by Rick Dakan
"If they didn't before, they certainly do now. Since we beat up on Kurt he'll have helped Raff win the whole crew over. And even if he didn't bring them in, they've had plenty of time to get over there while we were dealing with Greg. No, there's definitely somebody watching the building now."
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"So we just go in there and pretend to get the money? Again? We're going to use the same plan twice?"
"No," said Chloe, "This time it's different. This time we don't have any backup with baseball bats."
"Oh, well, then everything should work out peachy."
"Don't worry, I've got a plan," she turned and winked at him and grinned.
That wink had drawn him to her the day they met. It had pulled him into her world and trapped him there. It had a dozen different shades of meaning, from flirtation to warning. He'd seen every variation a hundred times since that first morning, but this was a new look. And suddenly he realized he knew her well enough to read its meaning without ever having seen it before.
"No you don't," Paul asserted.
The smile disappeared and she turned her head sharply back to the road. After a long while she said, "No. I don't."
The money's actual hiding place was in the two storey Store-Rite building that had been built just four years earlier. It was a bitter orange and deep brown, with brightly lit picture windows breaking up the façade every twenty feet or so on the second floor. From the road you could see the steel doors of the storage lockers inside, illuminated under fluorescent lighting that left no room for shadows.
The main entrance faced a parking lot that abutted the road. Anyone with a locker had twenty-four hour access. All they had to do was use their key and six digit pass code to open the front door, sign in with the security guard on duty behind the desk, and then proceed to the locker and use the same key and pass code again to open the door, all while being recorded on the internal security cameras. Paul had given Greg his key and code, so they had no way of even getting inside, much less into the actual locker.
Chloe drove by the building twice in a five-minute period, scarcely slowing down on either occasion. There had been no cars in the parking lot or even parked within view of the building on either occasion. If Raff and his crew were watching, they weren't out in the open.
"They've got to have a hidden camera set up," Chloe said. "They'll be watching from somewhere out of sight but nearby, waiting for us to come in and make a move."
"If they're smart, they wouldn't want to show themselves until after we went inside, or even until after we came out with the money, right?" Paul said.
"Exactly," she said. "Which means we have to find the camera and knock it out. Then they'll be blind for a moment and they'll have to show their hand in order to figure out what's happening."
The area around the target building had hundreds of places to hide a camera. Trees, doorways, roofs, windows, storm drains. If they started searching them all, they'd tip off whoever was watching.
Chloe drove by the location one last time and then parked in an office building's lot two blocks away. She reached into the back of the car and pulled out her laptop and fired it up. She then drew out a black box the size of a pager and plugged it into one of the ports. "The one advantage of being betrayed by your friends is that you still all use the same equipment," she said.
"What's that?"
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"The camera, wherever it is, is almost definitely one of Bee's. That means it's got its own power source and it transmits whatever it's recording wirelessly to a receiver. This," she said, indicating the small black box, "Is one of Bee's homemade receivers that I keep with my laptop. It's also good for eavesdropping on cell phone calls, so it's nice to have handy. I just have to find the right frequency and hope we're close enough to pick up the signal."
They both sat in silence and watched as Chloe tweaked with the display on her laptop. It automatically searched through the available frequencies and, after a few minutes, the screen lit up with a green-tinted night vision image of the storage facility front door.
"Sweet," said Paul.
"Super sweet," Chloe agreed. The image was from across the street and from a very low angle. "That's got to be hidden in the storm drain there. Either that or on the underside of a car or something, but there weren't any on the street." They kept looking for another five minutes, but their scan didn't pick up any more cameras that were broadcasting.
"Just one?" Paul asked.
"Looks like it," Chloe replied. "They're stretched thin as is and they're in just as much of a rush as we are.
Which is good, because it's an easy approach to block that camera. We might just be able to pull this off."
"Ok," said Paul, "Greg will be here soon. Shall we?"
"Definitely. First, I need to get something from 7-11." Chloe threw the car into gear and headed back towards the street and the waiting camera.
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CHAPTER 39
The car screeched to a halt at the side of the road, its right front tire directly in front of the storm drain. Paul leaned out the passenger side window and told Chloe to inch a foot forward just to be sure. He then looked down at the laptop screen and confirmed that the camera was completely blocked.
"Take the wheel and be ready," Chloe said as she swung the door open and raced across the deserted street, her shoulder bag bouncing at her side. Paul moved into the driver's seat and adjusted the mirrors so he could keep on eye out for the company they were expecting any minute. Chloe had guessed that whoever was watching would wait a minute or two and see if the obstruction cleared before sending someone to check it out in person.
He watched as Chloe reached the front door and started pounding on the glass. A quick scan around the street showed no one else. So far, so good. Unfortunately, Chloe seemed to be having a hard time convincing the guard to let her in. On the other side of the glass door, he was motioning her to clear off and had even moved his hand to his belt, just a few inches from his gun. Chloe gestured with a sweeping arm back towards the road and then brandished her cell phone. She was claiming an emergency of some sort.
They kept talking through the glass but the guard refused to open the door. The conversation carried on for an infuriating two minutes and Paul started to shake his right leg in impatience. A pair of headlights appeared in the rearview mirror - a car pulling out from a side street about a block away. Paul tapped the horn lightly.
The security guard had given up and moved back to his desk where he picked up the phone. Ignoring him and the horn, Chloe tore open her shoulder bag and whipped out two large, brown paper shopping bags which they'd gotten at the 7-11 twenty minutes earlier. She opened these up and stood them on the ground in front of the door. The guard looked at her curiously, his hand actually seizing the handle of his gun. Chloe then took out a newspaper and started tearing out pages and crumpling them into balls.
Paul watched as the car behind him crept down the street at well under the speed limit. It wasn't the Cadillac from earlier that evening, but that didn't mean anything. With the headlights shining directly into his rear window, it was impossible for Paul to make out who was behind the wheel, or even how many people were in the vehicle.
Back across the road, the security guard was yelling at Chloe from inside, while she finished stuffing balled up pieces of newspaper into the shopping bags. Both bags now looked full. Possibly even full of money if you didn't know better. She slung her messenger bag over her shoulder again and took a shopping bag in each hand. She did a great job mimicking a weight that wasn't there.
The car now pulled even with Paul, less than a foot to his left. He couldn't help but look over. There were two people in the car, a man and a woman, neither of whom Paul recognized. From the passenger seat, the woman gave Paul a quick glance and a smile. The driver had his eyes fixed on Chloe across the street. He slowed his vehicle down even more, so that it w
as just barely cruising along at under 5 MPH.
Across the street Chloe stopped in her tracks and stared at the new arrivals. She and the driver locked eyes briefly and then he hit the accelerator, moving down the street and turning right at the first cross street. Chloe sprinted forward.
"Let's go!" she shouted. Paul was already prepared to do just that. As soon as Chloe clambered into the back seat, he took his foot off the brake and pulled into the street, making a wide U-Turn and heading back down the road in the opposite direction from where the mystery car had gone.
"Who was that?" Paul asked as he headed for the nearest freeway entrance, less than a quarter mile away.
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"I'm not sure, friend's of Raff's, maybe? Passersby? I didn't recognize them."
Paul saw a pair of headlights appear in his rearview mirror, then another one. "Two cars back there," he said.
"Just get to the highway and we'll shake them," she said.
"Looks like it worked," Paul said. Both cars were pulling closer to them. "They think we've got the money.
Why didn't they try and grab you when you came out?"
"They probably didn't think I'd be able to get in and out with the cash as fast as I did. Whoever those two were, they weren't prepared to make a grab. Probably not muscle, just another set of eyes."
"How many people do you think Raff's brought in on this damn thing?"
"I guess it's his mentor and his mentor's crew. Raff may have scared my old crew off entirely, just to clear the field and cut off my support." She was speaking fast and it took her a second to realize the full implications of what she'd just said. "Which means he might have been playing all of us from the beginning - not just you."
"Well," said Paul, "It's nice to have company."
They pulled onto highway 880 headed north and poured on the speed. Both the cars followed suit. Paul merged into the right hand lane. So did their new friends. They didn't appear too concerned about hiding their presence. One of them moved into the middle lane and started to accelerate, trying to come even next to Paul.
As they picked up speed, Paul suddenly jerked his wheel to the right. They cut across a patch of striped asphalt, narrowly missing a concrete barrier. He hit the brakes as they went into a tight, banked curve, exiting the highway as quickly as they'd gotten on.
Neither car reacted to the sudden change in time. The car in the middle lane shot north along the highway. The car still behind them hit its brakes hard, but still missed the turn off as it screeched to a halt in the emergency lane a few dozen yards past where Paul had turned.
"Fuck yeah!" Paul yelled. Chloe was laughing, patting him heartily on the shoulder.
"Just keep going," she said, watching through the rear windshield. "We need to keep them busy for a few hours so Greg can get in there without any trouble."
Paul took the first turn he could and then the next, winding his way through a maze of small office parks and warehouses. There wasn't any sign of pursuit, but he kept driving evasively for the next fifteen minutes, looking for someplace out of view from the road where they could park and regroup.
Eventually they settled on a half-full parking lot behind a complex of three office buildings. They must've run some sort of late-shift customer service or something there, so there was enough cover for them to get lost in but not so much in and out traffic as to worry about an employee noticing them. Most importantly, there was no sign of on site security personnel.
Chloe moved up to the front seat and they sat and relaxed for a moment, catching their breath.
"Do you think they bought it?" Paul asked after a long while.
"Yeah," she said. "I really do. Which means they're shitting themselves right now. They think we're in the wind with the money. If that's true, they know there's no way they'll find us."
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"But we're not free and clear yet."
"We might as well be," Chloe said with a chuckle. "Fuck, I can't believe we actually made this work."
"Yeah," Paul sighed. His voice was not nearly as full of joy and relief as hers was.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"There's still the whole wanted by the police thing..." he said.
"Oh, fuck that. What's the big deal there? No real money got stolen in the end. No one's going to care in a couple weeks. Trust me, they'll stop looking for you."
"But that won't clear my name. I'll still be wanted..."
"So?" she asked.
"So? So?" He said, exasperation creeping into his voice. "So, I'll have to live my life as a fugitive."
"It's not that bad."
"The warrants won't just disappear..."
"No," she interrupted. "I mean living as a fugitive. It's not that bad."
Paul looked at her incredulously. "Of course it is! How would you..." and then she pulled his head to hers and kissed him.
She broke the kiss just long enough to say "Trust me, I know" before kissing him once more. Their hands roamed over each other and Chloe started to nibble at his neck. "I've lived this way for ten years..." she whispered. He moaned as she started caressing him through his pants. "It can be fun if you've got the right friends."
Paul didn't argue as she undid his pants and she didn't argue when he pulled her shirt up over her head. He certainly didn't argue when she slipped the condom onto him and then climbed onto his lap. Right at that moment, as he slid into her, Paul felt like he had everything he'd ever wanted from life. Maybe she was right.
Maybe this was the life for him...
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CHAPTER 40
As is so often the case with men, after he'd orgasmed, Paul began to have second thoughts.
The car windows were completely fogged over, and they both sweated as they fumbled with trying to find and put their clothes back on. Chloe was talking about where they could go next and how they needed to get new ID's. Paul scarcely listened as all his problems washed back over him. He didn't want a new ID. He didn't want to live on a boat with Winston's crew (assuming the old hippie was even alive). On the other hand, he didn't have any better ideas. If only there was some other path they could figure out for themselves.
And that thought surprised him. He was thinking in terms of "us" not "I." Whatever happened next, he knew he wanted it to be with Chloe. Despite all the post-coital doubts about his immediate future, he had no doubt about how he felt about her. No doubt that whatever the next step was, it involved the two of them together.
He looked over to her in the passenger seat as she pulled her pants back on. She was expounding upon the merits of San Diego as a good hide-away option during the winter. He reached over and put his finger to her lips. She looked at him curiously.
"I love you, Chloe," he said, his heart in his throat.
"I love you too, Paul," she replied without a second's pause, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
As if he was a moron to have ever thought otherwise.
"You do?" he asked.
She laughed and kissed him. Then kissed him again, harder. "Of course I do, didn't you know that? Why else would I do all this?"
He didn't know if he'd known it or not. But now...Now her phone was ringing.
They both looked at the phone, which had fallen on the floor of the back seat, in surprise. Chloe twisted around and picked it up, looking at the display screen. All it said was Private Name, Private Number, which meant it was probably either a telemarketer or a crewmember. She watched it ring for a moment before finally deciding to answer.
"Hello?" she asked. Paul couldn't make out the voice on the other end. "Bee?" she said in astonishment.
"Where are you? Are you ok?"
Paul watched as Chloe's face turned from surprise and worry to intense resolve and concentration. "I don't know about that," she said. A long pause. "Ok, Ok, I trust you. You know I do." Another long pause. "Yes, yeah, fine. Yeah, I know the place. S
ee you then."
"Is Bee ok?" Paul asked.
"I think so," she said. "But she says she needs help. She wants us to meet her."
"Oh Christ," said Paul. "That doesn't sound like a good fucking idea."
"No," Chloe agreed, "It doesn't. But we have to go."
"What if she's with Raff?"
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"She's not," Chloe insisted. "She's not."
"Are you sure?"
"No," she said, her voice barely a whisper.
"Do you have a plan?"
"No."
They both stared at each other, although really they were staring past one another, thinking out all the possible dangers ahead of them. Paul realized that he couldn't even fathom what the dangers might actually turn out to be and so it was best to get on with it and find out first hand.
"Fine," said Paul. "But I'm driving."
They pulled into the parking lot of a ten room motel in south San Jose, a largely Hispanic neighborhood that Paul, given his isolated techie existence, had never even driven through, much less stopped in. He consoled himself with the thought that it had been less than an hour since they lost their pursuers on the freeway and therefore whatever trap they might have set couldn't be too terribly complex.
Paul recognized one of the cars in the lot as Bee's small hatchback. The Crew usually changed cars as easily as clothes, and it was a surprise to see that Bee was so openly advertising her presence to anyone who knew her. He wasn't sure what to make of that.
"What do you make of that?" he asked Chloe.
"I dunno. Other than the fact that Bee's probably actually in there." She pointed to Room 8, which was the only one with a light on inside. "Just like she said she would be."
They'd spent the last ten minutes cruising the neighboring streets, scanning for other hidden cameras with Chloe's laptop and looking for any familiar cars or faces. Everything had come up clean. With no more precautions to take, they'd run out of excuses to not go in. Except, Paul thought, for the obvious excuse that it was a bad idea.
