by Dan Lawton
I do nothing as I watch Billy kick the consciousness out of Frank.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
BILLY
George is toying with one of the masks in his hands as he tries to process what’s going on. It’s getting late, and everyone is hungry and exhausted. I walk around the desk and reach inside the box from the storage unit. I toss a couple strips of weather stripping foam on the table. I leave the containers of thermite powder and magnesium strips in the box for now. Frank and George look between the foam and the masks and try to put the pieces together.
“Here’s the deal,” I begin, “there are five exhaust vents around the perimeter of Snake’s house. Each one is less than a foot wide and is barely noticeable if you weren’t looking for it. There’s no chimney, so the toxins need to escape the house somewhere, which is why there are vents.” I take a breath and pick up one of the pieces of foam. I use the foam to demonstrate what I mean in the air. “These pieces are cut perfectly to fit inside the arms of the vents. Once you push them in, slide the vent closed and the excess material will jam up the vent holes.”
George nods. I think he’s following me so far. Frank, not so much.
I continue, “No air will be able to get in, and no air can get out. Snake won’t even realize something is wrong, and he’ll simply fall asleep and never wake up.” I grin. I’m admittedly proud of myself for coming up with the idea, and I’m fully convinced it’ll work to perfection.
“And that’s where the gas masks come in,” George says, still nodding.
“That’s right. Once Snake is out, dead, we just go in, open the safe, and walk out the front door. The fumes won’t affect us since we’ll be wearing the masks.”
“What fumes?” Franks asks, confused.
“Lots of things produce carbon monoxide, Frank. If he runs the gas on the stove or washes his clothes, that will do it. Using the heat would be perfect, but he won’t need that this time of year,” I say.
“It does get pretty cold at night sometimes,” Frank says.
“Not that cold.”
“How long is this going to take?” George asks.
“Why, going somewhere?” I stare at him, and he stares back. “It depends, a day or two maybe.”
“What about the safe?” George asks.
“What about it?”
“How are you going to crack it?”
“Let me worry about that.”
I could mention the thermite, but some things are better off left unsaid. The last thing I need is to give him any ideas.
“What makes you so sure it’s behind that painting?”
“Trust me, it fits. Even if it’s not there, although it is, we’ll find it. Do you worry about that.” I pause. “You guys got all that?”
George nods, Frank doesn’t. I was really only asking the question to George.
“What do we do now?” George asks.
“We sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.” I turn to Frank. “Take him back into the room.”
Frank reacts quickly and walks over to George. He leads him out of the room without tying his hands and without any resistance. When I hear the big steel door from the holding area open and close, I make my way into the hallway and head toward the interrogation room where Alicia is being held. I quickly whip the door open in an effort to catch her doing something mischievous, but she’s just sitting in the chair, watching George through the two-way mirror when I enter.
“You wanted to see me?” I say.
Alicia stands from the chair and walks over to me. I’m defensive, preparing myself to be attacked again. Instead, she loosely wraps her arms around me and lays her head on my chest. The affection is infrequent, so I enjoy it for a moment and soak in her warmth.
She whispers to me, “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”
I pull away from the embrace and take a step back so I can look into her eyes. They’re beginning to pool with tears.
“What happened to you earlier? I thought we were on the same page?”
“We are, I’m sorry. It just all hit me at once and seeing George again made me feel sorry for him. He’s a nice person and he doesn’t deserve this.”
“Listen, I get it, but we have to stay focused. In a few days we’ll be sailing to freedom, rich as hell, and we’ll be laughing about this. You’ll forget all about him then.”
She smiles and nods in agreement. “You’re right, I’m sorry, baby,” she says. It’s unconvincing, but I’ll take it.
I’m pleased she hasn’t asked me about threatening her again, because I don’t regret it. I had to do what was necessary to keep everything on the right track, and I’ll do it again if it’s needed. I’m in charge of this operation, and it’s going to go according to plan. I’ll make sure of that.
Alicia bends her neck back slightly so her face points up at me. I place my hand on her cheekbone and plant my lips on hers. My entire body tingles as her thick lips suffocate me. We separate and I smile at her, placing my arm around her shoulder as she turns. We spin ourselves and slide out the door sideways so we can stay embraced. We leave the room together and head toward the garage. We’ll sleep in the front seats of the van tonight, and Frank will sleep in the back. I’m willing to bet he’s already sound asleep and filling the van with snores.
“Do you think he believes what I said?” she says.
“Who?”
“George, about the baby.”
“Oh yeah, he believes you. Trust me on that. I could practically see the thought bubbles floating above his head when I was talking to him. You did it, you hooked him. Now I just have to reel him in so we can collect our reward.”
“Poor guy.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
GEORGE
“Is he dead?” Alicia asks with tears in her eyes. Billy, sweating and breathing heavily, is sitting on the bench next to me.
“No,” Billy says with conviction.
“How do you know?” she says.
“Because I know.”
Alicia looks across the van at me as I stumble over Frank’s body and sit next to her.
“Is he breathing?” Alicia asks.
I look over to Billy, who turns his head and looks away. Although he said Frank’s alive, I have to wonder if he does have a slight doubt about that. He went too far and he knows it. I slide off the bench and crouch down next to Frank’s motionless body on the floor of the van. I kneel on an empty soda can, which pinches my skin. I grab it in disgust and toss it to the side before placing my ear against Frank’s chest. It’s subtle, but there is a heartbeat. Either Billy knew how far he could push it, or he got lucky.
My vote is lucky.
“He’s breathing,” I say.
Alicia lets out a long sigh of relief. “Oh, thank God.”
Some tension releases from Billy’s body too. He tries not to show it, but I can see right through him. He definitely got lucky this time.
A few minutes go by without anyone speaking. No one looks at each other and the tension is heavy. Now that my heart has stopped racing, I’m able to gather my thoughts. Something is going on with Alicia, something major I suspect. She was about to say something before, to explain what’s going on I suppose, but I may never know what that was. Is she really pregnant or did something happen to the baby? Was she going to come with me? Maybe they won’t let her, maybe they’re not going to let her go like they promised. My thoughts are interrupted by Billy’s words scissoring through the tension.
“Well, we can’t go back and we can’t stay here,” he says. “We need somewhere else to go while I figure out what the hell we’re going to do next.” Billy’s eyes lock onto mine. “Somewhere unexpected.”
I toss my arms in the air, I’ve got nothing. I’m done coming up with ideas. But he continues to stare at me like it’s my responsibility.
“What?” I snap.
“Your place.”
I shake my head furiously. “No, absolutely not. Not happening.”
“D
o you want to live, or do you want to die?”
I continue to shake my head. “No, anywhere but there. If they find us I’ll never be able to go back there again.”
Billy shrugs, not caring in the least. “I expect it will take them at least a day to figure out who you are and where you live,” he says. “We’ll be safe there until tomorrow.”
I say nothing and continue to shake my head. Billy reaches in the front of the van and grabs the gun from the seat. He clouds the barrel with his breath and pretends to clean it. While still looking down at the gun and keeping his head steady, he looks up at me with just his devilish eyes.
“I’m not asking.”
---
I didn’t want to go to my house originally for obvious reasons, but at least the surroundings are familiar. Billy watches curiously as I struggle to find the right key from my keychain. I’m exhausted and can barely even think straight. It’s only been a few days since I’ve been here, but it seems so much longer than that. I’ve missed being home.
Everything is exactly how I left it, except for the dust piling up on the end table next to the couch. That’s new. The blue light illuminates on the dishwasher, letting me know the dishes are clean. My cereal bowl still rests in the sink with now crusted flakes on the perimeter. The three day old paper sits on the table where I left it in a rush.
After helping Billy carry Frank into the house, I make and quickly devour a couple of sandwiches. When done, I make my way down the hallway and slide into my bedroom. I throw myself on the wrinkle-free bedspread and sprawl out. I sink into the caved in outline of my backside and some tension releases from my body. The mattress is a little old and I’ve thought about replacing it recently, but it feels so perfect right now. It’ll beat a cement floor any day.
A few minutes pass, and I’m nearly asleep when I can sense someone standing in the doorway. I struggle to force myself to turn around, but when I do, I see Alicia’s silhouette standing above me. It startles me.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she says.
“It’s okay.” I slide over to make some room and tap the bed beside me. “Sit down.”
She does. “You’re a good man, George. You really are.”
This takes me by surprise. “Oh, well thanks.”
“The way you’ve handled this whole situation has been…admirable. And to do it for me, you don’t even know me that well.”
“Us. I did it for us.”
She smiles widely, like she did back when we first met.
“There it is. There’s that smile,” I say, playfully pointing at the dimple on her cheek. She blushes and turns away. “Where has that been?”
She shrugs. “There hasn’t been a whole lot to smile about lately.”
I nod in agreement.
Maybe that’s all it was, maybe I’ve been overthinking this. Maybe she’s just been struggling with this whole situation like I have.
“Anyway,” she continues, “I just wanted to say thank you. So, thank you.”
“Well it’s not over yet, but you’re welcome.”
There is a brief silence, then Alicia stands. “I’ll let you be alone, I just wanted to say that.” She starts toward the door.
“No, stay.” I spread my arm open and invite her to rejoin me. Although emotionless, she turns and comes back to the bed. She sits on the edge and slides herself up toward the pillows. I place my arm across her belly and pull her close to me, hoping I will feel the baby kick. Her belly is still quite small, much like her frame, and almost non-existent. Maybe it’s too early to feel anything. I’m not too sure how this all works, but I’ll figure it out.
I close my eyes and think back to the day we met and the night we spent together. We were almost in these very same positions. I doze off to the rhythm of Alicia’s heartbeat, comforted by knowing that she’ll definitely he here when I wake up this time.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
BILLY
Early in the morning while still dark, I wake up and leave the old station on foot. I grab some coffee and doughnuts from a shop a block away and bring them back to share with the group. Between the four of us, we devour all but three of the two dozen doughnuts and empty the entire box of coffee. The initial sugar high wears off by late morning, and the three of us, the men only, struggle to stay awake in the van. I think we’re all envious that Alicia is able to stay behind and sleep.
Frank, George, and I spend most of the day in the van outside Snake’s house, just out of site behind the tower. We wait until just after 5:00 P.M., when Snake finally leaves. An inconspicuous black sedan comes out of nowhere from behind his house and Snake hops inside. I watch intently as the car pulls away with Snake and some of his men inside before exiting the van. Frank is staying back and will be on the lookout for a sign of any unwanted company. He’ll lay on the horn if someone shows up.
George and I make our way toward Snake’s house on foot through the bright sunshine. I carry a light black duffel bag containing the foam for the vents. Once at the house, I drop the bag and pile the strips of foam into George’s hands. I toss the bag back over my shoulder and head around the back of the house, looking for a way in.
I had watched Snake lock the front door before he hopped in the car that came by, so I don’t even bother checking it. I check each of the windows as I walk around the perimeter of the house, and they’re all locked too. All of the windows are at eye level, so I could break the glass and pull myself inside with some help, but that’s not going to work. Why waste time on plugging the vents if I’m just going to leave a window open?
As I make my way around the back side of the house, an obvious entrance peers up at me from the lawn. I approach the rusted steel doors and toss the duffel bag to the side. The doors to the bulkhead are unlocked as I tug on them, so I open the right side and head down the rotting stairs. As I approach the bottom, a foul odor catches my nose, and I cover my face with my shirt. My backside blocks the sunlight as it tries to brighten a path for me, so I’m unable to see the source through the darkness. There must be a dead critter beneath the stairs, perhaps an opossum or a raccoon.
At the bottom of the stairs, I feel around for the doorknob on the wooden slab in front of me and grab it when I do find it. Like the main bulkhead doors at ground level, the door is unlocked, so I’m able to push inside. It’s a stupid mistake on Snake’s part, but I’ll gladly take it. There is one tiny window that peaks through the foundation which provides me just enough light to find the string that hangs from the single light bulb on the ceiling. I pull on the frail string and the bulb shines.
The basement is ordinary. It’s cool and smells of mold and the dead critter from under the stairs in the bulkhead. The ceiling is low and lanes of unorganized copper pipes hang above my head. I try to follow the paths of the pipes to find the sources, but they intersect in multiple places and all seem to end up in the same location next to the two tanks that are near the furnace. I remove the knife from my pocket and slide out the blade. I reach above my head and flex the pipes as much as possible before punching holes in them. I stab in multiple locations and move up and down the trail of copper until my arms ache. Most of the holes are small, no larger than that of a pinhole, due to the knife struggling to penetrate the tubes, but it’ll do the trick.
Before heading upstairs, I scan the basement for a clothes dryer, and find one tucked away underneath the staircase. Its vent is cemented to the foundation, so I make multiple puncture wounds all over the duct until it’s frayed enough to be torn in two. I turn the knob of the machine to the longest time allowed and push the button in to start the machine. It rumbles and shakes as I make my way up the stairs.
For all of the time that I’ve spent tracking and watching Snake, this is the first time I’ve seen the inside of his house. I’m almost giddy. The air is stale and the house nearly empty. It’s hard to believe that it has ten million dollars hidden somewhere inside, but it does. The floors are outdated and the walls are stained yellow
where they meet the ceiling from excess smoke. The walls in my house got this bad once, which is why I no longer smoke indoors. I’ve determined that it’s less expensive to smoke outside.
Through one of the windows in the kitchen, I spot George as he fills the gaps of the vents with the foam as instructed. He doesn’t look up from his work and doesn’t notice me surveying him. I get a sense of satisfaction by watching him slave away at my direction.
I work my way down the hall and find the bedroom. I enter the room and immediately see the painting that George had mentioned hanging on the wall.
He was right, it’s out of place.
The colors are bright and vibrant, and it most certainly doesn’t fit in with the rest of the house. I approach the painting and lift the bottom of it up to take a peek at what rests behind.
Bingo.
Despite the enticement, I leave the painting on the wall and gently caress the front of the stainless steel safe with my finger. The safe is embedded into the wall, so I’m unable to tell how deep it is. The house is old and the walls are thin, so I should be able to access the backside of the safe from the side yard. We’ll find out how big it is then.
I’m tempted to try and crack it now, but if Snake returns during the attempt, we’d all be screwed and there’d be a lot of bloodshed. I must be patient in order to do this properly, despite how strong the lure is.
I gently release the painting and allow it to blanket the face of the safe. I step back a few steps and measure for levelness in the form of an eyeball test. When satisfied, I leave the room and head back down the basement stairs. I ignore the temptation to turn on the gas on the stove for fear that it’ll be too much and will explode once the fumes make their way upstairs through the vents in the floor. I restart the timer on the dryer before holding my breath and heading back above ground through the bulkhead.
