Without a Hitch (10 page)
With two days to
go, Corbin and Beckett spent the morning going over a map of downtown
Philadelphia. Corbin marked each mailbox store and bank on the map. Together,
they plotted the route Beckett and Alvarez would take. After finishing with
the map, Corbin reached into his briefcase and produced a clear plastic bag containing
a wallet and some papers. This was one of the packets which would be inside
the duffel bag.
“Each plastic
bag has a name on it and a colored dot.”
“Colored dot,
check,” Beckett said, nodding his head.
“The dot is very
important because it lets you match the right phones with the right addresses
and the right wallets. Each wallet contains a drivers license, a social
security card, and $220 in cash.”
“That’s a lot of
cash between all those packets.”
“It takes money
to make money.”
Beckett again
nodded his agreement.
“Each packet
contains a wallet, a fake lease and a fake utility bill,” Corbin continued.
“When you buy a cell phone, put a colored sticker on the back and write the
phone number on the sticker. From that moment on, that phone will go with any
packet bearing the same colored dot.”
“Got it.”
“Same thing with
the mailboxes. When you open a box, put a colored sticker on the back of the
paperwork. Use this chart to decide which color dot to use for each mailbox.”
Corbin handed Beckett a piece of paper the size of a playing card. “You need
to follow that chart so the street addresses on the leases and the utility
bills match the street addresses of the mailboxes. I need that to organize the
accounts. Once you have the right color dot on the paperwork, go through each
packet with the same colored dot and handwrite the mailbox number on the
lease.” Corbin handed Beckett the fake lease from the packet.
Beckett verified
where the box number would be added.
Corbin handed
him the wallet. “We got a bunch of these at dollar stores. They’re all a
little different, but they all have what we need. Before Nobody goes into a
bank, give him the lease and the utility bill from the packet. He’ll put those
into his pocket. Then open the wallet and re-confirm the contents: license,
social and $220.” Corbin waited for Beckett to open the wallet and confirm the
contents. “Hand him the wallet. Grab the cell phone with the same colored
sticker as the plastic bag. Hand him that as well.”
“Ok.”
“When he
returns, take the bank paperwork, the lease, the utility bill, and the wallet
and return them to the same plastic bag. Seal the plastic bag and return it to
the duffel bag. Put the phone back into the phone bag. Then move on to the
next bank and repeat.”
“I can see why
you didn’t want Nobody worrying about this at the same time he’s going into the
banks.”
“Don’t worry,
it’s a lot easier than it sounds. Just follow the color coding and you can’t
go wrong. We did a practice run last week and it turned out to be really
simple. The key to everything is to make sure you only work with one bag at a
time. Never open a bag until all the other bags are closed.”
“Got it.”
“That’s all
there is,” Corbin said.
“One more
thing. How do I recognize Nobody when I see him?”
“How about a
password?”
Beckett looked
stunned. “I am
not
walking around a train station asking people if they
use polar bear shit to fertilize their lawns.”
“Darn, there
goes plan A.”
Beckett stared
at Corbin, trying to determine if he was serious.
Suddenly, Corbin
burst into laughter. “I’m just kidding. I bought train tickets for both of
you. You’ll be sitting directly across from each other.”
That night
Corbin sat in the middle of his floor surrounded by wallets, colored stickers,
plastic bags, and stacks of twenty dollar bills. His phone rang. He knew it was
Alvarez because Alvarez called every night this week.
“Vez.”
“How’s it
going?”
“Almost done
with the packets.” Corbin counted out another eleven twenties.
“How’s Beckett?”
“He’s nervous,
but seems ok. What about you?”
“Good enough,
but I want to get this going. I hate waiting.”
“One more day,”
Corbin said, as he stuffed the twenties into a brown leather wallet.
“You figured out
yet what you’re going to do with your share?”
Corbin set the
wallet down and scratched his chin. “No, not really. I figure something will
come to me.”
Alvarez
laughed. “If you decide you don’t want it, your old friend Alvarez will be
more than happy to take it off your hands.”
“I’m sure.”
“Hey, that’s
what friends are for, right?”
“Is that how
Websters defines friendship?”
“I think I read
that, yeah. Are you still planning to stay at the lousy job?”
“That’s part of
the plan. I need to stick around at least one year so I can keep an eye on the
people in the office. They’re our coal-mine canaries; they’ll be the first to
know if the cops start investigating.”
“Better you than
me.”
“I knew I could
count on you for sympathy,” Corbin chuckled.
“If you want
sympathy, you know where to find it.”
“Yeah, between
shit and syphilis in the dictionary.”
“You know what
you should do to pass the time?”
“What?” Corbin
asked dubiously.
“You should hook
up with that Mary girl you told me about.”
“You mean
Molly?”
“Sure, Molly,
the younger one. She sounds like a wild ride.”
Corbin rolled
his eyes. “Let’s move on shall we.”
“It’s just a
suggestion.”
“It’s a disastrous
suggestion. Do you know who Tantalus is?”
“Didn’t he fight
Godzilla?”
“No. Greek
mythology. He was punished for stealing ambrosia from the gods and bringing it
back to his people. His punishment was to stand in a pool of water below a
fruit tree. Whenever he reached for the fruit, the branches raised beyond his
reach. When he bent to drink, the water receded away before him. Thus, his
fate was to be tempted without ever achieving satisfaction. Hence, the word
‘tantalize.’ That’s Molly. She wants you to chase, but she’ll always be out
of reach.”
“Do you categorize
all women according to Greek mythological punishments?”
“Doesn’t
everybody?”
Alvarez laughed.
“Don’t get me
wrong. She’s a fun girl, but she’s only interested in being pursued. She has
no desire to be caught.”
“What about the
other one, the older one?”
“Listen, I gotta
go. I need to finish these packets,” Corbin said, dodging the question.
Alvarez laughed
again. “All right. Let’s meet tomorrow and go over the maps one more time.”
“No problem.”
When Corbin hung
up the phone, he heard his doorbell ring. Looking through the viewer, he saw
Mrs. Tuttle’s white hair. “Mrs. Tuttle, how are you?”
“I’m fine, Alex,
just fine.” As Corbin opened the door, Mrs. Tuttle pushed passed him into the
apartment. She was carrying a large silver pot. “I made soup and I wanted to
bring you some. It’s chicken noodle. I know how much you like my chicken
noodle.”
“That I do, Mrs.
Tuttle.”
“Besides, you’re
all by yourself over here.” Mrs. Tuttle set the pot on Corbin’s countertop.
As she did, she noticed the assortment of wallets, bags, papers and twenties
spread across the floor. “Work keeping you busy?”
“You know the
way things are, Mrs. Tuttle, their time is their time and your time is their
time too.”
“It’s always
been that way, Alex. Mr. Tuttle used to say the same thing when he worked for
NASA. Did I ever tell you that we lived in Florida when they sent Mr. Aldrin
to the moon?”
For the next ten
minutes, Mrs. Tuttle regaled Corbin with stories of the places she and Mr.
Tuttle had lived and the things they had done. Finally, Mrs. Tuttle returned
to her own apartment, leaving Corbin to return to his packets.
It was obvious
the moment Beckett stepped through the office door
that
his nerves had suffered a relapse. Corbin set down his book and prepared for
the fight he knew was coming. He suspected for several days that Beckett would
need to be shored up one last time because Beckett seemed increasingly more
nervous lately. To Corbin’s surprise however, Beckett didn’t launch into a
tirade. Instead, he sat at his desk, tapping his thumb against a notebook as
he stared at the wall.
“You nervous
about something?” Corbin finally asked.
Beckett let out
a disgusted laugh.
“Let’s try this
again. Are you nervous about something?” Corbin repeated.
“I’m fine.”
“Doesn’t look
that way from here.”
“You must be
mistaken.” Beckett chuckled ominously.
“Oh, I doubt
that. What’s the problem?” Corbin was becoming annoyed.
“There’s no
problem,” Beckett countered, still without turning to face Corbin. They sat in
silence for nearly a minute. Beckett stared at his computer, tapping his pen
against his desk. Corbin stared at the back of Beckett’s head.
“So there’s
nothing I need to know.” This was a statement, not a question.
“Nothing comes
to mind.”
“You’re ready
for tomorrow.”
“Yes,” snapped Beckett.
“You’re not
going to back out on us in the morning?”
“I’m not backing
out on anything. I don’t have a choice at this point,” Beckett said snidely.
Corbin’s lips
took on an angry curl. “Why don’t you just drop the theater and say what’s on
your mind?”
“You know what’s
on my mind? This whole thing is immoral. It’s wrong.”
Corbin let out a
single, derisive laugh. “There’s no denying that. So what?”
“So I don’t like
doing things I think are wrong.”
“Then back out,”
Corbin said calmly, even with a hint of enthusiasm.
Beckett was
shocked. “What?!”
“Hey, if you’re
gonna back out, there’s nothing I can do about it, and frankly, I’d rather we
just get it over with now, so Nobody and I can move on without you.”
“You know I
can’t back out. I need the money. I’ve already quit my job.”
“Then man up,
friend. You stepped up to the plate. The bat’s left your shoulder. Stop
worrying about whether or not you like baseball.”
Beckett faced
Corbin. “I said before that I’m not backing out. So drop it.”
Corbin waited several
seconds before responding. “All right, you’re in. You wanna talk about
tomorrow?”
“Yeah, let’s go
over it one more time.”
The tense atmosphere
in the room cleared significantly.
“You arrive at
your usual time, o’ dark thirty. Bring your stuff up here. Turn on your
computer and head down to the dumpster in the parking lot. No one can see you
there. I’ll pick you up and take you to the station, where you catch the train
north. I’ve got your ticket in the duffel bag, which will be sitting in the
backseat of my car.”
“I meet Nobody
in Baltimore.”
“Right, he’ll
have the seat opposite you. He’ll be wearing a blue button-down dress shirt
and gray slacks, no tie. He’s got black-brown hair and brown eyes. He’ll
answer to ‘Joe.’ I told him you’d answer to ‘Jeff.’”
Beckett looked
at his watch. “Shouldn’t we be going to lunch?”
Corbin checked his
own watch. “Yep. Don’t forget, we make that funky order today, the one that
looks like only one of us is eating.”
“I remember.
It’s a good thing I’m not very hungry.”
“Just stick with
the order we discussed and don’t say anything unusual to the waitress. Treat
this like a normal lunch.”
As he pulled
into the deserted parking lot, Corbin saw Beckett pacing in the dark by the
dumpster. Beckett wore his navy-blue suit pants and a white shirt. He kept
beating his palms together. When the car stopped, Beckett flung the passenger
door open.
“We have a
problem! We can’t use this information!” Beckett screeched.
Corbin squinted at
Beckett. “Why not?”
“We work with
these people! I can’t believe I didn’t see this before. All it’ll take is for
one of them to spot us on a security video and we’re done!”
Corbin let out a
hissing sound through his gritted teeth. “Joe Nobody will be the only person
who ever appears on video because you aren’t going inside. No one knows
Nobody, so no one can identify him from a videotape. And let me remind you,
there won’t be any videotape by the time they finally figure out something
happened,
if
they figure out something happened and
if
anyone
cares enough to investigate.”
Beckett bit his
lip and climbed into the car. “Oh man, I feel like an idiot.”
Corbin didn’t respond.
As they drove in
silence to the train station, Beckett kept looking over his shoulder at the duffel
bag in the backseat. His mouth was dry. When they neared the station, Beckett
pulled the duffel bag onto his lap. It was heavier than he’d expected. Before
them stood Union Station, with the fifty state flags displayed proudly along
the semi-circular road that ran past the station. Behind them to the right
stood the Capital Building, just beyond a stand of trees.
Corbin nodded
toward the crosswalk at Massachusetts Avenue. “I’m gonna let you out at the
corner. Don’t forget to give me your wallet.”
Beckett stepped
out of the car and handed his wallet and keys to Corbin. He looked at Union Station,
his gateway to Philadelphia and destinations unknown. “What have you gotten me
into?”
“A brighter
future,” Corbin said without hesitation.
Without another
word, Beckett disappeared into the early-morning crowd.
Corbin tossed
his suit jacket onto the spare chair. Beckett’s navy-blue polyester suit jacket
already hung from the coat rack. Corbin added a hot cup of coffee to Beckett’s
desk and entered Beckett’s password, causing Beckett’s computer to dutifully
report Beckett’s presence to Kak’s computer. Corbin took his own seat and began
his day. He felt great.
The
recently-renovated Baltimore station rolled into view outside the train’s
window. The platform was busy, even though the morning rush hour had yet to
begin. Several travelers boarded Beckett’s car, but none fit the description
of Joe Nobody. Beckett stood up to get a better look around the car. He
tapped the back of his seat and scowled. He heard the door chimes ring.
“If that son of
a bitch doesn’t show up,” he said to himself.
As Beckett
spoke, an Hispanic-looking man entered the rear of the car. The man wore a
light-blue, button-down shirt and gray slacks, with headphones wrapped around
his neck and thick glasses stuffed into his shirt pocket. Sure enough, the man
sat down opposite Beckett.
“You’re Joe.”
“You’re Jeff.”
Alvarez checked his watch. “You have the bag?”
“Of course,”
Beckett said, patting the duffel bag on the seat next to him. “You’re late.”
“How am I late?
It’s a train. If I was late, I wouldn’t be sitting here, would I?” Alvarez
pulled his headphones to his ears and fiddled with the volume control.
“Are you going
to do that the whole way?”
Alvarez pulled
off the headphones. “Do what?”
“Never mind,”
Beckett replied, not bothering to hide his annoyance. He waited for Alvarez to
replace the headphones before speaking again.
Alvarez removed
the headphones again. “What did you say?”
“I said to make
sure you’re awake when we get to Philly.”
Alvarez went to
replace the headphones again.
“I didn’t know
you wear glasses,” Beckett said, nodding toward the glasses in Alvarez’s shirt
pocket.
“I don’t. I
borrowed these.”
“Can you see
through them?”
“Not well.”
Alvarez returned the headphones to his ears. The next time Beckett spoke, he
didn’t remove the headphones.
Molly stood in
Corbin’s door watching him type. Despite the warm day they were expecting, she
had abandoned her recent near-miniskirts for a tight, black, silk skirt with a
red rose print, that fell to the lower end of her calves. The skirt was so snug
it visibly restricted her movements. The combination of the tight skirt and
her higher-than-normal high heels made her appear precariously balanced. A
wide black belt rested just above her hips and three silver bracelets stood out
prominently below the short sleeves of her dark-red blouse. Her lips, her
fingernails, and her toenails visible through her open-toed shoes and tan
stockings, all matched the dark red of her blouse.
Corbin didn’t
look up, but he did acknowledge her presence. “Molly.”
“Corbin,” Molly
echoed his tone.
“How are you
today?”
“
Ceteras
paribas
,
ceteras paribas
.” Molly made her way to Beckett’s chair.
She spun the chair to face Corbin and sat down, crossing her legs with no
apparent difficulty.
“
Ceteras
paribas
?” Corbin asked, without stopping his typing.
“It means same
shit, different day.”
“Doesn’t it
mean, all else remains unchanged?”
“That’s what I
said.” Molly picked up Beckett’s coffee cup. Corbin drunk half the contents
ten minutes prior. “Where’s your diminutive friend?”
“What is this,
big word Tuesday?”
“I’m feeling
loquacious.” Molly smiled.
“Clearly. I
have no idea where he went. He’s in high demand today, with this being his
last day and all.” Corbin looked up from his keyboard. He looked Molly up and
down. “What are you dressed up for?”
Molly rolled her
eyes. “Do I need a reason to look nice?”
Corbin shook his
head.
“Have you met
the F-N-G yet?” she asked.
“‘F-N-G’?”
“Fucking new
guy.”
“Ah, no, I
haven’t had the pleasure.”
“It’s no
pleasure, I assure you.”
“I take it
you’ve met him?”
“Yes, I have,”
Molly said, as she swirled Beckett’s coffee in her hand. “They sent us a dud.
. . a real dud. . . weapons grade boring. His last name should be Bland, Mr.
Bland.” Suddenly, Corbin realized the reason Molly was dressed up.
“Wonderful. At
least he won’t interfere with nap time.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t
sleep around this guy.”
“Why not?”
“He’s got desk
rage written all over him.”
“I thought you
said he was Mr. Bland?”
“He is, but
those are the ones you need to watch. They’re always ready to blow. A little
too much caffeine and bam!” Molly slapped her hands together. “Mr. Bland goes
postal! If I were you, I wouldn’t turn my back on him for a minute.” Molly
rose. “Tell your friend I’m looking for him.”
The train raced
through the Maryland
countryside. Alvarez
stared out the window, listening to his music. Beckett twiddled his thumbs.
He was bored and anxious.
“What are you
listening to?”
Alvarez pulled
the headphones from his ears. “What?”
“You’re
listening to ABBA, aren’t you?” Beckett asked accusingly.
“No,” Alvarez
responded defensively.
“I know ABBA
when I hear it. That’s ABBA.”
“It’s not ABBA.”
“Yes, it is.”
“It’s not,”
Alvarez almost growled, “and you can stop saying that now.”
“Why? Does it
bother you?”
“What’s your
problem?”
“No problem.”
Beckett scratched his chin. “How long have you known Corbin?”
“We’re not
supposed to talk about that.”
“I’m just trying
to pass the time.”
Alvarez glared
at him.
Beckett rose.
“I’m going to the can. You stay here and watch the bag and listen to your
ABBA.” As Beckett walked away, he began loudly humming “Dancing Queen.”
Alvarez bit his
tongue.
Corbin slipped
silently into the hearing room. Despite its name, the “hearing room” was
nothing more than a large empty room with two dozen chairs and three desks
arranged in an “L” shape at the front of the room. Five people sat in the
audience. The court reporter gathered their names. Corbin positioned himself
at the clerk’s desk. In ten minutes, the hearing would begin and the federal
government would provide him with the perfect alibi.
Alvarez watched
the clerk
reach under the counter for the
promised paperwork. Sweat beaded on his forehead. His mouth was dry. The
fake glasses made him dizzy. Behind Alvarez, a wall of silver mailboxes
stretched the length of the store. Another wall of silver mailboxes ran the
width.
“I’m a grad
student at Penn,” Alvarez offered.
The clerk
shuffled some forms, but didn’t look up from behind her counter.
“Our mail keeps getting
stolen,” Alvarez added.
“Uh, huh,” the clerk
replied indifferently.
“That’s why I
want the mailbox.”
The clerk surfaced
from behind the counter with two forms. “Fill in your personal information on
the top form and sign the rental agreement.” She pulled a pen from a nearby
coffee cup.
“I have my
own.” Corbin had instructed Alvarez to use his own pen to avoid leaving any
physical evidence behind. As Alvarez filled out the forms, he couldn’t stop
himself from rambling. “My roommates need to use the box as well.” Alvarez
wiped the sweat from his forehead with his hand.
“Just put their
names on the first form.”
“Their mail gets
stolen too.” Alvarez grunted at his failure to stop talking.
“Fine, whatever,
just put their names on the first form. I also need $120 for the box.”
Alvarez tossed
six twenty dollar bills onto the counter.
“‘You want how
much?’ See, and I said it like I thought it was too much,” explained Felix
Templeton, the third person to visit the office in the last fifteen minutes.
So far, none of them voiced any suspicions regarding Beckett’s absence. “He
looked at me and said, ‘I’ll see if I can find a better rate.’ And he did. He
gave me a reduced rate! Sometimes you just have to stand firm.”
Corbin faked a
smile and tried to look interested in Templeton’s hotel-booking story.
“Of course, I
don’t know why we can’t get a federal rate. You’d think that would make sense
with the number of federal employees who travel.”
“You would think
so,” Corbin agreed.
“I guess I
shouldn’t take up any more of your time. I just came by to wish Evan the best,
but I guess he’s busy out processing.”
“He is in high
demand.”
“Did he say
where he was going?”
“No sir, just ‘out
processing.’ He showed up, started something, the phone rang and he left.
That was about ten minutes ago.”
“Ok. Tell him I
stopped by.”
“I will.”
The old man left
and closed the door behind him.
Corbin typed out
a quick e-mail from Beckett’s computer before re-opening the door. “Open door
means nothing to hide,” he told himself.
Alvarez emerged
from the mailbox store and crossed the street to where Beckett waited. Beckett
looked out of place standing around holding the duffel bag, but not enough to
draw attention.
“How did it go?”
Beckett asked.
“Fine.”
“Did they give
you any trouble?”
“No, the clerk
didn’t really care.”
“What did they
say about the ID?”
“She never asked
for it. I could have written Mickey Mouse on the form for all she cared. Just
like Corbin said.”
“Corbin’s a good
criminal, you’ve got to give him that.” Beckett took the wallet and the
paperwork from Alvarez and placed them in their rightful place in the duffel
bag. “Still, don’t get cocky. This one may have been easy, but don’t expect
the banks to be easy. That’s where the real danger lies.”
Alvarez shot
Beckett a dirty look. “Do you mind!”
“I’m just
saying. Don’t get complacent.”
“I won’t. But
listen, you can’t just stand there like you’re waiting for me. The clerk could
see you out the window.”
“I thought you
said she didn’t care?”
“She didn’t, but
I don’t know what the next clerk is gonna think.”
“What do you
want me to do?”
“Walk out of
sight or something. Don’t look like you’re waiting for me.”
“Fine.” Beckett
reached into the duffel bag. “Here’s the next packet.”
“What packet?”
Corbin asked. Like everyone else in the office, he learned a long time ago
never to trust Kak’s secretary Patricia. She did a lot of Kak’s dirty work.
Thus, he viewed each of her requests with suspicion.
“His out-processing
packet. I need a copy for our files.”
Corbin squinted
at her. “Personnel keeps those. They don’t stay in this office.”
“We keep a copy
here,” she responded without further explanation.
“Why not ask personnel
to send you a copy if you need it?”
“It’s too hard
to get these back from personnel once they get their hands on them.” Patricia’s
already-unpleasant tone hardened. “I don’t know why I need to explain this to
you.”
Corbin half-shrugged
his shoulders. “All right, I’ll tell him when I see him.”
“I’d rather you
e-mailed me when he returns. Then I’ll come get the file and make the copy
myself.”
“If you insist.”
“I do.” With
that, she bolted from the office, slamming the door on the way out.