Without a Hitch (5 page)
“Yeah, we worked
something out.”
“Looks like you
got the better end of the deal though.”
“Some you win,
some you lose. So what does Kak want with your little friend?”
“Kak wants to
make sure all of Evan’s safety concerns are properly addressed.”
Molly wrinkled her
nose. “Did you ever notice Kak looks a lot like Santa, only evil?”
Corbin
chuckled. “Yeah, that struck me too. Are you going for coffee?”
“Uh, hello!
Cookie! Where do you think I got this?” Molly waved the cookie around.
“So you’ve
already been?”
“You know,
they’re right about you. . . you’re smart.”
“All right. Go
paint your nails or whatever you do around here,” Corbin responded patronizingly.
It was well-known Molly spent most of her day working on her nails or reading
the paper. She preferred filing her nails into squares, rather than ovals, and
painting them in darker colors rather than light. In newspapers, she preferred
The Post
, as do most government workers. When it came to
work-related activities, she was less particular.
Molly placed her
left hand on her hip and stomped her foot, causing cookie crumbs to fall to the
floor. At the same time, she used her best exasperated voice to half-shout:
“Are you trying to be sexist?!”
Corbin laughed.
“No, but that’s all I’ve ever seen you do around here.”
“I’ve done other
things.”
“I’m sure.”
Corbin chuckled.
Molly moved the
cookie from her right hand to her left and shook the crumbs from her right hand
onto Corbin’s floor. “Is your buddy going to complain to Wilson about Kak and
this safety thing?” Cooper Wilson was Kak’s boss, though he could rarely be
found at the office.
“No, no point in
that. Wilson’s just a continuation of Kak by other means.”
“Ain’t that the
truth. Well, I should get back to my office. I wouldn’t want to interfere
with your
work
,” Molly said, motioning toward the magazine on Corbin’s
desk. “Oh, and if you ever feel like painting your nails,” Molly said with a
wink, “just drop by.”
A few minutes
later, Beckett returned to the office. He was whistling.
“You seem
chipper,” Corbin said suspiciously. “How’d it go?”
“He had me sign
a new form. He also told me to hide the wires behind a box. He’s paranoid it
will reflect poorly on him if GSA learns about these problems.”
“Give me a break!
He’s not even responsible for acquiring the building or maintaining it. Why
should he care?”
“I think he’s
afraid of outsiders snooping around.”
“Figures. So he
got you to recant?”
“On the new
form, yes.” Beckett smiled. “
But
, I also swiped the old form.”
“You know. . .
you might want to let this go.”
“No. I’m not
letting him get away with making us work in a dangerous environment when all he
has to do is tell GSA what the problems are and they can have them fixed. I’m
standing firm on this one.”
“Don’t make
waves. We’ve got more important issues to deal with right now.”
“Do you know ‘The
Rime of the Ancient Mariner’? That’s my favorite poem from back in grade
school. Kak is our albatross.”
“I thought the
Mariner shot the albatross. I don’t recall ever shooting Kak.”
“You’re thinking
too literally. It’s about salvation.”
Corbin rolled
his eyes.
“You should hear
this, it could be important?”
“No, thanks.
Besides, isn’t it time for you to call your wife?”
Beckett looked
at his watch. Every day in the afternoon, Beckett called his wife to make up
for not being able to come home for lunch. Even though they’d been married
almost twenty years, Beckett still went out of his way to provide little
romantic gestures, like bringing flowers or making these calls. “So it is.”
“And while you
do that,” Corbin said, pulling tax forms out of his drawer, “I’m gonna do my
taxes to see how much Uncle Sam plans to sodomize me this year.”
“You need more
deductions. You should have kids.”
“Aren’t they
expensive?”
“Not if you
don’t feed ’em.”
“I tried that
once with fish. . . they died.”
“Kids are more
resilient.” As he fished his phone card out of his desk, Beckett pointed
toward a black guitar case leaning against the wall in the corner of the
office. “I meant to ask, what’s that?”
“That’s my
guitar.”
“I guessed that
part. The shape kind of gave it away. What’s it doing here?”
“I play at a
local club sometimes. I usually go home before heading to the club, but today
I need to get the oil changed in my car, so I don’t have time to stop at home.
I didn’t want to leave the guitar in my car.”
“I didn’t know
you played guitar?”
“Yeah. I’ve
played for years, but I only started playing publicly about six months ago,
when I read an article about local clubs letting people play on open mic
nights. I was bored sitting at home, so I found one of those clubs and started
playing.”
“What songs do
you play?”
“It depends on
my mood. When I first started I asked around to see what other people were
playing, because I didn’t know what people wanted to hear. I ended up with a
pretty long list. Truthfully though, the list is a little dull,” Corbin said
with more than a hint of disappointment in his voice. He didn’t tell Beckett
he had written several songs, but hadn’t yet worked up the courage to play them.
“Are you any
good?”
“The manager
seems pretty happy with me. He’s even asked me to fill in on other nights once
in a while.”
“Wow! Do you
have any fans?”
“Not that I know
of, but no one’s thrown any produce at me.”
A few days
later, Corbin entered the office holding a calendar of upcoming events. “I
think I found the day we need to do this.”
“Why? What
gives?”
“On June 14th,
they’re having a hearing upstairs on amendments to our rules. At the start of
the hearing, the recorder will take the names of everyone in attendance. If I
sit in, my name will appear in an official United States government record as
being present at the hearing on that date and time. Talk about an unbreakable
alibi.”
“Are you still
going to have time to do everything else?”
“Yeah. The
hearing doesn’t start until ten, and it’s supposed to stop by noon. Plus,
after the hearing starts and my name is recorded, I’ll just slip out the back.”
Beckett smiled.
“Ok, we have a date.”
“I think so.
I’ll clear it with Joe Nobody, but I doubt he’ll object.” Corbin tossed the calendar
into his inbox. “By the way, Nobody and I are gonna start scoping out houses
this weekend. We should know by Monday which of our high earners will make
good candidates.”
“Don’t let
anyone see you.”
“Won’t be a
problem.”
Corbin picked up
his book to read, but he saw Beckett staring out the window. Something clearly
bothered him. “What?” Corbin finally asked.
“Why are you
doing this?” Beckett asked.
“What do you
mean?”
“This whole
scheme. You’re a smart guy. You make good money. In a couple years, you’ll
make a heck of a lot more money in the private sector. You don’t have any
lavish spending habits, and I’ve never known you to be greedy. So I can’t see
money as your motivation. So why take this kind of risk for something you
don’t seem to want or need?”
Corbin set down his
book. “I would have thought my motives were obvious.”
“Not really.”
“You tell me,
Dr. Freud. I thought I was doing it for the money.”
Beckett shook his
head. “No, money’s definitely not your motive.”
“Well, when you
find out, you let me know.”
Monday morning
began as most Mondays do. Corbin and Beckett arrived and checked their mail.
Various coworkers came by to discuss their weekends and to ease their
transitions into the workweek. Around ten, Beckett closed the door. Corbin
assumed Beckett wanted an update on the weekend’s research. He was in for a
shock.
“You did what?!”
Corbin nearly screamed.
“I told Kak I’m
quitting. My last day is June 14.”
“I told you we
need to think about that!”
“I thought you
agreed? You even picked the date last Friday. I just gave him the same date.”
Corbin rested
his head in his hands as he struggled to calm himself. His anger raged beneath
the surface, but he slowly regained control. They needed Beckett, though this
was a huge presumption on his part. Corbin took a deep breath. He spoke
slowly and without uncovering his eyes: “We’re going to work around this, we
have no choice. . . but do not, I repeat,
do not ever
make another
decision without going through me first. There are three of us who need to
agree on all actions. Do you understand me, Evan?!”
“I’m sorry.”
“Do you
understand me, Evan?!” Corbin hissed.
“Yes, I
understand.” Beckett leaned back away from Corbin. “Listen, I’m sorry to drop
this on you, but I thought we worked this out,” Beckett said in a pleading
tone.
Corbin uncovered
his eyes and stared at Evan’s chest. “It’s water under the bridge, let’s not
revisit it,” Corbin said through gritted teeth. “Just get me a list of the out
processing procedures as soon as possible.”
“How did you and
Nobody do this weekend?”
Corbin cleared
his throat, still fighting to suppress his anger. “Fine.”
“Anything
interesting.”
“No.”
“Have you made any
decisions about who we’re going to use?”
“Yes.”
“Who are we
going to use?”
Corbin took
several deep breaths. “We’ve got a list of candidates. We’re going to check
county records this week to make sure they don’t own property we don’t know
anything about. We don’t want to use anyone who’s spent their credit on homes or
rental property.”
“I’m thinking of
running down to Philly this weekend. I could take some pictures of the
downtown, maybe steal a phonebook from a 7-11.”
“Steal a
phonebook?!” Corbin growled.
“We need a list
of banks and mailbox places, right?”
“We can get
those
off the net
.”
“Won’t that
leave a record?”
“We’re not going
to do it here. We’ve got internet access that can’t be traced.”
“How did you get
that?”
“
Don’t worry
about it
,” Corbin clenched his teeth.
“So do you want
me to go to Philly?”
“No.”
“Ok, I’ll spend
the weekend working on my lawn.”
Word of
Beckett’s departure spread instantly. No sooner had Beckett told Kak, than
Beckett found himself summoned to a half-dozen offices. As if on cue, Molly
appeared at their door the moment Beckett left to make the rounds.
“Where’s your
buddy?” Molly asked, as she picked light-blue fluff from her sweater and
dropped it past her brown tweed skirt onto Corbin’s floor, where it gathered
near her feet.
“I don’t know. I
didn’t ask.”
“I hear he’s
leaving our lazy little oasis?”
“That’s what he
tells me.”
“When’s the big
day?”
“June 14th.”
Molly folded her
arms and leaned against the doorframe. “What are you gonna do without your
playmate?”
Corbin shrugged
his shoulders. “They’ll provide me with another one.”
“Uh huh,” Molly
said. She looked around the room, searching for something. “So. . . uh, what
are you two up to?”
Corbin’s heart
jumped. “What do you mean?”
“You guys have
been acting suspiciously lately: closed doors, shouting, whispered
conversations. You’re up to something.”
“Nothing more
than usual.” If Corbin was nervous, he gave no hint of it.
“You know you
can’t keep a secret from me. I will figure it out.”
“There’s nothing
to figure out.”
“We’ll see.”
Molly backed out of the doorway to return to her own office.
Corbin called
after her: “You know there are laws against stalking, right?”
Beckett played
with his salad, though no one but Corbin noticed. Fiddeja’s was just like every
other national chain: busy, noisy, and cluttered. You could do most anything
at a table and no one would notice.
“What do you
think she knows?” Beckett asked, setting down his fork.
“Nothing or she
would have hit me with specific questions. I think she’s just fishing for a
reaction, so be ready if she comes after you next.”
“I don’t like
this. What do you think tipped her off?”
“Gee, I don’t
know. Probably the door being closed so much, maybe the whispered
conversations, maybe the shouting.”
“Should we do
something to mislead her?”
“Hell no! Don’t
overreact, that would convince her she’s right. Just go about our days
normally. She’ll lose interest, she always does.”
Corbin stood on
his cement balcony looking down at the driveway twenty-two floors below. His
old college sweatshirt
protected him from the
cool evening air. He was on the phone with Alvarez. As he listened to Alvarez
rail against Beckett for picking a resignation date without consulting them,
Corbin watched a tow truck turn onto the long circular driveway, causing
several illegally-stopped cars to scatter. One remained though, and the tow
truck soon would have it. The tow truck then would disappear with its prey
firmly in its grasp, as it had on so many other nights. This always reminded
Corbin of a wolf stalking sheep.
“What do you
want me to do about it, Vez?”
“Can’t we drop
him?”
“I don’t see
how. We need a third.”
“Can’t we find
somebody else?”
“Do you know
anyone?” Corbin leaned against the heavy, metal railing which enclosed his
balcony and watched the tow truck latch onto its victim. “Besides, now that he
knows, it’s dangerous to cut him out. How do we know he won’t turn us in just
because he’s pissed? How do we know he doesn’t try something himself and
poison our well. . . so to speak? I think it’s too risky to cut him out now.”
“You’re probably
right,” Alvarez reluctantly conceded.
“Plus, his role
really is limited. He’s just carrying the duffel bag, and only on the first
day. He’s irrelevant after that. It’s not like we’re relying on him to open
the accounts or collect the money.”
The tow truck
pulled away from the curb, dragging the car behind.
“How big of a
problem is this gonna be for you?” Alvarez asked.
“Not super huge,
but it makes things a little more difficult. I’ll probably have to deal with
more people coming by the office to wish him goodbye or good riddance, but
that’s nothing I can’t handle. I’m more concerned he just did this without
consulting us.”
“That bothers me
too. We don’t need him doing something stupid and bringing heat down on us.”
“I’ll talk to
him.”
The tow truck
vanished around the corner with its prey.
