by Kurt Dinan
FaceTime Request from Tim
She clicks Accept, and suddenly we’re in the loading dock, looking at the small open door and tunnel that Wheeler, Adleta, and I explored during work crew. Adleta crouches among the boxes on the opposite wall, hidden and waiting for Stranko.
“Wow, I should’ve thought of this,” I say.
“That’s why we’re a great team.”
I gnaw at a fingernail waiting for Stranko to appear on Ellie’s screen. But what if Stranko misunderstands the photo? Or he knows where the tunnel is but doesn’t go? Or shows up with someone else? Not that he would. If Stranko is going to bust the Chaos Club, he’s going to do it by himself. Which is unfortunate for him. If I’m not mistaken, I think the correct term is hubris. Wouldn’t the Asheville High English Department be proud of me?
Adleta’s wedged back in the boxes, so for minutes we can only see the tunnel entrance, but then Stranko’s jeaned ass fills the screen.
“There he is,” Ellie whispers.
Stranko has no idea he’s only a few feet from Adleta. He stands staring at the open door without moving for so long I think maybe the phone’s frozen. Then he takes one slow step forward and another, like an animal warily approaching unexpected food in the forest.
“He’s thinking about it,” Ellie says.
Stranko takes one more step, then bends over for a better look at the tunnel. He’s probably wishing he had a flashlight with him right now. He inches ahead, then kneels in front of the tunnel, his head almost inside.
“Come on,” I say. “Get in there.”
But Stranko doesn’t enter. He just kneels there, listening hard, probably hoping for definitive proof someone’s really back there. It’s just when I think Stranko’s not going to move forward any farther that the screen changes, and we’re looking at the side of Adleta’s leg, and then there’s a blurry rush and the screen fills with light. The picture on the screen jumps so chaotically that I get dizzy. I have no idea what I’m seeing. It’s all just fuzzy, nausea-inducing pandemonium.
Then the image completely disappears.
FaceTime Ended
“What happened?” Puma says.
My instinct is to grab Ellie’s hand and run, but no, we can’t do that. If Stranko has Adleta, there’s no way we’re leaving him behind. I type a text to Malone and Wheeler reading Abort. My finger goes to Send, but right before I tap it, Ellie says, “Oh!”
FaceTime Request from Tim
“Don’t answer it,” I say. “It could be Stranko.”
“But it could be Tim,” she says. “Besides, if it’s Stranko, he’ll know Tim was FaceTiming me. It’d be in the call history.”
She has a point. And if Stranko has Tim, I’m not letting Tim take the fall by himself. So I tell her to go ahead, and Ellie touches the Accept button. There, standing in front of the closed tunnel door, which inexplicably has a large box against it, is Adleta giving us a thumbs-up.
“Awesome,” Ellie says, and returns the gesture.
Tim gives us the one second finger and starts down the hall. There, outside the noise of the loading dock, he says, “Man, that felt good.”
“Nice job, Sluggo!” Ellie says.
“Stranko had no idea what hit him. I shoved him from behind, and it sent him into the tunnel. But I think something broke on the door when I slammed it shut.”
“Will it hold?” I ask.
“I think.”
“Did he see you?”
“Not a chance.”
“Excellent. Get to position two.”
• • •
“Should I text da Vinci?” Ellie asks.
“Yeah, but here, use the burner.”
You’re up.
“Do you think the Chaos Club is somewhere nearby, watching?” Ellie says.
“They’re here. They have to be.”
“And if they’re not?”
“Then we’re doing all this for nothing.”
“Well, not nothing. It’s fun. That’s something.”
Across the lawn, Officer Hale remains planted in his chair on stage. Stranko’s been gone for twenty minutes, and I wonder at what point Hale leaves to check on him. No, he’ll probably call or text first. Not that it’d help. No signals can escape the concrete tomb Stranko’s currently buried in.
Across the parking lot, the flashers on Hale’s security car suddenly blaze to life, spinning red-and-blue lights in the dark. Hale jumps to his feet and is quickly down the stage steps.
Then the lights shut off.
“What’s she doing?” I say. “He was coming.”
“She’s messing with him.”
“But that’s not the plan.”
“Relax, Kate knows what she’s doing.”
Hale stares at his car, probably worried he’s hallucinating, then climbs back up the stage steps. But as soon as his butt hits the chair, the light bar explodes again into red-and-blue disco lights. You can practically hear Malone laughing as she does it.
“And there he goes,” Ellie says.
You’d never use the word running for what Hale does as he heads for the parking lot—his weight makes running impossible—but it’s faster than a walk and slower than a jog. It takes him thirty seconds to get to his car, and as he walks around the front to the driver’s side, Malone’s shadowy figure creeps around the back. At least I assume it’s Malone. The ski mask she’s wearing makes positive identification impossible.
Hale opens the driver’s door and shuts the lights off. He looks around the parking lot, but there’s no one to see. From the other side of the car, Malone, still close to the ground, reaches up and opens the back passenger door, tossing something inside. She then scurries around to the back as Hale rushes—more like lumbers—around the back. By the time he gets to the open door, Malone’s circled the car. She’s flat against the trunk, only a few feet away from Hale. He stands at the open door, looking inside the car, presumably at what’s on the seat.
“Get it,” Ellie urges.
Malone risks a peek around the trunk and sees Hale move into the back, his fat body climbing across the seat where he had all five of us sardined after the water tower and me after my arrest in Stranko’s office.
I dig my fingers into the dirt.
“Come on,” I say.
When Hale disappears into the backseat, Malone springs out, slamming the door and trapping Hale in the back of his own patrol car—or, more accurately, the patrol car with no door handles in the back and the unnecessary bulletproof glass that makes it impossible for him to get to the front seat. Or even more accurately, the patrol car with the cell phone jammer in it that Hale was once so proud of that now makes it impossible for him to call for help. But at least he has the lunch bag Malone threw inside that he couldn’t resist. Inside the bag:
A Chaos Club card.
And a plastic doughnut.
Wheeler’s idea—“A fake doughnut for a fake cop.”
Hale pounds on the window. Malone’s just below him, and there’s no doubt he can see her. She’s supposed to run, but of course being Malone, she doesn’t. Instead, she points her phone at the screaming Hale and takes his picture.
So much for keeping evidence to a minimum.
Malone sprints away from the car, coming our way fast. But when she reaches the steps on the curb, her body goes rag doll. She falls, rolling and tumbling in the grass like her legs have gone boneless. Before I can react, Ellie breaks from cover. When I catch up, she’s helping Malone limp to the trees.
“Are you okay?” I say.
“That stupid curb,” Malone says. “I didn’t even see it. I’ll live.”
“What do you think?” Ellie says to me.
I look at Malone, who gives me a yes, duh look.
“Do it, Puma,” I say.
Puma stands up and
puts on her backpack. From her pocket, she pulls a box cutter and holds it up.
“My weapon of choice,” she says.
Then Ellie grabs the front of my shirt and pulls me in, kissing me hard.
“For luck,” she says.
• • •
At Puma speed, Ellie covers the distance to the statue in seconds. From where he’s trapped, Hale can’t see Ellie approaching, but she stays on the opposite side of the patrol car anyway and drops at the base of the curtain. She slices a three-foot incision in the curtain and then pushes her backpack through first before disappearing inside.
“Do we need to get you to a doctor?” I ask Malone.
“I’ll be fine. But you’ll have to be the one to climb if it comes to that.”
I feel real fear for the first time that night.
“No way,” I say.
“Don’t worry,” Kate says. “I’m sure it won’t be needed.”
It’d better not be.
For the next three minutes, while Ellie is under the curtain, I make a meal out of my fingernails. My big fears are a car entering the parking lot, an additional security guard on the grounds for the night, or someone simply turning around who Hale might be able to flag down.
But none of that happens. Ellie slips back out from under the curtain and races across the parking lot without any trouble. Malone and I move aside as Ellie crashes back into the trees, out of breath more from excitement than exertion. She rocks back and forth on her toes, not able to keep still.
“Oh my gosh, that was so fun!”
“It went okay?”
“Perfect.”
“How’s the light in there? Can you see anything?”
“Don’t worry,” Ellie says. “It should be bright enough.”
“And Wheeler?”
“He’s fine. Going a bit stir-crazy, but fine.”
Since rendezvousing with Boyd nine hours ago, before the statue’s delivery, Wheeler’s been hiding in the secret compartment in the newly constructed base of the statue. If Wheeler wasn’t claustrophobic before, he sure as hell is now.
“Sue me,” Wheeler said when defending his wanting a simple job for the caper. “I helped edit the documentary and hacked the sound system. You guys are finished on Friday, but I have summer school starting Monday and that comes with a boatload of assignments due on the first day.”
So yeah, Wheeler’s been folded up in the statue’s base like a contortionist, reading and working by flashlight. Or, more likely, he’s on H8box posting the whole night for millions to follow.
Now with Stranko and Hale gone, the real waiting begins. For the next twenty minutes, Ellie, Kate, and I sit hidden, watching the parking lot and statue for any sign of the Chaos Club.
Nothing.
“Be patient,” Ellie says. “They’ll be here.”
I wish I were as optimistic. The plan’s founded on the assumption that the Chaos Club was here to witness Stranko’s and Hale’s exits, followed by Ellie’s assault on the statue. With the coast clear, we’re hoping they’ll make their move. Now, at 9:45, there’s no one, leaving me feeling like a major dumb ass.
Then my phone vibrates in my hand.
Adleta: Movement on south side.
Ellie’s squints into the darkness.
“There,” she says.
“I can’t see anything.”
“Me either,” Malone says.
Ellie grabs my head and points.
“There.”
I strain my eyes and am unable to see anything at first. Then I see them. They’re almost impossible to spot, skulking along the building in the shadows, but there they are, two people with backpacks.
“What do you have? Bionic eyes or something?”
“No, silly. Cats have great night vision.”
We watch the two intruders as they slowly creep to the statue. At this distance, they appear to be roughly the same size as my two kidnappers from the baseball field. The dark makes it impossible to see their faces.
“What if they’re wearing masks again?” I say.
“Shut up,” Malone says.
“Yeah, shut up,” Ellie says. “This is going to work.”
They’re right. I see that now. Everything has worked out exactly as planned, minus Malone’s twisted ankle. Once the Chaos Club enters the security curtain, it’s over for them. And they’re less than a minute away. Even when I drew up the plans, I realistically understood it was a long shot. Something would go wrong. Like Stranko wouldn’t follow the text bait. Or Hale would call for backup instead of going to his car. But no, it’s working. Hell, wrong verb tense. It’s worked. We’ve done it.
Then—
“Oh no,” Malone says.
“What?”
And this time it’s Malone who grabs my head and points me toward the front of the building to the person standing there.
Stranko.
• • •
Shit.
Double shit.
Triple shit.
The three of us remain frozen, like somehow Stranko will spot us through the camouflage of the trees. He surveys the parking lot with his hands on his hips like a pissed-off drill sergeant. The two Chaos Club members hug the ground along the side of the building, no doubt trying not to vomit.
Ellie speaks barely above a whisper, saying, “He must’ve Hulked-out or something.”
“Adleta said the door was messed up,” I say and take out my phone. “We need to get Wheeler out of there before he gets caught. Stranko has to have called the cops. We have to abort.”
“No way,” Malone says. “You know what you have to do.”
Oh man.
Heist Rule #21: Always have a backup plan.
That’s the one drawback of being the heist team leader. You not only have to memorize everyone’s roles, but you have to be able to perform them as well. And that includes the backup plan roles too, unfortunately.
“I can’t do it,” I say.
“Oh, you can do it, and you will, Maxwell Cobb,” Ellie says. “Now hurry up.”
She helps Kate up, and after a quick wardrobe switch with Malone, I’m ready.
“Here, don’t forget my mask,” Malone says.
“Good luck, Mongoose,” Ellie says. “You’ll be great.”
Or paralyzed for life. One of the two.
I step out of the trees and hustle across the parking lot, past booths and rides, toward the lawn and statue. I force myself to keep walking so I don’t wuss out. Stranko’s away from the building now and approaching the statue when he spots me.
Stranko stops.
I stop.
Fifty yards separate us.
Does he know who he’s looking at?
I take a single step back.
Stranko leans forward.
I take two more away.
“Stop!” Stranko shouts.
Three more steps back now.
“I said stop!”
He’s coming at me now, moving fast, and I backpedal, but slowly. It’s only when Stranko is within thirty yards that I race off. He breaks into a sprint, and I run for my life to the water tower, leading him away from the statue. I sprint around the back of the security fence and crash through the gate. Thanks to Ellie’s key, the ladder guard is open. There’s no time to think or second-guess myself. There’s only time to climb.
I monkey my way up the ladder. I’m a third of the way up when I feel it shake. I don’t have to look behind me to know Stranko’s following me. I speed up, and my left foot slips off the rung. This is exactly why I hate ladders. The only good news is if I fall, I’ll probably crash into Stranko and take him with me.
I hear a loud bang from below and look down. Ellie and Malone stand at the base of the ladder, and Malone’s putting a lock onto the la
dder guard that’s just been slammed shut.
Now I’m officially screwed.
I climb onto the metal grating at the top of the tower. The spotlight shining on the tower half blinds me, but I can see I only have about fifteen seconds before Stranko’s here. I inch along the rail and find what I’m looking for.
There it is, the clip Malone prepared earlier.
I’m fumbling with my waist when Stranko’s head appears.
“Get over here,” he says.
I throw one leg over the railing, then the other, until I’m leaning back over the edge. I grip the metal so hard my fingers might break. Even with all the time spent working with Malone this week when she wasn’t at Boyd’s, I still am nowhere ready for this.
“What are you doing?” Stranko says, panicked. “Stop.”
“Do it, Mongoose!” Ellie shouts from below.
And I do, letting go of the rail and free-falling to my death.
• • •
Stranko shouts in horror from the top of the tower.
I want to join him, but Heist Rule #2: Be cool sort of prohibits screaming.
Instead, I squeeze the handbrake on the rope that has me tethered to the water tower. My falling slows just enough that I don’t feel out of control. I use the rappelling tricks Malone has taught me and descend quickly. I even open my eyes once or twice.
Ellie and Malone are waiting for me when I reach the ground. Both of them hug me simultaneously, and I have a terribly dirty thought I’ll no doubt revisit tonight when I have some privacy.
“That was amazing!” Ellie says.
“Yeah, you were great,” Malone says. “Terrible form, but you didn’t die. That’s all that matters.”
At the top of the water tower, Stranko grips the railing, glaring at us. I don’t know if he can see us, but at the moment, I don’t care.
“You stay there,” Stranko yells back.
The three of us hurry through the security gate and around the corner, out of Stranko’s line of sight, just in case he really can see this far down. Malone’s moving the fastest of all of us.
“Wait, I thought you hurt your ankle,” I say.
She and Ellie start laughing.
“I lied,” Malone says. “We just wanted to see you go up and down the tower if it came to that.”