by Ted Dekker
They talked every evening, and he had become increasingly aware of the way his gut knotted each time he thought about picking up the phone to call her. It had been the way she touched him on his last visit, holding his head as though it might break, feeling her breath in his ear. Long-lost memories had flooded his mind.
The following evening’s phone call had driven the stake further into his heart.
“You okay, Kent?”
“Yes. I’m better. I don’t know how to thank you, Lacy. I just . . .” And then he had started to blubber, of all things. Cried right then on the phone, and he hardly knew why.
“Oh, Kent! It will okay. Shhh, shhh. It will be okay. I promise.”
He should have dropped the phone in its cradle then and walked away from her. But he could not. The calls this whole week had been no better. No more tears. But the gentle words, though not overtly affectionate, could hardly hide the chemistry brewing between them.
And now Friday had arrived. Which was a problem, because Lacy didn’t exactly fit into his plan, and his plan started tomorrow.
Helen asked him if anything was wrong during the evening meal, and he shook his head. “No, why?”
“No reason, really. You just look troubled.”
It was the last she said of the matter, but her words rang annoyingly through his mind. He had expected to be ecstatic on the eve of the big weekend. Not troubled. And yet he was ecstatic in some ways. It was the Lacy thing that tore at his heart.
Kent retired to his room and downed three shots before working up the courage to call her.
“Kent! I’m so glad you called! You would not believe what happened to me at work today.” Her voice might just as well have been a vise clamped around his heart, squeezing.
“Oh? What happened?”
“They asked me to enter management school. They want to groom me for management.”
“Good. That’s good, Lacy.” He swallowed. It could have been him six years ago, starting his climb up the ladder. And he’d climbed right to the top . . . before they decided to push him over.
“Good? It’s great!” She paused. “What’s wrong, Kent?”
“Nothing. Really, that’s great.”
“You sound like you just swallowed a pickle. What’s wrong?”
“I need to see you, Lacy.”
Her voice softened. “Okay. When?”
“Tonight.”
“Right now?”
“Yes.”
“Is there a problem?”
“No.” Kent was having difficulty keeping his voice steady. “Can I drive up?”
She hesitated, and for some reason that worsened the ache in his chest.
“Sure,” she said. “Give me an hour.”
“I’ll see you in an hour, then.”
Kent hung up feeling as though he had just thrown a switch to an electric chair. His own electric chair. But by the time he pulled up to her condo, he had resolved the issue. He would do what needed to be done, and he would do it the way it needed to be done. He took a slug of tequila from the bottle in the passenger seat and pushed his door open.
God, help me, he thought. It was a prayer.
THEY SAT at her dinette table again, opposite each other, as they had done nearly two weeks earlier. Lacy wore jeans and a white shirt advertising Cabo San Lucas in splashy red letters. Kent had come wearing faded denims and loafers. His blue eyes had not lost their red sheen. The faint, sweet smell of alcohol drifted around him. He had grinned shyly and avoided contact with her upon entering. Not that she had expected a hug or anything. But that said something, she thought. What it said, she had no clue.
For ten minutes they made small talk that would have carried more grace on the phone. Then Kent settled into his chair, and she knew he wanted to tell her something.
“Do you ever feel guilty about wanting to move on?” Kent asked, staring at his coffee.
Lacy felt her heart strengthen its pulse. Move on? she thought. You want to move on? I’m not sure I’m ready to move on yet. At least not in a relationship with another man. “What do you mean?” she asked and lifted her cup to her lips.
“Move on. Get past . . . John.” He nodded to the mantel. “Forget about your past and begin over. You ever feel like that?”
“In some ways, yes. I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted to forget John, though. But we do have to get on with life.” She looked at those baby blues, and suddenly she wanted him to just come out and tell her that he did want to move on—and move on with her. She would hold him back, of course. But she wanted to be wanted by him.
He was nodding. “Yes. Only . . . maybe even wanting to put the past totally aside. Because as long as you have those memories you can never really be new. You ever feel like that? Even a tiny bit?”
“Probably. I just never thought about it in those terms.”
“Well, now that you are, does it make you feel bad? You know, for not wanting to remember the past.”
Lacy thought about the question, thinking it a tad strange. “I’m not sure. Why?”
“Because I’m thinking about starting over,” he said.
“Oh? And how would you do that?”
The corners of his mouth lifted barely. His eyes brightened. “If I told you, would you swear to secrecy?”
She did not respond.
“I mean, absolute secrecy. Tell no man, ever—or woman, for that matter. Just you and I. Could you swear to that on John’s grave?”
Lacy recoiled at the question. John’s grave? Kent was still grinning mischievously, and Lacy sat straighter. “Why? I mean, I think so. It depends.”
“No, I need a definite yes. No matter what I tell you, I want you to swear to guard it. I need that confidence in you. Can you do that?”
In any other circumstance Lacy would be telling him she couldn’t put herself in that situation without knowing more. But that’s not what came out of her mouth.
“Yes,” she said. And she knew it was the truth. No matter what he said, she would guard it as her own.
Kent watched her carefully for a few seconds. “I believe you,” he said. “And if you ever break this promise, you will be putting me in the grave, right beside my wife. I want you to understand that. Acknowledge that.”
She nodded, thoroughly confused as to his direction.
“Good.” He took a long drink of coffee and set the cup down carefully, dead serious. “I’m going to start over, Lacy. Completely.” He waited, as if he’d just revealed a sinister secret and expected her to drop her jaw to the table.
“That’s good, Kent.”
Kent lowered his head and looked at her, past her arching eyebrows. His lips curled in a wicked grin. “I’m going be rich, Lacy.”
She thought he might burst with this thing. And so far, it was nothing worthy of his behavior. Unless it really was about her and he was showing attraction in some strange, deluded manor. I’m going to get rich, Honey, so you and I can live a new life together.
“I’m going to steal twenty million dollars.”
“Come on, Kent. Be serious.”
“I’m as serious as a heart attack, Honey.”
She heard his words the way one might see a bomb’s distant mushroom cloud, but it took a second for the impact to reach in and shake her bones. Her first thought was denial. But it fled before his glare, and she knew he was just that: as serious as a heart attack.
“You’re going to steal?”
He nodded, grinning.
“You’re going to steal twenty million?”
He nodded, still wearing that thin grin. “That’s a lot of money, isn’t it? It’s the amount that I stood to earn from my bonus if Borst and Bentley hadn’t pilfered it.” He said the names through a sudden snarl. And then, more matter-of-factly, he added, “I’m going to take it.”
Lacy was flabbergasted. “But how? From them? You can’t just steal twenty million dollars and not expect to get caught!”
“No? I’m not touching Borst and Bentle
y, at least not at first. Even if they had that kind of money, you’re right—it would be suicide to take such a sum from anyone.”
He lifted the cup again, slowly, staring into it, and he spoke just before the rim touched his lips. “Which is why I will take it from no one.” He drank, and she watched him, caught up in his drama.
She thought he had flipped his lid—all theatrical and making no sense at all. He lowered the cup to the table, landing it without a sound. “I will take it from one hundred million accounts. Next month, one hundred million interbank ATM service fees will be slightly inflated on selected customers’ statements. Not a soul will even suspect a theft has occurred.”
She blinked at him several times, trying to understand. And then she did. “They will see it!”
“Service fees are not reconciled, Lacy. When was the last time you even checked on the accuracy of those little charges?” He raised an eyebrow. “Hmm?” She shook her head. “You’re crazy. Someone will notice. It’s too much!”
“The banks will not know except through the odd customer who complains. When someone complains, what do they do? They run a query. A query that I will be able to detect. Any account queried, regardless of the nature of that query, will receive a correction. In the world of computing, anomalies do occur, Lacy. In this case, the anomaly will be corrected on all accounts in which it is detected. Either way, the transactions will be nontraceable.”
“But that’s impossible. Every transaction is traceable.”
“Oh?” He let it stand at that and just stared at her, his head still angled in a rather sinister manor, she thought.
Lacy stared at Kent and began to believe him. He was, after all, no idiot. She didn’t know the inner workings of a bank’s finances, but she knew that Kent did. If anybody could do what he suggested, he could. Goodness! Was he actually planning on stealing twenty million dollars? It was insane! Twenty million dollars! Her heart thumped in her chest.
She swallowed. “Even if you could pull it off, it’s . . . it’s wrong. And you know how it feels to be wronged.”
“Don’t even begin to compare this with my loss,” he shot back. “And who is being wronged here? You think losing a few cents will make anyone feel wronged? Like, Oh, my stars, Gertrude! I’ve been robbed blind! Besides, you have to know something in order to feel anything about it. And they will not know.”
“It’s the principle of it, Kent. You’re stealing twenty million dollars, for heaven’s sake! That’s wrong.”
His eyes flashed. “Wrong? Says who? What’s happened to me—now, that’s wrong. The way I’m looking at it, I’m just getting centered again.”
“That doesn’t make it right.” So this was what he’d come to tell her. That he was about to become a world-class criminal. Mafia type. And she’d bared her soul to the man.
She frowned. “Even if you pull it off, you’ll spend the rest of your life running. How are you going to explain all that money? It’ll catch up to you one day.”
“No. You see, actually that’s what I came to tell you. Nothing will ever catch up to me, because I don’t plan on being around to be caught up to. I’m leaving. Forever.”
“Come on, Kent. With international laws and extradition treaties, they can track you down anywhere. What are you going to do, hide out in some tropical jungle?”
His blue eyes twinkled. She furrowed her brows.
He just smiled and crossed his legs. “We’ll see, Lacy, but I wanted you to know that. Because tonight may be the last time you see me.”
Then she understood why Kent had come. He had not come to ask her to share his life; he can come to say good-bye. He was tossing her out of his life as he had done once before. He had bound her to this secret of his—this crime— and now he intended to heave her overboard.
The realization spread over her like a flow of red-hot lava, searing right through to her bones. Her heart seized for a few moments. She knew it! She knew it, she knew it, she knew it! She’d been a fool to let him anywhere near her heart.
Kent’s face suddenly fell, and she thought he had sensed her emotions. The instinct proved wrong.
“There will be a death involved, Lacy, but don’t believe what you read in the papers. Things will not be what they seem. I can promise you that.”
She recoiled at his admission, now stunned by the incongruity facing her. You promise me, do you, Kent? Oh, well, that fills the cockles of my heart with delight, my strapping young monster! My blue-eyed psycho . . .
“Lacy.” Kent’s voice jarred her back to the table. “You okay?”
She drew a breath and settled in the chair. It occurred to her that the time she had spent hurriedly doing her face and cleaning the condo had been wasted. Entirely. “I don’t know, Kent. Am I supposed to be okay?” She eyed him pointedly, thinking to thrust a dagger there.
He sat up, aware for the first time, perhaps, that she was not taking all of this with a warm, cuddly heart. “I’m sharing something with you here, Lacy. I’m exposing myself. I don’t just walk around flashing for the public, you know. Lighten up.”
“Lighten up? You waltz into my place, swear me to secrecy, and then dump all over me! How dare you? And you just want me to lighten up?” She knew that nasty little quiver had taken to her lips, but she was powerless to stop it. “And don’t assume everyone you flash will like what they see!”
Lacy felt a sudden furious urge to reach out and slap him. Don’t be an imbecile, Kent! You can’t just run off and steal twenty million dollars! And you can’t just run off, period! Not this time!
And then she did. In a blinding fit of anger she just reached out and slapped him across the cheek! Hard. Smack! The sound echoed in the room as if someone had detonated a small firecracker. Kent reeled back, grabbing at the table for support and gasping in shock.
“Whaa—”
“Don’t you what me, Kent Anthony!” Heat washed down Lacy’s neck. Her hand was stinging. Maybe she had swung a bit hard. Goodness, she had never slapped a man! “You’re killing me here!”
His eyes flashed with anger, and he scowled. “Look. I’m the one who’s going out on the line here. I’m risking my neck, for Pete’s sake. I’m sorry I’ve burdened you with my life, but at least you don’t have to live it. I’ve lost everything!” His face throbbed red. “Everything, you hear me? It’s either this or suicide, and if you don’t believe me, you just watch, Honey!” He jerked away from her, and she saw that his eyes had blurred with tears.
Lacy gripped her fingers into a fist and closed her eyes. Okay, slow down, Lacy. Relax. He’s just hurt. You’re hurt. She put her palms flat on the table, took several long pulls of air, and finally looked up at him.
He was staring at her again with those blue eyes, searching her. For what? Maybe she had mistaken his signals all along. Maybe those baby blues were looking at her as a link to reality, a partner in crime, a simple companion. God knew he was living in a void these days. And now she knew why—he was stepping off a cliff. He was playing with death. It was why the meeting with the cop had him wringing his hands.
She should be angry with herself more than with him, she thought. He had not misled her; she had simply been on the wrong track. Thinking foolish thoughts of falling in love with Kent again, while he had his eyes on this—this crime of new beginnings. And a death. Good heavens! He was planning on killing somebody!
“I will have to live with it, Kent,” she said gently. “Whatever happens to you, happens to me now. You see that, don’t you? You’ve climbed back into my heart.” She shrugged. “And now you’ve just made me an accomplice, sworn to secrecy. You can understand how that might upset me a little, can’t you?”
He blinked and leaned back. She could see that the thought was running through his mind for the first time. Goodness. Men could be such apes.
She rescued him. “But you’re right. You’re going to live the brunt of it all. So I may not see you again? Ever?”
He swallowed. “Maybe not. I’m sorry, Lacy.
I must sound like a fool coming here and telling you all of this. I’ve been insensitive.”
She held up a hand. “No, it’s okay. It’s not something I asked for, but now that it’s done, I’m sure I can handle it.” She looked at him and decided not to press the issue. Enough was enough. “And I shouldn’t have slapped you.”
“No, I guess I had that coming.”
She hesitated. “Yes, I guess you did.”
He gave off a nervous humph, off balance now.
“So, you really think striped pajamas and a buzz cut will disguise you, Kent? Maybe a ball and chain to boot? It’ll be a new life, all right. Don’t worry. I’ll visit you often.” She allowed a small grin.
He chuckled, and the tension fell like loosened shackles. “No way, Honey. If you think I’m going to prison, you obviously don’t know me like you think you do.”
But that was the problem. She did know him. And she knew that one way or another, his life was about to change forever. And with it, possibly hers.
“You’re right. Well, I would wish you luck, but somehow it doesn’t quite feel right, if you know what I mean. And I can’t very well wish you failure, because I don’t really go for watching people jerk and foam in electric chairs. So, I’ll just hope that you change your mind. In the meantime, my lips are sealed. Fair enough?”
He nodded and grinned.
They drank coffee and talked for another hour before Kent left. He pecked her on the cheek at the door. She did not return the kiss.
Lacy cried a lot that night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Saturday
STEALING TWENTY million dollars, no matter how well planned, engenders undeniable risks. Big, monstrous risks. Although Kent had rehearsed each phase of the two-day operation a thousand times in his mind, the actual execution would involve dozens of unforeseen possibilities. The least of these was probably the likelihood of a Volkswagen-sized asteroid striking downtown Denver and ending his day along with a few million others’—not much he could do about that. But somewhere between Armageddon Two and the real world lay the lurking monsters that seemed to ruin every crook’s good intentions.
