Smash & Grab (18 page)

Detective Hobbs puts a hand on my shoulder. “Most tellers never encounter that type of robbery. The note jobs are the most common and usually happen so quietly and quickly that only the targeted teller is aware that a robbery is taking place at all.” She turns to Trisha. “When you worked downstairs, did you ever experience a takeover?”

Trisha shakes her head.

“See? Even though the Romero Robbers hit the Bank of America just down the street, the odds of them targeting LL National while you're here are slim to none. There's too much heat this close to the last target. Every employee here has security pictures of them and is watching for men matching their description.”

“I can say unequivocally that we'll get 'em no matter where they show up,” Detective Martin says, his blue eyes like frozen fire. “Because I won't give up till we do.”

Rosie drops me off
at the Madison Street house after work. She keeps trying to lure me into a conversation—has been all afternoon. I'm not biting. I haven't been able to focus since my meeting with Lexi.

I keep going over it in my head, looking for some way to make sense of how she acted—that and replaying the moment when she dropped out of the sky and onto the car that first night. More and more she fits the Bond girl profile: mysterious, bold, and up to something. She's one very sexy puzzle, and all I want to do is put the pieces together. Except I can't. Not yet. Soldado's called a meeting. He's never done this before. Usually all his communication is done through Gabriel. The less we're all together in one place before a job, the better. I don't like it. Everything feels out of my control and risky as hell.

The house is dark, the windows papered over so you can't see inside, but there is a weak arc of light bleeding into the backyard, barely visible from the food truck. There are a handful of cars scattered along the street. I spot Soldado's and Gabriel's right off. And then there's the one that Twitch was driving the other day. I don't recognize the fourth car.

“I'm not going in,” Rosie says as she idles at the curb. “Gabriel's driving Benny home. You can hitch a ride with him.”

“You don't want to say hi to your boyfriend?”

She shakes her head. “Not here.” Her face tightens as she gazes up at the house, but she doesn't say anything else. Lips pursed, she taps the steering wheel impatiently.

I slip out of the car. The minute my door's shut, she pulls out onto the road again.
Breathe and focus, bro,
I tell myself as I walk up the driveway with a confidence I don't feel, and knock on the front door. Twitch opens it almost immediately, a forty in his hand. He tips it to his mouth and drinks deep. “S'up, vato?” He motions me in and saunters to the back of the house. It's quiet. No music. No talking. Unsettling as all get-out.

I round the corner into the main living space, where Soldado, Gabriel, Carlos, Eddie, and Benny are all sitting on camping chairs. Everybody but Benny's got a forty, too. Benny's like me. Neither of us drinks much. At all, really. Alcohol withdrawal is no joke. I have memories of my dad going through it that I can't ever get rid of. I can barely smell the stuff without my stomach turning. Benny doesn't drink because he says he hates being out of control.

I take a seat on the low wall that separates the kitchen from the living room.

“Christian.” Soldado tips his beer in my direction. “Okay, now that we're all here, let's get to it.”

Twitch disappears into the other room and brings out a stack of maps and blueprints that he spreads across the floor. No telling who Soldado had to bribe to get them.

“This one here shows the pipe system beneath the financial district,” Soldado explains. “LL National is here.” He points to a Sharpied-in black rectangle right above a section of pipes and access tunnels. “My dig crew's breached this tunnel here and is digging a path from there right under LL National. We got maybe another two weeks of digging before they're underneath it. That's about five days before you go in to do the job. I need the exact location of the vault way before then so we don't waste time we don't have digging in the wrong spot.

“Christian, you have until the end of this week to get the interior layout of the bank's lower level. Gabriel, you ask your old man to give you the name of his phone company connection. We need him to reroute the alarm calls that come in from the bank to one of our guys from now until you leave the bank. So that way when we dig right up under the vault itself and the alarm goes off, our guy'll be the one interceptin' those calls. Already got the cops managed. Paid off two to make sure they work that part of the city exclusively and can make an appearance at the bank to check things out so the bank managers don't get suspicious. Benny and Eddie, you two run down to San Diego and snag the supplies your crew's gonna need once you're in. Here's the dude's contact number. The meeting's already set. They got you tools to jimmy the safe-deposit boxes open. Ammo. Extra guns. Camping lanterns. You'll have at least one full day inside the vault—that Sunday—to empty it. Take everything not nailed down. The only thing we leave is the night deposit and the ATM.”

Soldado looks up at us. “You enter the tunnels early Sunday morning. You gotta walk to here.” He stabs a finger at the map. “We'll have four ATVs gassed up and waiting in this side tunnel. You ride 'em to the tunnel under the bank. My guys blow the vault floor. You climb up. You get it all before sunrise Monday morning and then you load up the ATVs and drive the haul out. There's an abandoned warehouse a mile from the entrance to this access tunnel. Ditch the ATVs there. Twitch will take care of them. Then you get into the getaway car and come straight here. We split the take same as always. Launder it a little at a time. Use the usual places.”

“And then we retire?” I ask. “We just walk. The Eme lets us go.”

Soldado stares at me. “That's what I said, right? The heat from this one's gonna be intense. They'll be looking for you. When this heist is done, consider yourselves free, but don't be stupid. You got my word this is it long as you pull it off right.” Soldado looks me right in the eye and smiles. “Go to college if you want. Hell, whatever. Sky's the limit.”

I'll get to go to UCLA. I'd be excited except for the one giant, glaring catch: first I have to help pull off the biggest heist this city's seen in decades. As organized and easy as Soldado's made it sound, there are about a million things that could go wrong, nearly half of them out of our control. More than a few with Lexi's name on them.

“So where you at with getting the bank information we need?” Soldado asks, obviously eager to get back to the planning.

“I'll have it by Saturday night,” I say. “Middle of next week at the latest.”

Soldado leans back in his chair, and the whole thing creaks in protest. “No kidding? Well, well, looks like you rediscovered your enthusiasm. You gettin' it from the girl?”

I stiffen. “What girl?”

“You think Rosie and I don't talk? The girl interning at LL National. Angela. Rosie said she's some college intern gringa.” He whistles appreciatively. “Cute, too. I underestimated you, son.”

“Absolutely you did,” I say. Better he thinks I'm just charming her into getting what I need. I don't want him to know it's blackmail.

“And you're sure she's not suspicious?” Soldado asks, his eyes sharp.

“I told her I'm trying to be a writer and that I have this story idea about a bank heist I need her help with,” I lie. “Said I'd name a character after her if she did. Besides, she's hot for me, so I'm takin' her out this Saturday. A couple of dates, she won't care what I'm up to, trust me.” I sound like a first-class jerk.

“You're brainy enough to pull that off, no doubt,” Gabriel says, half impressed, half resentful.

“Dude, hell yeah!” Carlos laughs, coming in for dap I only halfheartedly return.

“All right. So we're square for now. Gabriel's got the map. He'll be my go-between with you guys after today, same as always. Do your jobs. Just because I ain't meeting with you after this doesn't mean I don't got my eyes on you twenty-four/seven. Eme's orders.” Soldado tosses his beer can in an empty box and walks out without looking back, Twitch trailing after him. Suddenly Psycho knocks on the sliding glass door leading into the room we're sitting in. He puts his face right up to the glass and grins. Soldado must've had him walking the perimeter. Anger, lava-hot and explosive, courses through me. I don't care that he was following orders; he didn't have to hold that gun to Maria's head. I would've gotten the point. I don't like that he's here. Soldado should have never let him get jumped in to Florencia Heights. He likes the threats and violence too much.

I make a move toward the sliding glass doors, breathing hard, my hands balling up into fists.

Psycho watches, smirking. I kick the door, rattling the glass, and he doesn't even flinch.

“Ease up, man. You don't want to start something with him, 'cause he'll finish it,” Benny says, grabbing my arms, holding me back. “He's packing right this minute and you're not. What're you gonna do? Shoot him with your finger?”

Psycho pats the glass one time and then turns around and disappears into the shadows. I can hear faint laughter and then a car horn from out front. Even if Soldado's got faith in us, it's obvious the Eme's got Psycho keeping an extra eye out. And he's just dying for me to screw up.

“You're not going back.
It's over.” Quinn is practically yelling at me as he paces around the bonfire. We're in Leo's backyard, which just so happens to be the beach, the whole crew gathered on bright red Adirondack chairs, our feet in the sand. I had everyone meet me here after I finished up at LL National so I could tell them about Christian and the Romero Robbers. And it's going exactly how I thought it would. Badly.

“But I haven't gotten anything on Harrison yet!” I yell back, frustrated.

“Because there isn't anything to get. I've been listening in on him nonstop, Lex. I hacked his home computer last week. I've been reading through every single file, and nothing. Nothing. Oliver and I even went to his house and looked through his home office the other night just in case he's so generationally handicapped that he still keeps paper files. Still nothing. We had to con our way in with a dozen heart balloons and a story about wanting to put them in Bianca's room to convince her to date me again. Ask me how much fun that was.”

“Better have been no fun at all,” Whitney says, arms folded.

Quinn stops behind her and puts his arms around her neck. “You have nothing to worry about,” he says, nuzzling her.

I feel like someone hit the fast-forward button on their relationship. Two days ago they were teetering on exclusive; now they're all in. It makes me feel weird to have been absent for the transition. It's one thing to feel removed from the kids at school, but I couldn't handle it if that happened with my friends.

“Look,” I say, “I'm not planning on meeting him without you guys there to back me up. And I'll let him know right away that I have my own evidence—the pictures of him in the van—and that I've got copies that I've arranged to be sent directly to the cops if he tries anything. Also, I've been doing some thinking. We need money, Quinn. So why not blackmail him to give us some of the take? I get the security information he needs, and in return he gives us a cut. We get the money but assume practically none of the risk.”

“Yeah? And how do we manage to explain the sudden windfall to Mom and Dad?” Quinn asks.

“We don't. We use the money a little at a time, so gradually that no one notices. It won't be all that much anyway, just enough to keep us afloat. I sat in on a seminar today with the LAPD, and they talked about Christian's robberies. By the time his team splits the take after a job, they don't even clear ten thousand dollars each.”

“So then it's hardly worth it,” Quinn argues. “Why do it?”

“Uh, have you forgotten that we have a cash-flow problem? Something beats nothing every day of the week. Think of it as a creative method of withdrawing some of the money Mom and Dad had in their accounts at LL National. The bank doesn't care about what happens to us. Why should we care about the bank? It's as good a way as any to get a little revenge, don't you think? I still want to go after Harrison. This is just a little bonus.”

“And what if Christian's group gets caught this time? What then?” Quinn asks.

“We make sure that we get rid of any evidence that might connect us to the crime, like those pictures he has on his phone. And if that proves impossible, I could say that Christian heard about us through the newspapers and that he blackmailed me into infiltrating the bank to get him insider information. It would be my word against his. You can wipe your computer so there's no way to refute it. In the face of a total lack of evidence, who in their right mind is going to believe him over me?” Admittedly, I would feel bad if it went down like this and I was forced to lie, but given the Romero Robbers' track record, it seems unlikely it will. Still, my gut starts churning. I shouldn't feel bad for him. But somehow, inexplicably, I do.

“Now that that's settled, let's get back to Harrison. What else can we do to investigate?”

“What we really need is his computer password at the office so we can log on as him and go through his files and emails there. It's the only place we haven't been able to check out,” Leo says.

Quinn shakes his head. “I've tried to remote hack the bank's system. So far no luck. Server security is tight. We need a way to access his computer in person.”

“I have a question about the robbery thing. How are you going to get this guy to give up the details of the job? Seems like we should know when they plan to hit the bank and how many of them there are, that sort of thing.” Elena chews on her lip as she mulls it over.

“We need to get Christian's phone so I can get the pictures he has. When we do, we look for texts between him and the other robbers. Quinn, Leo, and Oliver could take turns following him over the next couple of days. Find out where he goes. Who he meets up with. Where he lives.”

“The dude is a bank robber, Lex. And you want to break into his place to get his phone? No way. That's suicidal.” Elena traces a circle in the sand with her toe and thinks. “Unless…unless we make positively sure he's not home. I mean, really make sure. And we get in and out fast. Leave zero evidence we were there.”

Quinn rubs his chin with one hand and breathes heavy. “So we get what we need from Christian and we work on Harrison. That's two breaking-and-entering-type maneuvers we have to plan in a short period of time. Before your meeting with Christian. So three days.”

Leo sits back in his chair and stares at the sky. “We've never pulled anything off in that short a time period. Risky. Definitely risky.” Then he smiles. “But if we manage it, it'll be the most epic series of BAMs we've ever done.”

Quinn rubs his chin and clears his throat. “About the office break-in. Maybe we could pose as a cleaning crew. We would need a back way into the building, something unexpected. And some uniforms.” I want to do a little dance because he's already working things out. He's 100 percent on board even if he hasn't come right out and said it. “The security cameras pose a problem. We either have to get into the security room where the footage is reviewed—which will be impossible because it's monitored by security guards at all times—or figure out a way to cover up the camera near Harrison's office just long enough to get what we need and get out.”

“Hey, you guys ever watch
Ocean's Eleven
? Remember how they used the balloons to block the camera? Can we riff off that somehow? Pose as delivery people or something and then slip upstairs?” Whitney asks.

“Hold on,” Oliver says, barely loud enough to be heard over the crashing waves. He leans closer to the fire and fiddles with his lighter. “Oh my god, it's freaking perfect. LL National is under renovation, right?”

“Right,” Quinn says.

“And my dad's running that job, right?”

“Well, are you going to tell us what you're thinking?” Elena stops making toe circles in the sand.

Oliver looks at each of us, considering. “Yeah, definitely, but first—how well can you guys climb?”