The Secret Diary of Cameron Baum
SATURDAY cont...
Sarah Connor reaches for her gun. I grasp her hand and prevent it. She struggles. "What the hell are you doing?" she hisses. I don't bother to explain that my database has found a voice match. It's classified as harmless. A non-threat.
The man yelling at us is Frank the super.
"Come out! I've got you- Oh. You're not who thought you were." The aggression goes out of his voice, like turning off a tap. He's his mild mannered self again."Wait. I know you. Ann Arbor. Dan's friend."
"Hello, Frank."
"And who's this lovely lady with you?"
I am about to introduce Sarah Connor as my friend Della Ware from Delaware when she smiles and says, "I'm Sarah."
What kind of fake name is that? It's not even fake!
"Pleased to meet you, Sarah. I'm Frank, the building supervisor. Hope I didn't scare you?"
"Are we not supposed to be up here? Daniel gave us a key and said it was okay."
"No problem. Any friend of Dan's. I thought you were a couple of bratty kids who live here. The Randall twins. Hooligans, the pair of them. Come up here and drop eggs and ripe tomatoes over the side. Makes a hell of mess down below. And who cleans it up? Buggins."
I've not met this Buggins. Possibly a colleague.
"We've met those boys. Their parents need a stern talking to."
"That's what I say! Bad behaviour always begins with the parenting." Frank grins like he's met his soul mate. "So, are you from Michigan as well, Sarah?"
"California. We just called in to visit Daniel. He's a ...cousin."
"I hope you can cheer him up. He's been pretty down since Krissie left him."
"Fear of flying is quite a common phobia, I hear."
"Sorry - fear of what?"
"Flying. Isn't that why they broke up? Daniel refused to get on a plane and fly to Bermuda for a vacation?"
"First I've heard of it. Old Mrs Hewitt, who lives across the hall, said she heard them arguing. It was just after you were here, Ann. Krissie accused Dan of being in love with another woman. And he refused to deny it. Dang fool. Krissie was a lovely girl. We all miss her."
"I see. I was obviously misinformed."
"Are you ladies thinking of staying in Seattle?"
"Afraid not. Driving back later today."
"Pity. An apartment's become available. Old Mrs Kravitz finally passed."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"Oh she'd had a good innings. Ninety-one she was. Her mind had started to go. Anyway, her apartment is up for rent. South aspect. High ceilings. Hardwood floors. Suit a fine lady like yourself down to the ground."
"Sorry. Not interested."
"Oh well. If you change your mind you know where to reach me. I'll leave you ladies to enjoy the sunshine."
"So Daniel lied to us," Sarah Connor says once Frank the super has left the roof. "There was no vacation."
"And who is this woman is he's in love with?" I speculate.
"You really don't know?"
"Jennifer Lawrence?"
Everyone loves her, though she seems a bit accident prone to me, aways falling over.
Sarah Connor fixes me with her sternest look. For a moment I think she might be about to toss me off the roof for real.
"You don't know anything about anything, do you?" she sneers.
She stalks off, dragging the door open and leaving me all alone.
I divert all system resources to analyse what she said to try and discern the meaning.
You don't know anything about anything, do you?
ANALYSIS COMPLETE
INSUFFICIENT DATA
PLEASE RECALIBRATE QUERY PARAMETERS
In other words, not a clue.
-0-
In the apartment, John and Daniel are still engaged in phony warcraft. The room is filled with tinny fake explosions and the rattle of imaginary weapons.
"How's it going?" Sarah Connor asks. She ignores my presence.
"Great."
"Great."
"Who's winning?"
"It's a multiple player game so we're on the same side. Watch your twenty!"
"I'll frag his sorry ass!"
"So who has the most points?"
"Mom, you're embarrassing yourself."
"We brought something else for you, Daniel. It's in the car."
"Oh yeah? What's that? Cover fire!"
"Several pounds of high explosive."
Daniel is so surprised he drops his controller.
"Relax, man!" John laughs. "That stuff's harmless without a detonator."
"I knew that!"
"Yeah, it looked it."
"Didn't you tell me in your letters that you had a lab on the outskirts of town?"
"It's hardly a lab. A lockup garage, really."
"Take me there."
"What - now?"
"I don't think it's a good idea to keep high explosives in the apartment. Suppose your girlfriend came back and found it?"
"That's not gonna happen."
"You really think she dumped you for good because you're afraid of flying?"
"That's what she said. And for the record, I'm not scared of planes. I can hardly tell her the real reason."
"And what is the real reason?"
"That I'm a wanted man. Shit, Sarah, you know all this. Why are you giving me the third degree?"
"Guess I'm stubborn that way."
"If you want to visit the lockup we can go now, if you like."
"Good. You can play your little game another day."
-0-
We take the elevator down and climb in the Suburban. Daniel drives since he knows where we're going. John sits beside him with Sarah Connor and I in the rear.
"Is it far?"
"Twenty minutes if the traffic's kind downtown."
We drive through the city centre, dwarfed either side by the by the tall skyscrapers. John says, "Never been to Seattle. Point out a few landmarks."
"Okay. That's a building. That's another building. There's a tree. Fire hydrant. Mail box."
Worst tour guide ever!
John says, "Hey, quit being such a dick."
Daniel puffs himself up as if to start arguing then deflates just as quickly. "Sorry, guys. Been a stressful week what with Krissie leaving and having to, you know, invent some kinda superweapon."
"You're not alone in this. We're here to help you."
"Yeah, but you're in LA most of the time. I'm stuck out here in the boonies. Sometimes this all feels like a nightmare I can never wake up from."
"I know the feeling."
"You think?"
"Hey - saviour of mankind sitting right next to you."
"Yeah, I guess you're right. Still, you have Cameron. And your mom. Mia and Snowy. Who do I have? Lulu."
The city gives way to suburbs which in turn give way to an more industrial landscape. Long grey warehouses sit back from the road. There is scarcely a tree in sight. Even in sunshine the place seems grey. Man has tamed this land yet mislaid its soul at the same time.
Daniel slows to take a left turn. A wide straight avenue leads to a cluster of single story cinderblock garages. He stops outside the one on the right. It has a steel rolltop door secured with a heavy padlock. There is no one around.
"Here we are. This is where the magic happens."
The padlock is undone, the rolltop slid back, revealing a small concrete cavern. Along the rear wall are work benches and toolcases. In the foreground is a motorbike frame. Stark and bare. Like the bones of a long dead animal.
"This is an old Harley frame," Sarah Connor states, running her hand along the tubular structure."
"Bought it on craigslist to act as a cover story. There's a box of parts round here somewhere. If anyone comes snooping around I tell them I'm restoring a bike, not building a bomb that blows up cyborgs. Might freak people out."
Sarah Connors drags a box out from under a bench and begins to unpack the contents. There are pieces of the Harley. I recognise a fuel tank. Front and rear shocks. Tires worn down to the canvas.
"You mind if I take a look? I had one of these years ago."
"Be my guest."
"What happened here?" John asks pointing to a black scorch mark on the concrete floor.
"That was my first attempt at a Lieberman mine. I was lucky I didn't burn the place down."
"If at first you don't succeed..."
"Blow yourself up?"
"Come on, man. Don't sweat it. It'll happen. You're a smart guy."
I fetch the Semtex from the trunk. "Where do you want this?"
"Put it under the bench at the back there."
Daniel unfolds a couple of lawn chairs and he and John sit down. Sarah Connor kneels by the Harley, patiently rearranging the pieces like it's a giant 3D jigsaw puzzle. I stand by the entrance, legs apart, observing. In the distance a long eighteen wheeler heads down the wide avenue, chimney belching smoke.
"Look at us. Could we be more white trash?" John quips.
Sarah Connor stands up and rolls a toolcase over to the bike. She selects a spanner, rolls up her sleeves and sets to work fitting the shocks.
"Your mom's gonna put that whole thing together, isn't she?"
"Looks that way. You want a hand, mom?"
"I can manage."
"You know, we lived in a place like this once. Holed up for days waiting for the cops to stop chasing us."
"Why - what'd you do?"
"What didn't we do. This was near the Mexico border. Trading guns for explosives and the other way round sometimes. Anyway, we're driving through the badlands. Mom's pissed off cause a deal went bad. Guy we were meant to trade with didn't show. We've got fifty odd stolen M-16's and a dozen crates of ammo hidden under a tarp in the back of the rustiest pickup you've ever police cruiser shows up out of the blue, flags us over. Lone cop gets out. Good 'ol boy. Crewcut. Mirror shades. Chewing tobacco. In a movie he's Rod Steiger, right?"
"I get the picture. Not a pretty one."
"Cop says, Tail light's bust, ma'am. Gotta write it up. Mom says, We're in the middle of nowhere - what's it matter? Wrong thing to say. Cop says, ma'am, I don't care too much for your attitude. Mom says, And I don't care too much for your face."
"Diplomatic."
"So then it's, what's under the tarp? Fenceposts. Show me. Mom peels back the tarp. Cop damn near craps himself and mom slugs him on the jaw. Out like a light. Ronda Rousey? Forget it."
"This true, Sarah, you slugged a cop?"
"He had no right pulling us over. He had it coming."
"So we hightail it to the nearest town and hole up in a place like this. No windows. No a/c. And it's the middle of summer. Though I remember I did find a box of old comic books stashed in the back. Silver age Marvels. Nick Fury. Doctor Strange. I was pretty psyched about it."
"Comic books? How old were you?"
"Eight or nine."
"Man, this has been your whole life, hasn't it?"
"Pretty much."
"You must think I'm a total wuss."
"It takes time to get used to."
"I know a lot of this is my own fault. If I hadn't got wasted and shot my mouth off in that bar..."
"We didn't know the gun we gave you was used in a double homicide. We deserve a share of the blame. If the gun had been clean you'd have done a little county time, maybe just community service with the right judge."
"Yeah, well, if wishes were trees..."
"...the trees'd be falling. What is that song? Seems like I should know. Dylan? Tom Petty?"
The answer comes from an unexpected source.
"Stand by REM," Sarah Connor states with confidence, hardly bothering to look up.
"I think she's right. How'd you know that?"
"Just because I'm older and don't get video games doesn't mean I'm not cool."
"Sarah, I can honestly say you're the coolest person I've ever met. You battle cyborgs, you punch out cops, you assemble a Harley from a box of junk."
"Too bad she can't cook," John quips. This earns him a sour look.
More anecdotes are shared, including the time I jumped off the roof of a five storey building into the swimming pool below.
"And Cameron just walks out the shallow end like it's no big deal!" John laughs. "She even had time to say hi to the janitor. I bet the guy dined out on that story for months."
I smile at the recollection. Actually it was a big deal. John was in danger and I needed to get off the roof fast. What quicker way than straight down?
A vehicle appears in the distance, a formless moving object contrasted against the fixed backdrop of the warehouse buildings. As it turns down the access road it finally resolves itself.
Police cruiser.
At my warning everyone crowds in the doorway. "Is there another way out?" John asks.
"No. Just the way we came."
"Could we reverse in and roll the door down?"
"Won't fit."
"Oh God, how did they find me? I've been so careful," Daniel wails.
"Nobody panic. This might not be about you. Or us. There are a lot of units here. Maybe someone reported a break in."
"They're still gonna wonder what we're all doing here," Sarah Connor points out.
"I have an idea."
We listen and all agree it's a good idea - except Daniel.
"I can't do that! I stutter when I'm stressed. They'll see right through me."
"Just relax. Mom will do all the talking."
"Like she did in Mexico? I don't wanna go to jail again."
"No one's going to jail."
We take our places. John and I crouching behind the tool benches at the rear of the lockup. We're hidden from prying eyes here, as long as no one comes too close. And if they do? They'll regret it.
The police vehicle arrives. Doors open. Footsteps. A male voice , "Afternoon, folks."
"Officer, arrest this man." Sarah Connor, her voice shrill with indignation.
"Excuse me, ma'am?"
"He advertised this Harley for sale on craigslist in mint condition. Does it look mint to you?"
"Not with those tires. They're balder than the sarge! How much you asking for it, son?"
"N...Nine hundred."
Sarah Connor says, "I'll pay you five. Not a dollar more."
"D...D..Deal."
"Not much of a businessman, are you, son," the policemen chuckle. "Anyway, we stopped to ask if you'd seen anyone speeding on the straightaway back there."
"Straightaway?"
"The access road. It's about two miles long, perfectly flat and plenty of teenage boy racers like to drag race along it like that movie...what's it called, Jerry - one with the bald guy?"
"Fast and Furious."
"That's the one."
"No, can't say I have."
"Well, if you do call it in. Or some idiot's gonna get himself killed. Okay, you folks have a nice day."
Footsteps. Doors close. Vehicle leaves.
We emerge from our hiding places. "Great job, guys. Word perfect," John grins.
Daniel slumps on a lawn chair holding his head in his hands. "Oh God oh God! When you told them to arrest me...I had a vision of being in a prison cell with someone named Bubba playing hide the sausage."
Hide the sausage? In a prison cell? That doesn't sound a very challenging game. Where's the sausage? Here it is under the bunk. Snowy would find it in two seconds. And swallow it in three. I'm sure no one in prison wants their sausage swallowed.
-0-
I take the wheel on the way home. John and his mother settle in the back seat and by the time we reach San Francisco they are both asleep.
I drive through the night, immune to the fatigue that afflicts those of a human persuasion. I keep the Suburban moving just below the speed limit. It is capable of twice that, my enhanced reactions equal to slalaaming past the big riggers as they roll relentlessly southwards. Such audacity would come at a cost: police pursuit, media choppers sent skywards eager to transmit another highspeed interstate chase to every television screen in the land. If my time with the Connors' has taught me anything it is pragmatism. Softlee softlee catchee monkee, as the saying goes. Though what bad spelling and primates have to do with anything I have no idea.
The sky is lightening in the east as we reach the outskirts of Los Angeles. The sun is fully up by the time I park in the driveway of the safe house. I resist the urge to say 'we have reached our destination.' A Sat Nav I am not.
I vounteer to fetch Mia and Snowy since both Connors' are badly in need of a shower.
"Okay, fine. Just don't let Mia sweet talk you into visiting a mall or a fast food joint. Bring them straight back here."
Sweet talk? Honestly, do I seem like a pushover?
MONDAY
I make the short drive across town to pick up Mia and Snowy. Traffic grows increasingly heavy as people set off at the beginning of the working week. Some aggressive driving tactics are employed in an attempt to shave off a few precious minutes of commute time. When a beige Camaro tries to cut in at a stop light I block him off. He gives me the horn. Don't you just hate getting the horn? I select an appropriate response from a list of zingers I have stored in my database, combining two at random. "Bite me, asshole!" It's a jungle out there and I can roar as loud as any.
Snowy, Mia and her friend Megan are standing outside the house when I arrive. With them is a taller plump girl. My database finds a match and the information scrolls down my HUD.
IDENTITY
Megan's older sister.
THREAT LEVEL
Minimum
KNOWN CHARACTERISTICS
Prone to weight gain.
Keeps a furless aquatic mammal as a pet.
SUGGESTED SOCIAL PROTOCOL
1) Compliment weight loss.
2) Enquire about pet's health.
I climb out of the Suburban, smile, and say, "Hello, again. You're looking less fat than usual."
"Uh - thanks?"
"How is your bald beaver these days? I don't suppose it likes this heat?"
Beside her Mia and Megan start giggling. Odd. Possibly Snowy has done a trick out of my eyeshot. I continue: "Is your beaver getting plenty of wood? They do like wood, don't they?"
The girl mumbles something then turns round and hurries back inside the house.
Well, that was rude!
Wait. Is it possible my social protocol glitched? This happens. Once someone bade me farewell by saying, 'See you later, alligator.' I now know the correct reply is 'In awhile, crocodile.' Not 'I am not a reptile. Your eyesight is malfunctioning.' Oops.
I review my actions.
Compliment weight loss? Check.
Enquire about pet's health? Double check.
Nothing wrong there. I even added a supplementary question about her pet's dietary requirements. I was a complete delight. Most puzzling.
While Mia says her goodbyes, I load her suitcase in the trunk then lift Snowy in the back of the cabin. As I do my sensors register he has gained several pounds since I last picked him up just two days ago. "You are getting heavy again," I tell him. "Tomorrow you start yoga."
snowy love yoga!
"It's exercise not something to eat."
snowy hate yoga!
"Would you rather do laps of the yard?"
Snowy stays silent. He dislikes running round the yard because he believes Mr Tibbles the cat next door is laughing at him. This is hard to verify since like all cats Mr Tibbles has only one facial expression.
Mia hops in the car and we set off home. Social protocol states I should I ask her about her stay. I do so.
"Awesome! We went to the beach. A surfer took Snowy out on his board. They went way way out and he wasn't scared at all. And he called me pretty."
"Snowy did?"
"No, doofus, the surfer. He said he'd call me in five years."
"You arranged a date?"
"No! He was just kidding around. Sure was cute though," she adds wistfully. It's a reminder that she's growing up fast. Soon she will pass through puberty, go off to college, then fight and possibly die in a post-apocalyse war of annihilation between man and machine. Plenty to look forward to.
"How was your trip? Did you buy me a present?"
"A desklamp shaped like the Space Needle. It's a surprise."
"Then you should have said, I can't tell you. It's a surprise."
"I can't tell you. It's a surprise."
"Too late now! Did you get Snowy anything?"
"There was no dog-related merchandise."
"You could have bought him something to eat."
"No. He's putting on weight again."
"Yeah. He kept doing his sad pose - you know, where he tilts his head, droops his ears and raises his paw. Megan's parents fell for it every time. I think he ate six dinners."
"Tommorrow he starts yoga."
"Can dogs do yoga?"
"Is it illegal?"
"No-o-o, I just don't think they do it. Megan's mom goes to yoga class in Beverly Hills. It's real expensive, like two hundred dollars."
"For a course of lessons?"
"No. Just one."
This yoga sounds like a scam. Like those emails I receive from african princes requesting my help over a banking snafu in their country. John says this is a slam-dunk scam. Who knew royalty could be so duplicitous? It must be all the inbreeding.
We arrive at the safe house. Mia sprints indoors. Snowy moves to follow until I grab his collar.
"Where d'you think you're going? Two laps of the yard. Now."
He looks up at me, tilts his head, droops his ears and raises a paw.
"Your sad pose won't work on me. Two laps."
Snowy lumbers off, belly swinging from side to side as he runs. From the fence, Mr Tibbles looks on expressionless. For a moment our eyes lock, one predator to another. We are doubtless thinking the same thing: You're a nice doggie but you're out of shape. With us it's a full time job.
-0-
Cameron isn't being mean to Snowy. She understands a fit healthy dog will likely live longer than a fat sedentary one.
And she's obviously been enjoying her Michael Caine boxset...
Next: The return of Cameron subprime.