I agreed to go out, and we began to see each other on a regular basis after that.
Once, a few dates later, I asked her why she was willing to go out with me when she knew about my run-in with the law.
“Everyone makes mistakes,” she said. “I know you’re not a bad person.”
“How can you tell that?” I asked.
“I see the way you take care of your mother like you do. That’s rare in this world.”
My relationship with Stacy was new enough that, even though I felt we might be falling in love, there was still a chance that it would not survive if I had an extended absence.
Somehow, I knew, deep in my heart, my mother would not survive it either.
* * *
My thoughts would not let me fall asleep, though my body was past the point of exhaustion. My neck had a kink in it from leaning against the back of the couch.
The television was still on, but it had turned to a static station identification image.
Stacy was snoring lightly. Sprawled out beside me, her feet were on my lap and her head rested on a small quilted pillow on the arm of the couch. She had a throw blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
Gently, I lifted her legs and slid out from under her. She made a throaty noise as I got up, and I froze, hoping I hadn’t awakened her. She nuzzled the pillow to find a more comfortable position, and her breathing evened out.
I had to do something about what had happened, and find a way to stay out of jail. A part of me hoped that if I pleaded my case to the senior Mr. Matheson—or to David—they would rethink firing me. I had spent too long on the streets of Seattle and in the correctional system to believe that, though.
Terence Matheson was a shrewd businessman. His religion was the bottom dollar. Someone had to take the fall for the accident and who better than a person with a criminal past who couldn’t fight back?
I looked down on Stacy’s sleeping face, and counted myself lucky to have met her. When I told her about what had happened, and what would be in store for me tomorrow, she had been supportive, but I couldn’t disillusion myself into believing that she would stick with me after months apart. Once the reality of our separation set in, she would move on. I had seen it before from the other inmates whose relationships had crumbled.
As quietly as I could, I went upstairs to check on my mother. The door creaked when I opened it, but not loud enough to wake her. Listening until I was satisfied she was sleeping soundly, I reached into her purse and grabbed her key card.
It was obvious my hiring had caused friction with my mother’s colleagues, and she was feeling it. Once word got around that I was fired, whether or not it was justified, it would make my mother’s life a living hell there. She couldn’t go back, either. After twenty-plus years in one job, she would now have to start over. Even for someone new to the realities of the workforce, finding a job was a frightening prospect. With me behind bars, she would be entirely on her own again. No wonder she was so depressed.
I went back down the stairs, threw my jacket on, grabbed my car keys and left the house. I didn’t want to leave my mother alone in the house, and was thankful Stacy was there.
I planned to be back before either of them awoke.
Chapter Seven
As I suspected, the basement light was on at Stacy and Chuck’s place. I pulled up to the curb and cut the engine. Key still in the ignition, I sat there for another minute, going over my decision for the twentieth time in as many minutes.
Taking a big, shuddering breath, I let it out and gave myself a mental nod. With no further delay, I got out of the car and walked toward the house.
Instead of knocking on the front door, I went to the basement window, a half-sized pane of glass darkened by years of mud splashing against it from the perpetual rains of the city.
Cupping my hands around my glasses to cut the glare, I peered in and saw Chuck’s computer workstations. His chair was vacant. Craning my neck, I tried to see if he was in a different area of the basement, and started when I saw his head appear from right below the window.
Chuck, dressed in boxer shorts and a white shirt under a flimsy robe, backed two steps away, and looked somewhere beneath where I was standing. Then he leaned forward again. The second time he appeared, he had a piece of paper in his hand. I recalled from the previous night that his printer was under the window.
He held the printout up to examine it, and that’s when I tapped on the window to let him know I was there.
Chuck let out an unmanly shriek, dropped the paper, and jumped. When he realized it wasn’t a burglar at his window, he clutched his chest and shook his fist at me, but he was smiling when he did it.
He waved, inviting me in, and headed for the stairs to unlock the door.
“Hey, man,” he said after I stepped inside. “What’s up? I thought Stacy was with you.” He poked his head outside and took a look around.
“She’s back at my place.”
“Ah.” He closed the door and faced me, a congenial smile on his face. “I’m guessing this isn’t a social visit?” His eyes narrowed.
“What did you mean about ‘life-changing money’?” I asked.
* * *
Chuck brought me back down to his basement workroom and pulled up a spare chair for me.
“How much?” I asked him. “Exactly.”
“Well,” he said. “The job pays two hundred and fifty thousand.”
My breath caught in my throat.
At Worldwind, I would have made a little more than twenty thousand a year. My mother made more, but she lived paycheck to paycheck. My share of the payout would cover both of us for at least a few years. It was enough money to make a change; move to a new state, make a new identity and a new life.
Chuck lifted one corner of his mouth in a smile and added, “Each.”
I gasped. A half-million dollars for a simple robbery was extraordinary.
“Uh,” I said, holding my hands up in front of me. “That sounds too good to be true.”
“Actually,” Chuck said, “it’s too low, if anything.”
I waited for him to elaborate, but he was obviously enjoying stretching out the game. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Typically, I charge about ten percent of what I think the information is worth. Call it a finder’s fee. Some of my competitors charge fifteen or twenty percent, but I undercut them all the time. Most jobs get me a grand or two for a couple of days’ work.”
I took a deep breath. “So you’re saying the information is worth five million dollars to your client?”
Chuck nodded. “Maybe more. I’ve been sniffing around Worldwind’s emails all day. Sounds like there’s a major player in Asia, this Xi’an Industries, who wants to throw their hat into the ring, and partner up with Worldwind. That would turn them into an international player overnight. That kind of thing attracts stock-market investors in droves. I’ve seen some stocks double their value on a rumor of a merger like this.”
“And you—your client—wants what?”
Chuck brought out his cell phone and pointed a finger to the built-in camera. “Hard evidence of the merger. The emails only mention that they’re going to be doing business with Xi’an, which is hardly earth-shattering. Worldwind is going to hold a press conference early next week. My client believes they are going to join forces. If that’s true, both companies’ stocks could double. But we need proof of what is in the announcement. There will probably be a proposal or contract that confirms the deal.”
“I thought you had hacked into their network?”
“I did,” Chuck said. “But it looks as if the VP has a stand-alone computer with a separate internet connection. Probably an air-card or something. It’s not part of the company’s intranet. I’ve seen a number of execs do this for security purposes. They use a prepaid connection and change the card every few months. If they’re careful, it’s nearly impossible to hack into their system from the outside. It’s like trying to find one g
rain of sand on a beach during a tsunami.”
“And that’s where I come in,” I said. “You figured I could just walk in and take a picture for you. No one would suspect anything, since I’m supposed to be there.”
“Right.” He nodded. “If Worldwind figures out someone has the info, they’ll either postpone the deal, and my client would be investing in a stock that isn’t moving, or they bring the news out into the open right away, in which case he won’t have time to make a move. Either way, our paycheck evaporates.”
“Time is a factor,” I said in agreement, but Chuck didn’t know how much of a factor it was now.
“You would have to get into the VP’s office, find that computer—” Chuck motioned to his cell phone. “—I can walk you through getting into the computer and finding whatever information is on it. And then you walk out without anyone knowing what you’re doing.”
“All right,” I said. “I’m in.”
Chuck opened a window on his computer screen, and there was a login prompt for his message board. He didn’t enter his details into the fields. Instead, he swiveled on his chair to face me.
His voice sounded affable, but I could hear a note of uncertainty in it when he asked, “I don’t mean to look a gift horse in the mouth, if you know what I mean, but I’ve got to say it. Last night you looked downright upset when I talked about this. I thought you were going to sock me in the face or something.”
“A lot of things can happen in a day.” I wasn’t trying to be mysterious, but didn’t know how much I was willing to share with him.
“Listen, man. If we’re going to work together, we’ve got to trust each other, at least a little bit. I got the impression from our talk that you were framed or something.”
“I never said that.” I shook my head. “What I said was, burglary was what I was in for. It doesn’t mean I actually committed the crime.”
Chuck looked puzzled. “If you didn’t do it…?”
“I didn’t ‘rob’ anyone,” I said, and then I sighed. “But I did technically break and enter. It was the middle of winter, snowing. I couldn’t get a spot in the hostel. All the places I usually crashed weren’t available. I didn’t have any money.
“One of the guys I knew from the street, Larry, said his parents usually went out of town on weekends. So, we crashed at his place for the night. Turns out his folks had some kind of nanny cam set up—Larry had broken in a few times before. They got videotape of me inside the house. A nosy neighbor called the cops, and they caught Larry and me when we tried to run.”
I pressed my lips together, remembering the look the judge had given me while listening to the prosecutor’s opening statement.
“Larry’s folks bailed him out, lawyered up, and made Larry say I forced him to do it. I was in court for all of twenty minutes before they gave me two years.”
Chuck made a series of faces. “Sorry, man. Sucks. But, what you’re telling me is that you were, essentially, just a squatter who got caught.”
“That’s right.” I nodded, but kept eye contact with him.
He let out a humorless laugh. “No offense, my friend, but that doesn’t make you a die-hard criminal. It just makes you either unlucky or careless. You have to understand I have doubts.”
“Whether I’m unlucky or not,” I said, hoping my face wasn’t flushing red at Chuck’s observation, “I’ve got something you need.”
“What’s that?”
I pulled out my mother’s electronic security pass and raised it in front of me. “Access. I have my mother’s key card.”
Chuck looked at the card with obvious hunger. I slipped it back in my pocket. “But there’s a catch or two,” I said.
“Oh?”
“We have to do it this morning, between six and seven.”
Eyes widening, Chuck glanced at the time on his computer, “That’s only a few hours away. There’s no way we can get everything set up by then. Why the rush?”
I said, “Three reasons. The regular staff and workers start showing up after seven, so we need to be out of there before then.” I held a second finger up. “My mother regularly shows up between six-thirty and seven, so it won’t raise any flags when we use the card early. No one reviews the security cameras, unless they have a reason to.”
“You said three reasons,” Chuck prompted, looking concerned.
“I’m expecting my parole officer to call me in the morning. At which point I’ll be directed to turn myself over to the authorities for parole violations: namely, I got fired.” I looked Chuck square in the eye. “I can’t go back to jail, and without the card and pass code, it’s going to be impossible for you to get inside the admin building, let alone the VP’s office.”
He blinked at me, and his mouth opened, but no words came out.
I said, “I can get in and get out, fast as that. If we do this right, they’ll never have any reason to suspect anything, and by the time they figure it out, your investor will have made his deal, and we’ll all be long gone.”
Chuck opened his mouth as if he were going to say something, but then closed it again.
I said, “Oh, and you’re coming with me. Or no deal.”
He blinked at that, but then nodded. “All right.”
Spinning in his chair, he grabbed the energy drink can beside his monitor and guzzled it down. Finishing it, he tossed the empty can into an already overflowing recycle bin beside his desk.
“I’ll get the client to put the fee into my escrow service, and then I’ll get dressed.”
Chapter Eight
At a quarter to six, we jumped into my car and headed for Kingsway Airfield. Before we got within sight of the main gate, I pulled over and got out of the car.
“You drive the rest of the way,” I said to Chuck.
“Me?” he asked, looking at me with a puzzled expression.
“Yeah. Just trust me.”
He shrugged and got out of the car to trade places with me. After adjusting the seat—he was quite a bit shorter than I was—he put the vehicle into gear.
“All right,” I said as we neared. “Pull up to the main gate. Let me do the talking.”
“Whatever you say. It’s your show.”
He did as I asked, and stopped the car in front of the gate.
Jorge Menendez, the night guard employed by Kingsway Airfield rather than any individual company, stepped out of the gate house and approached the car.
Chuck rolled down the window. I leaned over and smiled.
“Good morning, Mr. Riley,” Jorge said.
I nodded. “Morning, Jorge. How’s Maria?”
“Big as a house,” he said. “And as hungry as a lion.”
“Should be any day, now, right?”
He nodded and laughed. “Due date is next Tuesday.”
“Hope you’re taking some time off.”
“You know it,” he said. Then he gave me an apologetic look. “I’m afraid I can’t let you in, Mr. Riley. They gave me very explicit orders.”
“Oh, I know,” I said. “I was just hoping you could call someone from the shop and get them to bring me my wallet. I left it in my locker yesterday.”
“No one is here, yet,” he said. “Carl usually shows up around seven or seven-fifteen. You want to come back then?”
I let my face show disappointment. “I can’t. I have to be at my PO’s office by seven-thirty. He’s on the other side of the city. I can’t drive without my license.” I pointed to Chuck. “And he’s already going to be late for work.”
Chuck, picking up on my plan, turned to me. “I can still call my sister. I’m sure she’d give you lift.”
“No.” I made a face. “By the time we went back there, it’d be too late anyway,” I said, and looked around as if I could spot another solution by doing so.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jorge was weighing his decision.
“Say, Jorge,” I said. “If I gave you my key card, maybe you could lock the gate for a few minutes and go get my
wallet—it’s in the admin building. Like you said, no one will show up for an hour. We’ll stay here in case anyone does come, let them know you’ll be right back. You have no idea how much I would appreciate that.”
Jorge looked at the Worldwind Avionics administration building, which seemed a lot smaller than it was from this distance. I narrowed my eyes, but didn’t see any cars in the parking lot.
“I can’t leave my post,” he said, drawing out his words. He sighed, as if resolving himself to his decision. “You promise you’ll be quick?”
“Ten minutes, tops,” I said, smiling. “In and out before anyone knows better.”
Jorge reached inside the guard shack and pressed the gate release. It slowly opened with a mechanical whirl.
“Thanks, Jorge,” I said as Chuck put the car in drive. “You just saved my bacon.”
With a nod, he waved us through.
After we were out of hearing range, Chuck made a gasping sound. “Ten minutes!”
“I thought you were some kind of hacker or something.”
“Yeah, but it’s not like I wave a magic wand and we’re in.”
I made a face. “Sorry. I guess I’ve seen too many movies. How long do you need?”
“There’s no way to tell. If he has a login password, I have a program to remove it on this flash drive. We should be able to access his email and data folders, but finding what we need could take a while.”
I frowned. “Won’t he notice he doesn’t have a password anymore?”
“Only if he’s one of those people who restarts their computer often. With any luck, he won’t notice until after the press release.”
It was only as we parked in front of the admin doors that I felt the first nagging doubt about this hit-and-run plan of mine. I wished I’d had more time to think it over.
Of course, it wasn’t as if I had any other choices at this point.
* * *
This early in the morning, we were the only car there, and I prayed no one would arrive before we had a chance to finish our job.
I drew my mother’s card out of my pants pocket, and paused before getting out of the car.
The Complete Book Of Fallen Angels Page 26
