UNDERCOVER - Dark Fire Data (Book 3)

Part 9 - Unauthorized Frequency Band

I grabbed his arm as he fell and we slid down the stairs together, in a barely controlled avalanche, ending up in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.

'Merde!' Kozak winced and rubbed his ankle. 'I 'av' twisted it . . . Ziff, would you 'elp me?  It is not far.  I 'av' a room at the Galactic Deli.'

The rain had turned back to snow and already several centimetres carpeted rue Sumac street. Kozak put an arm over my shoulder and we slipped and stumbled together along the sidewalk. I kept trying to get information out of him but he avoided answering my question by asking me about religion. He explained that he was doing a doctoral degree in early 21st Century religion but he didn't seem to know much about the subject. 

 The Galactic Deli's parking lot was deserted and still littered with a few left-over Christmas trees. We entered a graffiti covered door at the back of the store and climbed a narrow flight of stairs to a room cluttered with old furniture and cardboard boxes. The room was lit by a single, bare light bulb. Kozak sat on a small bed in one corner and I selected a hard wooden chair.

We had only just sat down when the door opened and a small man of African ancestry walked in. He was smartly dressed in a suit and tie and my first impression, that the landlord had arrived to collect the rent, was reinforced when he was followed by a large Caucasian with bleached crew cut and a Blue Tooth radio hooked onto his ear. The archetypical enforcer. The big guy closed the door, pulled a chair in front of it and sat down. No one was going in or out.

'Good evening gentlemen,' said the black man smoothly with a slight American accent. 'My name is Mr Weiss. My companion is Mr Schwartz. We have a few questions.' He coughed as he sat down on the remaining wooden chair.

Kozak stared at them. 'Zat is your real name? Vise is German for white and Shvartz means black. So Mr White is black and Mr Black is white. Zis is a joke, ay?'

Mr Weiss bared white teeth in a smile. 'Too-shay . . . That's French for touch. Okay, you can call me Mr White, or Andy if you prefer. My associate is Con Black.'

I asked, 'What are you doing forcing your way in here?'

'Don't worry, ' Andy White said, 'you are not in any trouble. We just need a little information.' He sat down at a small table, pulled a tablet computer from his brief case and stared at Kozak. 'Tell me about hacking?' 

 Kozak stared back. ''Acking is a religion?' He sniffed loudly. 'You 'av' a 'acking cough?   'av' you been smoking marijuana? I am most interested in ze religion of cannabis.   Why do you put poisonous chemicals into your brains and lungs?'

'We are not here to discuss cannabis,' Andy White said.  'We have intercepted flash transmissions from your computer which is communicating in an unauthorized frequency band.'

'I do not play in ze Unaut'orized Frequency Band.  'Elas, I am not a musician.'

'What's a flash transmission?' I asked.

'It iz a broken gearbox,' Kozak explained. 

 'No, no, NO,' Andy White was getting annoyed. 'A flash transmission is a message compressed into a very short time. It is used to reduce the risk of interception. We are looking for terrorists.'

'Terrorists?' Kozak asked. 'Zat is a Methodist sect, no?'

Mr White ignored him. 'Where is your computer.' 'But I do not 'av a computer.'

'Then how do you explain the little box you have hidden in your hat.'

'Oh. Zat is a pager.'

'Pager?' Andy White looked at Con Black. 'Any idea what that is?'

'It is an antique form of communication,' Con answered. 'When someone paged you, you had to find a phone and call them.'

'I don't believe this. Who pages you Mister Kozak?'

'I am just Kozak. I 'av no titles. I am not a Lord or a Sir.'

Con Black said, 'Affirmative,' into his Blue Tooth microphone. 

 'How do you communicate?' Andy White was becoming visibly irritated with Kozak's insouciance.

'Zat is simple. I open my teez and move my tongue when I vibrate my larynx.'

I laughed out loud.