Page 92 of Good Enough

“Well, I’m not s-sure,” she stuttered.

How did I miss it? If he dies, it will be all my fault.

“Kubrick?” Midas was watching her with a look of concern over the computer screen.

“I had a sudden epiphany when going through some invoices, and it triggered a memory about the last email I got from Kent. I mean, Ka-Bar. Can you pull up my emails from Ka-Bar even though I completely deleted them over thirty days ago?”

“Does the Pope wear a funny hat? Nothing’s ever truly deleted.”

The emails were already appearing on the left-hand side of her screen. She scanned the top several communications, which were actually her trying to contact him after he had disappeared. She clicked open the sixth file, which was his second last email to her.

12-13-22 7:41 a.m.

Hey, Kai.

Sorry, but I’m gonna need to trade on some of my big brother cred here. I’m an idiot and left a package behind at the embassy in Cairo. I meant to send it home before I left, but then I got called out and didn’t get to it. I assume you’re heading home from Budapest in a day or two. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I also know you won’t mind visiting Amal, so I’ll owe ya. When you get to the embassy, ask for Jonathan Carter. He’ll make sure you get what you need. Thanks, sis. I always know I can count on you. Make sure you check the date on your calendar, and I’ll owe you one bottle of sake and dinner at that place south of Hayato’s. Sorry this is all so back asswards. Love you.

“You said the package wasn’t there, though,” Waters reminded her.

“No, I said no one knew anything about a package and that the official I spoke to said Carter wasn’t at the embassy, and he didn’t arrive before I left.”

“So?” Midas asked.

Waters frowned. “What are you thinking, babe?”

“I think that package was way more important than Ka-Bar let on.” She bowed her head in frustration. “Fuck, I’m so stupid. It wouldn’t be difficult to hack into my emails, see that, then think I had that package at my trailer or even with me.”

The black box’s wavelength popped up and God’s voice came over the speakers. “But Waters just said you didn’t get a package.”

“No, I didn’t. But I missed a key piece of his message. That’s where I really fucked up. Look at the date on the email.”

They watched as Midas squinted at the screen. “December 13th, 2022, at 7:14 a.m.”

“Now look at the email.” He scanned the communication, his lips moving and no sound coming out of his mouth. “Why put a date on an email when the program automatically puts one on it in the inbox?”

The minute he saw it, she knew. “Your brother is fucking brilliant. Where, Kubrick?”

“Hayato’s is on the 1300th block of 7th Street. Go one block south, there’ll be a shipping store of some kind. You’ll need to get to box 417. The combination will be 22-31-21.”

“I know you just got back, but get your ass on it, Steel,” God barked.

“On my way.” His box closed.

“Waters,” she started. “I fucked up.”

He shook his head. “Steel’s got it. You saw it now, that’s what’s important. It was clever, Kubrick. Maybe too clever. Whatever it is he needed you to collect must be really important for him to hide it that well. How did you figure it out?”

“I was filing invoices from my email. The rappelling company I purchased pitons from is French. They use a European date format. And military timing. All of a sudden, I realized there was something weird about the numbers in Ka-Bar’s email. Then I thought about some of the other information he gave me. It just didn’t make sense. At the end he apologized for everything being back asswards. He meant everything was backward from what he was really saying. I should have realized, in particular, because of the mention of Amal. He was the first… you know.” She blushed as she looked at Waters. “He’s married now, and I would never disrespect his wife that way by showing up to visit. But I was in such a hurry that it didn’t register. Ka-Bar would have known I would feel that way, so he was saying DON’T go to Cairo. Ugh.”

“What about the agent?” God asked.

“That’s even dumber of me. I love science fiction, and I went through a huge comic book phase as a kid. There is no Jonathan Carter. He’s a fictional character from a comic book by Edgar Rice Burroughs. A soldier who ended up traveling to Mars. I think my brother may have used it as one of his aliases when he needed an exit strategy several years ago. He probably used it as the name to rent the shipping box.”

Plastic wrapping could be heard crinkling. “And when you went to the embassy and asked for this agent, either the flunky you talked to got tipped off that Ka-Bar was either in trouble or it was a red flag to someone in the know to hack into your correspondence.” God hmphed and began crunching his sucker.

“Enter Jacques' surreptitious flight from the embassy,” Waters interjected. “Also, could be a predetermined code of some kind. The flunky might have played dumb for Kubrick but then reported to Jacques about someone asking for an agent that didn’t exist. The ambassador would then understand that Ka-Bar was in trouble.”

“And whatever I was supposed to ‘bring home’ was already out of the country and in that shipping box. Look. He tells me one bottle, or one block because of the letter ‘B’ at that place south of Hayato’s. Then he tells me to check my calendar. Not save a date, but to check the calendar.”

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