of her phone hacking, I don’t doubt her ability to do it. But the plane? The security pass? Captain Handsome? It baffles me. So I ask again, “Reggie, how is this possible?”

I’m not sure she’s going to answer, but everyone—including Bjorn—waits to hear it.

She sighs. “I own a few dozen patents.”

That’s not really shocking news. I mean, a few dozen is a lot, but Reggie is an inventor. Patents are part of the job.

“Most of them are leased to corporations,” she says.

“What corporations?” Bjorn asks.

“The kinds that require NDAs,” she says. “But they’re…not small.”

“So, you’re rich,” Garcia says, and motions to the plane. “Really rich.”

“She lives in a one-bedroom apartment in downtown Salem,” Bjorn says to Garcia, with a nervous chuckle.

“She drives a Prius,” I add.

“Drove a Prius,” Reggie says, and she starts up the stairs into the plane. “I don’t believe in leaving a big carbon footprint.”

“Says the woman with a private jet,” Rain says.

Reggie stops in the door. “I don’t own it. I just…have it on retainer.”

She disappears inside. We stand there, baffled for a moment, and then Bjorn heads up, followed by Rain.

Garcia gives me a side-long glance. “Carbon footprint, my ass.” Then she heads up and inside the plane.

I used to spend days alone, just writing, by myself. For the past 24 hours, I haven’t been alone other than the two times I’ve used the bathroom. So I take a moment to re-center.

I try to clear my mind, but I end

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