by Dan Lawton
“Look busy,” I say, handing a book to Frank. Alicia also takes one from the stack, as do I. We hold the books up to our faces and pretend to read while we people-watch.
A young couple sits across from us at a similar table, holding hands and whispering to one another. A middle-aged mother and her two children wander around the young adult section. A group of women browse the romance section near the counter. In the fiction section near the corner of the library is a single guy. He’s reasonably physically attractive I guess, average height and medium-build. He looks like any regular guy you’d pass on the street and not even notice. He could have something to offer with a reasonable effort. Either he doesn’t care or he doesn’t get it. He looks almost lost over there by himself, and I may feel bad for him under different circumstance.
This could be our guy.
“Hey, look,” I say quietly, getting Alicia’s attention. “Check it out.” I motion in the direction of the loner in the corner. Alicia checks him out from head to toe and I can tell she’s considering him.
“He’s not too bad,” she says, nodding. “He might be worth a shot.” She puts her book down and rises from her seat. She smoothens her jeans with her palms and straightens the light jacket that covers her blouse. “Wish me luck.” She glides across the carpeted floor with confidence and heads toward the target. Her hips sway with each step, and she looks like a model strutting down the runway toward the photographers at the other end. Frank and I lower our books slightly and observe the action.
---
It’s been a long day. I knew Alicia was going to be good, but I didn’t know she was going to be this good. She has really embraced her role. She spends the entire afternoon with this guy in the library, and she almost seems to be genuinely interested in him. By the early evening, the conversation moves out of the library and into a coffee shop across the street.
Frank and I had planned to wait outside the library in the van until Alicia came out, but it’s gone on for too long. By 7:00 P.M. we’re both famished, so we enter the coffee shop and order ourselves some grub. It looks like Alicia might have a stroke when she sees us enter the coffee shop and sit in the booth connected to hers. Frank and I eat in silence and eavesdrop on the conversation behind us.
We eat as slowly as we can, but pastries and homemade baked goods only last for so long. We leave the shop and wait in the van for another hour before Alicia finally emerges. It feels like we’re staking out the joint while we sit in the parking lot of the library with the lights off in the van.
While in the coffee shop, Alicia used our guy’s name during conversation, strategically I think, so it gives me something to do while waiting for her.
George Sanders has no criminal record, no speeding tickets, and no negative marks on his credit report. I run his name and plates through the police database that I’m able to link to from my mobile phone that is paid for by the taxpayers. I discover that he doesn’t appear to have any family around and he doesn’t participate it any of the popular social networking sites. He’s a banker with a college degree and a lifelong resident of the city. As far as I can tell, this guy is a nobody.
He’s ordinary, dull, and forgettable.
He’s perfect.
Across the street, Alicia slides into George’s car and he pulls away shortly thereafter. I start the van and trail the Honda Civic, keeping a good distance between us as it obeys all traffic laws until it arrives at a sprawled out housing community a few miles from the center of town. I drive by the compact ranch and get a visual of Alicia without stopping. I park the van a few hundred feet past the driveway and wait.
---
A few hours later, Frank’s snores wake me, bringing me to the realization that I too had fallen asleep. The illuminated clock in the center console provides a small glimpse of light in the van. It’s 2:33 A.M. I check my phone: No messages from Alicia. She apparently has decided to make herself comfortable and is staying the night. That wasn’t part of the plan, and quite frankly, it isn’t necessary. I’m a little perplexed at her for thinking she has the authority to make these types of decisions. Or maybe it’s jealousy, or envy. Maybe I want her to give me the attention George is getting, even if it’s not sincere.
I’ll give her another couple hours before I send her a message. For all I know, they could still be up talking, so I can’t risk blowing this opportunity. I set myself an alarm as a reminder before trying to fall back asleep. She needs to be out of there before George wakes up in the morning, and she will be.
I’ll make sure of it.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
GEORGE
The ride back to the warehouse has become routine. I sit in the back of the van across from Frank while Billy drives, mostly in silence. My hands are tied in front of me more loosely than usual, per my granted request. This allows me to slide the rope down my forearms a bit, thereby reducing the aggravation on my callused wrists.
Despite there being no windows in the back of the van, Frank uses an old neck tie to blindfold me as we’re about halfway back, I presume. The tie isn’t quite wide enough to cover my eyes, so I can see the floor of the van through a small slit on the bottom. I imagine the idea is that I can’t see where we’re going, but there’s nowhere to look out anyway, so it’s actually rather pointless. I play along just as Billy does I’m sure, as a way to keep Frank feeling involved.
As we come to a stop, I can hear a steel roller opening a garage door then closing it again as we pull forward. After going through the usual motions of Billy opening the back doors of the van and Frank escorting me out, they lead me through some doorways and down some corridors, then into a familiar smelling empty room. Frank removes the makeshift blindfold and leaves.
“Get some rest,” Billy says. “It’s going down tonight.”
He leaves, slamming the door behind him. In the corner of the room, opposite that of the wet spot from the leaky ceiling, is a flat pillow and wool blanket. It wasn’t there before, but I’ll take it. The old wooden chair from in front of the two-way mirror is still there, so I know it’s the same room. Ignoring the hunger growls in my empty stomach, I lie down on the pillow and close my eyes. The cement is cold beneath me, but the blanket helps to mask it slightly. I fall asleep almost instantly.
---
My deep sleep is interrupted by the door opening and closing. It’s dark, but I can hear soft footsteps approaching me. A figure is standing above me, but my eyes aren’t adjusting quickly enough to make out who or what it is. A quiet whisper comes from the figure.
“Are you awake?” it’s a woman’s voice.
I grunt.
“George, it’s me.”
“Alicia?”
Suddenly remembering where I am, I pop up to the sitting position and the blood rushes to head, making me dizzy. I ignore it.
“I just wanted to see how you are,” Alicia says.
“I’m fine, don’t worry about me. How are you doing?”
“I’m okay, tired. How’s your setup?” She smoothens the blanket with one hand, making contact with mine as she does so. “It’s not much, but it’s all I could find.”
“It’s great, it’s more than enough. Thank you.”
“I found this stuff in a closet in one of these rooms when you guys were gone. They didn’t lock my door so I could use the bathroom. You know, the baby thing. So I wandered around for a bit and came across this. I thought you could use it.”
“What else did you find?”
“Not much really. It’s mostly just some old rooms, offices maybe, with some dusty desks and file cabinets and stuff.”
“Did you try to escape?”
There’s a long silence. “Uh, no. I didn’t think about it I guess. I didn’t want to take the chance, you know? I didn’t want to put the baby at risk.”
“That’s understandable I guess.” There’s another long awkward silence before I continue, “Did you know that Billy’s a cop?”
“Yeah, I know.”
“What about that other guy, Frank?”
“What do you mean?”
“He can’t be a cop too, right? Is there something wrong with him?”
“Frank is Billy’s younger brother. He has BPD.”
“BPD?”
“Borderline personality disorder.”
“Is he dangerous?”
“Dangerous? I don’t think so. He’s a little unstable sometimes, but he seems harmless enough.”
“Good to know. How do you know all this stuff about them?”
Suddenly, she grabs my wrist, grasping hard around my callus. I clench my jaw tightly and try to fight off the pain.
“Do you hear that? I think they’re coming. I’ve got to go, I don’t want to get caught. I’ll come see you later.” Just like that, she pops to her feet, runs to the door and slides out, and the door closes behind her.
I’m not left in the dark for long though, as just moments later the lights engage and brighten up the room. I shield my face to avoid the brightness. The door opens and I can hear Billy enter.
“Get up, it’s go time,” he says.
I slowly rise to my feet and start toward the door, my hand still shading my eyes as I move. As I reach the door, Billy puts his hand on my shoulder and leads me down the corridor.
“Okay, so here’s the plan.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
BILLY
The melody of my phone’s alarm startles me from a light sleep. It takes a moment for me to react, but I do eventually dismiss the alarm and pull my seat to the sitting position. Frank is a deep sleeper, so the commotion doesn’t stir him. After a moment of letting my eyes adjust to the illuminated background of my phone, I type a brief message to Alicia and send it across the airwaves.
It takes her less than a minute to respond.
I turn the key that dangles from the ignition and start up the engine. I back the van out without looking and pull into the deserted street, heading back in the direction of George’s ranch. I slow the van to a crawl and stop it in front of the driveway. I try to wake Frank, but he grumbles and refuses to move, so I guess he’s staying where he is. He’s far too large for me to try and move myself.
I hand crank my window to lower it then I light up a cigarette. I take a few drags and blow the smoke into the night before tossing it to the ground outside. The stimulation of the nicotine in my lungs wakes me fully.
In the distance, a door faintly closes, so I look through the dark toward the sound. A motion-activated light engages and lights up George’s driveway. Alicia gallops toward us, shoes in hand. I motion to the back doors as she approaches, and she slides in the back, gently closing the doors behind her. I pull the van forward no more than a few hundred feet, just enough to be out of view from George’s house, and pull to the side of the road. I throw the transmission into park and spin around to face Alicia.
“What the hell are you doing?” I snap at her.
She’s taken aback at my aggressiveness, and she goes on the defensive. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want any bullshit, I’m not playing games. This was not part of the plan.”
“Listen, I’m responsible for getting him hooked.” She uses her fingers as air quotes around “hooked”. “I’m just doing what I have to do.”
“It wasn’t necessary. None of it was needed. We don’t need him to fall in love with you for Christ sakes. We just need him to want more.”
Alicia looks away for an extended period of time. Something is wrong.
“Oh shit.”
She looks back to me. “What?”
“You’re falling for this guy, aren’t you?”
She chuckles, but I can see her cheeks getting flush. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
I roll my eyes. My blood starts to boil. “What happened in there tonight?”
She looks away again, hoping I will ignore the question. I won’t. I just stare at her and wait for the response.
“Nothing much, just talked mostly,” she says.
I continue staring at her, waiting for something else. I can see her shame, but she’s not going to say it, so I will. “You fucked him, didn’t you?”
She snaps her head up and looks at me. “Does it matter?”
“It matters to me.”
“Well too bad!” she snaps.
I shake my head in disgust, almost shunning her. Her defensiveness gives me all the information I need.
She sighs and forces herself to relax. “I’m not sure I want to do this. Maybe I’m not the right person for the job. I thought I was, but I don’t think I can do this.”
I shake my head. “It’s too late for that.”
“What if I say no? What if I just don’t do it?”
I smile at her, although I’m not being friendly. I turn back toward the cabin of the van and open the glove box. I have to push Frank’s tree stump legs out of the way to open the door fully, which stirs him. I slam the door and turn back to Alicia. I show her the gun. I don’t point it at her, but I show it to her as a threat. I don’t say anything as I watch her eyes widen and her face stricken with fear. She keeps her eyes on the gun and slides down the bench toward the back doors.
“Relax, I’m not going to shoot you,” I say.
The tension doesn’t release from her muscles as she continues to slide down the bench until she reaches the end. The doors are locked from the inside, so she has no way out and she knows it. She cowers in fear.
I think I’ve proven my point for now, so I turn back around and face the cabin. Frank is awake and staring at me. He gives me the same look that Alicia was, and he pushes his back up against the glass.
“What did I miss?” he says, his voice trembling.
I push his legs aside and toss the unloaded gun back into the glove box. I switch the transmission into drive and pull back into the still empty street. I can feel Frank’s eyes watching me, and I’m sure Alicia is doing the same. I fight myself from smiling as I head toward home.
I’m in control here, and now they both know it.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
GEORGE
Billy, Frank, and I are outside the van, which is in its usual spot next to the cell tower in front of Snake’s house. It’s 2:30 A.M. and the air is chilly, although I’m still perspiring. A three quarter crescent moon lights up a path for us as we make our way toward the house. Families of crickets make conversation under the stars as we walk.
“Stick with the plan. No funny business,” Billy says, carrying a duffle bag in one hand.
“I’m ready, boss,” Frank says.
I don’t respond and just keep walking.
Billy faces me. “What about you?”
“What about me?” I say.
“You’re not going to fuck anything up, right? Do what I say and nobody gets hurt.”
“Let’s just get this over with so I can go home.”
The house is completely dark as we approach it. Billy does a perimeter check while Frank and I wait in the front. Frank is jittery, anxious or nervous I cannot tell. He twirls his thumbs and bounces back and forth between his feet. He looks like a child.
“Gunna be fun, Georgie,” he says to me. I don’t respond. He reaches over to me and wraps his arms around my shoulders and squeezes, lifting me into the air. “Georgieeee!” I can barely breathe as he squeezes me too aggressively.
“Put him down for Christ sakes,” Billy’s voice emerges from the darkness. Frank releases me and I fall the three inches back to the safety of the ground.
“Uh, sorry, boss,” Frank says, embarrassed. Billy walks up behind him and smacks him in the back of the head.
“Calm the fuck down, you idiot.”
Frank just stares into space as Billy glares at him. The trance is broken when Frank looks away, followed by Billy tossing the duffel bag on the ground. He kneels next to it, unzips it, and reaches inside. He pulls out two masks, the same carbon monoxide masks as from back at the warehouse, and hands them to Frank and me. I slip mine o
ver my head and onto my nose and mouth. I feel around my neckline and cheekbone to make sure it’s sealed properly, then I pull the straps tight. Frank is struggling to get his mask over his head. Billy, now too wearing a mask, hands me a steel bar and a rubber mallet. He slips two vials, one containing a reddish black powder and one containing a solid metallic substance, into his pocket before standing. He helps Frank adjust his mask before we head for the door.
Billy tries to open the front door, but the locking mechanism is engaged, so he grabs a crowbar from the duffel bag. He jams it in between the door and the frame just above the knob, giving his best guess to where the deadbolt is positioned. He wiggles the crowbar back and forth, trying to pry the door open, but it won’t budge. While keeping one hand on the crowbar to hold it in position, he holds his open hand out behind him. Frank snatches the mallet from my hand and places it in Billy’s open palm.
Frank smiles proudly.
Billy uses the mallet to wedge the crowbar in deeper, and he does the same on a few different spots on the door. The frame eventually splits through the center, but the door still won’t open. Billy turns to Frank and nods, then Frank walks past me and toward the direction of the van.
“You may want to move out of the way,” Billy says while yanking the crowbar out of the doorframe. Before I can respond, I catch a glimpse of Frank stampeding toward me.
“AAARRRGGGHHHH!” Frank screams like a mad man. His face is flushed and full of fury. He looks like he could kill someone.
I leap out of the way, falling to the dirt just in time as Frank plows through the door, shoulder first. The door is torn off its hinges and lands on the carpet beneath Frank’s quivering body. The rest of the doorframe crumbles into ash in the doorway. The friction from the impact shakes the ground, and it feels like the beginning of an earthquake.
