To Sleep Gently (20 page)

Dempster studied it for a while. Out of two hundred boxes, one hundred and forty-seven of them were currently occupied. He looked over at Clark, who was still puffing on his cigarette. "You need to study this." Then to Evan, "And so do you." He handed it back.

"That'll be easy," Evan said.

"Y'think so?" Clark asked. "That's a lotta boxes to remember."

"Out of two hundred boxes, a hundred and forty-seven of them are full, right? That leaves only fifty-three empty. Remember the empty ones and we'll be golden."

"Think that's the way to do it?" Clark asked.

"Of course it is."

Dempster looked at Gardner, "You know the combination for the safe?"

"Yes, yes, don't worry, I got it right here." He picked up another sheet of paper.

"No, don't show it to us. None of us can do that part."

"What?"

"You can't let any of us know the combination. If any of us let the tiniest hint slip out, they'll know it was an inside job. The cops will come down on you like you can't even imagine." He looked at the sheet of paper in Gardner's hand. "Have these guys seen it yet?"

Gardner gulped air. "No."

"Good. Keep the combination for yourself. Don't show it to any of us."

Gardner tore out a small section of the page and stuffed it into the pocket of his tan blazer. His hands trembled as he did.

To the other three: "Do we have everything we need?"

"I think so," Clark said. "I've gone over it all about five times."

"Make sure you go over it another five," Dempster told him.

"What's with the airplane model glue?" Jimmy asked.

"Instead of gloves," Dempster told him. "Better maneuverability. Two or three coats of glue on your fingertips works just as well as any glove, and this way you have your own hands."

"That's rather ingenious," Gardner told him.

"I didn't make it up," Dempster said. "Now what else you got on that piece of paper?"

Gardner hesitated, then handed over the sheet of paper with the small section ripped out of it. "It's a list of the night staff working tomorrow," he said. "I pull the nightshift, which I only do twice a week. I'll be at the front desk along with this kid, Syd Ramsland, about seventeen years old. He's pretty new and still doesn't know everything. He's strictly by the book so far but he's also a coward, shouldn't cause you any trouble at all. There'll also be one parking attendant in the garage, and we're probably safe, but there is twenty-four hour room service, so there'll be a couple guys way back in the depths of the kitchen. The two guards will be in the back room. Remember, they're armed. Three men will be in the security station, on the other side of the Old House Restaurant, also armed. Most of the year there's only two, but during the summer, when the season picks up, they add a third, just to be safe. And then there's Howard, the night watchman. He patrols the entire grounds, every floor. Unlike the rest of security, he isn't armed with anything other than mace."

"And you have the access code for the engineering area?"

"In pencil, down at the bottom of that page."

Dempster read it. 3114, very easy to remember. He looked back at Doug Gardner. "Another question about the safe deposit boxes."

"Yes?"

"They have double nose locks. Doesn't that mean they need two keys?"

"Yes, two keys are required to open each box. I thought we'd discussed this already. Why?"

"I just wanna make sure you have copies of
both
keys. Way I understand it, you or whoever was working would have a key, and the guy who has his stuff in the box would have the other key. We can't go at them with hammers or anything like that. We need to have both keys."

"Believe me," Gardner said, a tiny bit smug, "we would never be foolish enough to send a guest away with the only copy of a safe deposit key."

"I just wanna be sure. After all, they were foolish enough to hire you."

Gardner's lips pressed tight and his eyes narrowed.

"Remember," Dempster said, turning to Clark and Evan, "when you get into that back room and get everything situated, you have to make a good show of pressing Gardner here for information
and
action. Don't be afraid to get a little rough." He watched Gardner's tight expression reverse into discomfort. "You gotta push him until he gives in and fetches the keys. You gotta push him to work the combination on the safe. And Gardner, you gotta hold out a little, try to put up a fight—but not for too long. Just long enough to make it look good."

"I got it," Gardner said, his voice shaky.

"All right. And you guys remember where to park?"

"Sure," Evan said. "Do you?"

"Don't worry about me," Dempster said. Then he added, "I'm glad that I stopped by there a couple times. With this layout you only get a very general sense of the place."

"Nothing like first-hand experience," Clark said.

"And the uniforms are together and ready?"

"Everything is good to go."

"Okay, I'm packing up. Won't be staying here tonight. I'll see you guys tomorrow."

"What is it you do with all your free time?" Evan asked.

"I attend to things of a different nature," he said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

3

At the mall he parked right next to Sandra's Nissan and waited for about forty-five minutes. He was lost deep in thought when she knocked on his window.

"How was the movie?"

"Okay, I guess. My ass got numb sitting in the seat and I got too uncomfortable to give the story my full attention. How was work?" She couldn't help smirking.

"Fine. You hungry?"

"Yeah. I had a soda during the movie and it's kind of hollowed me out."

"Hop in."

"Hang on for just a sec." She went to her car and removed her travel bags, then came around to the Civic's passenger side.

He unlocked her door. When she climbed in she gave him a kiss, then tossed the bags into the back seat. "In case we never come back for it," she said. "It's still registered to Henry Kwatoko anyway."

Dempster nodded.

"How are you feeling?" Sandra asked.

"A little sore here and there, but overall fine, I guess. Where do you wanna eat?"

"Somewhere with you."

"Well, you got that much. You craving anything?"

She giggled. "Actually, I'm craving something cheap and greasy."

"What, like fast food?"

"Yeah, but I imagine we'll be eating a lot of that pretty soon, huh? When we drive across the country?"

"Who cares? We'll just be warming up for it." He thought for a minute, then said, "How about this? We'll go somewhere cheap for dinner, then we'll hit this nice hotel I know of, and we'll have a couple of drinks in the lounge. There we can try to figure out what the hell we're doing."

"I love that," she said. "A man with a plan."

They came to a stoplight and he kissed her.

4

"Isn't this the hotel you were at last night, when you got jumped outside?"

"Same hotel, but I got jumped several blocks away," Dempster told her. "I thought this was a great place. I had a real nice time last night, very relaxing. It's cozy, don't you think?"

"It certainly is fancy."

They crossed the lobby towards the lounge. Sandra stopped just outside of it to marvel at a tiled stone stand about three feet high and two and a half feet wide, displaying an enormous clay pot encased in glass. "Wow," she said, "this is really beautiful." There was a sweet glimmer in her eyes as she studied the pot's bird motif.

"Looks like Acoma, eighteenth century," Dempster said, "not that I really know anything about pottery."

"Something Jack Dempster doesn't know much about? Maybe you
were
lying to me."

They entered the lounge. Twelve or fourteen people were spread out at various tables, most of them older, somewhere between the ages of sixty and seventy. Spanish guitar music played softly through speakers, adding just the lightest glaze of sound to the quiet, dimly lit ambience.

"I'm impressed," Sandra said. "This place has real class."

"It's got nothing on you."

She grinned at him. "I don't know whether to call you a flirt or a suck up."

"I like to think of myself as both."

It wasn't until they sat down that Dempster realized they'd just sat at the same table he'd sat at last night. He glanced down at the chandelier's reflection, remembered his conversation with himself, then shrugged it off and looked up into Sandra's beautiful eyes.

"Have I told you how stunning you are?"

She smiled. "No, you haven't."

"Well, you're stunning."

"Merci beaucoup, vous le bel Homme."

"I'm starting to think," he said, "that that's the only French you know."

"En Haut le votre."

"Huh?"

"Up yours."

He laughed. "Nice. How would I reverse that?"

"By getting me drunk."

Before it could go any further the waitress with the lazy eye showed up. She studied Dempster briefly, either trying to place him from last night or confused by the new appearance that came courtesy of last night's beating. "What can I get for you guys?"

"What kinds of beer do you have?" Sandra asked. The waitress rattled off a list.

Sandra contemplated for a moment, then ordered a St. Pauli Girl. "I've heard it's Germany's fun-loving beer," she added.

Letting out an incredibly fake laugh, the waitress said, "Okay, and I need to see your I.D., please."

Dempster leaned back in his seat. "What's French for little baby girl?" he asked.

"En haut le votre."

She handed the waitress her I.D.

The waitress checked it. Once satisfied, she handed it back, then turned to Dempster. "And for you?"

"Well, if Germany's that fun-loving with the stuff, I guess I'll take one too."

It was clear the waitress wanted to roll her eyes. "Sounds like this table will be fun," she said. Her tone was jolly, though with a clear sarcastic undertone.

Dempster looked at Sandra. "Knock knock."

"Who's there?"

"Gestapo."

"Gestapo who?"

"Ve vill ask ze questions!"

Sandra laughed. The waitress turned and walked away.

Sandra said, "She looks fairly German."

"She should have a beer with us, then."

Sandra looked about, all through the air.

"What?"

"I was trying to come up with a joke about your
wienerschnitzel."

"Too little too late, I guess."

The waitress returned with two bottles and two glasses. She set them down and asked if there was anything else she could bring them at the moment.

"I think that'll do it," Dempster said. Then he turned to Sandra. "So where's the one place in the world you wanna go more than anywhere else?"

She poured one of the bottles. "That's the thing. I wanna go everywhere. When I was five or so, I got in trouble for drawing hieroglyphics all over my bedroom walls because I wanted to live in ancient Egypt."

"I'm sure your parents loved you for that one."

"For an entire month one time, because I wanted to be British, I refused to drink anything other than tea. Another time my friend Emerald and I ruined my mother's favorite bed sheets, trying to make kimonos." She sucked the foam from the top of her glass. "I've had thoughts and fantasies about living just about everywhere. I don't think there's anywhere on the planet that I don't want to at least visit."

"All right, well, if things work out, you can ruin the sheets and draw as much as you want on the walls. Sound good?"

"Will you make me tea while I do?"

"Sure." He poured his own glass, then asked, "What if we find ourselves stuck somewhere?"

"I don't see us getting stuck unless we choose to stick."

"You know, this isn't all gonna be peaches and cream."

"Do we need to keep talking about it? I mean, do we need to keep talking about it that way? We'll figure it out as we go."

"All right, all right. I just can't help worrying."

"Well stop. Things will happen as they're supposed to happen, right? Peaches and cream or sardines and milk. Things will happen. We'll figure them out."

She was so beautiful. The brightness in her face across the table, a source of beauty he could compare to nothing else. He wanted to speak but couldn't. All he knew for certain was that whatever the emotional thing inside him was, it was the dawn of a new future. He could feel it.

"Soon as we get out of this town," he told her, feeling a little stupid even as he said it, "I'm gonna buy you something really nice."

A light chuckle escaped her. "What, are you talking, like, diamonds, a gift basket, or a Play Station 3?"

"I dunno. Which would you like?"

"I'd like the one that comes from here." She pointed to her chest.

"I don't think any of those can come from your breasts."

"Well maybe one could come from your heart."

"You mean that figuratively, right?"

"You're a goofball."

"And you're beautiful."

"You're only saying that because you wanna score."

"I thought I already
was
gonna score."

"Yeah, well, we'll see." She smiled a cute, girly smile at him.

Just then a man passed by their table with the countenance of a degraded, washed-up diplomat. About forty-five-ish, with salt and pepper hair and a matching mustache, he wore the dark blue uniform of a police officer, only he didn't have a gun on his belt, and the badge on his chest was a subtle, embroidered patch complimenting the one sewn onto his sleeve. Dempster watched him say hello to the waitress. Watched them talk, seemingly about nothing for roughly thirty seconds or so. Then they parted, and when the guard neared their table again, Dempster waved to him with a certain dapper air, and asked him for the time. The guard, visage unchanged, took a couple steps forward and looked at his watch while Dempster looked at his outfit.

"Going on ten," he said.

"Thank you."

He watched Howard leave.

"Somewhere you need to be?"

Turning back to Sandra he lifted his beer, "No, just curious," and took a sip. "Where are we gonna stay tonight?"