Steal

by Jeff Elkins

  “I don’t know how to thank you,” Moe said, looking at the card.

  “You owe me double now,” Ami said.

  “Sure. Pop some popcorn. I’ll come by and give you a show,” Moe said.

  As she walked Ami to the door, Moe couldn’t stop her mind from racing. Santobello could lead to the next guy up the ladder, who could take them to the next, who might lead her to wherever Sarah’s dad was being held, which could lead to her mom. At the same time, she knew she needed to slow down. She had to do this right. She couldn’t let them know she was on to them. Closing the door behind Ami, Moe wondered if she should bring Robert in on it now. After a moment of consideration, she decided against it. Not yet anyway. He’d just try to take it away and screw it up.

  “That’s amazing,” Stacie said. She passed a mug of coffee to Moe.

  “I think I’m in shock,” Moe said.

  “So let’s go and get this guy. I’ll hold him down and you can strip all the memories out of his mind,” Stacie said.

  Moe smiled at the idea of her petite friend holding down a thug, but before she could comment, her phone buzzed from the kitchen table.

  Stacie grabbed it and read the message. Holding it up for Moe to read, she said, “When it rains it pours.”

  Moe read the text to herself.

  “Found your crew. Aquarium. 2 hours. Bring money.” It was from Vinnie, the Army Veteran from the pancake breakfast.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The destination of countless elementary school field trips every year, the National Aquarium was located in the center of Baltimore’s commercial/tourist zone. The home to hundreds of fish, an astounding dolphin show, a three-story tank filled with different kinds of sharks, and a replica rainforest complete with small monkeys and exotic birds, the aquarium had been one of Moe’s favorite places as a child.

  Vinnie was sitting on a bench, near a group of tourists, looking at foldout maps of the exhibits. He was so unassuming, Moe and Stacie almost missed him. They walked over to the bench and sat down on either side of him.

  “This is Stacie, my partner,” Moe said.

  “Nice to meet you, Vinnie,” Stacie said.

  “You got the cash?” he said.

  Moe pulled a wad of rolled up twenties and passed it to him. “Fifteen-hundred,” she said.

  Vinnie tucked the cash in his jacket pocket. “I asked around about your man, Lewis Quartz. Why are you really looking for this guy?” he asked.

  “He’s part of a case we’re working,” Moe said.

  “You should leave him alone. These aren’t good dudes,” Vinnie said.

  “Suggestion noted,” Stacie said.

  “What did you learn?” Moe asked.

  “After you dropped Quartz’s name in the room, some dudes took off,” Vinnie said.

  “You noticed that, too?” Moe asked, impressed.

  Vinnie nodded and said, “I used to be an MP. Watching a room is just a force of habit. So I went and sat at the table those guys left. I figured if they were sitting with their buddies, someone would know something. After a while I asked if anybody knew of any work. Told them I needed some fast cash. One of them gave me a number. I called it. Met up with a dude at a McDonald’s. He was nice. Told me they’ve got some night watchman gigs they could put me in for, but said they needed to check me out first. So I gave him my details, then I followed him home. That’s when stuff got weird. He’s hold up in the abandoned Royal Furniture building on Monroe and Eagle Street over on the West Side. I sat on the building for a bit. Looks like there are six of them living in it. They’ve got a real frat-cult vibe going. They come and go as a pack. It reminded me of units in the Army that were going rogue. Since they barely trusted each other, they never left each other’s sides.”

  “This is great. Thank you,” Moe said.

  “I was serious about them being dangerous. They’re Marines, and you don’t hold up in an abandon warehouse because you like the neighborhood,” Vinnie warned.

  “How do you know they’re Marines?” Stacie asked.

  “Jarheads have a certain swagger. You can see it in how they talk to each other,” Vinnie said.

  Moe smiled. She like him. He was observant and smart. “Did they see you spying on them?” she asked.

  Vinnie laughed and said, “This isn’t my first stakeout.”

  “You want another job?” Moe asked.

  Vinnie patted the money in his pocket and said, “I’m not turning this kind of cash down.”

  “You know the Horseshoe Casino by the stadiums?” Moe said.

  “I’m not much of a gambler, but I know it, sure,” Vinnie said.

  “There’s a guy that works there. Damon Santobello,” Moe explained.

  “Code name Hook-Nose,” Stacie added.

  “We need to know what he does. Just to get a feel for his normal routine,” Moe said.

  “How much?” Vinnie asked.

  “Three-thousand for the week,” Stacie said.

  “Okay. Call you on the same number when I get something?” Vinnie confirmed.

  “That works,” Moe said.

  Vinnie stood and said, “Nice doing business with you,” as he walked away.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The Royal Furniture Company was once a staple of Southwest Baltimore. The three-story, red-brick building was built in 1884, and filled a full block of the city. It had been the headquarters of a family-owned furniture company that over four generations had expanded from the building into an empire with stores all over the east coast. When the owner’s son was killed in a robbery, in the building’s parking lot in the mid-90s, the company’s enthusiasm for the property had begun to fade. The building had stood empty since 1997.

  Moe and Stacie watched the property from Moe’s car. They’d driven around it twice, but they couldn’t find an entrance to the structure. Every opening was either cinder blocked over or covered by large sheets of plywood. A small tree grew from a window on the east side of the building, and the loading dock doors were covered in ivy.

  Moe parked her car next to an abandoned house. The row home was a three-story redbrick structure with a beautiful curved front that created a large bay window on each floor. Like the factory, it was a ghost of its former self. The parking spot gave Moe and Stacie a clear view of the small alley between the building and the rear side of a row of abandoned homes.

  “I think we just got ripped off by a one-armed man,” Stacie said

  “No. Somebody cares about that alley,” Moe said, nodding toward the debris that blocked each entrance.

  “I don’t know what you see, because it looks to me like it’s full of trash.” Stacie said.

  “It’s the kind of trash that’s important. No one just throws mattresses and heavy pieces of furniture at both ends of the alley. That’s on purpose. They’re hard to drive over, which means to follow you down it, the cops have to get out of their cars,” Moe said.

  “Criminals are so smart,” Stacie said.

  “Some of them,” Moe replied with a laugh.

  They sat in the car and watched the building for a little over an hour before they saw some action.

  “Here we go,” Moe said, as the plywood on one of the boarded windows in the alley began to move.

  “Oh, crap. You called it with the alley,” Stacie said.

  The plywood over the window moved to the side, as if it were a sliding glass door. From it stepped six men, all with military grade haircuts, all in grey running suits. After sliding the plywood back into place, they formed a small circle. Moe and Stacie watched as the men stretched.

  “I think we’ve found our boys,” Stacie said.

  “Without question,” Moe replied.

  “Which one do you think is Lewis Quartz?” Stacie asked.

  “Not sure. Doesn’t really matter,” Moe said.

  After stretching, the men jogged off together down the alley. “Let’s go,” Moe said, jumping out of the car.

  Stacie ran behi
nd her. “We going in?” she asked.

  “We should have at least twenty minutes,” Moe said. She ran down the alley toward the window the men had come out of. Grabbing the plywood, she tried to move it to the side, but it didn’t budge. She tried again, this time applying more force, but it still didn’t move. Moe took a step back and examined the board.

  “It’s probably locked or something,” Stacie said.

  “The question is, ‘How?’” Moe said, as she scanned the perimeter of it. The door was a brilliant creation. If she hadn’t of seen them come out of it, she never would have known it opened.

  “Maybe,” Stacie said, stepping forward and running her hands along the bottom of the board. “Got it,” she said, sliding the board to the right.

  “How did you do that?” Moe asked.

  “There were two latches on the bottom. You needed to push both of them out at the same time. The door to my tree house opened the same way,” Stacie said, stepping back from the door.

  “You had a treehouse, with a secret entrance?” Moe asked, as she peered into the abandon factory. It looked like an abandon building. There was rubble everywhere. The once solid concrete floor was cracking and dirt was coming through. Several large weeds were trying to grow and were reaching toward beams of sunlight that spilled through cracks in the plywood covered windows. There was no sign that any one lived in this rundown space.

  “It was less of a treehouse and more of a clubhouse. My dad had it built for me. It had cable, one of those old school Nintendos, and beanbag chairs. But, it was in a tree, so I guess it was a treehouse,” Stacie said.

  “You and I had very different childhoods,” Moe said.

  As they helped each other climb through the window, a phone buzzed in Stacie’s pocket. She removed it, read the text, smiled and then said, “Francine does not approve of us going into the bad guys’ evil lair.”

  “Too late,” Moe replied. Fully in the building, she took in the enormity of the space. She imagined that at one point this had been a loud and bustling place, with over a hundred workers. She could picture the giant machinery and the furniture being produced, but now it was hollow. Besides a few abandon desks, tall shelving units, and bookcases, the room was completely cleared out. To the right, Moe spotted a staircase.

  Seeing the same thing, Stacie moved to the stairs and said, “Boot prints on the stairs.”

  Moe followed and they crept of the stairs together. Moe winced each time one of the old steps creaked. As the second floor came into view, Moe gasped. “Jackpot,” she said.

  The second floor was spotlessly clean. Six beds, each with a footlocker at the end, filled one side of the room. On another side, there was a workout area complete with weight benches and mirrors. Near it was a circle of couches arranged around an enormous television. A small kitchen with a sink, stove, and refrigerator were across the room from the stairs, and the fourth side contained an armory.

  It was only after scanning the whole room that Moe noticed the camera in the ceiling above. Her heart raced. She wondered if they also had motion detectors installed. They were probably getting alerts on their phones right now. She regretted the decision to come in, but decided there was nothing she could do about it now. Their only option was to make it worthwhile.

  She rushed to the armory, took out her phone, and began snapping pictures of the equipment. In addition to multiple racks of illegal looking rifles and side arms, there were also various scanners, grappling hooks, and other devices Moe didn’t recognize.

  “This actually kind of nice. I could live here,” Stacie said, as she took pictures of the rest of the room. Smiling at the camera, she waved and said, “Hey, boys.”

  “We need more. The equipment isn’t enough,” Moe said, rushing back to the stairs. Moe ran up them to the third floor. At the top of the stairs, she called down to Stacie, “Found it.”

  The third floor contained a room within a room. While many of the original windows were shattered and open to the elements, making the space look empty from the outside, in the center of the room there was a small second room made of steel. Moe walked to the door to the interior room. It wasn’t locked. Pushing it open, she found a space lined with paintings and tubes of artwork. Doing a quick tally, Moe counted at least 30 different pieces in the space.

  “They’ve been doing more than just hitting Baltimore exhibits,” Stacie said from behind Moe.

  Moe took several pictures with her phone. “Lots more,” she said.

  The phone in Stacie’s pocket buzzed again. She looked at it and then up at Moe. “Francine says we have two minutes,” she said.

  “We got what we need,” Moe said, pulling the door behind her closed.

  They ran down the stairs and out the sliding door together. Moe only paused to make sure the door was shut. Sprinting to their car, Moe revved the engine and pulled away as fast as her old car would allow.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Moe smiled when she saw Raul De Santos, the playboy-looking auctioneer step out of the building she and Stacie had been surveilling. Taking a large ring of keys from his pocket, the auctioneer turned and locked the door behind him. Moe looked at the clock. He was probably going to dinner. “Let’s follow him. Maybe he’ll sit down at a restaurant and we can just join his table,” she said.

  “I could eat,” Stacie said.

  After pulling away from the warehouses, Moe and Stacie agreed that they didn’t have much time before the thieves cleared out their lair. At the same time, Moe and Stacie knew if the cops stormed the place everyone would likely clam up and rounding up all the players behind these robberies for their client would become close to impossible. They decided to split the difference by tipping off Detective Mason off to the hide-out, but not the auctioneer. Maybe with pictures of the art, they could get him to start talking.

  Leaving their car where it was parked, Moe and Stacie tried to stay a block behind Raul. Their pursuit was short. After three blocks, Raul entered a small deli that melded in with the block of row homes.

  “Ooo. DiPasquale’s. Best meatball sub in town,” Stacie said.

  Moe’s mouth watered as she walked up the street. DiPasquale’s had served the Highlandtown neighborhood for over a hundred years as an Italian grocery store. Its deli was famous for its rich Italian meats and amazing breads. She couldn’t wait to sink her teeth into a sub.

  By the time they arrived at the deli, Raul the auctioneer had settled into a small table in the corner of the deli. There was an uncorked bottle of red wine, a glass, and a menu in front of him. However, his focus was locked on his phone. With how his thumbs moved, he appeared to be playing some kind of game. Even though he was in a dimly lit room, he kept his sunglasses on. Raul was surprised when Stacie took the seat next to him. When Moe grabbed a chair from a nearby table and pulled it over, he put his phone down and gave them his full attention. “Hello, lovely ladies,” he said with a smile.

  Pouring herself a glass of wine, Stacie said, “Hey, Raul.”

  Taking up a menu, Moe added, “Dinner is on us today.”

  Raul removed his sunglasses, revealing captivating sapphire eyes. He clipped the glasses to the V of his white button down and shot Stacie and Moe a charming smile. Motioning for the waitress to bring two more wine glasses, he said, “I never turn down a meal with two beautiful women. To what do I owe the pleasure? Are you fans of my blog? Maybe you want to pose with beautiful works of art? I’d be happy to photograph you for Instagram.”

  “Sorry, but we’ve never seen your blog, and we’re not on Instagram,” Stacie said, taking a sip of wine.

  “That’s a shame. You’d like it. And you’d both do very well there. Especially under my care. The color tones of the art bring out the most interesting aspects of a woman, and the curves of the woman entice men to look at the art. Then, they show up to my auction hoping to meet the woman in the photo. You’d make a fantastic model. I’d put you with something green. Or maybe brown.” Raul said with a seductive smile.<
br />
  “Maybe you have a McClintok we could pose with?” Moe asked.

  The waitress returned with two wine glasses, filled them, and took everyone’s order. Moe ordered her meatball sub.

  Raul took a sip of wine and then grinned and said, “So, you were saying you’re a fan of photo-digital-illustrations like McClintok’s?”

  “Just a Baltimore girl, through and through,” Moe said.

  “Then McClintok is a good choice. You know, he still lives in Charles Village. For the right incentive, I could arrange an introduction,” Raul offered.

  “We’re more interested in the original ‘Warm Night Baltimore Burn,’” Stacie said, referencing the piece taken from Theo Thalberg.

  Raul swirled his wine, smelled it, and took another sip. “I have an interesting piece by Richard Davies for sale. It was featured on the cover of Rolling Stone. Truly, one of a kind,” he countered.

  “Warm Night has sentimental value to us,” Moe said.

  “It’s a nice piece. Maybe the best of his Burn series,” Raul said, leaning back in his chair and swirling his wine.

  “So you’ve seen it?” Stacie asked.

  “Everyone’s seen it. I was at the unveiling of the series. I work with Robert often. We are very close,” Raul said.

  Moe doubted that. “We’re very interested in purchasing the piece and money is not a problem,” Moe said firmly.

  “We were curious if, maybe, we could even just skip the auction and take it off your hands directly,” Stacie said, leaning forward.

  “Ladies, I run an auction house. We never skip the auction. But, I suppose, if you promise to come dressed to party, an invitation to my next private showing could find its way to you. I should warn you in advance though, that particular piece is going to have a determined buyer,” Raul said with a gleam in his eye.

  Moe smiled as she pulled her phone from her pocket, “Before we pay for it, we need to know you are going to start taking better care of it. We found it just lying on the floor on an abandoned building today,” she said, as she held out the photo of the paintings she’d taken from the Royal Furniture factory for Raul to see.