by G. K. Parks
“You seemed clear last night.”
“I was out of my mind last night.”
“Freddy, tell me the truth. I can help.”
“I don’t know. Seriously, I don’t. I’ve been making calls all afternoon, but I can’t figure it out. None of my regulars have anything to do with loan sharks or the people Alexei usually works for.”
“You must have spoken to someone new.”
“The only new people were the ones I contacted about the ring. There could be overlap. Sports betting is big business.”
“I know.” Again, I thought about Trey Knox and possible motives for the break-in, but I didn’t find anything solid to indicate he had a gambling problem. His behavior hadn’t changed. He didn’t appear erratic or unstable, at least not to any extreme. And he’d told me in no uncertain terms to back off of him. He’d been right. I wouldn’t have questioned a corporate client like this.
“Look, Lucien, I like you. You know that. But I can’t get your ring. I don’t know if last night had anything to do with that, but it might. And I can’t afford that kind of trouble again.”
“I understand. I just wanted to know who you reached out to.”
“The usual places. Local fences, the dark web, a few bookies I know who are dialed into the sports scene.”
“Bookies.” That had to be the connection. It fit, and Freddy knew it. “Just give me their names.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Freddy, I’ll pay for the intel. I don’t care.”
“I’m sorry.” He hung up before I could argue further.
That had to be the connection. Alexei worked for loan sharks which went hand in hand with bookies. Someone–a client, a bookie, the house–one of them must have heard about Knox’s collection. Whether they orchestrated the theft or simply purchased the stolen goods was anyone’s guess. But Knox wouldn’t talk to me about any of this. He wouldn’t even entertain the possibility. I’d pissed him off after he pissed me off, so I doubted he’d want to assist in the investigation.
“Justin,” I said as soon as he answered, “I need you to sweet talk Knox and smooth things over.” I explained the situation. “See what he’ll tell you, just don’t accuse him of gambling. That’s a sensitive subject.”
“All right, I’ll try.”
“Thanks. I’m on my way back.” I glanced at my fridge. “I’ll grab some Chinese food for dinner.”
* * *
As predicted, Knox didn’t offer up any helpful details. Alexei’s accomplice was a nobody. He didn’t have a criminal record, at least none the local police knew about, and he didn’t work at McGinty’s. I thought about running the photo through the larger national and international criminal databases, but I had access and time constraints to consider.
Instead, I spent the next few days focused on interviews, signing new corporate clients, and working through the security reviews and having upgrades installed as quickly as possible for Mr. Rathbone and two other clients. I left the Knox case on the backburner.
I was getting itchy and had to find an outlet for the pent-up energy. Working on what I could control and the things I knew how to do helped, like a release valve siphoning off the excess pressure. Almost an entire week passed without incident.
I’d just finished an assessment and had placed a call in to King Realty to check on their progress when the alert sounded on my phone. One of the GPS trackers had been activated. I’d gotten two of these alerts in the last few days, both of which had been false alarms, so I waited to see where the yellow dot would travel.
After five minutes, I was certain it was headed for Pauley’s Pawn. “Justin, I gotta go.” I didn’t bother with instructions. Instead, I raced out of the office and down the stairs. Hitting the unlock as I jogged to my car, I got inside, gunned the engine, and peeled out of the space. With one eye on the road and the other on my phone, I wondered if I’d make it to the pawn shop in time.
When I arrived, the yellow dot was still two streets away. The moving van was coming from the opposite direction, so I did my best to find a parking space with a decent vantage point. But with limited time, I couldn’t dawdle.
Leaving my car in the first empty spot I found, I walked down the street, scanning for somewhere to hide. When I couldn’t come up with anything, I stopped at the end of the line near a food truck and stared at my phone. The yellow dot turned onto the street. I tucked my phone away the moment the white panel van came into view.
The driver parked in a loading zone near the pawn shop. The parking signs warned it was five minute parking and unauthorized vehicles would be towed at the owner’s expense. The driver’s side door opened and a man in jeans and a green sweatshirt stepped out. He wore a baseball cap with the bill pulled down. Specks of scruff stuck out on his chin and down his neck, but it wasn’t quite a beard. At least not yet.
Removing my phone, I moved as the line did, snapping shots of the man while blending in with the crowd. Baseball Cap went to the side of the van, slid open the door, and grabbed a duffel bag out of the back. He slung it over his shoulder, closed the door, and knocked on the side door to the pawn shop.
As soon as he went inside, I dashed across the street. No one else was inside the van. When he’d opened the doors, I didn’t see anything in the back, but I couldn’t be sure. I checked all the doors, but they were locked. Quickly, I wrote down the van’s details. I’d need that in order to figure out who rented this particular van and if they also rented a storage unit and which one.
Then I went back to my car, started the engine, and crept slowly toward the van, searching for spots along the way. A Jeep was in the midst of pulling out of a space, so I put on my blinker and waited. The vehicle had out-of-state plates, and from the way the driver edged forward and back in the tight space, I didn’t think he had much experience parallel parking. While the guy proceeded to attempt what appeared to be a seven hundred point turn, the van driver exited the pawn shop with an empty duffel bag. He climbed behind the wheel and pulled out. I waited a few seconds before turning off my blinker and swerving around the Jeep.
I tailed the van back to the self-storage facility, but I didn’t dare enter the gates. Instead, I continued past the facility, keeping an eye on things from outside the fence. The rows of buildings concealed me from the van but also concealed the van from me. This wouldn’t do. At the first break between buildings, I turned the nose of my car inward and pushed forward as far as possible, brushing up against the fence. This wasn’t a parking spot, but it’d do.
Creeping around the fence, I hoped to see where the van had gone. The driver parked it in the middle of the row with the rest of the rentable vehicles. He carried the duffel in one hand. I edged around the outside of the fence, hoping to see where he was going. He wasn’t heading toward the front gate.
If the fence wasn’t so tall, I would have climbed it. Instead, I jogged along the outside, past a long row of self-storage units until I happened upon another break. I couldn’t see much, but Baseball Cap had opened one of the units. Grabbing my phone, I tried to zoom in on the number, but even the lens on the camera wasn’t good enough to pick up the old, faded numbers at this angle and distance.
Deciding this wasn’t going to work, I ran around the perimeter, sliding to a stop near the limited number of parking spaces. One of these vehicles had to belong to Baseball Cap. I was about to snap photos of each of the license plates when the gate squeaked open and the man emerged.
On instinct, I dove behind a dumpster brimming with cardboard pieces and dismantled boxes. The man who drove the van didn’t get into any of the vehicles. By the time I realized my mistake and peered around the dumpster, he’d disappeared around the corner. I dashed to the edge of the property and scanned the sidewalk in both directions, but he’d vanished.
Twenty-two
I walked up and down the rows of storage units, twirling my key ring around my finger. I knew roughly where he’d been standing. That narrowed it down to three possible un
its. Each one had a heavy duty lock. Eeny, meeny, miney, moe. I could break it or try to pick it.
The sound of tires on gravel caught my attention. I stepped to the side, reversing course and heading for my own unit. A woman and two young children got out of the car and went to one of the storage units across from where I’d been standing.
“You can pick two things to take with you. That’s it. You know we don’t have a lot of room at your aunt’s house,” the woman said.
“Mommy,” the boy tugged on her arm, “can I unlock the door?”
“Go ahead, babe.” She handed him the key, and he raced toward one of the units. His sister waited for their mom, who was trying to wrestle a second large box out of the back seat.
“I can help,” the little girl said.
“That’s okay, sweetie. This is too heavy for you.” The woman groaned and dropped the box onto the sidewalk. “Go help your brother with the door.”
“Excuse me.” I crossed to her. “You look like you could use some help.”
She gave me a look as she tried to stack one box on top of the other but couldn’t quite get them off the ground. “You could say that.”
“Here.” I bent over, careful to lift with my legs. She grabbed the top box, lightening the load, and I followed her toward the storage unit.
“Thank you. I’m sorry that’s so heavy.”
“What do you have in here? Bricks?” I teased.
“Dumbbells.”
“I guess that means I can skip lifting at the gym today.”
She laughed. “You can just put it down right here.” She pointed to an empty spot on the floor. “No one’s ever offered to help me before.”
“It’s my pleasure.” I backed out of the unit, hesitant to ask about the units directly across from hers. “You wouldn’t happen to know the guy who rents that unit, would you?” I pointed behind me.
“Sorry, I don’t.”
I gave her my friendliest smile. “No problem. I found a set of keys on the ground near there and thought they might belong to whoever rents that unit.” I held up my own key ring. “I was just on my way to turn them in at the office.”
“You’re just an all-around good Samaritan.”
“I’m trying.”
I made my way back to the front gate and pushed the button to let myself out. Just like my last visit, the office wasn’t busy. The same guy was behind the desk, reading a textbook. This time it was on post-modernism.
“Can I help you?” he asked, his eyes still on the page.
“I was wondering if you have a bathroom I could use.”
He looked up at me, vague recognition crossed his face. “Not for the public, but I guess it’d be okay to let you use it this once.” He pointed to a door off to the side.
I went around the desk and pulled open the door. It led directly into a bathroom which made the one in my office look huge. I pressed up against the sink in order to close the door. Closing the toilet seat lid, I stepped on top of it and slid one of the ceiling tiles out of the way. With the light from my phone, I peered around inside the ceiling until I found a few thick cable wires. They must connect to the router or modem.
Stepping down from the toilet, I checked my pockets for something to cut the cords, but I didn’t have a knife with me. The best I could do was a bottle opener on my keychain. I’d have to be better prepared in the future.
After far too long, I managed to fray and sever one of the cables. Since I didn’t get electrocuted in the process, I hoped I cut the right one. With the internet on the fritz, the office security system should be offline. I could come back after close and get the intel I needed.
After flushing the toilet and washing my hands, I made sure the ceiling tile was back in place and I wasn’t covered in dust. Then I let myself out of the bathroom and went back around the counter. “Thanks.”
“Sure. Have a good one.”
I returned to my office to dig up everything I could on the self-storage facility. My initial assessment had been correct. The office security system required a network connection. Without it, the security system wouldn’t send a notification that someone was lurking out front or report a breach from the sensors that surrounded the door. Thank you, wireless network.
From what I’d seen, the facility’s computer was outdated, along with the software. Payment took a few seconds longer to process than most other places, which made me think customer information, including rental agreements and schedule information, was contained on the hard drive. Databases and spreadsheets, I knew how to work the indexing options. Figuring in a slow boot-up and shutdown process, I should be in and out in ten minutes.
“Need anything else, boss?” Justin asked.
“Did Mr. Almeada approve the drafts we sent him on contract proposals?”
“A courier dropped them off while you were out.” He picked the manila envelope out of the intake box and held it out to me. “How many more hires do you want to take on?”
“As many as we can.” I glanced up. “I should be here first thing in the morning, but if for some reason I’m delayed, you have a copy of the questions and the minimum requirements I set for new hires.”
“Why would you be delayed?”
“Who knows?” I turned my attention back to the computer. “But I trust your judgment.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.” He didn’t believe me, but he didn’t waste his breath on an interrogation. In most cases, the less he knew, the better for both of us.
After he left, I uploaded the photos I’d taken of Baseball Cap and tried to clean them up, but I couldn’t get anything usable. The computer extrapolated a few details and spit them out. 5’8 to 6’, 170-200 pounds. That didn’t do much for me. Based on what little I could see of his face and skin tone, I assumed I was looking for a white guy with dark hair. None of those facts were particularly helpful.
I could go to Pauley’s and ask, but that didn’t seem like a good idea. Instead, I switched gears, reviewed the employment contracts to make sure we didn’t miss any typos, and poured myself a drink. The impending break-in had made me jittery. A little something to calm the nerves wouldn’t hurt.
When I finished doing everything in the office that I could possibly think of, including dusting the furniture, I locked up and headed home to change. Comfortable, dark clothing and good shoes were a must. After that, I filled my pockets with lock picking gear, a Swiss army knife, wire cutters, a set of miniature screwdrivers, and an external hard drive.
Once I was sure I had all my bases covered, I headed back to the self-storage facility. The cameras posted around the perimeter had probably caught sight of me earlier. I hadn’t done anything illegal, so it didn’t matter. But if my break-in was detected, the police would have questions.
Making a mental note to delete the footage, I parked my car in a garage a few blocks away, cognizant of the cameras as I exited with my face down and my collar up. I didn’t want to put a hood on or wear a mask in the garage. That would look suspicious as hell. I’d wait until I was closer to do that.
My heartbeat quickened the closer I got to the facility. The few parking spaces out front were empty. The lights were off in the office. As far as I could tell, no one was around. Still, it was a twenty-four hour self-serve facility. That didn’t mean someone wouldn’t show up. It was fairly early, a little after nine. I didn’t want to wait too long. Police patrols picked up at night. It’d be safer to do this now.
Ducking behind the dumpsters, I pulled a ski mask on over my face and left my outer jacket, a dark parka, beside the dumpster. Hopefully, it’d still be there by the time I returned. Having altered my appearance enough to argue the person seen breaking in to the office couldn’t have been me, I sidled up to the door.
In a moment, I’d know if I cut the correct wire on my earlier visit. I’d also learn if my assumption was correct about the security system not functioning without an internet connection. For all I knew, it could have a contingency figured in using phone lines,
but I didn’t think so.
My lock picks worked the tumblers with ease, and the door popped open in twenty seconds. Definitely not the best lock. When all was said and done, perhaps I should drop a Cross Security advertisement beneath the door. Snickering at the hubris such an act would require, along with a heavy dose of dumbassery, I held my breath and crept inside.
No alarms sounded. I scanned the corners of the room for blinking red lights but found none. Shutting the door, I flipped the lock and made my way around the desk. So far, so good.
The computer came to life and asked for my user name and password. Bypassing it would take extra time. After another quick glance out the door, I put the flashlight in my teeth and searched the desk for any notes. Beneath the desk pad calendar, I found a tattered sticky note. Bingo.
I keyed in the information and waited. The computer seemed uncertain about the entry, as if it didn’t believe I was the user in question. Then it let out a welcoming chime, and the room brightened as the light blue background filled the screen.
Taking a seat, I searched the hard drive, unsure what naming conventions the management might have chosen. Within a minute, I’d found a customer database for the unit rentals. Now I just had to find the van rentals and link the two.
The van rental information was contained in a separate file labeled Moving Additions. I nearly overlooked it, but as soon as I found out who rented the van earlier today, I got the customer’s name. Eric Beaufort.
Beaufort paid cash in advance for a one year rental. He had another four months left on the lease. I wrote down the unit number and shut down the computer.
Unlocking the door, I peered out the window, making sure no one had arrived. The lot remained empty, so I stepped out and relocked the door using my lock picks. That took longer, but it was done. Just as I was about to turn around, a car pulled up.
I stuffed the picks into my pocket. I had nowhere to go. As I turned around, I slid the mask up on my face, so it looked more like a watch cap instead of a ski mask. A guy rolled down his window to enter the code to unlock the gate.
