“I’d suggest not,” Fisher said. “It could have a time sequence of some kind — turn the key right for three seconds, back three seconds, and right again, or whatever.”
“It’s bound to be a simple sequence,” said Dooley, nodding, “but that doesn’t make it easy to guess.”
“I’d suggest just knocking the metal plate off,” Fisher said, “and jumping the wires. Not much different from hot-wiring a car, actually.”
“And that would take care of the tear gas,” Nolan said.
“Should,” Fisher said.
“You know, a mall’s a big place,” a Leech said, making as profound an observation as Nolan guessed a Leech could make.
“And we’re going to be all spread out,” another Leech said.
“How’ll we keep in touch?” the final Leech said.
“Yes, Uncle Donald,” Jon said. “How?”
Nolan almost smiled at that, but again it was lost on the Leeches. “Walkie-talkies,” Nolan said. “Clip right on your belt. Radio Shack has plenty in stock; I checked.”
“Did you buy them at a discount?” Jon asked wryly.
“No,” Nolan said. “They’re the first things we’ll steal. That’s called five-finger discount, where I come from.”
The meeting went on one more hour and two more pitchers of beer. Nolan answered questions and they went over the details. It was a big job, but simple in many ways, particularly once it had been broken down into man-by-man tasks. The hardest thing was the loading they’d all be doing — particularly hauling the larger appliances on dollies and carts to the waiting semis. It would be a long hard night of physical labor. The hourly wage would be considerable, however.
As the party began breaking up, Nolan saw Fisher head for the john and followed him in. As they were pissing at adjoining stalls, he told Fisher he needed to talk to him privately, and Fisher agreed to drive out to Nolan’s house, once well shy of Comforts and Leeches.
Before he left, Comfort patted Nolan on the shoulder and said, “You’re doing fine. Keep it up, and everything’s gonna work out.”
“Keep up your end and it will.”
Comfort only smiled his disarmingly engaging smile and left. Why did that sadistic son of a bitch have such a warm, friendly smile?
When the restaurant was empty, Nolan, who’d had none of the beer, poured some whiskey in a shot glass and asked Jon if he wanted any. Jon, who rarely drank, said, “Fuck yes.”
They sat at a small table and drank the whiskey and Nolan said, “Did you notice Comfort’s thick kid Lyle didn’t say anything all night?”
“You’re wrong, Nolan,” Jon said, swirling his whiskey in his glass, staring at the dark liquid like it was a crystal ball hiding his future. “His presence spoke volumes.”
“What do you mean?”
“If he’s here, who was baby-sitting Sherry?”
“It occurred to me she might be dead.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You think your new squeeze Cindy Lou was watching Sherry. Sitting in for brother Lyle.”
Jon nodded and kept nodding. “Yeah. I sure do. And I don’t think she’s going to like it.”
“You don’t.”
“She may be a little slut, but she didn’t strike me as a bad kid. She didn’t strike me as somebody who’d get much of a kick out of playing jailer, either.”
“She’s a Comfort.”
“Yeah, but she’s disenchanted with her family, with her old man. And tonight they made her an accomplice in a kidnaping. She isn’t stupid. She’ll figure that out.”
“What are you saying?”
“Let’s not snatch her. Let me try to link up with her tomorrow and, shit, try to get her on our side.”
“I don’t know.”
“I think I can get it out of her.”
“You mean you can get it in her.”
“No, I mean I can get it out of her — where Sherry’s being kept.”
Nolan thought about it. “We could also just grab her and trade her to her father even up for Sherry.”
“If that’s the way you want to go, I’m in. But you were right — on our worst day we’re not as bad as that evil cocksucker. And that evil cocksucker knows it.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning he knows that he’s capable of killing your girl. And he also knows you’re not capable of killing his daughter.”
“I’m capable of cutting off her fingers one at a time and sending them to him.”
“No you aren’t.”
Nolan drank some of the whiskey.
Then he said, “We’ll try it your way. Talk to her. Fuck her again. When she’s coming, ask her where Sherry is.” He let some air out. Finished the whiskey. “Come on. Fisher’s probably invented a black box by now to open my garage door.”
And Jon went out to the van, and Nolan to his silver Trans Am. Nolan wishing he had it in him to kill Comfort’s daughter, knowing he didn’t.
Part Three
15
Jon had started the stakeout midmorning. As late as the meet last night (this morning, technically) had broken up, he didn’t figure Comfort would be going anyplace at the crack of dawn. Nolan hadn’t argued with Jon’s logic on that point, and over a breakfast of scrambled eggs and sausage, which Nolan prepared, Jon asked Nolan what the game plan was if Sherry’s whereabouts could be ascertained.
“We go in with guns and take her back,” Nolan said.
That didn’t seem like much of a plan to Jon, but on the other hand, until the exact circumstances of how and where she was being held were known to them, coming up with anything more elaborate was a waste of time.
Jon shrugged. “Well, how hard can it be, with only that lunkhead Lyle guarding her?”
“Hard,” Nolan said. “Lyle may be a lunkhead, but he’s also a Comfort. That makes him a dangerous lunkhead.”
Jon was, as usual, impressed by Nolan’s businesslike attitude, even in the face of something as emotionally wrenching as the kidnaping of a woman Nolan may well have loved. There had been a moment, last night, in the back room at the restaurant just before the meet, when Nolan betrayed some emotion bubbling under that stoic surface; and Jon sensed the rage behind Nolan’s occasional quiet remarks about what he would do to Comfort if Sherry were harmed. But mostly Nolan seemed to be sublimating his emotions and anger into working on those two conflicting goals — planning/organizing the heist, and getting Sherry back.
Now it was Thursday afternoon, a little after two, and a light snow was dusting the Holiday Inn parking lot, powdering the immediate world, making it look better and not so real. Jon sat in the parked light blue van in his ski mask and navy coat, his Thermos of hot chocolate between his legs. No paperback today. His full attention was on Comfort’s red pickup truck. The Leeches were apparently staying at the Holiday Inn, as well, as Jon had spotted their yellow, racing-striped Camaro parked alongside a room on the west side of the motel. If the Leeches and/or Comfort left in the Camaro, they would have to drive through the parking lot past where Jon sat in his van. So he had it covered.
Butterflies were aflight in his stomach, however; time was running out: the mall heist was set to go down in a matter of hours — a little over eight hours. Before that time, if things went well, he and Nolan would rescue Sherry, very possibly in a blaze of gunfire and dying Comforts. And that was if things went well. He’d been in situations where he liked the options better.
He thought about Sherry. He hadn’t let himself do that, much. He liked her — he was attracted to her, no question, but it was an attraction he’d never do anything about. A stunning-looking woman, and no dummy. He’d never seen anyone handle Nolan better. She didn’t exactly have him wrapped around her little finger, but close. Surprisingly close.