The Lockpicker

by Leonard Chang

  Once this set, the wheel pack would be frozen.

  Jake began rubbing the putty into the hole, smoothing and pressing, smoothing and pressing, until it met the surface of the escutcheon plate. There was a color difference, the putty was lighter than the old metal plate, so he ran his fingers along the concrete floor, picking up dirt and drill dust. He rubbed this over the putty until it darkened. It wasn’t a perfect match, but it looked pretty damn close.

  He packed all his tools. He returned the extension cord to its original location. He pocketed the broken and worn drill bits, picked up every bit of garbage he had dropped. He scanned the room for clues.

  There. The drill bit that had flown out of the jaws. It had fallen and rolled under the desk. Jake grabbed it. He shouldered his back pack and carried the canvas bag out of the back room. He turned off the light and shut the door tightly.

  His radio squawked. He stopped.

  “Someone’s walking up,” Rachel radioed.

  He turned down the volume, and radioed back, “Okay.”

  Lowering himself behind a counter, he waited. After a minute he saw through the front window a man shuffling forward, his shoulders hunched. The man glanced at the empty displays in the front window and stopped. Jake kept still. The man peered through the grilling. He seemed to be squinting at something. Jake followed his line of vision and saw that it was an Omega sign, lit up by the reflection from the street. The man surveyed the store. Jake froze.

  After a minute, the man continued walking. Jake waited a minute, then radioed, “Gone?”

  “Gone.”

  He took a deep breath. He felt the blood pumping through his temples.

  Examining the alarm, he found that it was triggered by a contact at the top of the front door. To reset it, he’d have to use the key and then make sure the door was shut within the timed delay. He wanted to relock everything, if possible.

  He pulled out his snapping wire and tension wrench, as well as the tubular cylinder key. He re-engaged the alarm, hurried out of the door, then shut it tightly. He snapped the deadbolt after a few tries, then found the shear line. He re-locked the deadbolt. Then he worked on the lower lock, doing the same thing. He stopped, checked his handiwork. Everything would be as it was.

  He pulled open the grilling, crawled out, then closed it. He rehooked the padlock on the metal loops, and locked it. He saw Rachel moving into the passenger seat. He walked casually across the street, looking up at the windows. Quiet.

  He climbed into the car and started the engine.

  She said, “The headlights are off.”

  He turned them on. He pulled out of the parking spot and headed down the street, past Union and back to Pacific Heights. She said, “Well?”

  He turned to her and whispered, “Yes.”

  79

  They couldn’t wait until they returned to the apartment. They drove into the underground garage of the building, pulled into a guest parking spot, and Jake showed her the stash. As she looked through it, her mouth falling open and her eyes flicking up at him in amazement, he found her incredibly sexy, and needed to touch her. He reached over and lay his hand on her shoulder. She stared at him. “I can’t believe this. You did it.”

  He leaned towards her. She hesitated. They had never kissed outside of Jake’s room. He moved closer. She laughed quietly, and kissed him, squeezing his hand. She said, “Mmm,” and pulled away. She smiled, and rubbed his leg. “Well, well,” she said. “What’s this? A celebration?”

  They kissed again, groping each other, and she motioned to the back.

  They climbed over each other and fell into the seats. There wasn’t much room, but Rachel leaned back and pulled him on top of her, and they kissed. Rachel laughed and said, “Like teenagers.” They rubbed up against each other, Jake pushing himself between her legs. Rachel gently moved him aside, sat up, and unhooked her bra. She pulled up her shirt, holding her breast out to him, and he kissed her, tugging lightly with his lips. He slipped his hand down her tights, feeling her curly hair, and then her wetness. She inhaled, and said, “Well.”

  “I want to be in you,” he said.

  She thrust her pelvis up and yanked down her tights, struggling to pull one leg completely free. Jake unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans urgently, banging his elbow against the roof, and as she settled back into the seat, he pressed up against her and slid in. They fell together into the corner, their heads angled awkwardly against the cushions, their legs and arms tangled, but they didn’t lose contact, and thrust against each other, rocking the tiny car and Jake just wanted to get deeper into her. He realized for a moment that this was the first time he was on top, and then this thought snapped away as Rachel dug her nails into his neck. They moved faster, wildly. Her other hand pushed him away, and she said, “Wait, wait, I don’t want to come yet—” but he couldn’t slow down, and he pushed harder, burying his mouth against her ear, and he whispered, “Go with me to Seattle,” but she didn’t hear him as she let out a small cry and tightened her grip on him. He then felt himself nearing it, and he threw himself against her and heard the ringing in his ear piercing all other sounds out.

  They lay panting, sweaty, cramped. Jake said, “Man.”

  She was breathing heavily against his shoulder. The car was muggy and smelled of their sweat. He felt her strong heartbeat through his chest. They calmed down. She said quietly, “I can’t.”

  “What?”

  “I can’t go with you to Seattle.” Jake paused. “Oh.”

  “Thank you, though.”

  “Okay.”

  Their breathing eased. The world seemed to slow around them. Neither of them wanted to move, and Jake had trouble focusing after all the excitement tonight.

  Rachel was staring at him. He said, “Yes?”

  “You never told me how you cut yourself.”

  “What?”

  “Your scar.”

  He smiled. “I got in trouble at school for stealing lunches, and my father started beating me up. I lost it. I went a little crazy. I grabbed a kitchen knife and wanted to kill him. But he was too fast, too strong. He threw me aside and I ended up cutting myself pretty badly.”

  “Cutting yourself?”

  “I fell and the tip got me across the cheek,” he said. “I wasn’t very coordinated.”

  “Where was Euge?”

  Jake let out a quiet laugh. “Right there, frozen. I yelled for him to help me, but he was so fucking scared he just stood there.” Jake pictured his brother with his arms rigidly at his sides, his face contorted in fear. “He couldn’t have done anything even if he tried, but I was kind of pissed at him.”

  “You two were so young, though.”

  Jake shrugged. “I know.” He sat up slowly. “We should get moving.”

  She asked, “What’s next?”

  “Take this stuff up to the apartment. I want to dump the drill bits, the key, some of the incriminating garbage.”

  “Where?”

  “I saw a few public garbage cans outside.”

  They dressed. In the silence, Jake said, “Sorry about bringing up Seattle.”

  “No. It’s fine.”

  “It’s just that—”

  “It’s okay.”

  “It’s just that this worked out so well..,,” he trailed off, then shrugged.

  She turned to him, and looked him in the eye. “Thank you.”

  They spilled out of the car, and Jake handed her the canvas bag with the jewelry. He said, “Careful with this. Put it in my room. When I get in, we’ll talk about how to give you your share.”

  “My share.”

  “I have to go over it again, but it looks like you can get maybe thirty grand in a mix of cash and jewels.”

  “Thirty grand.”

  “You’ll have to sell the jewelry slowly, and only after everything’s cooled off. If you want I can buy some of it off you.”

  “Thirty thousand?”

  “We got a lot,” he said. “This is really good.”


  She touched her forehead, and said, “Oh my God.” Her cheeks were flushed.

  “Not God.” He looked around. “Go. All this stuff out here is making me nervous. I’ll be up in ten minutes.”

  She clutched the canvas bag to her chest. She stared at him, and said, “Thank you, Jake. Really.”

  “We did a good job—”

  “No, I mean about Seattle.”

  He nodded, but looked away. She walked to the elevator, and once she was inside, he left the garage.

  On the street, he headed down the block, throwing out the key in one garbage can, his latex gloves in another, spreading it all out. His neck stung from her nails. Did he just ask Rachel to leave for Seattle? Did he actually do something as stupid as that? He didn’t allow himself the possibility that he could be falling for her. Don’t be an idiot, he thought.

  He emptied his back pack of everything except the tools, which he wanted to keep, and walked back to the apartment building.

  In the elevator, he smelled something, and realized it was him. He smelled like sex. He worried that Eugene might be awake, and he said aloud, “Did I just ask my brother’s wife to run away with me?”

  He sighed. The elevator bell rang his floor. He walked down the hall to the apartment. He checked the knob. Unlocked. Rachel was waiting for him. He felt a small sadness, because he knew they would be splitting up soon.

  He opened the door and saw Rachel and Eugene sitting on the sofa, their faces pale, tense. Eugene had a black eye and bloody lip. Jake froze, wondering if he had caught them in a fight. A fist fight? Rachel stood up, and said, “Get out! Get out!”

  Jake said, “What?”

  Then Bobby Null appeared from behind the door. He aimed a revolver at Jake, and said, “There you are, you son of a bitch.” Bobby leapt forward and tried to knock Jake in the head with the gun, but Jake ducked instinctively, and Bobby’s gun grazed his ear and bounced off the wall. In one quick motion Jake stepped down, going low, and punched Bobby in the stomach, aiming towards his groin but hitting slightly higher. Bobby let out a choked yell, clutched at his stomach and fell. He raised his gun while holding himself with his other hand, his face contorted in pain, but Jake had already jumped away and was running down the hall. He threw himself around a corner near the elevator, and heard Bobby cursing loudly and slamming the door. Jake scrambled through the emergency exit and flew down the steps. The dead come back to life.

  80

  Bobby doubled over and wheezed, almost vomiting in pain. He saw movement near the sofa and raised his gun, spitting, “Don’t do a thing, goddammit,” and stumbled against the table. Jake had hit him right in the stitches and the agony forced him to his knees, coughing, his eyes watery, his scalp tightening. He wanted to curl up on the floor, but he had to watch the two on the sofa and had to figure out what to do about Jake. Fucking missed him by a inch. He sputtered curses and felt a sheen of prickly sweat breaking out over his body. His teeth chattered. He kept still, waiting for the pain to subside, but it didn’t; it spread throughout his midsection and up into his chest. He groaned.

  When he looked down and saw the dark area around the button of his jeans, he touched it. Wet. Blood. He gritted his teeth, and pulled himself into the chair. Doughboy and his wife were watching him.

  “He’s bleeding,” the woman said to Eugene.

  “Shut the fuck up, wifey.” Bobby knocked over the lamp next to him and pulled out the electrical cord. He threw it to wifey. “Tie his hands behind his back. Tight. I’m gonna check.” He stood up slowly, limped to the kitchen, and shoved paper towels down the front of his pants, bandaging the ripped stitches. He moved back to the living room and waved wifey away. He said, “On your stomach, hands behind your back.”

  She hesitated, and then he noticed the canvas bag she had brought it. She was keeping it close to her. He pointed his gun at Eugene and said, “Down on the floor, on your stomach. Both of you.”

  They lay down in front of the sofa, and Bobby checked Eugene’s wrists. The cord wasn’t that tight, but it’d do for now. He found a roll of speaker wire next to the stereo, and knelt over the wife, placing his foot on the small of her back. He held his gun under one arm, ready to grab it if she tried anything. She didn’t. He bound her wrists together.

  He realized he was breathing loudly through his mouth, almost panting. His shirt was sticking to his sweaty back and chest. He had trouble concentrating, and pulled out his bag of bennies. He popped two more, swallowing with a dry mouth, and tried to calm himself. Jake had run, but he wouldn’t go far. Not with his brother here. Unless he didn’t care.

  He moved toward the canvas bag and saw the wife turn to him. He kicked the bag, testing its weight, then brought it to the table. The pain in his stomach dug at him. He sat down and unzipped the bag. He heard the wife sigh.

  He stopped at the sight of glittering diamonds. “What the…”

  “Oh, damn,” the wife said.

  Bobby glanced at her, then looked further into the bag. He saw the wads of cash and pulled them out. “Well, looky here. What the fuck is all this?” He quickly emptied the contents onto the table, the jewelry clattering, gold and silver rings and necklaces, diamonds, and watches clanking over each other. He first thought this was the Seattle stash, but remembered there being much less cash. Where the hell… He turned to her. “Jake just did a job? With the equipment from his room?”

  Eugene said, “What?” The wife didn’t move.

  “Hey! Wifey! I’m talking to you!” He stopped. His stomach flared. He lowered his voice. “Is this from tonight? Did you help him or something?”

  She turned away.

  “You’ll answer me or next time I won’t ask so nice.”

  “Go to hell,” she said.

  He rubbed his forehead. “Fucking Christ. You people are a pain in the ass.” He stood up and walked slowly towards them. He lowered the gun and aimed it at the back of her knee. He said, “Do you think I really care if I blow out your knee and watch you bleed to death?”

  “Now, wait a minute,” Eugene said.

  Bobby turned to him. “I thought I told you to be quiet.” He slammed the butt of the gun into his neck. Eugene cried out in pain.

  “Stop!” the wife said.

  Bobby felt the rush of the bennies, and this time it was clear and cool, washing over the pain. He sighed and stood up. He pressed his foot into Eugene’s neck. Soothing fingers tickled Bobby’s throat. He let out a small laugh and pressed his foot harder. Eugene gurgled, and tried to say something but Bobby pressed down, choking him.

  He said to the wife, “Where is that stuff from?” He put all his weight on his foot and Eugene gasped.

  “You’re hurting him!” she cried.

  “Tell me.”

  “A jewelry store.”

  Bobby nodded and eased his foot. Eugene sucked in air. Bobby said, “Tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  “You and Jake?”

  “Yes.”

  “Anyone else?”

  “No.”

  “Where is Jake’s Seattle stash?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “If you’re lying to me,” he said, lowering his foot onto Eugene’s neck.

  “I don’t know what you mean!”

  Bobby backed away, and returned to the table. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was. Brand new goods, right here, with a shitload of cash. This, with the Seattle stash, would set him up for years. He could settle his debts and buy whatever the fuck he wanted.

  The phone rang. He smiled and picked it up, watching Eugene and the wife. “Hello?” he said.

  “If you fucking touch them, you little piece of—”

  “Hey, Jake. Long time no. I guess I came over at the right time. Nice little haul here. Man, you don’t take a break, do you? Even after fucking me over with the other stash. You’re a fucking worker bee, you know that?”

  “Shit.”

  “Shit is right. She tried to hide it, but I kno
w the signs. Man, all this cash. What’d you hit, Jewels ‘R Us?”

  “You killed Chih.”

  Bobby said, “You heard about Chih? Yeah, that son of a bitch asked for it. I made him beg a while before I offed him. But where’s my Seattle stash?”

  “I left it all with Chih. I thought you got it.”

  Bobby’s stomach lurched, then stopped. He said, “Don’t fucking give me that. He didn’t know crap. You took everything and came down here. The stuff is mine now. I earned it, you hear me? Where the fuck is it?”

  “I’m telling you I left it in Chih’s safe—”

  “That’s how you gonna play it? Maybe your partner here can tell me. All she needs is a little good loving—”

  “Stay the fuck away from her.”

  Bobby pulled the phone from his ear and laughed. He hung up. He moved to Eugene, grabbed his shirt and told him to sit up, propping him against the sofa. When the phone rang again, Bobby pressed the talk button and shoved the handset against Eugene’s ear. Eugene tilted his head, “Jake?”

  Bobby went to the wife and also propped her up. He put the gun against her cheek and said, “Tell your brother what I’m doing.”

  “Wait! Wait!” Eugene yelled. “Jake! He’s got a gun on Rachel!”

  “Where is the Seattle stash?” Bobby asked. “Tell him I’ve got wifey—Rachel—here.”

  Eugene listened on the phone, then said, “Fuck your bargaining chip. This kid’s crazy. Just tell him—I don’t give a shit! You brought this here! I told you—”

  Bobby gripped Rachel’s throat, and began squeezing. She struggled, and he pressed the gun harder into her cheek. She kicked her legs to try to pull away, but Bobby held tightly.

  “He’s choking her, goddammit!” Eugene yelled. “Tell him—”