Deception (19 page)

Alicia and Frank are
standing side-by-side in the living room as Billy and I enter the room. They turn their attention to us right away. Alicia looks at me with concern, which is likely a combination of recalling my outburst from before and the bloody hand print across my chest. I avoid her eyes. Frank looks okay if you can ignore the swollen face and two black eyes. He appears to be standing on his own without any support from Alicia, so he must be feeling better.

“It’s nice to see you awake,” I say in Frank’s direction. Even through his battered face, he still manages to smile at the attention.

“Thank you,” Frank responds. “I got a headache and my face is a little sore, but I’m okay.”

I nod, assuming he hasn’t seen a mirror; I think he’d feel a little differently about it if he had.

He points to my shirt. “What happened to you?”

Alicia looks attentively at me, also curious to hear my answer.

I shrug. “Nothing. I’m fine.” I quickly change the subject. Do you remember what happened to you?”

Frank looks to Billy before responding. “I slipped and fell in the van.”

I catch a glimpse of Billy nodding subtly in confirmation. He has Frank wrapped around his finger and it’s beginning to make me sick. Frank’s not a bad guy. That doesn’t make him innocent, but he’s nothing like that tyrant brother of his. I can tell Alicia feels the same way, as I catch her rolling her eyes. I really do feel bad for almost killing him.

“I’m glad you all want to stand around and chat, but we have to go,” Billy the tyrant chimes in, darkening the mood.

“What’s going on?” Alicia asks.

“They know where we are. George saw them while we were gone.”

Frank’s eyes pop at the sound of this, although it’s difficult to see through the swelling in his face.

“Speaking of that, where’d you guys go?” I ask.

“Nowhere,” Billy mutters.

I want to press further, but we really do need to get out of here, so I let it go.

“Where we gunna go, boss?” Frank asks.

“I have a place in mind. Somewhere close by. We’ll come back for the money in the morning, then we’ll go.”

Frank smiles. “Go where, boss?”

“You know where.”

“I want you to say it.” Frank is giddy.

“No, I’m not going to say it.”

“Oh, come on. He already knows,” Frank says, referring to me.

“I’m not saying it.” Billy is stern, which disappoints Frank.

Frank leans in close to Alicia and whispers, although it’s not very quiet, “Mexico, baby.”

Alicia is unresponsive and I can hear Billy mumble something to himself. There is a brief silence before Billy speaks again.

“It’s time to go. Everyone stay in here until I give you the signal that it’s safe.” Billy walks across the living room and over to the front door. He pinches open the blinds and peeks outside, much like I did before. After scanning the street, he reaches for the door.

“Hey, boss?” Frank startles everyone.

Billy turns and faces him as he holds onto the door handle. “What?”

“What’s the signal?”

Billy rolls his eyes and sighs, obviously annoyed. “When I say it’s safe, just come, okay?” Billy doesn’t wait for a response and turns back to the door. “What a fucking moron.” He turns the handle and pulls the door toward him, allowing some space for his head to slide out. He scans the street again before turning back to us. “Okay, come on. Hurry up.” He opens the door fully and motions for us to follow.

Alicia goes first, followed by me, then Frank. Billy closes the door behind us and sneaks his way across the walkway and into the driver’s side of the van. Alicia reaches the back of the van shortly thereafter, and she and I pile inside. I close one door and wait for Frank to hop in the other.

A moment passes and there is still no sign of Frank. He was right behind me, so he should already be in the van by now. He must have forgot something and turned back. I slide toward the rear doors and start to poke my head out. Just as I do, multiple rounds of explosions and loud echoes fill the air.

Gun shots.

I recognize them as being the same sound as before in the parking lot of the pub. I pull my head back into the van, slam the doors, and throw myself on the floor and cover my head. It’s like we’re on the battlefield. Alicia shrieks from the bench behind Billy’s seat and slides onto the floor next to me. Billy ducks in the front and covers his head. Someone is screaming, but I can’t tell who it is or what they’re saying.

Maybe it’s me.

Then, suddenly, just as quickly as it started, the gun shots fade out and the faint sound of squealing tires are heard peeling away in the background. Billy lifts himself and looks back at us.

You okay? Everyone okay?” he says. He’s breathing heavily but is fairly calm. I look to Alicia, who looks back at me. She’s quivering, like me. I turn to Billy and shake my head. “Where’s Frank?”

My eyes sink as Billy’s face turns to panic. His cheeks are rosy, but the paleness is beginning to overwhelm his face. He must have thought that Frank was already in the van.

Billy pushes his door open and runs around the front of the van. I lose him as he passes in front of the windshield. Moments later, I hear his screams. No words actually come out, just loud, murderous screams. I look to Alicia, who is sobbing in her hands, then I hop over the front seat and join Billy outside.

Frank’s dead body is in the driveway, right next to the rear wheel of the van. Blood is streaming down the side of the uneven driveway and staining a path under the van. If I didn’t know it was Frank, the body would be unrecognizable. Tens of rounds of ammunition tore through his upper torso, neck, and face, killing him instantly. Bullet casings litter the street.

I walk back around the van and sit on the rear bumper. My stomach churns and I can taste the acid of the bile starting to make its way up and out. I try to hold it back, but I can’t. I vomit at my feet as I think about how easily that could have been me over there instead.

Billy’s hands are covered in blood and he sits on his knees on the ground next to Frank, pounding the cement with his closed fists. I can’t help but feel sorry for him as I know what it’s like to lose someone who’s close to you. He lacked the tolerance needed to deal with Frank and his apparent condition, but he didn’t want him to die, that much is obvious.

Billy is becoming hysterical as he continues to pound his fists into the cement. I lift my feet over the vomit, open the back doors, and slide back into the van, letting him be. I move onto the bench on the passenger’s side and rest my face in my hands. Alicia is doing the same on the bench opposite to me.

I try to think of another time that I’ve seen a grown man weep like that. I can’t recall such an instance.

I park the van
in the parking garage a few blocks from 53
rd
Street, then George and I start in that direction. Frank waits inside for us to return and Alicia is back at the old station. It’s around 8:30 A.M. and the sidewalk is crowded. George and I walk in the opposite direction as most people.

Shawnee County Savings Bank is one of the largest privately owned banks in the city, and it’s our target this morning. The note from the safe is secured in my pocket, as well as the brass key that I hope belongs to a safety deposit box inside the bank.

“Let’s make a pit stop in here before we head over,” I say to George as I lead him into an upscale men’s business clothing store that stands alone by itself.

“What do we need in there?” George asks.

“We need a new wardrobe if we’re going to look like cops. I’m buying.”

We’ve been wearing the same clothes for a couple of days now, and they’re dirty and a bit foul smelling, so we need a fresh look. I have my badge with me, but we need to look presentable too so there’s no hesitation on the part of the bank employees.

I ignore the enthusiastic salesman as we enter the store, and I walk directly to the back wall. Crisp suits in various colors and styles line the wall, all hanging in perfect unison. The lighting is strategically placed so that the most expensive Italian ones are highlighted, and they grab my attention immediately. The suits are sharp, but they may be a bit of an overkill. All we really need is some new slacks and shirts and even blazers would be unnecessary. They’ll just get in the way.

I reluctantly slide over to the section that has slacks and button-up shirts hanging individually, and we pick out some dark colors. The salesman follows closely behind us as we browse through the racks. We change into the new outfits in the designated rooms in the back, and I pay the salesman in cash before we leave.

Back on the sidewalk, the morning rush hasn’t died down any, so it takes us a moment to cross the sidewalk to get to the trash cans. We toss our old clothes into the can and make our way toward the bank. It’s still a block away, so I take the opportunity to go over the details one more time.

“Just follow my lead in there,” I begin. “We’re both cops and we need to access that box. We don’t leave until we see what the contents are.”

George doesn’t react, and I can tell he’s having anxiety over the whole situation.

I continue, “If this is it and there is cash inside the box, we’re confiscating it as evidence. They’ll probably catch on at that point, so be prepared to run. You come back this way and I’ll go the long way around the other side of 53
rd
, and we’ll meet at the van. You’ll beat me there, so you tell Frank what’s going on so he’s ready to roll as soon as I arrive. Got it?”

George nods.

My heart rate is increasing as we approach the impressive stairwell to the bank, and the adrenaline rush fuels me. Things are about to get pretty exciting.

I fight through the apprehension and I blast us through the line of law-abiding citizens with confidence. I approach the teller and flash her my badge. Barbara, the teller, is obviously uncomfortable and unsure how to react. After some back and forth banter and some resistance from her to provide us access to the safety deposit box, I hit her with it.

“We’ve received a report of a potential bomb on the premises and we need access to this box.”

She gasps and covers her mouth with her hands. She spends the next couple of minutes frantically searching through her computer for a hit on various combinations of the seven digits that I have memorized from the note in my pocket. There are no results. I back away from the counter and pace around in a small circle. Fuck. What the hell do we do now?

“I’ll go get the manager,” Barbara says. “Maybe he can help.”

Before I can respond, George breaks his silence, “No, we don’t have the time to wait for the manager,” he says.

He’s not following my lead like I told him, but maybe he has an idea, so I don’t intervene. He worked in a bank before he joined me, so maybe there’s something I’m missing. I stand back and watch him go to work.

It’s not long before the two of them are in a deep discussion about there being too many digits and the labelling of the shelves that house the safety deposit boxes, or some shit like that. They lost me almost immediately, but George seems to know what’s going on.

At least I hope he knows what’s going on.

Barbara pounds some keys into her computer, and before I know it, the three of us are in the vault searching for a safety deposit box that contains a fictional explosive device. It all happens so fast and I’m not totally sure how we did it, but I like where this is headed. We’re in business.

We’re in aisle twenty-three and Barbara is holding a steel box with the number 282 engraved on the front. The brass key from the safe is in my hand, and I look at it with uncertainty. The key that Barbara is using looks nothing like the one that I’m holding, as hers is much smaller and is a glossy silver. Mine is brass and appears to be much too large. This isn’t good.

She inserts her key into the designated hole on the box facing her, and the lock disengages with a click. She looks up and waits for me to do the same on my end. I slide the head of the key toward the hole on the box and try not to look concerned as the brass comes nowhere close to fitting. Now frustrated, I flip the key and try it again, but the results are the same.

Fuck. It’s another dead end.

Barbara opens her mouth as if she’s about to say something, but I don’t want to hear it. Not knowing what else to do, I rip the box from her hands and smash it on the concrete floor below. I reach behind my back, pull out my gun, and begin emptying an entire clip into the box.

My accuracy has always been excellent, and today is no different. Each one of the six bullets hit the target and the clasp with the key hole is nearly blown off. My ears are ringing and the powder residue forms a small cloud in front of me. The smoke tickles the hair in my nose, but I refuse to wipe my face. I wait a moment for the heat to cool before crouching down to the level of the now shredded box. George creeps around the corner from where he and Barbara had hid away to during my rampage, and I can sense him watching me meticulously as I pry open the remainder of the box and sort through the contents.

Unless Snake knows some Chinese guy named Li Yong and has made a currency exchange from dollars to yuan, this is not what we’re looking for. There is a small wad of Chinese yuan tied together with an elastic band in which I pick up and quickly count. I stop counting after I reach the one thousand mark, which is about halfway through the stack. The contents are minimal and the cash can’t be valued at much more than three or four hundred US dollars. I toss Li Yong’s passport and wad of yuan next to the severed lid of the safety deposit box and push myself to my feet.

Barbara tries to stop me on the way out, but I stay in character and offer an explanation of a false alarm before brushing past her. I look straight ahead and fight with my peripheral vision to avoid observing my surroundings as George and I walk toward the front doors of the bank. I’m not sure if the room is sound proof or not, but I doubt it would matter if it was. From the reflection on the windows, I can see the bank manager in an animated discussion with Barbara back near the vault. She’s clearly trying to convince him to call the police.

It will only be a matter of minutes before the police are dispatched and are arriving at the scene to interrogate Barbara and any other witnesses who may have stuck around in the line to discuss what happened. Mr. Yong will be notified that his belongings may have been compromised, and he’ll probably file a lawsuit against the bank for their lack of security after he’s questioned about any possible terrorism connection. He’ll never bank with Shawnee again.

The bank manager will be forced to terminate Barbara after her carelessness, but he may fight for her to at least get a severance package. The surveillance footage will be scrutinized but the police will find no clear images of our faces as we kept our heads down and away from the lenses of the cameras. It’s going to be a big hassle for the institution and some policy changes will probably be enforced within a matter of weeks, and it’s all for not. The key didn’t fit and the money wasn’t there, and we’re no closer to being out of Kansas.

“Don’t look back,” I say to George as he’s about to do just that as we approach the front doors. We slip down the stairs and onto the sidewalk and blend into the crowd. Police sirens are rapidly approaching from the other side of 53
rd
Street and George is getting tense. “Stay cool.” We walk at a rapid pace, but we do not run. I find a shortcut through an alley that attaches to the rear of a grocery store that is across the street from the parking garage.

Frank is sitting in the driver’s seat as we approach the van. I walk around and open the rear doors and George hops inside. Frank shuffles across the seat and into the passenger’s side as I open the front door. He looks between George and me before speaking.

“Did you get the cash, boss?”

I slowly turn to face him as I try to figure out how he became to be so stupid. If we had the cash we would have arrived to the van at different times and there would be a little bit more enthusiasm involved. We would have had the box with us and we’d already be back on the interstate. This is usually my time to tear into Frank and his lack of intelligence, but I decide to spare him the humiliation this one time.

“No, no cash,” I say. ”That wasn’t it.”

I start the ignition and head toward the exit of the parking garage. I take a left out of the garage and head back in the same direction we came from on 53
rd
Street.

Five police cars with their lights flashing line the street just outside of the bank as we drive by. The lane closest to the bank is barricaded by the squad cars and an officer is forcing people away from the entrance of the bank. I recognize his face from a distance, but his name slips past me. I met him only once in passing as he was hired for the graveyard shift during my first leave of absence. It’s after 9:00 A.M. now, so his shift should have ended an hour ago. You’re welcome for the overtime, Mr. Nameless.

“What do we do now?” George asks from the back.

“We’re going back to Snake’s place. We must have missed something.”

“What are we looking for this time?”

“We’re going to search every square inch of that property until we find something we can use. I’m all ears if you have another idea.”

I can’t go back to Alicia with nothing. She’s getting concerned and I’m afraid she may crack under the mounting pressure if I bring her more bad news. I won’t tell her about what happened in the bank, as she’ll become paranoid that we’ll be tracked and found. She won’t understand that we avoided the cameras. Even if we didn’t, Sheriff Hearns thinks I’m at the hospital in Hays with Frank, so it’d be a clear case of mistaken identity. It happens all the time. Plus, nothing even happened inside the bank besides a little damage to the one safety deposit box. Nothing was taken and nobody was hurt, and the cops are not on to us. Alicia won’t understand any of this.

She already thinks the Zved’s have found us, and she might be right, so that’s why we need to find the cash before they do. Time is running out. Every phone call that goes unanswered to Snake will just raise more suspicion that something is wrong. I figure we have less than twenty-four hours before someone heads over to his house and finds him dead, and less than eight more before they find out who’s responsible. The thought of this raises the hair on the back of my neck and I begin to sweat. I’m suddenly chilled by this reality and goose bumps explode from the flesh on my forearms. I shake myself when no one is watching to make the goose bumps disappear.

Fear is a powerful emotion, but it’s not as strong as the pure hatred and yearning for revenge that I have for Snake and the rest of the Zved’s. They’ve won one too many times before, and I’m determined not to let them beat me again. Snake is out of the picture finally, but I won’t be satisfied until I take from him what was the most important thing in his life, much like he did to me.

I’m getting out of this alive, and I’m taking his money with me. I will find that cash.