Page 120 of Kept in the Dark
She chews on the inside of her cheek. “Let me text Mac and see if he thinks it’s safe enough.”
“Sure. Just… um… don’t tell him I’m staying, or ask him not to tell Dimitri. I don’t want to distract him from the job, and I have some serious groveling to do.”
Her thumbs make a soft clacking noise against the screen as she types out her question, and she holds it, staring at the open message chain. He responds instantly. “He says it’s okay to stop there. They’ve cast the signal on the flash drive thingy, so chances are low that anyone is still watching. And he knows it’s broad daylight, on a fairly busy street. That next message is for me…” she blushes, angling the phone away from me so I won’t see whatever private words he sent. “And then he’s reminding mehow to circle the block and keep an eye out for plainclothes officers. Okay. Mac stamp of approval. Let’s go get that album.”
She pulls out of the parking lot, and I watch the bus station disappear into the background with a buzzing sort of excitement. As she navigates across the city to my barely lived-in rental, our chatter is lighthearted, full of the first deep bonds of sisterhood.
“I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he realizes you didn’t leave,” she says, giggling. “He’s gonna be all, ‘this pleases me greatly,’ which is like Dimitri for, ‘I’ve never been happier.’”
I laugh at her terrible accent. “You sound like the Count from Sesame Street.” We grin at one another, and after a beat, I tell her, “Mac is really lucky.”
“Because of how good I am at impressions?”
“Because you’re amazing. So insightful.”
“I know,” she says gravely. “Everyone’s always so surprised by it. Do you think my bangs make me look younger than I am or something? I’ve been thinking about growing them out.”
I laugh as she lifts a hand and parts them in the middle to show me how much more serious and adult she looks when I can see her forehead.
We arrive at the top of my street, and the mood in the car immediately shifts. Eleanor’s eyes dart around, up and down, and in every car window as she circles the block. I try to help, but I don’t really know what to look for.
“Okay, I think we’re good. I’m going to park in that spot over there,” she points. “In and out, five minutes, right? Pull up the hood of your sweatshirt just in case.”
I do just that and pop out of the car.
Luckily, the front door opens with a code, and the U-Haul key is still hanging on the little key hook that the previous tenant left screwed into the wall. Heart racing from adrenaline like I’m actively being chased, I snatch the orange keychain and scurry down the short driveway in frontof the row home towards the back of the truck with the recognizable orange branding. I jiggle the key in the lock when the door won’t roll up automatically, and curse to myself as it catches halfway. Piece of shit… it smelled like cigarettes in the front cab, too, which I now remember gave me a wicked headache for most of the 10-hour drive.
I climb up into the back and start rearranging boxes to get to the row near the front. It doesn’t take too long, since I’m organized and methodical, and I know I’m looking for the one labeled “Mementos and Misc Office.”
Just as I get my fingernail under the clear packing tape, I hear the grinding of metal against metal and spin around in time to see the rolling door close. My heart leaps into my throat, and I shoot towards the disappearing opening, but before I make it two full steps, I hear the resounding metallic click echoing in the dark chamber around me, locking me inside.
38
Dimitri
For her, I will beg.
“Anything yet?”
“Negative. That car just turned on the next road, and they’re not looping back. Whatcha got, Big D?”
“Nothing on the ground.”
I am in the back of our warehouse, where we set off the USB, waiting in the shadows. I can see the area behind the warehouse up to the line of trees about a mile away. Though I do not have James’s eagle eyes, I would be able to detect movement. There is only one road, and farms for miles. Wesley’s van is parked behind a barbed wire fence and has been made to look derelict. That van is my exit strategy if things get out of hand and I need a quick escape.
The warehouse was a good choice for our setup. It is remote, defensible, and it looks abandoned. Volkevich’s men will approach with caution, and assume they are being watched; but there is no way for them to spot James up in a crow’s nest, nearly a kilometer away, or me hidingbehind so much concrete. And if we are overwhelmed by their numbers, well… that is what the backup plan is for.
If anyone ever fucking shows. We sent the signal hours ago.
“So… I know I said I wouldn’t pry, but since we’re all sitting here with our dicks in our hands…”
Wesley is the one who makes a knowing noise.“You’re a dog with a bone.”
“Don’t tell me you’re not curious, Wes.”
“I was trying to give him some space. Not all of us have such shite impulse control.”
“Whatever—tell that to my five total career missed shots. Anyway, what gives, D? One minute you’re ready to ask her to move in, and the next you’re having Wes put together a getaway package and telling us to fuck off when we ask about it? It’s bullshit. Like Wes said, she’s part of our dysfunctional family. Don’t make me a child of divorce.”
