“Windy tonight,” Logan commented. “I wasn’t sure you’d be out.”
Mulroney cackled. “We’re catching the northern edge of that big storm pounding the Carolinas. Gusts up to fifty miles per hour.” He rolled the dice.
Logan looked across the street to the steep roof of Swindle’s house and shuddered.
They began to play, with Mr. Mulroney jumping to an early advantage. Neither took much notice of the three girls who were Rollerblading on the sidewalk.
Logan, of course, knew they were Melissa, Savannah, and Pitch. Nor was he surprised when all three chose the patch of grass around the streetlight to sit down and tighten their skate laces. Furthermore, he understood that only two of them were attending to laces. Melissa, hidden by the others, was unscrewing the access panel at the base of the pole.
She slipped on an insulated glove, reached in with a tiny wire cutter and snipped every electrical cable she could find. Then she replaced the faceplate, and the three girls bladed off along the street. The entire procedure was over in less time than it took Mr. Mulroney to decide how to play his double fives.
The door of number 531 opened and Swindle stepped out, dressed in a voluminous New York Rangers jersey that covered his ample stomach and stretched almost to his knees. He got into his Honda Element and drove off in the direction of the highway.
Griffin would be pleased. Swindle had taken the bait. Everything was setting up nicely for the operation tonight.
A few minutes later, when the streetlights came on, the one in front of the Palomino home remained dark.
20
When night fell, six dark-clad figures, wearing gloves and stocking caps, met in the grass beneath the huge tank of the Cedarville municipal water tower. The wind plucked at their clothing and howled through the support girders all around them.
Griffin thought he could never be happy to see the nasty leering face of Darren Vader. But Darren looked pretty good to him tonight, especially since the big boy was lugging his father’s giant folding aluminum ladder. Griffin peered around, counting heads. The team was in place.
He shrugged his shoulders to resettle the blowtorch strapped to his back. He cleared his throat and launched into the speech he’d been preparing in his head ever since the idea for this heist had been hatched.
“What we’re doing tonight isn’t about a baseball card,” he began. “It isn’t even about money. Tonight we show that fairness isn’t something that’s just for adults, and that you can’t get away with dumping on people just because they’re younger than you. Tonight we make our statement. Tonight —”
“Yada, yada, yada,” drawled Darren in a bored voice. “Can it, Bing. I’m not in the mood.”
“As much as I hate to agree with Darren,” Pitch added, “he’s right. We’re all scared enough, Griffin. We don’t need to talk about why we’re doing this. Let’s just do it.”
Griffin nodded, hiding his disappointment. “Okay, let’s go.”
As dog whisperer, Savannah was the first over the fence. She called for Luthor a few times, then stood silently, almost as if she were trying to sense the animal’s presence. “He’s not outside,” she finally reported.
One by one they crossed the fence. Darren was last, handing the ladder over to Griffin before clambering up and jumping to Swindle’s lawn.
It was when they got to the rear of the house, as Darren and Pitch were unfolding the four six-foot sections, that Griffin felt a tug at his sleeve. Ben.
“Griffin, I’ve got to talk to you.”
“Can it wait?”
Ben grabbed his friend tightly by the arm. “I can’t go on the roof.”
Griffin was thunderstruck. “Of course you can!”
“No, I can’t. I thought I could, but I can’t. I’m sorry.”
Griffin pulled his friend aside. “I was worried about one of these clowns wimping out the way they did the night of the old Rockford house, but you? What are you afraid of? The wind? We’ll be harnessed, remember?”
“I’m afraid I’ll fall asleep,” Ben said in a sheepish voice.
Griffin was beside himself. “Fall asleep? Are we boring you? The heist isn’t exciting enough to keep you awake? What more do you need? Air-raid sirens?”
“Don’t make jokes! I never told anybody about this. I have narcolepsy.”
“What? What’s that?”
“My body has trouble regulating sleep,” Ben explained. “I might fall into a deep sleep any time of the day or night.”
“But that doesn’t happen to you,” Griffin protested. “Does it?”
“You can control it by taking short naps during the day,” Ben explained. He flushed. “You know how I go to the nurse for allergy medicine? Well, it’s not allergies. I take a fifteen-minute nap, and it gets me through the afternoon. But whenever my schedule is off, my narcolepsy gets worse. Remember when I fell asleep inside the crate in Swindle’s store?”
Griffin was chastened. “I’m really sorry, man. I had no clue.”
“I thought I could tough it through,” Ben went on miserably, “but I’m yawning, my eyelids are heavy, I’m feeling all the signs. I don’t want to leave you in the lurch, but there are no do-overs for falling off a ladder. Not to mention that I could wipe out the whole team on the way down.”
Griffin made a split-second decision. “Guys,” he announced, “change of plan. Ben’s going to take the lookout spot in the front bushes. Melissa, that means you have to go in from the roof with us. Are you up for it?”
Melissa parted her hair, and even in the darkness, it was obvious that her eyes were gleaming. She handed her walkie-talkie to Ben. “Good luck.”
“Good luck to all of us,” said Pitch, unzipping her duffel bag. Five climbing harnesses tumbled out. As Ben set off around the side of the house, slinking through the shadows, Pitch fitted her teammates into their vests.
There was a soft thud as the extended ladder touched into place against the side of the house. The break-in had begun.
With Pitch in the lead, the team made the climb in close order. Twenty-four feet had never felt so far or so high. The wind seemed to be trying to tear them free of the aluminum rungs. Only Pitch’s calm encouragement kept them moving upward — that and the fact that retreat was just as unthinkable.
Griffin was in second position, right behind Pitch. He’d heard a lot about her family and their climbing skills, but this was the first time he’d witnessed them in real life. Her work was impressive. Anchored by nothing more than the strength and sureness of her hands and feet, she ascended the steep grade toward the high peak of the roof. There, hanging on by the sheer tension in her body, she pulled the coil of rope from her shoulder, lashed one end to a steel vent pipe, and ran the other end through the clip on her harness.
Now securely tethered, she strung four more cords around the pipe and carried these back down to her novice climbers on the ladder. One by one, she threaded the ropes through their vests and hauled them up to the roof.
Even knowing they were safely harnessed was barely enough to keep Griffin from depositing his dinner on Swindle’s black shingles. The environment was so alien that he felt like he was attempting a space walk — the unfamiliar slant of the surface under him, the buffeting wind, the near-total darkness.
In painful silence, the team crawled up to the peak and over. Now they were descending the front of the roof, inching toward the skylight that was their way in.
Suddenly, Darren was sliding out of control down the incline. He didn’t scream, but Griffin caught a glimpse of eyes wide with horror as the boy slipped helplessly past the skylight, heading for a twenty-foot drop.
Barely a yard from the edge, his rope went taut, and he was no longer moving. Pitch was as good as her word: Even if you fall, you don’t fall.
“Relax,” she called softly. “Catch your breath and meet us at the skylight.”
Darren nodded, chastened. It was one of the rare occasions when he had no smart-aleck comment to offer. He go
t to his knees, advancing along his rope, hand over hand.
A few minutes later, the five members of the heist team were assembled around the skylight.
Griffin and Pitch felt around the gasket that water-sealed the pyramid-shaped window. Their fingers fit easily underneath the rubber, and they were able to pry the heavy glass up.
Triumph surged through Griffin as he looked down into Swindle’s second-story bathroom. They were in.
21
In all the years he had worked as a bonded courier for the Worthington Auction House, Lamar Fontaine had never been so lost. Cedar Springs, New York, was a tiny hamlet tucked in a remote corner of Westchester County. There was a Park Avenue, but no Park Avenue Extension. If you extended Park Avenue, you’d end up at the bottom of a lake. And there was definitely no number 531. There weren’t 531 houses in the whole town, and probably not 531 Cedar Springers.
He felt like he’d already spoken to most of them, asking directions. This was worse than the time he’d had to transport that Ming vase through Brooklyn during the big blackout.
He finally located a gas station and went inside for help. The mini-mart clerk had no idea, but one of the customers was able to shed some light on the subject.
“Listen, I don’t want to tell you your business, but I grew up on Long Island, and I think what you’re looking for is Cedarville, not Cedar Springs. They’ve got the only Park Avenue Extension I know.”
“Thanks.” Fontaine returned to his SUV. Wrong town. Wrong county. Wrong part of the state. It was the Ming vase all over again. Why him?
Five nylon ropes slapped to the floor of the bathroom under the skylight.
Savannah lowered herself first, eyes peeled for signs of Luthor. “All clear,” she called up.
Griffin descended next, followed by Melissa and then Darren, who left a trail of boot marks on the wall. Griffin handed him a towel to erase the evidence.
Pitch made sure the others were safely inside before jumping on her own rope and starting down. All at once, there was a screech of tearing metal, and she was plummeting toward them. Griffin moved to try to cushion her fall. Between himself and Darren, they half-caught her, but could not prevent her ankle from twisting as it hit the tile floor.
“Ow!”
The broken vent pipe came next, jagged and rusty, bearing all five climbing ropes.
“Pitch, are you all right?” Griffin hissed urgently.
Gritting her teeth, Pitch tested her right leg. She winced in pain. “I don’t think it’s broken,” she managed, “but it’s a nasty sprain!”
“Can you walk?” asked Savannah.
“I’ll manage,” Pitch replied stoically. “But I won’t be doing any climbing.” She looked ruefully at the piece of pipe and its tangle of nylon. “I guess none of us will be.”
The awful truth dawned on Griffin. “Are you saying that we’re trapped in here?”
Pitch nodded sadly. “I could have gotten up there myself and rigged something for the rest of you guys. But not now.”
Griffin reached for the walkie-talkie on his belt. “Ben, we’ve got a situation here. You’ve got to find a way to get up that ladder and drop us a new rope. I know it’s not something you want to do, but this is an emergency. Pitch is —” He frowned. “Ben! Ben, are you there?” He slapped the handset against his thigh. “Come in, Ben! Please!”
He looked at the others. “Ben’s out of the picture for a while. It’s a long story.”
“Are you saying,” Savannah asked in horror, “that we’ve got no choice but to wait around here until Swindle comes home and finds us?”
“Forget that,” Darren said flatly. “Worse comes to worst, we walk out the front door. So the alarm goes off — big deal. I’ll take my chances beating the cops home.”
“No alarm!” Griffin exclaimed. “Nobody opens a door or a window unless I say so. We stick to the plan.”
Darren indicated the injured Pitch. “Your precious plan is busted, or haven’t you noticed?”
“The plan is finding the card first,” Griffin insisted. “Then we worry about getting out.”
Melissa emerged from her hair. “I’ll check the alarm box in the meantime. There might be something I can do.”
“You can’t shut down the system,” Griffin warned. “That’ll contact Swindle, and he’ll call the police for sure.”
“I’ll be careful,” Melissa promised. “Trust me.”
Griffin was amazed at how much he actually did trust her. “Everybody — remember to keep your gloves on. No fingerprints.” He swallowed hard. Maybe this operation wasn’t doomed yet.
His thoughts were interrupted by a long low growl from out in the hall. When Luthor’s black and tan head hove into view in Griffin’s flashlight beam, the Doberman was already moving at full speed in attack mode.
“Savannah!” Griffin squeaked, pushing the dog whisperer into the path of ninety pounds of raw canine power.
Savannah pulled off her stocking cap, allowing her long hair to spill onto her shoulders. “Luthor! Sweetie!”
The big guard dog interrupted itself in mid-pounce, landing on its back, wriggling like a puppy and presenting its belly to be scratched.
Savannah obliged, cooing, “Good boy — beautiful boy! Oh, I missed you so much!”
“Okay, guys.” It wasn’t until Griffin let out his breath that he realized he’d been holding it. “Split up. We have to find that safe.”
Pitch limped into a small guest bedroom and sat down hard on the bed. She pulled up the leg of her jeans and shined her flashlight on her ankle. It didn’t look too bad yet, but she knew that if she dared to take off her shoe, she’d never be able to get it back on again. This was going to swell up like a watermelon. She should probably be icing it right now. But in the middle of a heist, who had time? No way was she going to let the others down any more than she already had by getting hurt.
Griffin came in. “Any sign of the safe?”
Pitch hobbled over and checked the small closet. “Nothing.”
Griffin noticed the grimace that accompanied her every step. “Are you going to be okay? Maybe you should sit this out. We’ll find it.”
“I’ll live,” Pitch assured him.
“Make sure you do.” He ran out into the dark hall, where he nearly bumped into Savannah and the dog.
“Griffin, there’s something wrong with Luthor.”
“Yeah, he’s a psychopath. What else is new?”
“I’m serious! He’s nervous and upset. He keeps looking over his shoulder. I think he’s trying to tell me something.” As if to prove her point, the dog closed its teeth gently on her sleeve and began tugging her toward the stairs. “See?”
“Look,” Griffin said impatiently, “we’ll make an anonymous phone call tomorrow and tell Swindle to take him to the vet. But right now you’re just going to have to wing it. As long as the dog isn’t chewing on anybody, he’s fine. Okay?”
“But, Griffin —”
All at once, Darren’s voice called, “I’ve got it! It’s here!”
22
The searchers converged on the master bedroom. Darren was on his hands and knees, aiming his flashlight under the nightstand. There, half hidden and bolted to the floor, stood the safe Griffin had first seen behind the counter in Palomino’s Emporium of Collectibles and Memorabilia.
The safe that held the million-dollar prize.
Griffin pulled the blowtorch off his back and produced safety goggles and a flint lighter from his pocket.
“Give me some space, you guys,” he said.
He turned on the gas and sparked the flint to ignite the flame.
Melissa had been staring at the front entrance for at least twenty minutes. The more she thought about it, the more obvious the solution seemed. Completely simple, but extremely delicate.
There were two magnetic sensors, one on the door frame and one on the door itself. When the door opened, the two pieces separated, lost contact, and that triggered the alarm.
>
So all I have to do is take off the door sensor and tape it to the other unit.
The problem was if she made a mistake, if her hand slipped, if she dropped a component, she would get them all arrested.
Melissa knew she was a whiz with electronics. At home, she had built her own computer from a kit. She could do this with her eyes closed and one hand tied behind her back.
But the stakes had never been this high, with so many other people involved. She was such a loner. Being part of a team was a whole new experience for her. Maybe she should ask the others, talk to Griffin.
She thought back to the green paper that had invited her to the first meeting in the Ballroom: You have been chosen for your special skills …
This was her skill. She was going to do this, to prove to herself as much as anybody else that she belonged on this team.
She ran to the kitchen and began rummaging around until she found the utility drawer. There, near the top, were the two items she’d been seeking — a small Phillips-head screwdriver and a roll of masking tape.
Back at the door, she propped up her flashlight on a hall table to illuminate her work area. Then she ran a circle of tape loosely around the two components. With the touch of a surgeon — good thing her gloves were tight and well fitted — she removed the two screws holding the smaller contact to the door. Now it was free, held in place only by the masking tape.
She was scared beyond belief, but her hands were rock steady. With agonizing care, she moved the unattached component until it was touching its partner on the door frame. Another application of tape held the pair tightly together. There was just enough space for the door to open and close.
So far, so good. All that remained was to test it.
She unlocked the deadbolt, turned the knob, and opened the door about six inches. A blast of cool air assailed her, powered by the windy night. No alarm sounded. The thrill of her triumph was so overwhelming that she could scarcely keep from shouting.
Swindle Page 8