by Ben Mezrich
Once through the gate, Thad carefully pushed the Jeep to the 5 mph speed limit and began the long, crisscrossing ride to their destination. He’d always found the JSC campus speed limit annoying, but tonight, with his nerves jumping off and his stomach churning, it was almost unbearable. But the last thing he needed was a security guard pulling him over for speeding. He had a dozen stories ready in case they did run into someone—but once he’d been identified, the entire heist would be off. They were still in a place where they could turn back at any moment—they still hadn’t yet crossed that invisible line that separated thought from action. But the line was getting closer by the second.
None of them uttered a word until Thad finally pulled the Jeep around to the back parking area behind Building 31, finding a spot right up in front of the mechanical bay door that was used to bring heavy lab equipment in and out. Thad had never parked this close to the building before, and it looked twice as large from where he was sitting, its rectangular frame rising up into the heavy gray rain. He turned off the ignition, shut the lights, then listened for a moment to the rain pelting off the roof and windshield. He could hear Rebecca breathing hard next to him.
“Okay,” he finally said, pulling a small wrench out of the glove compartment. “Wait here.”
Now that it was after ten, the air had become remarkably cool for the middle of July, even in the midst of an intense rainstorm. Thad quietly shut the Jeep’s door behind him and hurried to the side of the building, pressing himself tightly against the wall so that he was partially covered by the slight overhang that extended out from the building’s roof. First, he sidestepped his way to the enormous bay door that was directly behind where they had parked the Jeep. He could tell by looking at the electronic controls on the door that it was fully functional, though locked from the inside. Satisfied, he sidestepped back the way he came, then went another ten feet to a small alcove built into the wall. Within the alcove was another steel-framed door, much smaller than the cargo bay, but just as locked.
Thad passed the wrench to his left hand, then dried his right palm and fingers against his slacks. Then he reached for the electronic keypad next to the door. From memory, he entered five numbers—and smiled as the lock clicked open. So far, so good. Getting the combo for the rear door to Building 31 had been ridiculously easy. If this had taken place a year ago, he would have known the combination himself—because often, the scientists who worked in 31 used the rear entrance to get in and out of the building after hours. It was especially convenient because it was located close to the astrophotography printer room; if you needed to run off a dozen pictures of the dark side of the moon, this was where you went.
Thad had simply called one of his old acquaintances from the Monday lunch meetings a few days earlier and explained that he needed to get some pictures printed up. The man had been happy to give him the code—and had probably promptly forgotten about the call. Even if he did remember that Thad had asked for the number, it was going to be scant evidence of any wrongdoing. Dozens of people would have used that door over the past few days.
Thad bent low, placing the wrench in between the door and the frame, propping it open a few inches. Then he quickly returned to the Jeep, leaning in through the driver’s-side door.
“Okay,” he said, sounding much calmer than he felt. “This is going to take me about ten minutes. If you see anyone—anyone at all—just take off. If alarms go off or you hear shouts or see lights—just go. Don’t wait around for me. I’ll be fine.”
Rebecca’s eyes narrowed, and she quickly shook her head.
“No way. I’m coming with you. That was the plan.”
Thad looked from her to Sandra. Yes, that had been the plan, but now that they were actually there—about to cross that line for real—he wasn’t sure he wanted either of them to leave the Jeep. Even if he were caught, Rebecca and Sandra couldn’t possibly get into huge trouble just for waiting outside in a Jeep. At worst, it was like a college prank gone bad, a couple of coeds cheering on an adventurous kid. Rebecca was his catalyst and his heart, but she didn’t need to be his cell mate if this all went wrong.
“Thad,” she said. “I want to do this with you.”
He stood there, the rain pelting his shoulders and back. He was caught between the fantasy of the moment and the real-world thoughts running through his head. She wanted to do this with him. But he shouldn’t let her. He knew that he shouldn’t let her. But the thing was, if she did this with him, he also knew that it would bind them together in a very real way, for the rest of their lives. When two people survived something crazy—and had a secret this big to keep for the rest of their lives—it connected them in a way that nothing else could. The money was one thing: it would change their lives, it would give them the opportunity to do many wonderful things, to be scientists, to go to Africa, to be happy. But beyond the money, the experience would change them.
He already knew that he loved her, totally and intensely, but if she accompanied him on this dangerous mission, she would be just as in love with him. He was sure of it. They would have this forever, no matter what else happened in their lives. They would have this.
“Okay,” he suddenly said, shocking himself—and she was already sliding across the front seat of the Jeep to join him out on the pavement. “And, Sandra—”
“Uh, I’m happy to wait in the car.”
Thad smiled at her over the backseat. He turned to face his girlfriend, and squeezed her hand. Then he led her to the back of the Jeep and opened the rear door. While she stood and watched he reached inside with both hands and hefted the oblong, oddly shaped metal object and lowered it onto the pavement. Then he went for the duffel, slinging it over his shoulder. He paused a moment, ignoring the rain that was pouring down over them, going through it all in his head. Everything seemed in order.
He turned to Rebecca and gave her a confident grin.
“Time to cross that line.”
A second later, they were inside Building 31.
…
There he was.
Up on the big screen.
Twenty feet tall in all his cinematic glory. Garbed in blue-gray overalls, his face mostly covered by a thin white surgical mask, his damp, curly hair hidden beneath a latex hospital cap, his hands gloved, even his shoes covered by white cloth booties. He was moving like a cat down one side of the never-ending hallway, his knees slightly bent to conceal his vertical motion, his bright green eyes keeping track of the revolving security cameras, making sure he was out of sight, again a ghost, a breeze, as invisible as air. His girl was right behind him, following his every move, mimicking his gait, dressed just like him, helping him drag the metal thing along the wall—its clinking, creaking wheels the only sound beyond their stifled breaths, the patter of their covered shoes against the cement floor.
A flurry of choreographed motion as they suddenly shifted to the other side of the hallway, passing from one security camera to the next, never slowing, never hesitating, moving like trained dancers across a Broadway stage.
And then, in front of them, the door with the cipher lock. Without pause, Thad reached into the duffel and retrieved a small, handheld black light that he had bought at Home Depot along with the tools. With a flick of his thumb, he engaged the light and shined it on the keypad. Rebecca gasped behind him as five of the keys lit up, bright as the moon on a cloudless night. Except, when she looked closer, she could see that the brightness was different with each key; a cascading scale of light, from the brightest number to the dimmest. Thad winked back at her, his green eyes the only part of his face visible above the surgical mask. His magic powder—the combination of fluorite, gypsum, and talcum—had worked. He had powdered all the keys—but only five numbers on the pad had been pressed within the past twenty-four hours, because the person who had pressed the pad had known the password, hadn’t been guessing in the dark. And with each key he had pressed, the oils on his fingertips had absorbed a little bit of the talcum, taking a little
bit less of the fluorite along with it. Thad didn’t even have to guess the sequence of the five numbers—he could read it with the ease of reading five letters on a page.
One at a time, he pressed the keys in order of brightness. There was a buzz, the whir of mechanical gears—and the door clicked open.
“Okay,” he whispered through the surgical mask. “Wait here.”
This time, Rebecca didn’t complain. Thad could see, from the look in her eyes, from the sweat that was dampening her surgical mask, that she was now terrified. Her breathing was becoming short and fast, and there was the real chance that she was going to hyperventilate if she kept it up. He leaned close to her, so close that his forehead touched hers, and stared straight into her eyes.
“This is it. This is happening. And you’re going to be just fine. Stay right here; I’m going to take care of everything.”
Her breathing eased, and she nodded. She was scared, but she was going to make it. She trusted him. She had reason to trust him. In her eyes, he was James Bond, the guy who could do anything, who got her to jump off cliffs and dive out of airplanes. He spoke multiple languages, swam with astronauts, and might one day walk on Mars. He was going to give her the moon.
He turned and, alone, headed through the door.
…
And into the Lunar Lab. Past the Plexiglas nitrogen cabinets with the attached bristle of rubber gloves, whirling, twirling, right up to the massive steel door with the immense wheel lock, spinning, spiraling, through the steel door and into the vault, careening, teetering, past the skyscraper-like steel cabinets with the aluminum drawers, staggering, tottering, through the miniature door to the safe marked trash, kneeling, keeling, fingers on the electronic lock, hitting the numbers one after another after another after another, and—
Nothing.
Reset. Resume. Hitting the numbers one after another after another, and—
Again, nothing.
Thad jerked back from the safe, and suddenly reality hit him like a Saturn V rocket to the face. He wasn’t in the lunar vault at all. He hadn’t gone through the miniature door, or past the steel cabinets. He hadn’t opened the massive, unopenable, impossible wheeled vault door.
He wasn’t in the lunar vault. He was in a lab. Specifically, he was in Everett Gibson’s lab, the same lab he had once visited with his wife, Sonya, so she could see a moon rock for herself. And he was standing in front of Everett Gibson’s safe, staring at a combination lock that would not open.
He blinked, hard. He truly wasn’t certain when the plan had changed—when, exactly, he had shifted from the mental game of breaking into the lunar vault to the much more practical, much more doable puzzle of breaking into Gibson’s lab, to get to his safe. But somewhere along the way, just enough reality had broken into Thad’s fantasy to push him to this place, to this crime. In his mind, standing there staring at the shoulder-high safe, which he knew contained five drawers filled with specimens that Gibson had been collecting, experimenting on, for more than thirty years—in his mind, it was morally equivalent to robbing the trash safe in the lunar vault. These were used moon rocks, stored away in this safe in a corner of a sixteen-by-twenty-foot lab, trotted out now and again for a lecture, maybe carted around to a high school or a college or a private NASA function—but they were essentially still considered NASA’s trash. Gibson had had thirty years with them; it was now Thad’s turn to put them to use.
And what of Gibson, what of the kindly, professorial man who had been a part of NASA’s history, who had personally handled and held these moon rocks from the moment they had been brought back from the Apollo missions, who had been there when the moon landings actually took place? Well, Gibson had already lived through that experience; he’d have that glory and that moment within him for the rest of his life. Now it was Thad’s turn.
Thad blinked. His mind whirled back to Rebecca, still standing out in the hallway, probably terrified, trembling, nearing her breaking point. His jaw stiffened as he tried the combination one more time. Again, nothing. He took a deep breath, then sized up the safe with his eyes. Yes, it was big, and he knew that it was heavy. Between five and six hundred pounds. It wasn’t a guess, it was something he had researched, something he had hoped he wouldn’t need to know—but then, again, preparation was all about the details. The things you didn’t expect to need to know. Plans within plans. Thad had expected to be able to open the safe—but he had planned for the chance that he couldn’t.
He spun on his heels and rushed back out through the lab, now seeing it for what it was, a somewhat cluttered place of test tubes, steel sinks, and chrome shelves. Much like the lab he had worked in for two wonderful tours. He reached the door and stuck his head out into the hallway, catching Rebecca by surprise. She jumped back, nearly tripping over her covered shoes. Thankfully, she caught herself before she toppled into the range of one of the security cameras.
“I need your help,” Thad hissed. His calm demeanor was cracking, but he didn’t have time to polish the rough edges. They had to move fast.
“What? Why? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I just can’t get the safe open.”
Rebecca’s eyes became saucers.
“You can’t get the safe open? Christ, what are we going to do?”
Thad pointed past her, to the metal thing they had carted along with them from the Jeep.
“That’s why we brought the dolly.”
Rebecca exhaled into her surgical mask. Of course that was why they had brought the damn thing—heavy and unwieldy, but rated to six hundred pounds with a mechanical crank lift and heavy-duty straps—really, Thad had hoped they wouldn’t need it. He had thought he was going to be able to open the safe right there in the lab. In fact, that was the main reason he had focused on Gibson’s lab when, even in fantasy, he’d realized that the lunar vault was impregnable.
Even though Gibson had made him stay outside the lab when he had retrieved those moon rocks for Sonya a year ago, Thad had been able to see the numbers affixed to the top of the safe. He had assumed they were the safe’s combination; obviously, he had been wrong. In retrospect, it was foolish to have thought that a man as smart as Gibson would have the combo right there in the lab. No doubt the numbers were actually a memory tool—maybe some sort of algorithm that helped the man calculate the combination each time he opened it. It would be easy enough to devise an algorithm that could be changed every few weeks without much effort, and you wouldn’t have to memorize anything other than the process for using the algorithm—multiplication, subtraction, whatever that might be.
Given enough time, Thad knew he could probably break the sequence—but he certainly didn’t have that time here and now. What he had was a dolly that was rated to six hundred pounds, an extra pair of hands—be they little, porcelain, and trembling—and a Jeep Cherokee waiting outside.
He stepped past Rebecca and grabbed the dolly, then pointed her ahead of him, into the lab. A minute later, he was back in front of the safe, Rebecca next to him. Carefully, he moved the dolly into position, then shifted so that he could put his full weight against the safe. Straining every muscle in his body, he tried to tilt it off the ground just enough to get the edge of the dolly beneath it. No dice; even with all of his weight, the damn thing wouldn’t budge.
“You’re going to have to help.”
Rebecca quickly put her hands next to his, and together they tried again. Thad’s face turned bright red, his arms and thighs becoming taut, his back crying out with the effort. Slowly, the thing creaked forward—and then it was up, just an inch, maybe two. Thad used a leg to get the dolly underneath—and then the safe crashed back down. But it had worked, the dolly was beneath the edge, and with him using both shoulders, it was only another minute before Thad had the thing where it needed to be. Quickly, he fastened the heavy-duty straps around the corners of the safe, and it was ready to go.
Grinning as he breathed hard, he tilted the dolly so that its weight was on its wheel
s, and slowly began dragging it back through the lab. Rebecca followed him, making sure the safe didn’t tilt or twist. Every now and then, she glanced up into his eyes—and Thad could see that she, too, was grinning beneath her surgical mask.
29
“One. Two. Three. Lift!”
Teeth clenched, shoulders burning, Thad strained against the safe with all of his strength as the two girls leaned their combined weight against the handles of the dolly, and slowly the thing angled backward just enough to get it over the raised lip of the hotel doorway. A second later, they all let go at once, and the thing crashed back to the floor, rocking what felt like the entire room.
Thad exhaled, shaking the sweat out of his hair. Then he went to work on the straps. Once the safe was untied, he motioned the girls out of the way and, using a back-and-forth motion, managed to rock the safe forward so that it slipped, inch by inch, off the dolly and onto the tarplike sheets he had laid out over the carpeted floor. Once it was safely on top of the sheets, he rolled the dolly out of the way, and the three of them stood in the doorway, looking at the steel monstrosity in the middle of the room.
“Christ,” Thad said.
“Yeah,” Sandra responded. “That’s probably not the appropriate word.”
Thad smiled, putting a hand on her shoulder.