Chapter 2: Travel plans

David walked into his office building at ten o’clock. The security guard at the front desk was reading some magazine, probably porn. “Good morning, Mr. Banning,” the man said.

David waved on his way to the elevator.

Banning’s office was in the corner, and had a very comfortable plush leather chair. After a few seconds looking out the bay window, David pressed the intercom button that would connect him to his secretary one office over.

“Janet, I need to make some phone calls. Can you prepare the uplink?”

“Yes sir, Mr. Banning.” There was a brief pause. “Whenever you’re ready.”

David Basheer dialed a phone number, one you couldn’t find listed, or even written down, anywhere in the world. The signal jumped from the desk in his huge office all the way out into space, to a satellite that handled phone calls for only a few hundred dollars a minute, then back down into the atmosphere and on to a boat that had spent as much time as possible over the last few years in international waters.

The voice on the other side was calm and pleasant. David knew it was an act. “Hello?”

“Is this Collins?”

The voice on the other end changed. All the darkness and suspicion crept back in. “Who is this?”

“There are some who call me Tim.”

Collins laughed on the other end of the line. When he spoke again, his voice was warmer, friendlier. And this time, for real. “David! How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been good,” he lied. “Business is good, life is good.”

He could almost hear Collins nodding. “Bored with life on the up and up?”

“You could say that.” He wasn’t exactly on the up and up. But no one really knew that. “You feel like dancing?”

“Why the hell not?” A beat, like Collins was taking a drink. David wanted a drink. “It’s dull being dead. What kind of tune will we be dancing to?”

“Somewhere around forty million notes. Plus another song with quite a bit more, if we feel inclined to keep dancing.”

“I’m in.” The response was clipped. He didn’t want any details yet. “We’ll chat about the details over coffee. Can you recommend anywhere?”

“How about a café just north of Broadway. You know the one?”

“Sure. I love apples. See you in two days.”

David hung up and dialed another number. For this one, the signal went from the satellite all the way down to a penthouse apartment in Hollywood. Outside, on the patio by the pool, a young woman was sunning herself. A cell phone rang, and she lazily leaned over to pick it up.

David didn’t wait for her to respond. As soon as he heard the line pick up, he said, “McKenzie?”

“Basheer, honey, is that you?” She sounded more southern than Irish.

“Yeah. Drop the drawl, would you?”

“Business then?” All accent disappeared from her voice. Not even a hint of the Irish lilt he’d first fallen for. “All right, love, business it is.”

“New York, two days. Coffee.” He paused, as if to give her time to write it down. But he knew she wouldn’t. She didn’t have to. That’s why he liked her. “You know where?”

“Yeah, I know where. How shall I dress?”

“Exactly the opposite of how you usually dress, McKenzie.” He couldn’t keep the smile from his face or out of his voice. “Blend.”

For the final member of the crew, David just sent out an e-mail. It was on the subject of coffee, and the size of apples this year. More importantly, it was sent to an address that didn’t exist. The fact that he wrote Mailer-Daemon as the e-mail’s heading made sure that the right person would pick it up.

David pressed down on the intercom button. “Janet, I’m going to take a vacation. Where’s nice this time of year?”

“Well, sir, the Grand Canyon is nice, but I’ve always been partial to Italy myself. Very nice beaches.”

“Excellent Janet. Book me a flight to JFK in New York if you would. Penthouse suite, Broadway shows, limo service; you know the drill. Oh, and while you’re at it, book yourself a two-week tour of Italy.”

“Mr. Banning?” She sounded shocked. “Are you sure?”

“Yes Janet.” He put as much arrogance and condescension in his voice as possible. It would make him more believable. “You work too hard. Go. Take a vacation. Use the corporate debit card and buy yourself nice things.”

“Th-thank you Mr. Banning!”

“You’re welcome Janet. Enjoy yourself.” He switched back to the bored tone he usually had with her. “There will be instructions waiting for you when you return.”

David took the first class flight out of Seattle. He slipped into the huge chair at the front of the plane and settled himself for a long trip. When he had boarded the plane, he was John Banning, a powerful investor who sat high on the board of a very large company. He maintained this personality until the alarm on his wristwatch told him that things had begun progressing. As it did, the plane taxied out to the runway.

David Basheer closed his eyes and settled into a nap. As the plane took off, every trace of John Banning slowly disappeared. His stocks were sold, some of them at a loss, and his bank accounts were all cleared. The two million dollars he had slowly been embezzling were now gone forever, hidden away in a secret offshore account under a different name.

Janet would return from her vacation with a new boss, one who would not be nearly as nice to her, especially if she had spent the three hundred thousand embezzled dollars David had put on the debit card for her.

The plane flew on. David opened his eyes briefly as they settled into a cruising altitude. “Would you care for a drink, sir?” The stewardess was smiling, glasses of wine already on her tray.

David wanted a drink so badly. Just a little bit. But he knew it was never just a little bit. “No thank you,” he said. “Just water for me.”

She smiled and walked off to get him water. She put it down on his little tray while John Banning’s social security number reverted back to its original and deceased owner. When David took his first sip of water, John Banning’s driver’s license erased itself from the DMV computers, his birth certificate and educational history vanished. By the time the flight’s film started, the false answering system for John Banning’s references ceased their service.

By the time David finally landed in New York, the only remaining evidence that John Banning had ever existed was the pre-paid hotel and limousine service, both of which would show up along with the stolen money and infuriate the people who John Banning had worked for. They would try to hunt him down to the ends of the Earth, possibly even going so far as to hire a professional. But they’d never find him.

You can’t find someone who doesn’t exist.