Deception

by Dan Lawton

  Two minutes is up, or close to it, so I go back to the closet and whip the door open. I reach inside and grab Alicia’s arm, pulling her into the hallway. I slam the door in George’s face.

  “Did you say it?” I demand.

  She’s still frantic, so she doesn’t respond right away. I squeeze her arm tighter and ask again. She shakes her head.

  “Say it right now or you’re dead.”

  She wails at the force of my grip, but she does eventually yell out to George as I pull her away.

  “George, I’m pregnant!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  GEORGE

  The yard surrounding Snake’s house looks like a war zone. Frank has spent the last hour digging shallow holes with no apparent logical pattern. Holes are scattered across the lawn with patches of untouched square footage left between them. Stacks of dirt are piled up in various places. As there is only one shovel, Billy takes me for a drive to go find a compass while Frank puts his physical frame to good use.

  I must be gaining Billy’s trust. He lets me sit in the front seat without my wrists being tied or without a blindfold covering my eyes as he drives. It’s nice to not have the rope tear open my calluses again. Billy’s attitude has changed. I can hear the excitement in his voice as he talks about the next step after we find the money. He lets his guard down a bit and is a little careless probably, which is unlike him. I do my best not to make it look obvious that I’m taking mental snapshots and studying the surroundings. I don’t think he notices. He’s too busy talking.

  Billy tells me that has to make a pit stop at the warehouse before swinging by the local outdoor store to pick up a compass. He doesn’t say for what, and I don’t ask. He runs inside and leaves me alone in the van with the key still in the ignition and the engine running. I might be giving him too much credit, but the possibility of this being a test does cross my mind. I consider making a break for it in the van, but the finish line seems near, so I think better of it. Instead, I try to figure out where I am.

  Once I see the rusty outline of letters on the side of the building, I can’t believe I didn’t put things together before. Years ago, the Topeka Police Department built and moved to a new station. The old unit was on 12th Street, which is where we are now and where we’ve been hiding out in, and it’s just a few miles from my house. Billy must have kept a key to the old place without them knowing all this time. Strangely, as I think about it, the electricity is working, hence the lights and garage door, so someone must be paying for that. How the city hasn’t picked up on that is a different question, perhaps one that will be answered down the line. Something strange is definitely going on though, I know that much.

  A slamming car door breaks my concentration. I look over and Billy is sitting next to me in the van. I didn’t even see him come back outside. He studies me intently and he clenches his teeth. I can see his jawbone through his face as he tightens the muscle. He must have seen me staring at the building and I wonder if he realizes his mistake. I get my answer as we drive the rest of the way in silence.

  ---

  Frank is sitting in the shade holding the shovel between his legs when we return. The sweat has saturated his shirt and a dark stain protrudes from under his armpits. His productivity is impressive, but exhaustion and dehydration has taken him over. Billy tosses him an unopened bottle of water, and Frank guzzles it down. He gags a little toward the end from drinking it too quickly.

  “Find anything?” Billy asks, directed to Frank.

  “Nothin’, boss.”

  Billy nods as he uses a pocket knife to cut through the plastic packaging that holds a plastic compass. “Does anyone know how to use one of these?”

  Frank shrugs.

  “I’ll take a look,” I say as I hold out my hand.

  Billy cuts through the rest of the package and hands me the compass. I used one once before when my college roommate and I got lost during a camping trip in Michigan, but it’s been a few years. I place the compass in the palm of my hand and spin myself around until the needle points into the western quadrant. I maneuver myself so the arrow rests on the 282.

  “This is 282 degrees west,” I continue.

  Billy removes the note from his pocket and reads it aloud, “282w53s. What about the 53? Add 53 to the 282, what do you get?”

  I close my eyes and add it up, then peek at the compass. “335, but that’s northwest. That doesn’t make sense.”

  Billy grunts. “Subtract it then.”

  I close my eyes again and make the calculation. “229.” I look down at the compass. “That’s southwest. That could work.”

  Billy turns to Frank. “Check it.”

  Frank jumps to his feet and moves toward us with the shovel. “Where?”

  “Right here,” Billy says. “This is 229 degrees southwest.”

  Frank pauses and looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t. He starts to dig. Billy stands with his hands on his hips and supervises.

  As Frank digs I begin to question myself. Holding the compass still, I walk backwards a few steps, then back forward and around Frank. The compass doesn’t change.

  “I don’t think is right,” I say.

  Frank stops, and Billy looks at me.

  “What do you mean?” Billy asks.

  “229 degrees southwest is this entire path.” I pendulum my arm back and forth, drawing an invisible line in midair. “229 degrees extends for an infinite distance. It’s never ending.”

  Billy brings his hand to his face and rubs his chin. “You might be right.”

  “Plus, why would it be written that way?”

  “Written what way?”

  “The 282 west, then 53 south. That’s just a little strange, don’t you think? The 53 would come first if it was southwest.”

  “Unless he wanted to make it difficult for someone to find.”

  “Maybe.”

  There is a brief silence.

  “What do you suggest?” Billy says, ending it.

  “I don’t know, maybe it’s a measurement or something. 282 degrees west, then 53 something.”

  “But what?”

  I shake my head. “Not sure. You know these people better than I do, you tell me.”

  We stand in silence while the sun beats down on us. Frank’s skin is burning from being in the heat all day.

  “I got it!” Frank blurts. “Centimeters! 53 centimeters.”

  Billy rolls his eyes. “No, that’s not it.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because centimeters starts with a ‘C’ and not an ‘S’, you fucking idiot.”

  Frank’s head drops in disappointment. “Oh.”

  Sensing Billy’s frustration, I turn around and begin walking the path, keeping the compass steady at 282 degrees. I look up as I approach the side of the house. I peer at the compass, then back at the house. 282 degrees is pointing directly at the torn up exterior wall of the house where the safe is.

  I holler to Billy, “Hey, come here.”

  Billy makes his way toward me, slowly, with Frank following closely behind. “What is it?” Billy says when he gets close enough to hear.

  “What about steps? 53 steps,” I say.

  “53 steps from where?”

  I point toward the side of the house. “Look. The compass is pointing directly to the safe at 282 degrees.”

  Billy cocks his head slightly to read the compass. He yanks it from my hand to check himself. “Holy shit.”

  ---

  With his back against the siding, Billy walks toward Frank and me, counting each step aloud as he moves. He counts out fifty-two steps then slams his feet together on the last.

  “Here,” he says.

  Frank hustles over to him and starts to dig. He stacks piles of dirt to the side as he quickly begins and widens a hole. He thrusts the shovel into the hole and it hits something solid, and the shovel vibrates in his hands.

  “What was that?” Billy asks, fully alert.

&nb
sp; Frank jams the head of the shovel into the dirt again and the vibration returns. Billy rips the shovel from Frank’s hands and pushes him aside. He pushes some dirt around with the shovel then drops to his knees. Using his hands, he wipes dirt to the side until a wooden box peeks through the earth. He flicks dirt behind him like a playing dog until most of the box is visible. He reaches down and pulls on the box, but it doesn’t budge. Frank jumps in and grabs the back side, and they pull on it again, which frees it from the hole. They drop it on the ground beside us.

  The box has thick walls and a secured lid, and it looks fairly new. It’s three feet wide and three feet tall with an oversized lock on the lid. Billy takes the key from the safe out of his pocket, jams it into the lock, and turns. The lock clicks and snaps open. Billy removes it and tosses it to the side. He lifts the lid and slides it to the back so the hinges hold it in place. Billy and Frank both look inside and their jaws drop. I poke my head around the side and also peek inside.

  Stacked top to bottom and covering the entire surface area is what we’ve been looking for, the holy grail of criminal activity. My eyes widen and my heart begins to pound. Frank reaches his hand in, but it’s swatted away by Billy.

  “We fucking did it,” Billy says as he drops to his rear. Frank pulls Billy toward him and squeezes him. Typically, Billy would have cussed him out and swung at him probably, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Not right now. He can’t remove his eyes from the box, and neither can I.

  I have never seen that much cash before.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  BILLY

  Alicia hates me for making her say that to George, she told me. It worked though, as he said he would help. I expected nothing less, although I didn’t have an alternative plan in case he refused, so I’m secretly relieved. I guess I would have offed him if he declined.

  Then what would we have done?

  Regardless, he’s on board now, so we go right to work. I lock Alicia in the interrogation room with the two-way mirror, despite her resistance. She kicks and screams, but I’m eventually able to force her in the room with Frank’s help and lock the door. Now what the hell do I do with her? It’s an issue to deal with later though; there are more pressing issues at hand.

  In the van on top of the hill overlooking Snake’s house, I give vague instructions to George on what to look for once he gets into the house. Equipped with an AT&T polo shirt and ball cap that I swiped from a giveaway at the mall last week, I advise him to play the network maintenance card. “Tell him you work for the company and that you need to check the network,” I tell him. I don’t know if it’s going to work, but George’s innocence and non-threatening demeanor should get him in the door at least. Snake isn’t stupid, but I’m hoping he’ll fall for it.

  Please fall for it.

  Once inside, George is to look for somewhere that Snake could be hiding all the money. I don’t know specific details on when the transfer of the cash happened or where it occurred, but I can’t imagine he would wait more than twenty-four hours to pick up the loot. Some of it was likely paid up front, so there should be cash in the house already since people like Snake don’t use banks. It won’t be out in the open, but it will be somewhere accessible for a quick escape if needed.

  We’ll see what George can find.

  Frank and I sit alone, nervously. There is a cell tower to my left, and I smoke a cigarette out the window. The nicotine numbs my lungs and gives me the high that I need to help me relax. We watch as George slowly makes his way toward Snake’s front door. He turns to face us before knocking on the door.

  “Come on, George,” I whisper to no one as we wait for the action. The door appears to crack open slightly, so I crouch down and out of site. Frank is in the back and is easily hidden. I’m able to peek around the mirror on my door and continue to watch the action. Moments later, Snake is outside the door and face to face with George, pointing a gun in his face. It’s tough to see his face from here, but it sure looks like the Adrian that I know. Part of me wants to take aim and end this all right now, but there is something I need from him first.

  “What are they talkin’ about?” Frank asks from the back.

  It’s a rhetorical question, so I don’t respond. He asks again, so I shush him, as if I am trying to eavesdrop on the conversation from a few hundred feet away. I can hear nothing, but I try to concentrate in case I’m needed as backup.

  “He’s in!” I blurt excitedly as Snake pushes George into the house and closes the door. I must admit, I’m impressed with George’s ability to think on his feet. It’s amazing what people can do when their life is on the line.

  Less than a minute later, George is pushed out the front door and is soon walking back toward us. His hat is gone, but he appears to be in one piece. I don’t know what he said in there to piss Snake off, but I can hear the echoes of Snake yelling, even from this distance. George has no idea how lucky he is to be alive.

  I’ve seen Snake kill for much less.

  Staying low and out of sight in case Snake is watching, which he probably is, I slide across the bench and into the passenger’s seat. George approaches the van and enters in through the driver’s side. He starts it up and moves it behind the cell tower, just out of sight of the house. I keep a hand on my gun on my hip since he’s in control of the van, just in case.

  The ride back to the old police station goes quickly, and I do my best to organize my thoughts with the confirmed information that George discovered inside the house. I wasn’t expecting the safe to be inside the wall, but it does make sense. Having some familiarity with criminals and how their minds work, it was a near certainty that Snake had a safe somewhere. I was expecting it would be built into an end table or a bureau or something, but having it inside the wall could be quicker to access for emergency withdrawal. Luckily, I did my homework, so I’m fully prepared to crack the safe.

  Almost.

  When we’re a few miles out from the old police station, Frank ties George’s hands together in front of him and loosely covers his eyes with his own tie. I consider telling him that it isn’t necessary since the windows in the back of the van are tinted and covered with a sheet, but I decide to let it go. He could use something to keep him busy. I pull the van in through the rear of the station and close the garage behind us.

  I had engaged the child safety lock on the back doors to the van when we brought George inside when he was unconscious earlier, so I have to get out and open the doors from the outside. I can’t risk him trying to get away. I pull Frank aside before he leads George out of the van.

  “Bring him inside and toss him back in the holding area, “I say. “Cut him loose when he’s in there, we don’t want him to feel like he’s being held against his will.”

  “Where you goin’?”

  “I have some supplies I need to go pickup.”

  “Right now?”

  “Right now.”

  Frank nods, but he looks a little uneasy about the idea.

  “Just keep the doors locked and you’ll be fine. I won’t be long.” I consider giving him my gun for protection, but he’s proven that he can’t be trusted with it. I know what kind of damage he’s capable of inflicting, and although he takes his medicine every morning, I just can’t have that. Just ask the guy from the fast food place if Frank’s capable of causing harm. He’ll tell you.

  Frank leans in the back of the van and guides George out while he holds onto the rope between his wrists. He closes the doors and leads them into the station through the side door.

  “One more thing,” I say before they make their way through the doorway. “Don’t let the girl out until I get back.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  GEORGE

  Everything that was in the black duffel bag that Billy’s been carrying around is scattered across the lawn: a hand gun, steel bar, police badge, and the three gas masks, among other things. The wooden box that was unearthed from the dirt is now empty and the contents are in the bag. Billy sniffs
the final stack of cash before placing it into the duffel bag. He zips it, throws it over his shoulder, and points in the direction of the scattered contents on the ground.

  “Pick that stuff up, will you?”

  Frank reacts immediately and gathers the items as Billy and I make our way back toward the van.

  “What now?” I ask.

  “Yeah, what now, boss?” Frank’s breath is heavy as he hustles to catch up to us.

  “We’re done. I guess that’s it,” Billy says.

  “So I can go home then?”

  Billy nods.

  “With Alicia?”

  He hesitates. “With Alicia.”

  “What about us, boss?” Frank interrupts.

  “We’ll leave in the morning.”

  “Where you guys going?” I ask.

  Billy looks at me but doesn’t say anything. He’s made one mistake too many by letting me see where they’ve been keeping me, so he won’t make another.

  “Mexico, baby!” Frank blurts out.

  Billy snaps his head around at Frank and smacks him in the back of the head.

  “What was that for?”

  Billy pauses, smiles, then he wraps his arm around Frank. He pulls him ahead of me so they’re alone. I can’t make out what he’s saying, but Billy whispers something in Frank’s ear, which Frank seems to enjoy. They’re glowing as they walk the rest of the way to the van, Billy’s arm still casually dangling around Frank’s shoulder the entire time.

  I can’t help but smile too.

  ---

  The cash is bursting out of the unzipped bag as it rests on the tabletop. The three of us are sitting around the table in one of the offices back at the old police station. Frank is falling asleep in the chair from physical exhaustion, and Billy is doing the same from mental. Billy holds a stack of hundreds in his hands while he fights his body’s urge to sleep. I’m wide awake, still high on an adrenaline rush, and ready to go home. The door behind me creaks open and Alicia enters the room. Her mouth drops and her pupils dilate when she sees the bag on the table.