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Carson logged off the PC and prepared to leave when Jason appeared in the door, blocking his exit.
"Just where do you think you're going, young man?" Jason asked, putting his hands on his hips.
"I'm going home," said Carson, attempting to brush past Jason.
Jason stuck his arm out. "Oh, no you're not! You and Al are coming with me for moral support!"
"Look", sighed Carson, "I've had a long week and I really want to go home."
"You have plans, then?"
"No."
"You do now. Let's go!" Jason grabbed Carson's arm and twisted it behind his back, forcing him forward.
"Ow! Alright, alright, I'll go."
Carson followed Jason and Al out to the manufacturing area and then over to the building where Cray instructed them to go. The area was one of the deserted spots they had seen before with only the lighted walking paths and truck lanes.
Jason looked at the wall over a door. "Well, here we are; door thirty-seven." The pathway was deserted. He looked at his watch. "We're a few minutes early."
Carson noticed a security camera on the wall pointed towards them. It remained still, but a small red light glowed on top of the unit. He waved his hands to get Jason's attention and pointed at it. Jason shrugged.
After a few minutes they heard the whirring noise of an electric motor off in the distance. The noise grew louder and an orange cart with two bench seats appeared in front of them and stopped. The driver wore a greasy ball cap and blue machine shop coveralls that stretched over a large beer belly. Chewing an unlit cigar, he turned towards the three and asked "You lookin' fer somethin'?"
Jason stepped forward, "Uh, yeah. We're looking for... a device?"
The man spat and turned his gaze forward again. "Get in."
Jason walked around the front and sat next to the man while Carson and Al climbed into the back.
"Whoa, whoa, who are these numbskulls?" he asked, pointing his thumb over his shoulder. "I thought there was ‘sposed to be only one of ya's."
"Uh, no. There's three of us. They're with me," said Jason.
"This ain't good," said the fat man, shaking his head, "Mr. Big ain't gonna like this."
"Mr. Big?!" Jason chuckled, "You've got to be kidding me!"
The fat man took the cigar out of his mouth and peered sideways at Jason through beady little eyes. "It's a code name."
"Do you have a code name?" asked Jason with a smirk.
The fat man hesitated. "Mario," he answered.
"Can I have a code name too?" asked Al.
"Shut up, wisenheimer!" snapped Mario. "You want this thing or not?"
"Well," replied Jason, scratching his head, "if I go, they go."
"You got the money?"
Jason patted his pocket. "Oh, yeah."
The fat man turned around and looked Carson and Al over. Apparently seeing no reason to protest further, he then grabbed some objects from the seat and handed one to Jason and one to Al. They were black satin sleep masks, the kind the airlines give out on long, international flights. Al turned his over and read the word "Aeroflot" printed in flaking gray letters.
"Before we go anywhere, you have to put these masks on. I don't have enough for everyone, so you're going to have to wear this." He took off the greasy cap and handed it to Carson. "Pull it down over your eyes."
Carson recoiled in disgust. "Don't you have anything else?"
"Look, Mario" Jason reasoned. "Is this really necessary, I mean... come on." He dangled the mask in front of Mario's face.
"Listen, punks, I suggest you shut up and do as you're told. Now put dem dang masks on or get out of the cart!"
"Okay, okay," said Jason, as he put the mask on.
"And if I catch any of ya's peekin', I'm gonna knock ya into next Tuesday!"
Carson put the cap on his head and slowly pulled it down over his eyes. It smelled of engine grease, tobacco and BO. He plugged his nose.
The cart moved forward and they traveled for what seemed like a long time, taking many turns. Several times it felt as if they had turned in a full circle and at one point the car rode on a freight elevator. Carson couldn't tell how many floors down they went or maybe they hadn't changed floors at all. Finally the vehicle slowed down and something slapped the front and then slid over their bodies like giant noodles. The cart stopped.
"Alright, you can take off the masks," grunted Mario.
The three passengers removed their masks and squinted in the bright light. As his eyes adjusted, Carson could see a man dressed in a white lab coat standing in front of the cart. He turned around and saw they had passed through a doorway of plastic strips. The rest of room looked like a small mechanic's shop. A row of electric carts were lined up against one wall, each one in a different stage of repair. Nothing about the room revealed their location.
"Greetings," said the man in the lab coat. He had a British accent.
Jason got out of the cart. "Don't tell me, your code name must be Q."
The man laughed, "How'd you guess?"
Jason looked at Al and Carson and rolled his eyes. "So, what do you have for us?"
"I understand you are looking for a tracking device, so you can plot someone's location. Is that correct?"
"Yes, that would be correct."
The man stepped over to a table, opened a briefcase and produced a small object, which he handed to Jason. It was a capsule about the size of a vitamin supplement.
"What is it?" asked Jason.
"When ingested, this capsule produces a small signal that allows tracking of the recipient. We developed it for military personnel so they could be located on the battle field if incapacitated or captured. It also has civilian applications."
Jason turned the capsule over and marveled at the small size. "This doesn't have any detrimental effects, does it? I mean, it won't hurt the person who swallows it?" he asked with a look of genuine concern.
"No, none whatsoever... at least none has shown up in our testing," answered Q. He reached into the briefcase and produced a pager. "This device has been programmed to go off when it comes within five hundred feet of the capsule." He pressed a button and the pager made a slow beeping noise. "When the device comes within fifty feet of the capsule, it makes a different noise." He pressed the button again and the frequency of the beeps increased. Jason's eyes widened. "Then twenty feet..." The beeps turned to a flat, high pitched tone, and then he shut it off.
"Awesome!" exclaimed Al.
"In addition," Q took an envelope out of his pocket, "there is an internal web site that allows you to see where the recipient is on a computer map. This envelope contains a user name and password used to view the location of this device. This feature is still in the experimentation stage and will only work within the Omnivan property. We are working on a GPS application for customer use. Any questions?"
"Yeah," said Carson. "How long does the capsule stay inside the body?"
"Ah, a very good question, indeed," replied Q. "It could be anywhere from twenty-four to one hundred sixty-eight hours, depending completely on the recipient and their lifestyle. Many factors could affect this, such as diet. For example, if the subject ingests a high amount of fiber, the capsule would probably pass much quicker. If the recipient indulges themselves with a typical American diet of red meat and starches, the capsule could stay around for a week or longer."
"What kind of diet does Chandra have?" asked Jason.
"No names! No names!" shouted Q, covering his ears.
"Oh, sorry." Jason held the capsule up to the light. "Okay, so tell me the bad news: How much is this little booger going to set me back?"
Q put his hands behind his back. "Normally, this object would retail for quite a sum, but today's your lucky day," he smiled, displaying a row of yellow, crooked teeth.
"Of course, you're having a black market sale!" said Jason.
Q's smile faded from his face as he continued, "The pager is seventy-five dollars. Each capsule goes for twenty-five dollars. If you buy two capsules and the pager, we'll throw in the web account for free."
"Oh, man!" said Jason, stepping back. "That's pretty rich! Can't I get a volume discount if I buy some extra capsules?"
Q's lips tightened. "Rest assured, Mr. Braun, these prices are rock bottom. As a matter of fact, someone in a high place must like you. I've never been instructed to offer anything at these prices, especially considering the circumstances."
"Can I see the pager?" Q handed it to him and Jason weighed it in his hand. He looked at Al and Carson. Al nodded in approval. He turned back to Q. "Okay, I'll take the package: Two capsules, the pager, and the web account," he said, as he handed the pager back to Q and reached for his wallet.
Q's grin returned. "That's a good lad. You won't be disappointed!"
"What if I need more capsules?" asked Jason.
"Just get in touch with your original contact and we can setup another meeting," answered Q.
Jason counted out the cash, hesitated a moment, then handed it over. Q gave Jason the envelope and a small black box containing the capsules and the pager.
"Oh, there's one other thing," noted Q. "Right before insertion, you must twist the capsule to activate it."
"Twist the capsule; got it," replied Jason.
Q turned to Mario, who was still in the cart with a finger stuck deep in his nostril. Q's face wrinkled in disgust. "Mario, please refrain from your Neanderthal grooming habits and take these gentlemen away."
Mario popped the finger out and wiped it on his overalls. "Sure thing, boss."
"Don't forget, boys, this meeting never took place," said Q, waving a single bony finger in the air.
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