A few more weeks ticked by with a lot of things all of a sudden seeming to take off. My initial idea of the K9 unit seemed to become a big hit even before it was anywhere close to being finished and training was still going to take forever. But from the progress reports and the initial first few field exercises it looked not just promising, but like a smash hit already.
Tank, Lester and Bobby had taken it upon themselves to pick the mobile team, taking something off my desk, for which I was more than grateful. The team that was assembled would be 14-people strong and consisted of Merry Men from every single branch. I was surprised to learn that no one actually wanted any additional perks. They didn't care for additional vacation or more money, which surprised me a lot until I realized – and it was mentioned to me – that as a RangeMan employee you made already good money and due to the hours and assignments sometimes it was hard spending what you earned. I wish I ever had encountered that problem. But then again, I was in a similar position I realized. As acting CEO of RangeMan I obviously made quite a decent penny and because I felt like I needed to be as involved as possible, I was pulling 16 to 18-hour days and had barely any time to sleep, let alone to actually spent money. So, maybe I understood better than anyone really. It also wasn't like I needed a lot I had to buy. Ella prepared the food, the apartment I lived in was technically rent-free since it was on top of the company I more or less owned and the cars I drove were Ranger's old ones or fleet cars. Since I had started this job at RangeMan my cars also seemed to have significantly increased in life span.
My LA-branch project took shape and the plans and updates I got sent regularly looked amazing. What surprised me, was how on track everything was, even in regards of budget. How often did one read in papers that some communal projects that were estimated at amount X now had reached higher costs and the likes? So, staying right on track with everyone doing what they were told to do at the price they calculated was a bit of unusual, but again, it wasn't like I complained.
Marylin Swanson as advised left Trenton eventually. The fact that it was however two weeks after she originally had thought played a little into our cards, since that meant we wouldn't need an immediate solution. Marylin was happy with our service and it was obvious I would need to sent the original team with her at some stage. We had decided on booking a hotel for our guys and sent them back and forth between Trenton and LA in a two week turn. On a few of the trips to LA I joined them, deciding on looking at how well construction and remodelling was going along.
I don't know what made me do it in all fairness. It had been a good week and somehow I felt like I needed to tell someone. Someone who wasn't my usual Merry Men. Especially since they saw my good week daily. They were there when shit hit the fan and all came crumbling down as well as when stuff was working out and making me strive higher. Maybe it was just normal and something that I always did and felt right now like I needed to do it again. Psychologists would probably call this a setback and charge you 200 bucks for that enlightenment. No one said I was clever and didn't sometimes do stupid stuff.
The logical part in me knew that this was going to be pointless and yet, for a second I had forgotten that the mailbox had reached its end and would not do much for me. But… I feel such a need for a second that I pressed the number nevertheless and before I remembered and could hang up I was surprised when I heard a familiar voice, telling me to leave a message.
For a second I didn't even realized what was happening and kept talking a few words, before I realized that this wasn't supposed to be it. There wasn't supposed to be space for a message and this was odd and unusual. This wasn't supposed to happen. This was… not normal. Something had happened, surely. Something that took me by surprise and left me shocked. What the hell was going on? Only a few weeks ago I had reached the end of storage space and now… it was back to normal? What the hell?
After I had hung up accidentally and had almost thrown the phone in shock through the entire room, I sat on the couch looking at the phone on the floor a few feet away from me. As if I was going to expect it to do anything any moment. I stared at it for ages, my mind blank and going a million miles a minute at the same time. What was going on? What was happening? What did just occur? Was there a logical explanation? Like… space being freed up after a while when mailboxes weren't accessed?
After staring at the phone on the floor for ages, I developed into pacing. Up and down and up again until I probably had passed a few miles and done that for what felt hours. This was… what was this? I kept pacing, glancing at the phone every now and then and shacking my head.
"Okay guys, I'm not sure whether to be touched about the notion or annoyed that this is some very sick joke," I said, entering my staff meeting Monday morning and after having not spent a single moment sleeping the night before.
"What happened?" Bobby asked and I saw the same question written all over Tank's, Cal's and everyone else's in attendance faces.
I let out a sigh, hating myself for it already a second later seeing that most of the guys in attendance would most likely not know.
"Someone was either meaning it in a very nice and sympathetic way or pulling the sickest of pranks in the history of pranks," I repeated myself more or less and tried figuring out in the course of a few seconds how much to say and how this would maybe make me look. Not everyone at RangeMan knew about my phone calls to Ranger's mailbox – at least I assumed not everyone knew. But since I wasn't sure who was the culprit who cleared Ranger's mailbox, it looked like I needed to swallow my pride and come clean. Good thing was that out of all the RangeMan employees only a small number was in today's meeting. And several of them already knew about my antics of calling a mailbox. "I… as some of you know, I have this… thing about calling Ranger's number and leaving a voicemail whenever I feel the need of talking to him," I started and saw nodding from the people who knew and just blanc faces of those who didn't. "A few weeks back I… reached the limit of his mailbox and my message was cut short before I could finish it, stating that the storage was exceeded and no longer message could be stored."
I saw nodding from almost everyone, though I suspected almost everyone just nodded to get me going with the story. When I had reached that moment of no space left and my message being cut of surprisingly, I was in a very bad state for a few days, not able how to cope with the knowledge that the final part I had of Ranger was no longer there. That I wasn't able to hear his voice anymore. Though said voice kept telling me exactly the same for the past few months – to leave a message. I assume most of them must have realized that something was going on one way or another. They might not have asked, but I knew my Merry Men. They were a very observant bunch of guys, despite the fact that they didn't look like it.
I took a deep breath, preparing myself for the next part and asking myself whether I was really ready to say what I was about to say.
"Last night I called the number out of habit and was surprised when I was able to leave a message again without anyone stating the exceeded limit. I was so surprised I actually hung up before saying anything. So… whoever thought it was funny to clear Ranger's mailbox… it was probably a nice gesture, but… also rather cruel."
At first there was just silence and a lot of blanc faces. Everyone looked at each other and I wasn't sure whether it was to see how the others reacted to me confessing of calling a dead guy's mailbox just to hear his voice or whether they all looked at each other to see who had done it. No one made a move that seemed like admitting to anything.
"That's a sick joke guys," someone said, followed "Whoever thought this to be funny is delusional," from someone else.
"Who was it?" Tank asked, looking agitated to say the least.
I figured the way Tank looked right now, no one in their right mind would step forward out of fear of not going to live another day. So I intervened.
"I… I'm certain it was made out of love and wanting to do me a favour of sorts, giving me the option again to go and carry on with my odd obsession and the fact that I wasn't able to let go. And… I appreciate the gesture, I really do…."
Still silence with everyone looking at everyone as if trying to figure out who could be thinking this had been a good idea. When no one moved or made it seem like they would admit to anything soon, Bobby spoke up.
"Can anyone of us actually access Ranger's mailbox?" he addressed Ramos and Hector in order to see if the technicians among the Merry Man could shed some light.
"Not as far as I know," Ramos said. "All our mailboxes operate the same way. There is a Pin in order to access it and the pin is only known by whoever's mailbox it is. Unless you choose to share that number – which I wouldn't know why you'd do that – no one has a chance of getting into your mailbox. I made sure it is encrypted and secured so that it is technically unhackable. And technically speaking, having the pin itself wouldn't actually help you either. You'd need the number as well as the phone the number is associated to."
"So... what you are saying is…?" I asked carefully, not entirely sure Ramos had just said that no one could possibly have access to Ranger's mailbox.
"No one would be able to access Ranger's mailbox," he said a second later as if reading my mind. "I mean… technically I could, seeing as I overlook all the technicalities and the programs that secures everything RangeMan, but… honestly Steph, I didn't do anything. I wouldn't have any reason and quiet honestly it would be easier to create a backup server to offer more space when the initial mailbox runs out of storage. But… I didn't do anything and hadn't even thought about that possibility until know. Maybe it was the provider? Maybe they clear mailboxes after a certain time of voicemails not being delivered? Ranger's mailbox for several reasons is a bit complex. He required a lot of storage due to his missions for Uncle Sam and when he wasn't available to anyone. So, he has the provider's storage and then a secondary storage that picks up when the providers is full. Maybe they cleared it and the call got piggybacked back to the provider's storage that now is empty?"
"Is there a way to check?" I asked and Ramos just shrugged uncertain. "You could call the provider," he simply said. I stared expectantly at him until he pulled the phone in the middle of the conference table towards him and punched in a few numbers. The phone was on speaker and a second later the quietness of the room was filled with the service menu. Ramos pressed a button before the options were even really given and not even a second later he was through to a service rep. He explained the situation quickly and the service rep didn't even ask any questions. As if that was a conversation that took place regularly.
"We don't clear mailboxes unless the number is disconnected and then recycled for another customer," was the reply from the service rep.
"Can you check whether the number was disconnected and recycled?"
I wanted to point out that it had been Ranger's voice greeting me on his mailbox, but the service rep was already asking her next question.
"Since when was the phone not in use anymore?" came a question.
"About a year?" Ramos asked and the reply was instantly.
"Then it wasn't. As per law we are required to keep numbers active for at least 18 months."
"Can you still check?" I asked and was met with an uncertain silence before Ramos stepped in.
"Sorry that was my boss. She is the one with the issue really."
"Give me the number," came the request and a moment later I rattled the number off, followed by Ramos rattling of words and other numbers which turned out to be the safety measures that he was technically authorized to inquire about the number.
"Okay, he we are, the number you gave me is issued to Carlos Manoso and the business account of RangeMan. Activated about eight years ago and still associated to him. Wasn't disconnected and not recycled therefore either. Looks like last access was four days ago from somewhere abroad. Due to international laws I can't see where exactly. You would need to contact the State department in order to get that info."
"Did you just say… the number was accessed four days ago?" I asked shocked and could see the same question and shock written all over everyone's faces.
"Yeah," the service rep answered cautiously. "The mailbox was called."
"Can… you do that remotely?" I asked.
"Technically yes, you would need to assign an authorized number from which you can access. From what I can see, there was never a number authorized. So, the access came from the number itself."
"Which is done how?"
"By… having the SIM card for the number."
After that the call was quickly finished and everyone just looked at each other. For a moment it felt almost like that meeting all these months back when I learned about Ranger's request.
"Can you clone a Sim card for a specific number?" someone asked and Ramos shrugged.
"Technically yes, I mean, providers do it all the time when you change to someone else but want to keep your number. But that obviously works with you as the client expressing your desire and authorizing your new provider to get the rights for your old number set up in his network. You can't just clone a number. Also… why would someone want to clone Ranger's old number? It isn't like that would help or get anyone anywhere. It is very unlikely he kept state secrets on his mailbox."
"So… someone accessed his mailbox. From abroad. Someone, who does not only have Ranger's Sim card, but also his pin code for the mailbox which no one else has than Ranger himself?" I summarized and wasn't sure whether I really wanted my thoughts to go the route they would be heading in a moment.
"I'm certain there is a sort of logical explanation for this," Cal said a moment later but didn't sound like he believed himself really.
"Which would be?" I asked and looked into the round. "I'm up for almost every single explanation that makes some sort of partial sense. Any. Any at all."
There was silence for a very long time. Everyone seemed like they were trying to come up with an explanation but all drew a blanc. At least I wasn't by myself.
"I… I have a buddy at the State department, Maybe I'm able to call in a favour and get a location for the country the mailbox was accessed in," Ramos said and I wasn't sure I really wanted to go down that route. For now the impossible was an actual option of being real. If Ramos called his buddy and got a location and it was somewhere in Guam or Central East Asia and far far away from where Ranger was last seen and pronounced dead – sort of anyway – that possible impossibility would dye and I'd walk through hell once more.
I threw my head in my neck and looked at the ceiling, as if hoping I'd find my answer in the dimed lights of this conference room. After a few moments I let out a long breath and looked back at Ramos. "Do it. See if he can help with this. I… I just want to know what's going on."
I saw Ramos nodding and on we went with our meeting.
It took Ramos three days to come back to me with an odd and also unsatisfying answer. His friend at the State department had come through and gotten the info asked about. I'm not sure how you'd do that in just three days, but maybe some things were rather left unanswered.
He laid a folder in front of me and indicated for me to open it before I could even ask a single question.
"That's the info I was able to get through my friend," he explained, taking a seat on the couch in the corner of my office. "It isn't an awful lot, but it is maybe helpful."
"Or maybe it opens more questions," I remarked, reading through the three pages the file contained of. "According to this, it was accessed in a neighbouring country of where Ranger was last seen," I just said, seeing Ramos nod. Nothing else. No explanation, no questions, no other action. Just a nod. "About two and a half weeks ago for the first time" I went further. More nodding from Ramos. I figured he probably knew every single word that was typed down in this file. I would if I was him.
"What does this mean?" I asked eventually, after there had been a long silence between me and Ramos.
"I honestly don't know, Bomber. This… could mean anything really."
"The possibility of him being alive being one of these options?" I asked and saw him have an odd emotion displayed on his face. I wasn't sure what exactly it was and it was only there for a second, but a moment later he shrugged. I knew every single one of the Merry Man had seen the video of Ranger's last moments by now. Everyone except me. I just couldn't get myself to do it, to look at the last moments and come to terms with the fact that I would see that he really was gone from me.
"I really hate saying this, but I've seen the video. We all have. And… there is almost literally no way on earth that he could have made it out of there. If it was just the collapsing of the building, okay, maybe. But there was also the explosion and the fact that for almost a week no one was also to get there due to location and the risk of more detonations or instability of the few walls that actually did remain of the building. It is just…impossible. I'm sorry, Steph. And don't get me started on the region itself, which is instable to put it nicely. Several militias as well as governments fight each other for control of the area."
Letting out a deep breath and a long sigh I agreed. I hadn't seen the video, but I had heard enough of it from everyone to know the odds. "Then how do you explain this?" I asked finally, holding up the thin file and looking at him. "It is stating his last whereabout as country of access and you yourself said that the mailboxes are almost unhackable. There were no state secrets on there, leaving little room for suggesting someone hoped to make a big score by getting their hands on things no one should know. How do you explain any of this?"
"I can't," Ramos finally said before going on. "That's why Tank and Bobby are looking into it. They reached out to a few contacts that could maybe pull a few strings and clear some of the questions. Though they already did when they came back and news about Ranger made it to them, they think of a different approach and different questions as well as different people. But please, don't get too hopeful. This might just maybe lead to nothing again. Sometimes, especially in our line of contract work for the government, there are just things that …don't get answered. Because no one has an answer, or doesn't ask the right questions. So, don't get too frustrated when this doesn't lead anywhere, okay?" he asked, looking hopeful at me. And it isn't like I don't get it. He had seen me when the news of Ranger's end had been delivered to me, had seen what the news had done to me for days, weeks and months and he had also been there when I had reached the last moment on Batman's mailbox. He knew that this could eventually break me once more and maybe for all if I started getting my hopes up too high. So, I tried doing us all a favour and swallowed down that glimpse of hope of the impossible and started to throw myself in more work.