The Bank of Badness

by Jeff Gottesfeld

  Sly breathed hard as he stared at the screen. “That’s a Rangers’ car, right?”

  “You know it.”

  Robin zoomed in on the map. He’d noticed that many of the red lines ended at a location on the edge of town. Once the map was magnified, he switched to a photographic view.

  Whoa. The place was a self-storage yard. There were many long warehouses and an entry gate.

  “I know just where that is,” Sly declared. “That’s the U-Store place. You can see it from the highway. I think the church has a storage room there.”

  Robin zoomed in further. The red lines all seemed to stop at one concrete blockhouse at the far end of the storage yard.

  His heart pounded.

  “Guys?” he whispered. “I think we just found the bank of badness.”

  “The bank of what?” Sly asked.

  “The bank of badness,” Robin repeated. “The place the Rangers deposit their dirty money.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Early on Sunday morning, Robin stood by his grandmother. Miz Paige was at the center of a circle of nine people holding hands around her hospital bed. The Thomas family was there. So was old Missus Collins, whose party was supposed to have been today. Dr. Ashanti and some of the nurses Robin had come to know were also there.

  When he’d awakened at Sly’s house, Robin had figured that he would visit his grandmother after church. Reverend Thomas would have none of that. He insisted that everyone put on nice clothes and eat breakfast so they could visit Miz Paige first. Now, it seemed like he was going to have a special healing service right here in her room.

  “And now, let us pray,” Reverend Thomas intoned.

  Robin closed his eyes.

  “Dear God,” Reverend Thomas declared. “Bring peace and healing to everyone in this hospital. Bring strength and wisdom to the doctors and nurses who work so hard to keep us healthy. Especially bring your grace and healing to Miz Paige so she can get back to the business of being Miz Paige. For this we pray for in Jesus’s name, and let us say, amen.”

  A chorus of amen filled the room. Robin opened his eyes. Everyone was grinning, even the doctors and nurses.

  I don’t know if praying can make a sick person better, he thought. But it sure makes me feel better.

  “I want to thank everyone for being here,” said Reverend Thomas. “Especially Missus Collins, who had a little bit of a problem yesterday.”

  “What happened, Missus Collins?” Miz Paige asked. There was so much more energy in her voice. It was hard for Robin to believe that he’d found his grandmother on the Shrimp Shack floor thirty-six hours before.

  Missus Collins was a wisp of a woman. She wore a flowery dress, a black hat, and had skin as wrinkly as Miz Paige’s skin was smooth. Robin thought it was pretty funny that his grandmother and Missus Collins had known each other since dinosaurs walked the earth but still called each other by their last names.

  “Came home and found the place busted into.” For a tiny person, Missus Collins had a voice like a police helicopter.

  “Mercy, Missus Collins! I had no idea. What did they take?”

  “Some of mother’s silver,” Missus Collins reported. “Those old candlesticks— silver and gold, in bands. My mother gave them to me on her seventy-fifth birthday, bless her heart. I was hoping to give them to my daughter at the party. That won’t be happening, now. Anyway, I got something to make you feel better, Miz Paige.”

  She stepped toward the hospital bed and extracted a folded piece of paper from her pocketbook. “Here’s the check for the birthday party. Early.”

  Robin saw tears well up in his grandmother’s eyes. “Why … why … why thank you, Missus Collins,” his grandma managed. “That helps me fearsome.”

  “You’re very welcome, Miz Paige,” Missus Collins declared. “Get well so you can cook us up some shrimp!”

  Everyone laughed. Mrs. Thomas, who led the music at church, started to sing “Bringing in the Sheaves.” Reverend Thomas joined in. So did Sly. Then everyone in the room who knew the lyrics joined in.

  Robin did too. It was a little strange, singing a church hymn in a hospital room. But as the room filled with song and joy, he had to admit there was something really great about it.

  Later that Sunday, the small park near the Center was full of people. A bunch of brothers were scrimmaging on the basketball court, while older folks played chess or checkers, and little kids played on the swings and in the sandpit.

  “I brought you hot dogs,” Mr. Smith told Robin and Kaykay. “Lots of mustard, kraut, relish, and mmm-mmm-mmm!”

  “Mr. Smith!” Kaykay protested. “Why you do that? You know I don’t eat anything that ever took a breath!”

  “What?” Mr. Smith was aghast.

  “I’m vegan. You know that.”

  Mr. Smith looked at Kaykay, then at one of the three loaded hotdogs in the small cardboard container in his hands. “I did not know that. An’ anyway, hot dogs don’t seem to be breathin’. If you don’t want it, Robin an’ I’ll split. Ain’t that right, Robin?”

  It was mid-afternoon. The Thomases had dropped Robin here to meet up with Mr. Smith and Kaykay. Sly had wanted to come too, but his parents were making him visit some relatives in the suburbs. Robin promised to report everything they talked about.

  Robin looked up at Mr. Smith. “Kaykay won’t eat meat. Or chicken. Or fish. Or even my grandmother’s shrimp. She barely drinks milk!”

  “No chicken? No shrimp? What do you eat for dinner? Orange peels?” Mr. Smith rolled his eyes.

  “I do fine, Mr. Smith,” Kaykay told him. “I’m probably a lot healthier than you.”

  Mr. Smith looked at his lame foot in the special shoe. “You can walk better than me. That’s for sure.” He dug a few dollars out of his pocket and handed them to Kaykay. “Go get you something you can eat, then. Bird seed or something.”

  Kaykay stood. “I’ll be back with some hay.”

  Robin and Mr. Smith laughed, then chowed down on their hot dogs. Between bites, Robin told Mr. Smith how he’d planted the GPS tracker in the Rangers’ car. “They’re going out to a storage yard a lot.”

  “Could be they’re stashing money there, could be something else,” Mr. Smith growled. He took one last bite of hot dog, chewed it thoroughly, and washed it down with some root beer. “If that’s what they are doing, it’s smart, actually. Last place the cops’ll look.”

  “But we’re on to them now,” Robin said proudly.

  “We seem to be, yes,” Mr. Smith mused. “That place probably got security cameras and an electronic gate. We can disable the cameras; then I can get that gate to open. Whether we can get into their room depends on what kind of lock they got. I’m pretty good with these.” He wiggled the fingers on both hands.

  “We gotta be careful,” Robin cautioned.

  Mr. Smith opened up a box of checkers. There was a checkers board painted on the stone table. Robin had only ever beaten Mr. Smith twice.

  “What we don’t want is for the Rangers to show at the same time that we do,” Robin reminded.

  “That’s for damn sure,” Mr. Smith agreed as he arranged the checkers.

  The hot dog had been tasty, but it seemed to reform in Robin’s stomach as he thought about what the Rangers would do if they caught him in their room. It would be ugly. Bloody. Deadly.

  “We gotta know when we can be there when the Rangers aren’t,” Robin said as Kaykay sat back down. She carried an apple and a container of soy milk.

  “Oh, we don’t have to worry none about that,” she told him lightly.

  “Of course we do!” Robin retorted. He knew this was the kind of reckless thinking that could get them all killed.

  “No we don’t,” she said as she polished the apple to remove any pesticides that might be lingering. “I know when they go out there and when they don’t. At least I think I do.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since Tyrone told me today.”

  “Why didn’t you say
anything?” Robin demanded.

  Kaykay smiled. “What? And ruin this moment?” Then she turned serious. “I met him for lunch today at Taco Bell. I only ate beans, don’t worry, Mr. Smith. We were talking about the Rangers. He was bragging on selling for them. He said he’d be flush by tomorrow; that they came to get the money from him and Dodo every other day.”

  She snapped her fingers. “Here. Listen!”

  She took out the same recorder pen she’d used before and pushed the same little buttons. A moment later, they could hear Tyrone speaking with pride in his voice.

  “An’ you know, Kaykay? They run it like a day-um bid’ness. Pickup Tuesday, Thursday, Sat’day. Guess it save them on gas-o-line!”

  Kaykay turned off the mic. Robin sat and thought.

  If that’s true, they probably go out there after doing their collections. That’d be on Tuesday. …

  “I got it,” Robin declared.

  “What do you got?” Mr. Smith declared.

  “I know what to do. Yesterday was Saturday. I’ll check the GPS. If the Mustang went out there yesterday but not today? We’re set,” Robin explained. “Sunday, Monday, Wednesday, and Fridays are safe.”

  Mr. Smith shook his head. “They might have other cars.”

  That was true. But since the Mustang went out to the storage yard so often, Robin was pretty sure that was the money car.

  “I think we have to take that chance,” Robin said. “Agreed?”

  He looked at Mr. Smith, who’d forgotten all about playing checkers. Mr. Smith nodded.

  “You won’t steer us wrong, Robin,” Kaykay said softly.

  They quickly made a plan. Mr. Smith would borrow a car. They’d go to the storage yard tomorrow after dark, after the place closed. They’d try break into the Rangers’ shed. They wouldn’t spend more than twenty minutes in the yard, just to be safe.

  “There’s only one problem,” Robin said when they were done with their planning.

  “What’s that?” Mr. Smith asked.

  “It’s a school night,” Robin related. “I’m still staying at Sly’s house, and we all have homework.”

  Mr. Smith looked at him thoughtfully. “Well then, you’re right. I’d say we have a big problem.”

  “I’ll figure it out,” Robin promise.

  Mr. Smith stood creakily. It made Robin wonder if he was even strong enough for an operation like they were planning.

  “Excuse me,” Mr. Smith told them before he tottered off to the Porta-Potty by the basketball court. “I’m going to use the facilities.”

  When he was gone, Kaykay re-polished her apple and took a small bite. Robin thought he’d never seen food look as good as it did going between Kaykay’s plump lips.

  “How we gonna get free tomorrow night?” she wondered.

  “Dunno,” Robin admitted. “But I’ll think of something.”

  “I know you will. And don’t forget. I’m still a spy. Tomorrow morning I’m gonna be with Tyrone, and I’m gonna come down on your black ass like a ton of bricks. I suggest you cry. It’ll help.”

  “Suggestion heard,” Robin said. He was still mesmerized by Kaykay’s lips.

  “If you do cry? I’ll make it worth your while,” Kaykay told him.

  “Really? How?”

  Kaykay leaned toward him. The same lips that he’d been staring at pressed against his cheek and stayed there for quite a while.

  “Like that.”

  When the kiss was over, Robin smiled.

  “Make me cry,” he told her. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

  Kaykay played hard to get. “Is that so? How, Robin Paige?”

  Robin smiled again and leaned toward her.

  “Like this.”

  This time, he kissed her on the lips. She tasted of apple and Kaykay. He loved it.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The next morning at free breakfast, Robin and Sly sat together. Normally, Kaykay would have been there too. Not today. Today, she made a big show of marching right past them and over to where Tyrone was sitting with Dodo and some of his other homeboys.

  “You ready?” Robin asked.

  “To get our asses bustified by Kaykay?” Sly responded. “I’m totally lookin’ forward to it.”

  “It’s for a good cause,” Robin reminded.

  “Well, get ready. Here they come,” Sly sang out.

  Kaykay, Tyrone, and Dodo were heading right for them. In fact, they slid into the three empty seats across from Robin and Sly.

  “Well, well, well,” Kaykay said mockingly. “If it ain’t the two lamest boys in Ironwood.” She hit herself in the head. “Don’t know how I was ever friends with you two. Musta been crazed.” She made a motion with one finger by her head to indicate insanity.

  Tyrone laughed. “You just needed a dose of a real man, Kaykay. Not like Shrimp here. Whatchu got in those shorts of yours, Shrimp? Shrimp? Oh! I know! A couple of damn fish eggs!”

  Tyrone, Dodo, and Kaykay laughed uproariously. Even though Robin knew that it was actually in his best interest to cry, his face burned. What Tyrone was saying was just so mean.

  It’s not my fault that I haven’t reached pub—

  “And you, Sly?” Kaykay went on. “You want to know how fat you be? You be so fat that when you go to the bathroom, the toilet flush itself outta self-defense!”

  “Oooh!” Tyrone and Dodo fell over each other laughing. Robin saw that Sly was trying to stay stone-faced.

  “He fatter ’n that,” Tyrone went on. “Sly be so fat that when God said, ‘Let there be light!’ ” He had to add, with a smirk at his own genius, “ ‘If Sly would just move his fat ass outta the way!’ ”

  Robin tensed as Kaykay and the two boys cracked up again. That was going too far.

  “That’s nothin’!” Tyrone joined in. “Shrimp be so ugly that when it come time for dinner, his gramma stick him in the corner and feed him with a slingshot!”

  More laughter. Robin forced a tear. It wasn’t hard at all.

  As he dabbed at his eyes with a napkin, he saw Kaykay wink at him.

  That wink felt almost as good as one of her kisses.

  At seven fifteen that evening, Robin, Sly, and Kaykay waited outside the entrance to County General.

  They’d timed it carefully. Each had told their parents and caretakers that they’d be with Miz Paige for two hours and then would come home by bus. Instead, they’d only spent an hour in Miz Paige’s room, which left a whole other hour to try to break into the Rangers’ storage shed. Mr. Smith would drive them in his borrowed car. In fact, he was supposed to have picked them up five minutes ago.

  “Where is he?” Robin muttered. It had been hard getting all this organized.

  “Don’t know. What’d he say he’d be driving?” Kaykay asked.

  “Gray Chevy Aveo, pretty dinged up,” Robin told his friends.

  Sly grinned and pointed. “I think that’s him pulling up now.”

  The Aveo pulled over to the curb near them. Robin peered inside. Yep. It was Mr. Smith. He wore black clothes and a black hat.

  “Get inside,” he urged. “We don’t have much time if I’m gonna get you kids home on time. And put on them hoodies.”

  Robin got in front. Sly and Kaykay were in back. Mr. Smith pulled away from the hospital and turned left onto Flint Boulevard.

  Robin had mapped the route. They’d follow Flint to Decatur, then turn west. The U-Store was on Decatur. No traffic at this hour. The drive should take no more than fifteen minutes. That would give them twenty minutes at the storage yard. It wasn’t much time, but Robin didn’t want to spend much time there. It was bad enough that they were breaking in. What would he tell his grandmother if they got caught? And if they got caught by the Rangers?

  Forget about it.

  “I got some good news today, sort of,” Mr. Smith said as he drove. “I talked to Principal Kwon this morning. He said a fifty thou donation would be enough to get the library back in business, but it has to happen fast. I said I migh
t make that donation myself.”

  “You don’t have that kind of money!” Sly exclaimed.

  Robin saw Mr. Smith smile thinly. “Not now. An hour from now? Who knows? So listen up. Robin’s the CO, but here’s what I suggest when we get there.”

  Mr. Smith sketched out an operational plan for Robin to approve. They’d park as close as possible to the U-Store so he didn’t have to walk any more than he had to. They’d stay close to the walls to avoid any security cameras. He’d brought tools and lock picks; he’d first disable the security cameras and then try to open the gate. If it opened, they’d go through on foot and hustle to the Rangers’ storage shed. There, he’d try to pick the lock.

  “Does that work?” he asked Robin.

  “It sounds good,” Robin agreed.

  “Good. Robin, I want you to watch everything, in case you ever have to do it yourself. An’ I can’t promise any of this is gonna work,” Mr. Smith admitted.

  “The most important thing is not to get ourselves shot at,” Robin added, then closed his eyes to think.

  Am I the biggest idiot in the world? I’m in ninth grade, my gramma’s sick, and I’m about to rip off the baddest gang in the whole city. And what do I get out of it? No one’s ever gonna know, and I’m not gonna keep any of the money!

  I must be wack. Or I must be good. Or maybe good peeps are all wack.

  He turned to look at Kaykay and Sly. Each had their eyes closed and their hands tightly clenched. They were brooding too. Robin glanced at Mr. Smith. His face was grim. Like a mask of death.

  “Mr. Smith?” Robin asked.

  “Uh-huh?”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  Mr. Smith nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  Robin chose his words carefully. “Why are you doing this? I mean, I remember you said that you hated the Rangers like we do. How come? Did they do something to you?”

  Mr. Smith shook his head. “No, Robin. They did not do something to me.”

  Robin frowned. “To someone you know?”

  He saw Mr. Smith grip the steering wheel, hard. “Yes. To someone I know. Something very bad. My late brother Johnson. He had a granddaughter named Lily. My grandniece. You remember the shootout on Twenty-Eighth Street a few years back? Where the little girl got caught in the crossfire?”