Chapter 13
Author's note: Nearly 8% of those of you who read the last chapter left a review! That's a huge conversion rate for me. Thank you. Honestly, knowing people want me to continue is what is keeping me writing. Most of you said keep the car. She's going to, in a fashion. My favourite review was from trhodes9 – Steph has to get out of this black and white thinking. It's not safety or independence. This story is all about compromise and growing up.
"Trackers are my least favorite security tool," Lester continued. "They're reactive. If we need them, it means you've already been taken, and I'd rather avoid that in the first place. But given your past history, it seems like a good idea that you have them."
"How does it work?" I asked. "If I was a regular client?" I knew Ranger had trackers on me all the time, and pulled them up when he wanted to find out where I was. What I wanted to know was how much attention an ordinary person's movements would be given.
"Most clients wear them in a piece of jewellery. A watch or a necklace. The serial number gets logged in the system and tied to their profile. And then that's it. It's only if a panic button is activated, or we're alerted to a situation that we pull up profile and access the tracker."
"So they're not monitored?"
"What would we be monitoring? Dots moving around a map don't tell you a whole lot."
"And you could set it so only Hector had access to my profile?"
He nodded. "We'll set you up as a dummy client, run it out of the Boston office. Make it look like you signed up there. Hector will know it's actually you and will be able to pull up your profile in an emergency."
"And would the system show if anyone else had accessed the dummy profile?"
"All the profile access requests are tied to staff log-in's. If someone else figured it out, we'd know who and when."
I thought about Lester's solution over the next few days. Everything I'd been doing had been about getting better at my job, so I could do it more safely. I'd hoped that meant Ranger could see a place for me in his life when he came home. And if he still didn't, I would at least be a competent bounty hunter and a valued member of the team at Rangeman. Now independent Stephanie was warring with new Stephanie.
I wanted to stand on my own two feet but I had to keep reminding myself there were things I couldn't do on my own. Sometimes my stubbornness was an asset, and sometimes it nearly got me killed.
Next Tuesday morning I knocked on Tank's door.
"Yes, Plum?"
"I want to buy the Explorer."
He tossed his pen onto the desk and leaned back in his chair, "Any particular reason?"
"My dad likes American cars?" I hedged.
He smiled and I wondered if Ranger had told him about that dinner. "Try again. Why do you want to buy it and not just keep using it?"
"Because it's important to me that it's mine. It's a good car, I like it and I want to know I've earned it. I have the money to pay what I know you'll sell it for. And because I want you to take the trackers out."
Tank tilted his head to the side, "Your car or ours, you know he'll put trackers on it. And if he can't do it himself, he'll assign someone else to do it."
I let out a breath. At least I got to have this conversation with Tank and not Ranger. I hoped Tank might be more rational, and the scaredy cat part of me knew that Tank would now have to discuss it with Ranger. I knew that he was back in contact, making sporadic calls to check in when the situation allowed. "No, he won't. You're going to tell him that if he agrees not to put them on my car or in my bag, I'll agree to get one implanted in my arm." I hurried on before he could interrupt, "IF he promises that only Hector will know the profile it's tied to AND Hector will only access it in an actual emergency."
Tank thought about this. "What if something happens to Hector?"
"It's a medical device. If Bobby implants it, he's going to have to record the serial number in my medical file. The serial number will be tied to the client profile."
"So Bobby would be able to figure it out?"
"Yes, but he's not going to look it up for fun. That would go against all his training." Not to mention he'd be furious at even the insinuation that he acted less than ethically.
"Lester told me you didn't like the idea of the guys in the control room knowing your every move. Aren't you worried this would become a game for them? Guess which client is really Stephanie?"
"I don't see why anyone outside of the core team and Hector needs to know I have an implant. No one's going to get it from Hector and the medical files are locked down tighter than your client profiles."
Tank looked thoughtful. He could see I'd really thought about this. "Why do you want to do this, Steph?"
"I don't want to do this. But as long as this is my life, I need to do this. I've had enough near death experiences to last a lifetime, and while I'd rather not have any more, I'm not that naïve. Plus, like you said, Ranger's going to do this anyway. I want it done on my terms, for the right reasons. So I can be found in an emergency, but not so that someone can make a crack about how many trips I've made to Cluck in a Bucket or find out if I'm home on a Friday night. I don't want a tracker, I also don't want to eat this much broccoli, but I do want this life and those are two things I guess I can live with."
Tank nodded. "Alright. If he has to shelve his stalker tendencies in order for you to actually be safe…. I'll run it by him next time he calls."
"Could I speak to him? Next time he calls?"
"Sorry, Steph. Until he's debriefed, you can't speak to him without clearance. Is there anything else you want me to tell him?"
I shook my head. I missed him and I wanted to hear his voice, but I also wanted him to see the new me himself, with as little warning as possible. It was added incentive to stick with what I was doing so I could get maximum impact. Ranger was rarely surprised and I wanted to change that.
The next week, Bobby called me to the infirmary and implanted the tracker, and I sat down with Hector to create my profile. I wanted to go with Lynda Carter or Diana Prince but I was worried Ranger might guess the reference. Tank said Ranger had agreed to my terms, provided I carried a panic button, and I knew while he operated in grey areas, he didn't give his word lightly. If I called myself something obvious, Ranger might accidentally figure it out, and that wouldn't be fair. I settled on Michelle Stevenson, a CEO's wife, with children in college. Perfectly ordinary in every way.
My mom rang as I was getting home from self-defence class. She had been better lately. With my takedowns going smoothly, no stalkers and only the one car fire, there had been less gossip and fewer reasons to iron. She still wanted me to settle down, and like Joe, she was viewing my healthy eating and home cooking as a step towards domesticity.
"Stephanie, your father went to the doctor today. Apparently, his cholesterol is too high." This couldn't be news to anyone who saw how my family ate. "Can you come for lunch tomorrow? And bring some recipes with you?"
I checked the caller ID again. Yes, it was my mother.
"Sure, mom. I can bring a few things."
"Good. Things he'll eat. Maybe you can talk me through a few of them? And you know Thanksgiving is next Thursday. Can you bring some sides? I can't do everything around here, you know."
"Of course, mom. I'll see you tomorrow."
I'd entered the twilight zone. My mom was not only asking for help, she was asking for my help. In the kitchen. I smiled. This was her biggest vote of confidence in me in years.
Author's note: Please excuse any British English. Writing 'mom' is weird for me and I'm doing my best. I guess Stephanie isn't the only one learning to ask for help when she needs it. I churned this chapter out a lot faster than usual thanks to all your wonderful reviews. Should we see a Plum thanksgiving? Or should it be on to the next disaster? It's still Plum, so you know there's one coming.
