I looked past him to the clock on the wall, its sweeping second hand ever moving. Time was relentless, and it was running out for me. I did not have the luxury of patience. Cancer had robbed me of that.
It was time for a new plan. And I would go it alone this time. Again.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
November 26, 2016
Frank’s Apartment
Fort Totten, Upper NE WDC
“An armored car robbery, Frank? Are you fucking crazy?”
It was a blustery Saturday morning, two days after Thanksgiving. Pewter-gray skies threatened rain. Sarah had arrived at my apartment unannounced. She hadn’t even bothered to sit down before she started in on me. Apparently, Quinn had told her about my new plan. She was not a fan.
“It’s suicide, Frank. I’m not gonna let you do it.”
I took a seat at my rickety table, motioned for Sarah to do the same. She scowled and stayed standing. I patted the tabletop. She unzipped her fleece top, hung it on the back of the other chair. Sarah wore tight black yoga pants, running shoes, and a thick baggy sweatshirt. Her hair pulled back from her face. No makeup. She looked beautiful, even in that scowl.
“Come over here for a workout?” I asked, my attempt at levity.
“Told Victor I was going to the gym.”
“How was your Thanksgiving?”
“Sucked,” Sarah said. “That’ll be our last one together.”
I offered an apology, which she waved off. She accepted my offer of coffee, though. I went to the kitchen, fired up the hotplate and put the kettle on. Two cups were all I had. I filled them both with two fingers of Folgers Instant and headed back to the table to wait for the kettle to boil.
I glanced out the window as I went. Angie’s smile told me to hold my ground. We had already talked this through. The new plan could work. It would have to work.
I rejoined Sarah back at the table. She studied my face, tight-lipped and still pissed.
“Quinn shouldn’t have told you,” I said.
“Shouldn’t have told me?” Sarah shouted, incredulous. “You’ve decided—without telling me—that you’re going to run off, stick up an armored car and get yourself killed? Quinn’s not supposed to tell me that?”
It sounded dumber in my ears than it had in my head. I looked at my hands. Sarah waited for me to explain myself. I didn’t know what to say to her. I chose silence. It seemed to be the right choice. Her storm was starting to pass. Sarah took a few deep breaths. I looked up and watched tentatively as her face relaxed and her eyes softened.
“You’re not alone anymore, Frank. Quinn and I love you. We’re all in this thing together now.”
She reached across the table and grabbed both my hands in hers. The table teetered and squeaked. She offered a faint smile, her eyes misty. Her hands were soft and warm. Her hair had the scent of flowers after a summer rain. I wanted to go back to a time when there were no Victors or Nicoles. Back to when the world was not my enemy. Back to when everything made more sense. I felt myself sliding away. I gripped her hands harder.
We both were startled by the whistle of the kettle. I went back into the kitchen, poured the hot water over the grounds, stirred, and brought our two coffees back to the table.
Sarah raised her cup and drank. Her eyes widened, then she gave a little head shake. Serving this woman instant coffee was like taking her to an all-you-can-eat discount lobster joint. But she dutifully took another sip, accepting my offering with grace.
“I don’t want to put you and Quinn at any more risk,” I said.
“Let us decide that, Frank. We’re not going to leave you.”
“It’s not gonna work. Hewitt’s dead. Webb’s bugged out on us,” I said, slugging back a gulp of Folgers. “It’s over.”
We talked about Hewitt’s murder. Sarah was as aggrieved about it as I was. But it had also steeled her spine to this talion plan of ours. Realizing its dangers had paradoxically drawn her closer to it. Sarah had chosen me and Doyle over all else. Her will was now resolute.
Sarah tried her best to bring me back around. “I’ll call Webb again. Go over to her house. Get her back on plan. We’ll start over with her.”
“Webb’s done,” I said. “All we can do is threaten her embezzlement again.” I paused. “We can’t trust her. And I don’t think she’ll go with us anyway.”
“Then we’ll come up with something else.”
“I already have.” I drained my cup. Sarah wasn’t touching hers anymore. “If Quinn can get me an AK, I can do this. I’ll just take a guard hostage. Make the driver open up the truck. Quick loot and scoot.”
Sarah just sighed and closed her eyes.
I got up, collected our cups, and took them back to the kitchen, where I rinsed them out and put them on the counter to air dry. Gave her time to chew on what I had said. I returned to the table, but the expression on Sarah’s face hadn’t changed. She leaned back in her chair, away from me.
“So what if you survived… and even got the money?” she asked. “What then? This doesn’t restore your reputation or your honor, Frank. It just makes you a felon. And what if the guards don’t play along? You going to kill them?”
The question hung in the air.
“And how are you going to get the money to Nicole and Teddy? What are you going to do? Just show up and hand them big bags of bills and coins? Or are you a money launderer now too?”
“I’m still working on it,” I mumbled. I glanced toward the window, but Angie had nothing to offer.
“Think, Frank!” Sarah shouted, startling me. She tapped her temple with a forefinger. “Broad daylight. Wild West style. You don’t even know how much money would be on the truck. What about witnesses? Maybe a mom and kids going grocery shopping. What are you going to do about them? And forget about you shooting the guards. They have guns too, Frank. What if they shoot you?”
She was making too much sense. I pushed my plastic chair back away from the table; the legs screeched against the floor. I got to my feet, causing the chair to rock back. I caught it before it toppled over, set it upright, and walked to the window. I leaned my shoulder against the wall and turned to face Sarah again. She remained seated, glaring at me from across the room. Angie loomed above me from her billboard perch. I looked to Sarah first, then turned my eyes to the billboard.
I thought Angie and I had this all worked out. I felt comfortable going it alone. Like falling back into a well-worn groove. But Sarah saw my withdrawal as a betrayal of her trust. I was just trying to protect her, shield her from the wreckage of my life. What remained of it, anyway. I’d rather take my long shot alone than drag the three of us down together. If I got the money, good. Nicole and Teddy won. If not, I’d die trying. That was good with me as well. Angie smiled back at me. She was good with it too.
“Look at me, Frank.”
I turned from the window to face Sarah.
“The money’s not your problem,” she said. “Your problem is you’re running again. Running from the people who love you.”
“It’s not that simple, Sarah.”
“No? Then explain it to me, Frank.”
I started to answer, then stopped. I felt Angie’s stare boring into my back.
“We stuck our necks out for you, Frank. Quinn. Darryl. Chang Li. Anna Webb.” She paused. “Charles Hewitt too. We all trusted you. We need to finish what we started here. Take this bitch Prisha down and make you the man you used to be. The man you can be again.”
I lowered my head and blew out a loud breath. Sarah awaited an answer that never came. A long moment passed as the silence between us grew to a crescendo.
“God damn you, Frank!” Sarah exploded. She shot to her feet, and the plastic chair flew backward, skidding across the floor. “Quinn and I will not help you with this. You’re on your own.”
I didn’t respond. Just stared at her. My silence seemed to enrage her more.
“I’ll turn you in, Frank! You keep this up, I’ll call the cops.”
<
br /> “Go ahead.”
Sarah’s eyes narrowed. Her face contorted in fury. She flew across the room and was on me in an instant. Her right hand came up fast. The slap stung my face; the sound ricocheted off the walls like a gunshot. Sarah howled, deep and guttural. The wail of a wounded animal. She had kept it to herself for five years. The ferocity of it startled me. Sorrow and rage battled within her. Rage won.
She balled up her fists and reared back. I caught the punch before it landed. Up came the other hand. I ducked as it sailed by my ear. I grabbed this one too, before she could reload. I spun her around, leaned her against the wall, holding her by both wrists, chest high. She screamed and flailed. I held on.
Sarah slumped against the wall; her eyes bored into mine. She was searching for the boy she had known in high school. The man who had worn the Medal of Honor around his neck. Right now, I was searching for that man too.
“God damn you, Frank,” she said again, then repeated it in a voice barely above a whisper. “God damn you.”
Her body sagged, and she began to weep. Softly. Tears streamed down her face. Her whimpering felt like a sword thrust into my heart. I released her wrists, and her arms dropped to her sides. I reached down and held her hands. She wept harder. I wrapped my arms around her, our faces close now. Neither of us looked away. Her floodgate opened and she began to sob; five years of pain and grief and loss wracked her as we stood clinging to each other. She tucked her head into my shoulder. Our embrace tightened. I leaned into her, basked in the floral bouquet of her silken blonde hair. She heaved in my arms. I held her like this for a long time. I could have done it for eternity.
Our entire life together flashed through my mind. How we had met and fallen in love. My prom. Hers. Trips to DC and the Delaware shore. Her visits to the Point. The good times. Neither one of us spoke, words mere ornaments in this moment.
Finally, Sarah drew a quivering breath and pulled away from me just enough to meet my eyes again. It was only then that I realized I was crying as well.
“I won’t lose you again, Frank,” she said. “It was the biggest mistake of my life. My heart can’t take that again.”
I stroked her hair, kissed the top of her head. Then again. My lips lingered longer this time. Oh, she smelled so good.
Our eyes met again. Hers widened, then mine. She leaned in and kissed me gently on the lips. I felt her warm tears on my cheek. We separated, exchanged shy smiles. I kissed her back. A soft, exploratory kiss. Sarah returned it, tinged with a hint of passion this time. A tremor shook my body, bells tolling in my head. More kisses followed, each more ardent than the last. My tongue found hers, and she tightened her arms around me.
We had found each other again.
In this moment, I realized it had been me all along. I’d lost my way. My faith. Failed to trust the people who loved me when I’d needed them most. Failed to see what my withdrawal from the world would do to them. How I had punished only them and not myself. The armored car, with its impenetrable steel and glass, was but a metaphor for my retreat back into myself.
I would not do this again. I would place my faith in Sarah. And Quinn. And we would stop Prisha and make me whole again. Somehow. Together.
I pulled away to catch my breath. Sarah was breathing hard as well. Our smiles turned to laughter.
“What time is Victor expecting you home?”
Part III
He that wrestles with us strengthens our nerves and sharpens our skill. Our antagonist is our helper.
― Edmund Burke
Chapter Thirty-Nine
December 3, 2016
National Zoo
Washington, DC
“I wanna see the elephants,” said the small boy in a low voice and head of unruly raven hair. He turned and tucked himself tight into Sarah.
“We already saw the elephants, Teddy,” I said. “Remember?”
“I wanna see ’em again,” he pleaded.
“After the show, okay?” Sarah said. “Then we’ll go back and see the elephants. You wanna see the wolves, don’t you?”
Teddy shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“C’mon,” Sarah said. “It’ll be fun.”
Sarah and I exchanged smiles. Our eyes lingered. It had been eight days since we’d reclaimed our love at my apartment, and I wanted to spend every moment with her now. Ached when we were apart. It felt good to be alive again.
Nicole’s babysitter had cancelled on short notice, and she couldn’t afford to give up her lucrative Saturday night shift at the bar. Sarah had agreed to take Teddy for the overnight, and cleared it with Nicole for Doyle and me to join her and Teddy for an afternoon outing at the National Zoo. I’d only met my son the one time at the WWII Memorial. Doyle not at all. Teddy had been shy with Doyle and me much of the day, but he was loosening up a bit. Doyle had a way with small children that was endearing to watch.
Teddy loved the National Zoo. Located in the heart of Rock Creek Park, its one hundred sixty-three acres was home to over twenty-seven hundred animals, representing more than three hundred and ninety different species.
We had arrived at the zoo early this morning and had been all over the place, including trips to Amazonia, the Panda House, the Great Cats, and the Primates. And of course, by special request, we would be making a return visit to Elephant Trails.
Teddy loved seeing all the animals, and had clung to Aunt Sarah for the most part while we made our way around the grounds. We had already eaten lunch and were now headed to the America Trails exhibit to settle in for the twenty-minute Keepers Choice Event, where animal handlers introduce visitors to one selected species featured in the American Trail exhibit. Today’s animal: the gray wolf.
We all took our seats in the raised bleacher area. The handler arrived and began the talk in front of the gray wolf enclosure. Sarah told Teddy he could change seats to sit closer to the enclosure, as long as he stayed right in front of us. He bounded forward four rows and sat down, stealing a quick look back at us.
We three adults huddled together, Sarah in the middle, and took advantage of our twenty minutes of privacy to talk over our new plan. We had worked on it all week, most evenings at the secret Dupont Circle townhouse Sarah intended to move to after her divorce from Victor was finalized. The townhouse was three stories. Four thousand square feet. Two garaged parking spots. Real swank. Sarah stopped by each night after work with takeout, and we worked late into the evenings. Sarah had told Victor she had to work late all week on a big project with a tight deadline. This was actually true, but of course disingenuous. Doyle had guessed our secret by the second night. We’d thought we were being coy, but true love shines bright, I guess. He was very happy for us. Our little family was reunited.
We all agreed that something was going on at Parkview Market, behind the big steel door with the numeric lock. Further inquiry indicated that the door led to the bodega’s basement. Our new plan was simple: we would break into the bodega after hours and use the combo Darryl Robinson had found in Prisha’s desk to get down into the basement. Once there, we would snoop around and take anything damning enough to blackmail Prisha with. Same objective as before.
This plan had many unknown variables. Could we get in and out of the bodega undetected? Robinson had discovered a standard alarm system (easily defeated), but we were still vulnerable to any other high-tech systems that might be hidden in the place. Then there was the door combo. Did that scrap of paper say what we thought it did? Had the combo been changed? And what exactly would we find down in that basement?
We puzzled over these and many other questions all week, with all discussion eventually leading back to the same conclusion: we had to get eyes on that basement. Sarah had sought Robinson’s input on some of these variables, and he had proven himself a valuable resource. He said it was highly likely that we would encounter computer and digital media. He recommended we attempt to introduce malware into their network, as well as the same tracking software we had been using to great effect o
n Prisha’s office computer. Robinson said the malware would be another lever against Prisha, that it would give him the ability to torch much of whatever we found down there. Maybe not put Prisha out of commission, Robinson opined, but inflict enough pain to get her attention.
We came to realize we needed Robinson with us in the basement. None of us had anywhere near his expertise. And it was out of the question that Sarah was going anywhere near Parkview Market. So that left me and Doyle. We asked Sarah about Robinson, a man neither of us had yet met. She vouched for him. And that was good enough for us. Sarah approached him and he agreed. Robinson would join us in the basement.
Doyle did most of the talking. I nodded and agreed where I was supposed to, but my attention was on the little boy sitting four rows in front of me. I loved the slump of his little shoulders. The swirl of his hair in the back, the little cowlick in front. I had a son that I longed to know. I wanted the whole world to know I was his father, Sarah most of all. And Doyle. Keeping this final secret from them was killing me.
We were breaking into the basement this Tuesday night, three days hence. I knew the risks. We all did. There was a chance I wouldn’t come out of that basement alive, which I’d accepted straightaway. What I was struggling with was the fact that if I didn’t make it out alive, my secret would likely die with me. I suspected Nicole would take it to her grave, not sharing it with Teddy, or Sarah, or anyone else. Not being Teddy’s dad bothered me more than the prospect of my own basement death. Or my death from cancer, which was even more of a certainty. It was a weight I chose to carry, at least until I got Teddy and Nicole back on their feet in our old neighborhood.
I grabbed hold of Sarah’s hand and squeezed hard. She squeezed back. Her smile faded when she saw my face. I dismissed her “What’s up?” look with a nod. She cocked her head.
I noticed Teddy start to turn around and I quickly released Sarah’s hand. She followed my eyes as Teddy got to his feet and approached us. I slid over to make room, and he plopped down between Sarah and me. She wrapped an arm around him, and he leaned into her. It might well have been the happiest moment of my life.
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