Chapter Fifteen: First Heist

Pushing the trolley in a straight line while trying not to veer into a shelf proved to be quite a feat for me. A drunk could have done better trolley work than me.

I was tossing and turning in bed all night and had just went into REM mode when Kieran shook me awake, wanting me to follow him to the grocery store. I dozed off in the car, my face smushed up against the window. When he opened my door, I had fallen head-first to the ground so in addition to my drowsiness, I also had scratches on my arm and cheek.

“Ten years’ worth of food in the pantry,” I grumbled. “We need to go grocery shopping at nine in the freaking morning for what now?”

“I usually come here at eight but I guessed that you had a late night,” Kieran said, examining the label on a can of peas.

“You talk like sleep doesn’t exist.”

“All of us are accustomed to less than five hours of sleep per night,” he shrugged. My jaws parted in an almighty yawn when he placed the canned peas into the trolley and walked further down the aisle. “Where’s the corned beef?”

Wearily, I pushed my metal car after Kieran, leaning against the handle bar lazily. An elderly lady rolled her own trolley in the opposite direction, the front wheel click-clacking crazily. Behind her thick glasses, she squinted at the shelves of jams and spreads parallel to the canned goods, brow creased in consternation as she scanned the jars.

“Oh, dear me,” she said after a while. By then I was quite a ways down the aisle though I could hear her little exclamation. Ditching Kieran, I cruised back to the old lady, gliding smoothly to a stop right beside her.

“Maybe I could help, ma'am?” I offered. She turned to me, startled that someone had overheard her.

“Yes, please. I can’t seem to find the blueberry jam. And I desperately need it for my tea party this afternoon.” She had an English accent and a lilting voice, a little like Adriel’s. I liked the way she said ‘tea party’ so delicately, so daintily. Giving the multitudinously stocked jam shelves a once over, I reached for a jar of blueberry jam that I'd seen in the fridge at the house. It didn't taste half bad and was price-worthy.

“Here,” I said, handing the glass jar to her. “There are a few more. This one is wholly organic. Unless you prefer sweeter jams?”

She accepted the jar from me gratefully, taking my word for it.

“No, this is alright. Bless you, dearie,” she smiled, patting my arm with a soft, wrinkled hand.

“You’re welcome. Have a nice tea party,” I called to her, already zipping off on my trolley. She gave me a wave I would have missed if I hadn’t slowed down to take a corner. Kieran was four aisles down, at the frozen food section.

“Where’d you go?” he asked, pulling open a refrigerator door to retrieve two hunks of beef in vacuumed sealed packs and a pack of minced meat.

“Missed me? Missed you, too.”

Kieran chuckled, closing the door of the industrial fridge and dropping the meat into my trolley. "You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

We locked gazes fleetingly. I saw the warmth in his eyes, the Duchenne markers that told of the sincerity of his smile. Right then I chose to allow myself to get lost in the moment. For too many days I had been clinging to what could not be changed and worrying about what could happen after. Constant detachment from reality like that was tiring. For the first time since my kidnapping, I was here. I was smiling at a guy who was returning my smile. If this wasn't a connection then I'd been lied to my entire life.

A recollection of the overheard conversation outside my room door came to mind. Warmth suffused through me, the source being his smile and bright eyes.

Maybe being sleep-deprived and forced to go grocery shopping at 9am in a store that closed at 10pm wasn’t so bad after all.

When we got back, it was a quarter past ten. Tommy was resting; Adriel was out on business. The moment we set the groceries down, Kieran announced that he’d be making brunch and I was going to be assistant chef today whether I liked it or not. I had no objections to that, letting him boss me around the kitchen as he bustled from left to right, pulling out pots and spices. I chose a knife that I liked out of his collection and discovered that I wasn’t half bad at slicing, dicing and chopping.

“What’s with the fake cover-ups?” Kieran suddenly asked. He was peeling the skin off boiled potatoes, a dishtowel draped over his shoulder. I was chopping onions, trying my best not to cry then thinking, maybe I could suffocate Tommy with chopped onions. He’d know what pain is then.

Idiot, my other half responded. He got shot. Isn’t that pain enough?

“What cover-ups?”

“The girlfriends, the parties, the awful pop songs,” he rattled off, chucking a freshly peeled potato into a big bowl. “It doesn't fit into your personality well.”

I pulled a face, scrunching up my nose and screwing my eyes shut. Not for the reasons you think but because the sharp, pungent fumes that seeped out from the millions of pores in the chopped onions had my eyes and nose reacting furiously to it.

“I know,” I admitted freely, then shrugged, unwilling to explore that topic too deeply. I didn’t even bother asking him how he knew. “While I don’t always agree with my life, I guess I figured you just have to do what you have to just to belong.”

Now, that was a big issue for me: belonging.

“That’s bullshit,” Kieran scoffed.

I rolled my stinging eyes. “Like you’d ever understand.” I expected a smart-ass comeback from him but all I got was silence. That unnerved me.

“You’re saying the you we spend time with and the you we tracked are two completely different girls?” he finally queried after a considerable amount of time had passed.

“Different though not completely.” I sniffled, tears rolling down my cheeks shamelessly.

“Crap, Deidre, I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Kieran said just as another male voice piped up, “Key, would you quit hurting her feelings already?”

Adriel walked right in, narrowing his baby blue gaze at his friend irritably.

“They’re just onions,” I informed them, waving a hand in the air. “Not worth getting worked up over, trust me.”

“Oh. Good then.” Adriel picked up a single garlic clove and flicked it at Kieran, hitting him square in the back. “I’d beat his arse if he ever made you cry.”

“I’ll whoop your ass if you keep playing with food,” the potato-peeler fired back. I gave my onions one more chop before gathering them with my knife and dumping them all in a bowl.

“When were you planning on telling us you found our evil lair?” Adriel randomly asked, like it was a question he went about asking everyone.

“Hey, have you found our lair yet? Its’ secret and hidden.”

I froze.

“It’s not an evil lair, nerd. It’s just a hidden bunker.”

“I can call it what I want!”

Both of them turned to me, awaiting my answer.

“I – I’m afraid I don’t follow,” I lied. Adriel wiggled his eyebrows.

“You’re a good liar but we have built-in lie detectors so it’d just be pointless.”

“Plus, an alarm goes off whenever an unauthorized person enters,” Kieran affirmed, turning back to his potatoes. “It’s rigged to our phones.”

“Tommy probably found out the minute the door opened,” Adriel added. I blanched.

“None of us are going to kill you,” Kieran snorted, reading my thoughts without looking at me. “We’re just curious as to why you didn’t ask us about it right away.”

Well, what a statement, Kieran. Let’s all just go around our kidnappers’ house discovering things they shouldn’t discover and tell said kidnappers that their secrets have been busted. I couldn’t believe these guys.

“If it isn’t that big of a deal then why keep it from me?” I spluttered, unable to come up with anything better.

“Why tell you?” Kieran queried.

“Because – Because . . .”

Because what, Deidre? Because you were “one of them”? You live with them and they tolerate you for the sole reason of using you as bait to lure your boss into their trap.

Oh yeah? I challenged my deranged conscious. Then why have I been sitting around doing nothing for the past week?

You’re the one with the brain. You figure that out.

The boys had picked up on my internal debate. Or maybe I was thinking out loud. Oh my Lord.

“It never crossed our minds,” Adriel said. “Having you around is like. . . like. . .”

“Like having one of us around,” Kieran offered. I blinked once, twice, staring at the small space between the window and the kitchen counter. He did not just say that. I wasn’t supposed to be “one of them”. I was a victim; I had a home to get back to, things to do. Yet, my heart skipped a beat at his words. The guys exchanged looks upon perceiving the poker face I put on to mask my conflicted feelings. Adriel shot me a grin, his blue eyes lighting up.

“Wanna go down there again?”

+++

They had a friend who cooked up their security app for them. Two chips were in the wall on each side of the four-feet wide corridor, about one footstep in. Every time the hidden door was open and the motion-sensor lights came on, the chips would be activated. As the guys walked past with their phones, this app would deactivate the chips. If a person walked past without deactivating said chips, a warning would pop up on the guys’ phones, indicating an intruder.

“It’s like the supermarket,” I mused, toying with Adriel’s phone. Their friend was awesome. Each of them had their own version of the security app – Securapp, it was called – where they could personalize it to suit their own preferences. Customized themes, preferred warning tones, scanner sensitivity, the works. I was fiddling with his warning notification, trying to find a sound that would scare the living daylights out of him when he heard it.

Kieran leaned against the computer table, regarding me with a look of mild approval.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Like security scanners.”

“Only much more sensitive,” Adriel put in. He was sat in front of a computer, finger idly moving against the roller of his mouse.

“eSale. Really.” My voice came out mocking and sarcastic, turning my supposed question into a statement. Adriel shrugged, not bothering to grace me with the deeds.

“It’s my personal computer,” he defended himself a moment later.

He spoke the truth, of course. In fact, out of the five desktops there, three were personal ones, each belonging to one guy. The remaining two computers were used for tracking and storing files on their targets. Funny, because I always thought you’d need several computers to keep an eye on everything. I guess they kept things simple.

“Who’s got the bulls’ eye on his back now?” I asked, gesturing to the last two computers as I set Adriel’s phone down. He’ll thank me for the new notification warning tone later.

“Bulls eyes,” Adriel corrected me, rolling over to the end of the curved table on his squeaky office chair. “We multi-task.” He tapped the spacebar on one of the keyboards lightly and the 21-inch screen came to life. A few clicks here and there and up popped a candid of a familiar guy, along with several other shots of various people. I pointed to the first picture.

“Chad Pollock,” I said. “I don't like him.” His visage was unpleasant to look at. I shuddered, thinking about his crooked nose and the gold teeth he had to replace his broken teeth.

“You'd think a guy named Pollock would have an office job,” Adriel said, double-clicking on his picture to enlarge it. “You know him?”

I nodded. “Used to work for him.”

There was a space of a year where Danny and I had a falling out. I worked for other people then, sometimes travelling to different districts for a job. None of them lasted more than a month: my boss would be too mean, or my work too far, or one of the dealers would frame me to cover for themselves. There was always a problem until I finally sucked it up and went back to Danny.

Kieran arched an eyebrow when he heard that. He beckoned to Adriel and they had a whispered discussion. I was too preoccupied to bother eavesdropping: jumping down five steps in one go was pretty easy. Parkour guys could cover an entire flight of stairs just as easily. I stood at the bottom level and attempted to leap up the stairs. Unfortunately, i was unable to clear the last step, sending me sprawling to the cold, unwelcoming cement.

“Deidra, love,” Adriel called.

“Did you fall?” Kieran asked, already laughing. I rolled over to my side, wincing. Parkour might be too extreme for me, even if it was just five steps.

“I needed a nap,” I defended myself, ears growing hot with embarrassment.

Adriel got up. I heard the office chair as it rolled away. He came over to me and got down on one knee.

Oh, my goodness.

“Look, Adriel,” I said hurriedly, scrambling to get up. I dusted my hands. “We just met. And this isn’t a really good time. Given different circumstances, I’d consider it. I mean, you are hot but . . .” I shook my head, not wanting to continue. I meant every word and I had no intention of crushing his hopes, even if he was one of my kidnappers. Rejection could hurt more than a shot in the shoulder.

I offered him an apologetic smile; he just looked perplexed.

“She thinks you’re proposing, man,” Kieran informed his confused friend. Alarm taking over his features, Adriel stood up as well, clearing his throat.

“You’re not?”

For a minute, the guys regarded me with something between horror and fear, like they were worried they had hurt my feelings. I shrugged.

“Good to know,” I said. “You’re not my type.”

Adriel looked offended and was about to shoot back a smart remark when Kieran cut in.

“Want to help us on a case?”

+++

“What if Tommy finds out?” I fretted.

The three of us stood outside an enormous warehouse, one I was all too familiar with. We had on black jeans and jumpers complete with a black beanie each: the starter pack for spies. The short sprint from the SUV parked about 500 meters away to the side of the warehouse had left me winded and nervous.

“Cold feet?” Adriel teased, glancing around to make sure we were alone. I reached up to touch his cheek and he recoiled. “Holy shit, your hands are icy!”

“I’m nervous,” I explained.

“Too late for that.” Kieran tugged at my arm, pulling me after him. I struggled to keep up with his long strides. We reached the back, where the dumpsters stood. More than seven feet above those dumpsters were a set of windows, each barely wide enough for a man to fit through. Another set of windows sat a meter apart from the initial set, and another and another.

“Come on,” Kieran whispered, running towards the dumpsters. Upon reaching one, he raised his hands to grip the edge and launched himself up with all the ease and grace of an athlete. A pole-vaulting, hurdle-jumping, board-diving athlete. Adriel followed, going up just as easily. I didn’t bother imitating them.

“I can’t reach the windows!” I hissed after the guys had pulled me up.

“That’s what we’re here for,” Kieran hissed back.

“Why are you both hissing?” Adriel wondered. Then he lowered himself, almost as if he were doing squats, and locked his hands together at the fingers. Kieran did the same. “We’ll give you a boost, love.”

“This is wrong, this is wrong,” I kept repeating. Shakily, I put my right foot into Adriel’s palms and a hand on his shoulder to steady myself before lifting my other foot. I felt them each tighten their grip on my foot as the slowly raised me up.

“Now, reach for the ledge and pull yourself up, okay?” Adriel instructed. I swallowed, stretching my arms up. The height didn’t scare me; the knowledge of what I was doing did. Stuff like this always had consequences. Darn it, why did I have to agree to this?

The ledge felt cool under my sweaty fingers. I curled my hands around the metal edge, tightening my grip to pull myself up. The guys pushed firmly from below, making sure I could handle myself before releasing me. My body was now half in, half out, permitting me a glimpse of the inside.

Few of the several fluorescent light bulbs that ran along the walls had been left on, giving out little light. As my eyes adjusted, I recalled what was where. There was an empty storage room at the end, not too far from where I was currently hanging. The ginormous pile of old newspapers was still a ginormous pile of old newspapers, only more ginormous. There were stray tables and chairs and a beat-up Kombi.

My gaze travelled far and wide, eventually settling on a shiny Dodge Viper. Just to make sure, I patted my pocket – with much difficulty – to make sure the chip Adriel had handed to me hadn’t fallen out.

“Get to the car, plant the chip, get out of here,” I muttered under my breath.

“Are you stuck?” Kieran called up to me. His voice startled me from my muttered mission. I accidentally let go of the ledge I was struggling to hold on to and lost my balance, tipping frontwards with a squeak of surprise.