Despite this fortuitous turn of events, Jacob had been annoyed that Eric’s admission that they were removing liquidity from the market had come six days before the event—and in a drunken stupor no less. They had to have known about this for months. But Jacob had been an afterthought, not privy to the inner sanctum of the Roth financial dynasty. Maybe that was changing. He’d been summoned to his father’s home office.
Jacob knocked on his father’s door.
“Come in,” Nathan said.
Jacob stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. The office was dark wood and plush leather. A floor-to-ceiling bookshelf spanned one wall, filled with first editions and rare hardbacks. Nathan wore a dark suit, making Jacob feel underdressed in his khakis and polo shirt. Jacob approached his father.
The old man looked away from his computer screen and said, “Have a seat.”
Jacob sat in a leather chair across the desk from Nathan.
“Corrinne Powers has agreed to make you treasury secretary when she wins the presidency,” Nathan said.
“Should I meet with her?”
“No, it’s better that you don’t. Eric’s in contact with her.”
Jacob nodded. “What about Naomi Sutton?”
“You spoke with her. She made her intentions known, didn’t she?”
“Yes, she did.”
“She won’t win without our support.”
47
Summer and the Day Everything Changed
Summer and Connor sat on the couch, watching their OLED television. A banging came from their front door. Summer startled in her seat and looked toward the door.
Connor stood from the couch. “It’s probably Mark again.” He checked the peephole and said, “Who are you?”
“I gotta letter for Connor Pierce,” a man replied through the door. “Mark sent me.”
Connor opened the door. A dark-skinned man wearing shorts and a tank-top handed a sealed envelope to Connor. “Mark told me to give this to you.”
Connor took the letter from the man. “Is Mark okay?”
The man shrugged. “I don’t even know him. He gave me fifty Fed Coins to deliver this letter. I’m gonna bounce. My AutoLyft’s waitin’.” The man turned on his sneakers and walked away.
Connor shut the door and returned to the couch, opening the letter in the process.
“What does it say?” Summer asked, her hands resting on her big belly.
Connor opened the trifolded letter and read it aloud. “I hope this letter gets to you and Summer in time. Zoe was arrested. I wasn’t home, but my mother told me that the police have an arrest warrant for me too. I’m sure they have arrest warrants for you two also. I’m on the run, trying to get out of the country. I’m trying to get to Panama. There’s an agorist community in the Darién jungle that takes antigovernment refugees. It’s called Silver City. If I were you, I’d leave the country too. If they catch us, they’ll send us to Psycho Island. If I make it to Panama, I’ll stay in the DoubleTree Hotel in Panama City for three days. Meet me there and we can go to Silver City together. Get out now. Make sure you destroy this letter.” Connor looked up from the letter, his face white as a ghost. “What are we supposed to do?”
Summer sat up straighter, her heart pounding. “We can’t just leave. I’m due any day. I’m not supposed to get on an airplane.”
“What about a boat?”
“I’m not supposed to travel at all.”
Connor ran his hand over his face in frustration. “What if they’re coming for us?”
“What if they’re not?”
“Then we can come back.”
Summer narrowed her eyes at Connor. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“They arrested Javier, Zoe, and they have an arrest warrant for Mark. We could be next.”
“It’s not safe for me to travel.”
“What if we hid at my parent’s house for a few days? I have a few nanocams from work. I could install one in the peephole here. Then we’ll know if the police come looking for us. If they do, we’re gone. If not, we just come back home in a few days.”
Summer nodded along with the plan. “That makes some sense.”
“I’ll call my parents.”
“Now?”
“For all we know, the police could be on their way over.” Connor picked up his cell phone from the coffee table, then put it back down again. “What if they’re monitoring our phones? We should leave our phones here. We’ll have to show up to my parents unannounced. Shit, we can’t take our car. And we can’t take an AutoLyft. It would be tracked with our chips.”
“Mr. Diaz from downstairs would probably let us use his car.”
“What about my chip?” He massaged the skin at the fulcrum of his right thumb and index finger. Embedded under the skin was a microchip with all his important documents and information. Summer had the chip card, her father refusing the implant when she was a child.
“You said you don’t have tracking.”
“I don’t, but I bet they can still track me.” Connor took a deep breath. “Can you take it out?”
Summer arched her eyebrows, her eyes wide open. “You want me to perform a minor surgery in our apartment?”
“What other choice do we have?”
“Let me see your hand.”
Connor held out his right hand.
She needled the area with her fingers.
“Feel it?” he asked.
“Yes. It’s small. Not very deep either,” Summer said.
“You have some medical stuff here, right?”
“My med kit’s under the bathroom sink. Grab it and bring it to the kitchen.” Summer struggled to her feet and waddled to the kitchen table, while Connor retrieved her medical kit.
Connor set the plastic box on the kitchen table in front of Summer. While sitting at the table, she opened the box and removed what she needed: Betadine, Steri-Strips, a scalpel, forceps, a bandage, medical tape, and numbing cream.
“Can you do it?” Connor asked.
“It might hurt a little.”
Connor nodded and sat next to her at the table.
“Put your hand on the table.” Summer examined his hand again. “Are you sure about this?”
“No sense in leaving if I have this thing in me.”
“Okay.” Summer stood and cleaned the tabletop. She cleaned the forceps and the scalpel with Betadine. She washed his hand and washed her hands. Summer sat next to Connor. She rubbed the numbing cream on and around the operation area.
A few minutes later she touched and prodded the skin, asking if Connor felt anything. He didn’t. She picked up the scalpel, and Connor looked away. She held her hand steady and made a small incision. Connor grunted in response, still looking away. She grabbed the forceps and removed the tiny bloody microchip. She cleaned the wound and closed it with Steri-Strips, then covered everything with a bandage.
“That’s it,” Summer said, smiling.
Connor turned to Summer. “That didn’t hurt too bad. You should’ve been a surgeon.”
“I don’t know about that.” Summer picked up the microchip with her fingertips, showing Connor. She dropped it in his open palm. “I guess we should leave it here.”
Connor examined the microchip, set it back on the table, and stood. “We should get going. Pack light. Only necessities.”
“We’re really doing this?”
“You didn’t cut me open for nothing.”
Summer called Mr. Diaz to ask about borrowing his car. He agreed. Connor shredded Mark’s letter and installed a nanocam in the peephole. Summer and Connor packed two small suitcases and left their apartment, taking the elevator to the second floor. They retrieved the key fob for Mr. Diaz’s autonomous Nissan. He said that his car was parked in front. They took the elevator to the lobby.