“I’m planning three occupants per box, three cards per occupant. Where necessary, Joe Nobody can give the clerk a story about being a college student who was sent by his two roommates to get a mailbox because their mail keeps disappearing.”
“Is he young enough to pass for a student?”
“Grad student.”
Beckett tilted back in his brown leather chair. “One final question.”
“I wondered when you’d ask.” Corbin rose and walked toward his filing cabinet.
“What am I going to ask?” Beckett asked, somewhat taken aback.
Corbin flipped through a folder and pulled out a photocopy of a computer printout. “You were going to ask about this.” He handed Beckett the printout.
Beckett’s jaw dropped. “Where did you get this?” he whispered hoarsely. “Holy crud! They’re all on here!”
“Everyone from the office: all seventy-five senior executive appointees, plus every attorney, every staff member, and everyone in the mailroom. Obviously, we’re only interested in the big earners.”
“Where did you get this?” Beckett repeated, as he scanned the printout, which contained financial information on everyone in the office, from salaries to social security numbers to home addresses and more.
Corbin smiled. “Stuart.”
“Somebody trusted Stuart with this?!”
Corbin laughed. “It’s his job to carry this little gem to the payroll department on M Street once a month.”
“How did you get it?”
“Do you remember that day you and Theresa were cutting up the newspaper? Do you remember Stuart coming in and dropping off the mail? He was holding this. I followed him down the hallway and liberated it from his mail cart long enough to make copies.”
“Did he see you take it?”
“Doubt it. If he did, he never said anything.”
Beckett looked at the printout again. “Full names, dates of birth, socials, salaries. Incredible! Hey, you make as much as I do! I thought I made more.”
“Life is full of surprises, Cecil.”
“That’s a family name, long story.” Beckett handed the printout back to Corbin. “Do you think these guys have good enough credit for our purposes?”
“Are you kidding? They’re untapped wells of credit. If any of them ever spent a penny, they did it kicking and screaming. Look at Kak, he drives a ’74 Dodge, lives in a run down shack, hasn’t taken a vacation in seven years, buys his suits at Wal-Mart, and hasn’t left a tip in living memory. The rest of them are just as tight, except for maybe Wilson and Nesbit. Nesbit’s got the coke problem, and Wilson’s got an expensive divorce habit. The rest should be fine.”
“I’d still feel better if we surveyed their houses.”
“Not a problem! We have their addresses,” Corbin laughed, holding up the printout.
Corbin sat on his couch in the dark eating cold Chinese food from the container. Through the big glass door leading to his apartment’s balcony, he could see endless lines of headlights inching their way across the bridges from the District. It was raining. His phone rang. He checked the caller ID before answering.
“Hey Vez.” Corbin knew Tobias Alvarez, or “Vez” as Corbin called him, since college.
“Hey Corbin, you had dinner yet?”
Corbin looked at the half-empty food container in his hand. “Sort of. But I’ll tell you what, I’ll join you anyway. I need to talk to you about something.” Corbin heard his doorbell ring. “Hold on a second, somebody’s at my door.” Corbin walked to the front of his one-bedroom apartment, turning the kitchen light on as he passed. Looking through the viewer, he saw his seventy-year-old neighbor’s grey hair. “Hi Mrs. Tuttle, I’ll be with you in a second.” He returned the phone to his ear. “Let me call you back. My neighbor just got back from the store, and I always help her with her groceries.”
“I’ll be here.”
“Actually, hold on. Where are you going for dinner, I’ll meet you there.”
Corbin thanked the blond girl in the skintight blouse and slid into the booth. Alvarez had already ordered. He still wore his work clothes, a pair of khaki pants and a golf shirt with the name of his employer embroidered across the chest pocket. Corbin wore jeans and a blue oxford shirt.
“Can I get you something?” the girl asked.
“Just a Coke please. I’ll look at the menu later,” Corbin responded. The girl smiled and walked away.
“Sorry, I couldn’t wait, I’ve been starving all day.” Alvarez began disassembling his burger. “They always put these things together wrong.”
Corbin looked around to make sure no one could hear them, which wasn’t a problem with the deafening noise from the capacity crowd. “I broached the subject with Beckett today.”
Alvarez raised an eyebrow. “What did he say?”
“He’s on board.”
“Really?” Alvarez pulleda pickle out from under the patty with his fork. “I hate pickles.”
“He’s agreed to manage the duffel bag for you on the first trip.”
“Does he know who I am?”
“No, he only knows you as Joe Nobody.”
“I have to say, this really surprises me. When you said a couple weeks ago you thought he might be willing, all I could think of was how many times you told me he’s got this strict moral code.”
“Desperation can be very liberating. It lets people do extraordinary things, and he’s getting increasingly desperate trying to find a way to support his wife and kids. When he finally got turned down for that promotion. . well, that was too big of an opportunity to pass up.”
The waitress returned with Corbin’s Coke and took his order while Alvarez reassembled his burger. When the waitress left, they returned to their conversation.
“Is he solid?” Alvarez asked.
“Mostly. He gets weak, but he can be shored up.”
“Great,” Alvarez smirked. “So I have to babysit?”
“No, not at all, but I do want you to watch him. Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid like use his own credit card, and make sure he doesn’t keep any souvenirs from the trip.”
“You don’t trust him?”
“I trust him, but trust is no reason not to be cautious.” Corbin pointed at the pickle on Alvarez’s plate. “You gonna eat that?”
Alvarez shook his head.
“Oh, and don’t tell him anything about yourself when you meet. He doesn’t need to know anything about you,” Corbin said.
“Are you sure you trust this guy?”
“I’m just being careful, that’s all.”
“Do we really need him?”
“Do you want to go up there by yourself?”
“No, I can’t take all those documents into the banks.”
“There’s your answer.”
Chapter 3
Beckett arrived at work energized the following morning. He’d come up with several ideas during his commute home the prior evening, and he was excited to discuss them with Corbin. But every time he tried, one of their coworkers appeared at the door. They had just seen off the most recent visitor and now Beckett rose to close the door.
“Why are we so popular today?” Beckett asked rhetorically.
Corbin shrugged his shoulders without putting down his magazine. “Our advertising must be working.”
Beckett peered both ways down the hallway and then closed the door. “I’ve been thinking. If this thing works, and it should, then I can go back to my old job because I don’t have to worry about the salary. Whatever we get out of doing this would easily make up financially for the lack of a promotion.”
“Ok,” Corbin said cautiously. He put down the magazine, pursed his lips, and scratched his neck.
“If I give Kak my notice so I can quit and take back my old job, and we do this on my last day here, no one would ever think I wasn’t here. As long as I’m back in time for the goodbye party, everybody’ll swear I was here all day.”