Chapter 1
Monday, March 16, 2020
Chapter 1
Michele’s face and eyes stung from the piercing smack as she hit the water. Seconds passed while below the surface, hearing and feeling the grind of the colossal yacht churning through the mouth of the inlet toward the ocean. She stroked furiously to avoid being sucked into the massive yawning propellers. Her heart pounded as she switched to a sidestroke so she could scan the water and shore for refuge while also searching for prying eyes on the decks of the floating prison fading behind her. As the yacht forged into the darkening sea, she glimpsed the glittering blue letters, “Giga Blue”, hinting at the mammoth vessel’s size.
******
The scorching Miami sun glinted off Giga-BATS’ sleek office building shortly before nine in the morning as Michele joined the stream of employees flowing from nearby parking lots and transit stops. She caught her reflection in the window, her fingers instinctively smoothing her dark hair and adjusting her blouse. She thrilled that her new Mediterranean diet seemed to enhance the tone of her skin and trim of her figure.
Her friends Tad and Kim were also reflected in the glass as they headed for the entrance. Dark ringlets bounced around Tad’s shoulders as he strolled casually ahead, his smooth brown skin glowing under the morning sun. A geeky co-worker strode alongside him, ghostly pale in contrast, though matching Tad’s loping gait. Their animated chatter seemed like a jumble of tech jargon that might as well have been alien speak.
Tad had become quite attractive as he’d closed in on his 40thyear. Her gaze lingered on him as she admired his easy smile and how his shirt strained against his muscular arms. How in the world had they sporadically become more than friends the previous evening?
Michele fretted about Kim’s waifish figure, gaunt face, sharply jutting cheekbones and dark circles beneath her sunken eyes.Was it just workplace stress, or something more?
Nearing the office entrance, Michele frowned at the sight of idling buses. She clicked her iPhone to open the digital entry card, which also showed her photo and name, Michele Morales. Around her, coworkers followed the same routine, some still fumbling with physical cards.
Supervisors, all middle-aged Anglo men dressed in coats and ties, and security personnel, younger men wearing dark-blue button-up shirts with the company name, “Giga-Blue All-True Solutions”, surrounding the company’s logo on the left breast, and the abbreviation, “Giga-BATS” on both sleeves, stood in front of the access card readers, pointing to the buses and instructing workers to board them instead of entering the building. When questioned about the destination, a supervisor barked, “Company meeting on the yacht,” while security guards silently maintained their steadfast countenance.
Michele grappled with the unsettling possibility that Giga-BATS, her once-shining beacon of hope, was involved in something sinister. The thought of leaving her employ filled her with dismay. What had begun as exciting career moves within the company and its subsidiaries had gradually transformed into a nightmare, stifling her spirit. The exhilaration of being valued for her talents had faded, and her once-proud strides through the doors of the renowned international company had morphed into hesitant steps. As she shuffled forward with the crowd, echoes of past low-paying, unfulfilling jobs caused her again to question whether quitting was the answer.
The odor of burnt weed wafted from the guy in front of her as she inched forward with the herd. Ahead, Tad gesticulated wildly, seemingly oblivious to the tension around him. Kim’s troubled expression mirrored Michele’s own unease.
Michele’s cousin, Pedrito, a security officer who wore a lighter blue shirt, emblazoned with “Security Officer,” to show that he was above security guards, waved the group toward one of the buses. He looked the other way as Tad walked by, and Tad ignored him too, perhaps because of their apparent dislike for each other or because Pedrito was concerned about the meeting the night before. When Michele approached Pedrito, they also ignored each other.
Finding a window seat, Michele caught Tad’s eye. He winked, the gesture so unexpected it momentarily derailed her. She turned to the window as her thoughts drifted back to Pedrito. She could see the shared heritage of their ancestors from northern Spain in their faces.
Although Pedrito had worked for the law firm founded by her grandfather, Morales & Morales, and had earned a law degree, he’d apparently never passed the Bar. She consideredhow his advice had led her, Kim, and Tad to join the company. Now, with Kim’s accusations echoing in her ears and her own misgivings growing, Michele couldn’t help but wonder if they’d all made a terrible mistake.
As the result of Kim’s insistence over several weeks, Michele had arranged a meeting of the two of them, Tad and Pedrito the previous evening. In her multiple tense texts, Kim had written messages like, “I can’t believe you got me into this. We are screwed. This isn’t going to last. I think that asshole cousin of yours, Pedro or Pedrito, or whatever his name is, duped us. Some friend you are, and some stupid idiot your midget cousin is. Or maybe he’s not so stupid. Maybe he got a bonus for dragging us in.”
Michele had been losing her patience with Kim, thinking that the arrogant bully she’d married was probably pushing her to make such allegations. Michele had worried if she scheduled the meeting as Kim had requested, Pedrito might report them, or maybe he would get into trouble for talking with the workers about their thoughts of deserting the company. Kim had insisted that their employer was somehow monitoring all their communications. She’d even indicated that the company regularly gathered data from their phones and used the gifts of home security and smart home apps as a means of penetrating their privacy. Michele thought about whether Kim’s rants had raised her concerns but decided that she’d been worried before Kim began pushing her nagging misgivings.
Pedrito had been defensive when Michele had called him the night before the meeting to tell him of her trepidations. He’d insulted her when he’d turned it back around on her, almost yelling into the phone, “What do you really have to complain of? You are paid well. You and your friends have been promoted several times. There’s nothing even a little bit questionable about the company. Kim is just being a stupid bitch. If you listen to Kim, you are just as stupid.”
While munching on snacks during their pre-meeting before Pedrito’s expected arrival at seven o’clock the previous night,Michele told Kim about Pedrito’s attitude.
Kim said, “Of course he’s defensive. If we leave, he might lose the bonus he probably got for getting us involved.”
Michele decided not to counter Kim’s words but was sure that was not the case.
Tad said, “Well, I was initially proud when the company moved me around, thinking they were promotions to honor my good work, but then I started wondering if they were testing me. In the cyber security department, I was developing procedures to protect the company from cyber-attacks. But the work involved intruding into sites of other businesses. When I questioned that, they said the best way to secure protection was to know the vulnerabilities of others. I didn’t feel confident about the company’s intentions after that. And then I was placed in their cryptocurrency exchange company, where I was asked to hack into similar entities, followed by their artificial intelligence department, where I learned that the company had created its own AI, which they said was being used for marketing, but they were cloning competitors’ employees’ looks, manners, voices and other personal traits. How could that be related to marketing and advertising?”
Michele said that because her degree was in finance, she’d been moved into the banking and investment side of Giga-BATS. She’d been questioned about how digital money was moved internally and externally. “I kept telling them that the technical aspects of holding and moving funds were not addressed in studying finance, but they kept quizzing me on similar topics. Finally, they instructed me to probe the digital footprints of competitors…ostensibly to enhance security of Giga-BATS’ internet presence, yet I’d say it was more likely to gain leverage for Giga-BATS.”
Kim said her latest position was in funding and promoting election of candidates and political parties favored by the company. “I guess it was because of my degree in political science. But I couldn’t understand how political involvement was in any way connected to any of the businesses to which I’d been assigned.”
Tad said, “So, we’ve all worked for various of their sub-companies. I don’t know whether you’ve had to breach systems like I have. I think they’re preparing something devious, because all the companies seem to gather personal and private data from customers. I’m particularly concerned about the world-wide financial system. I think their purpose is to grab it all.”
Michele said, “Who is they?”
“Who knows? Whoever is behind Giga-BATS. That’s the problem. Nobody has any idea who is behind anything.”
Michele tried to take it in. She said, “So, if somebody has all of something that exists in a digital form, and nobody else acknowledges the authenticity of what they have, do those who have it really have anything?”
Tad looked at her. “Huh?”
She smiled. “O.k. Let’s talk about digital currency. If Giga-BATS takes all the world’s cryptocurrency, it will no longer be currency, will it? Nobody will acknowledge it, other than the one who has it. Right? So, nobody will be able to buy anything with it because it is worthless, right? In fact, same question if they stockpile all the paper money and coinage, and no other party has any. They then have nothing, right?”
Tad gawked at her, mouth agape, nodding. “You have a point.”
The bus finally pulled to a stop next to the wooden dock that led to the company’s yacht. Michele followed somber workmates plodding silently like a herd of sheep toward the vessel, moored just across the channel from Miami’s cruise ship terminals. She’d heard executives of the company touting it as a giga yacht, indicating it was much larger than a mega yacht. How apropos that both the immense yacht, “Giga Blue” and the employer, “Giga-Blue All-True Solutions”, incorporated the first word into the yacht’s and the company’s ostentatious names, hinting at the supersized egos of those behind the business.
Michele glanced up at the behemoth of a vessel, seeing supervisors, security personnel and men wearing white button-up shirts with black bow ties and vests carrying trays holding drinking glasses.
The gangway connected to the largest deck, the second one above the water, with the largest outdoor area. Each deck above was somewhat shorter. At the end of the ramp, supervisors instructed workers to join lines outside the interior areas.
Fewer employees exited the indoor areas on the higher decks than those who entered on the main deck. She wondered if they were being fed or interviewed or exactly what was going on. She tried unsuccessfully to discern the facial expressions and gait of those exiting.
Something is fishy here. I should leave. Turn around and go. Forget this job. Something is wrong, wrong, wrong.
Her face felt on fire from the scorching sun. The drenched fabric of her blouse stuck fast to her back and sides in the steaming heat. Rivulets of perspiration slithered from her underarms, unaffected by the useless anti-perspirant she’d applied. Yet, sweltering heat was completely normal in Miami, even in the springtime.
Michele considered the climbing number of cases of the new coronavirus in Miami, which the media was now starting to call COVID-19. She’d seen news reports that Governor DeSantis and Mayor Gimenez were contemplating the temporary closure of numerous businesses, including bars and restaurants. Michele’s employer had not said a word about changing the work environment because of the virus, which, according to the World Health Organization, was the beginning of a global pandemic. She wondered if mingling among this large group was unwise.
Mounting the gangway, she evaluated the demeanor of the hosts and guests. Supervisors and servers at the end of the ramp were all smiles. Guards never smiled. She wasn’t at all sure she could escape even if she tried. She looked down at the short, nearly empty outdoor deck of the yacht below the main deck, outfitted with fixed deep-sea fishing chairs, tackle and outrigger poles leaning toward the stern. That would be the best place to escape if necessary.
Mr. Brown, a supervisor she’d never liked, oversaw security guards as they scanned credentials, while others waved metal detectors. Sweating through his polo, he smiled and said, “Welcome, Miss Morales.”
She didn’t respond.
A server stood at the end of the line behind the security checkpoint offering drinks to each worker. Michele paused and asked, “What is it?”
“Iced tea or lemonade.”
She accepted the lemonade and moved onto the deck, sniffing and considering whether it was safe. Finally, she took a light taste, not detecting alcohol or unusual bitterness. She determined to sip very slowly, monitoring whether it produced any effect.
Michele moved into the shade beneath the next upper deck and sat on a lounge chair, while trying to determine a pattern of movement of workers, supervisors and security.
Mr. Brown approached her with a sinister grin and sat on the chair next to hers. He glanced around and wiped his brow with his wrist, “Your area is finance and digital marketing, right?”
She glared at him, clenching her jaw at his false cordiality. “You know what I do.”
“Uh, have you ever done URL spoofing?”
She scowled. “Mr. Brown, do you mean do I know how to create a hyperlink to trick somebody and lead them to a site or page they did not intend? Of course, I know how to do that. I believe everybody who works in the computer area can achieve such a result.”
What the hell was this guy getting at? Were they pushing staff to cheat customers? With its maze of sub-companies, she could cycle through a new position every day. His probing raised her suspicion.
Mr. Brown dabbed his brow. “We are simply trying to perfect the ability to grasp possible customers who are searching for information and steer them to our own sites.”
She eyed him again. Sweat slid down his forehead and around his eyes. “Mr. Brown, in these times, there are many ways to track and send direct marketing to people who are searching in general without tricking them. We all know that if you research on-line or if you have any smart speaker or virtual assistant and even speak about an interest in anything, you get ads almost immediately. You can align with any of the established businesses to accomplish that.”
Mr. Brown laughed. “Of course, you know, Miss Morales, that we are a legitimate family of operations. We just want to lead customers of one of our affiliate businesses to our other businesses. What’s wrong with that? In fact, if you say those marketing processes are offered by legit businesses, why cannot our company do the same?”
“I suppose nothing is wrong with that, Mr. Brown.” She worried that she was too flip in saying she knew how to forward from one URL to another. “I’m just wondering why you don’t use existing businesses instead of trying to create internal new programs. Anyway, I’m not sure I’m qualified to do exactly what you want.”
She tried to maintain a positive countenance.
He squinted his eyes and frowned. “We want you to do more in protecting our banking outfits from internet intrusions.”
She smiled and shook her head. “Mr. Brown, I told you I am not a computer or Internet specialist.” She wondered whether the goal was similar to something Tad had surmised–that they wanted to act like they were protecting the company while gaining access to data of other institutions.
Mr. Brown grimaced, rose and strutted away, like a peacock fanning its feathers, scouting another victim. Michele looked around, noting that she hadn’t been sent to a line yet. It probably wouldn’t be long.
Michele continually shifted beneath narrow bands of shade cast onto the deck from the next deck up. A server slithered along the deck encouraging workers to imbibe. If a person’s glass was partly empty, he’d say, “Drink up. I’m here with a fresh one.” Now, the man stood above her, clearing his throat. She tried to focus on something else, but he wouldn’t leave.
“Have a drink, Miss.”
Michele recoiled. “No, thank you.”
Yet, having reluctantly accepted the plastic cup he forced into her hand, she tentatively sniffed the liquid. After a minute or so, knowing that he continued watching, she raised it to her lips and tasted. Her lips tingled slightly, leaving the tang of a bitter medicinal flavor. It did not appear to be harmless this time. She carefully spilled a few drops onto the deck as close to the leg of the chair as she could. She glanced across the deck and was alarmed that she might have been seen.
Then she realized that a woman who Brown previously interrogated was being ushered inside, ahead of the line of workers patiently waiting. The line was getting shorter and only a few, like she herself, were not in line. She still couldn’t fathom what was happening. She walked toward the rear of the main deck and looked up. All the workers on higher decks seemed to stagger. What could that mean? Perhaps those who were forced to imbibe had somehow failed the inquiries or refused to cooperate with demands. It was apparent that workers on the main deck were also being offered tainted drinks though none seemed affected, perhaps because they weren’t drinking it, like she wasn’t, or perhaps it was much weaker than what was served above.
She spotted Pedrito on the deck just above her, gripping the railing and swaying, his legs quavering unsteadily. She was shocked to see that the arm insignia and logo on the front of his shirt had been cut off, exposing his flesh. He forlornly stared into space like a shell-shocked soldier after an intense and bloody battle.
A young woman who worked in Michele’s area stumbled and swayed across the deck above and grabbed the railing to the left of Pedrito, the corners of her mouth turned down, her eyes apparently focused on nothing. Alarmed, Michele asked, “Destiny, is everything all right?”
The desolate facial expression she received in return was horrifying. Suddenly, a supervisor appeared, lifted Destiny by her elbows and marched her away, saying, “Let’s get you something to drink or eat.”
Mr. Brown approached a young man on the main deck and led him to one of the lines. Michele glanced at her watch; it had been about twenty minutes since he’d chatted with the same person. Few workmates had not been assigned to lines or taken inside.
She would touch the cup to her lips when she thought a waiter or supervisor was watching. A server headed in her direction, so she held the glass up like she was taking a sip. When he turned, she sat for a second and poured a little more under a lounge chair.
She moved close to the side of the deck, just beneath where Pedrito sat. Looking up, she was blinded by the intense sunlight, so she ducked a bit under the shelter. She climbed onto a bench and whispered, “Pedrito, what’s going on?”
He glanced down at her–dull eyes–desolate smile.
“Pedrito, are you Okay?”
His downcast eyes and silence devastated Michele as she worried that her setting up the meeting had caused his ruin.
Michele scoured the emptying upper decks yet saw no sign of Kim or Tad. Were they locked away somewhere? Although Kim had displayed an attitude for quite a while, she was still a dear friend. They must be inside somewhere. Could the yacht be preparing to head out to sea?
Depression descended on her. Whatever this was, it was her fault for not recognizing–for turning a blind eye despite Kim’s insistence and her own worries.
The sun seared her skin. People shuffled about like zombies. She considered calling her father. But why? She’d struggled for a long time to display her maturity and earn her independence. She wouldn’t want to display a lack of self-confidence to her father now. But she felt afraid. She needed him. He was her rock, always there for her. He wouldn’t be negative to her–ever. But she so wanted to stand on her own two feet, not be asking Daddy for help. She needed to be strong.
She glanced at the screen of her phone several times, looked at the people on the decks of the yacht again, opened Siri and said, “Call Dad.”
He picked up. “Hi, Michele. What’s up?”
“Daddy. I think I’m in trouble. I’m afraid.” She realized her voice was shaking.
A supervisor appeared from nowhere, ripped her phone away and disconnected the call. “Who were you calling?”
She didn’t answer.
Clutching her phone, he silently walked away.
Now she couldn’t even erase her texts, her contacts, her call log; incriminating data had to be all through it. If they could access it, they’d see all the communications with Pedrito, Kim and Tad, and they would know for sure. But maybe they already did know.
More nervous than before, she decided there was no time to waste. She needed to make decisions and act. She was about to climb down from her perch on the bench when Kim staggered to the edge of the deck near where Pedrito sat.
Michele whispered, “Kim.” But the response was a dull, disinterested look toward nowhere.
“Kim,” she said a little louder.
Seeing a supervisor eyeing her, Michele hopped off the bench. Fear gripped her. Was this luxury yacht going to sea, as a transport to a sinister destination, like a train hauling European Jews to a death camp? She glanced over the side and examined the dock. The ramp to the main deck on which she and the others had entered was empty. A couple of workmen unloaded provisions from a truck and rolled a flatbed stacked with supplies along a service gangway. Why were they loading provisions? Was the yacht going to depart? No deckhands were preparing to cast off.
A long line of fellow employees staggered out the door on the main deck. She’d seen some of them on upper decks. They must have been brought down via interior stairs. Supervisors helped those who seemed unable to steadily traverse the deck. Two supervisors directed Michele and others on the deck to move away from the line. As the departing employees approached the gangway, guards scanned their credentials, glanced at screens and checked them out.
Her desperation exploded into terror as the yacht’s engines rumbled to life.Oh, no.The yacht is leaving the dock. Those people who just left are the last to avoid a trip to–to where?
She almost ran to the side facing shore. The line of workers who had left were now being pushed into the buses that had brought them. Deckhands tossed lines to other crewmembers and jumped aboard.
The yacht slowly left the dock and entered the channel. She feared more and more that this trip seemed like a train to Auschwitz. There would be no future. She had to escape. When? How?
The yacht cruised easterly along Government Cut, the main channel used by large vessels, toward the inlet and open sea, passing the now-vacant dockage of Carnival, Norwegian and Royal Caribbean cruise lines, on the right, and Palm and Star Islands, with residences of the rich and famous across MacArthur Causeway, on the left.
Small craft lolled atop gentle swells as their occupants fished or watched vessels edging toward the sea. Three young men on a speedboat stood in unison, turned and mooned the passengers on the yacht. They were probably accustomed to cruise ship passengers laughing and cheering but their antics drew no response from the subdued workers on Giga Blue.
Michele noted a lull in the security and interrogations. She thought it was not very smart to let their guard down here, but the ability to escape was at hand. If she didn’t leave, nobody would ever know what had happened to her and her colleagues. It was her duty to get free and report.
The only supervisor on the main deck walked inside. The ship continued eastward along the deep channel, passing the departure point for Fisher Island and heading toward South Miami beach. The light blue water turned to a richer, darker blue as the yacht neared the ocean, and the depth increased.
The mooners’ boat was the last before the inlet. She rushed down the ladder to the deep-sea fishing deck, praying to avoid discovery. Clear.
Her heart thudding, she climbed onto the transom and glanced up at the steps. Still clear. Monitoring the current, she considered whether it was safest to dive straight out from the stern or to a side. Sucking in a shaky breath, she tensed, poised on the knife’s edge between extreme danger and escape.Now or never.
