“This won’t work without Gordon. Just like it won’t work without you.”
“Are you crazy? It won’t work with Gordon period! The guy can’t keep his mouth shut for five minutes.” Joel brought his hand to his mouth and began pulling at his bottom lip. “I think the guy’s a borderline psycho.”
“Gordon’s fine. Trust me, okay?”
“Have you talked to him about this yet?”
“No—”
“Well, don’t!”
“You think I would’ve worked with Gordon off and on for almost twenty years if I couldn’t trust him? The guy served a tour in Vietnam. He knows how to handle himself. And the plan doesn’t work without him. You can see that, can’t you?”
“If he’s involved you can count me out. I’m sure as hell not betting my life on that loon!”
“Calm down, okay? Gordon will be fine. He’s a smart guy. And I need four people in the bank for this to work. All we need is ten minutes. That’s it. And I have no problem betting my life that Gordon can keep quiet for ten minutes.”
“What about after? With the way he talks?”
“He’ll never say a word to anyone about this. Have you ever heard him say anything of substance about what went on in Vietnam?”
Joel thought about it and shook his head slowly. “I still don’t like it,” he complained. A glint came into his eyes. “You mentioned four people for this job. Who’s the fourth?”
“A friend of mine. We’ve been working together for the last five years. You don’t know him. He’s Indian. As soon as the job’s done, he’s heading to India. Which is perfect for us.”
“How much of this does he know?”
“As much as I do. We’ve been planning this together for the last six weeks. And, yeah, I trust him. Any more questions?”
“I still don’t like the idea of Gordon being involved.”
“He’ll say the same when I tell him about you.”
“I haven’t committed to anything yet! And he can say whatever he wants. It doesn’t change the fact that he’s at least one can short of a six-pack.”
“Joel, why don’t we play another couple of games of ’gammon and not talk about this. Just let it sink in, see how you feel.”
“All right, fine.”
They played in silence after that. After losing three straight games due to poor play, Joel threw his dice into the adjoining dining room. “
Motherfucking cunt
dice,” he yelled. He took a deep breath and let it out noisily through his mouth.
“You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?” he asked.
“Serious enough that I’ve been practicing stealing cars.”
“I can’t believe we’re talking about this,” Joel said. “If we try to rob that bank and something goes wrong, your life’s over, pal. Me, I don’t have a wife, I don’t give a shit about my kids, and I can handle living out my life in prison. You’d be throwing your family away, and I hate to tell you this, but you wouldn’t last a year in prison. I’m not trying to insult you, Dan, but the simple fact is you’re not tough enough to survive there.”
“Nothing’s going to go wrong.”
“What if something does?”
“Then we’re fucked. Yeah, sure, anything can happen. But we’re guaranteed to be fucked if we don’t try this.”
“Does Carol know any of this?”
“No.”
“Is she going to?”
“No. Never. How about it, Joel, are you in?”
Joel shook his head slowly for a moment, grimacing. “I’ll think about it,” he said after a while.
5
Shrini flexed his right arm as he sneaked a look at himself in one of the gym’s mirrors. He worked out regularly and took a great deal of pride in his appearance. Now, though, there was more to it than that. With the bank robbery only one week away he had to prepare himself, get as strong as possible.
He caught another quick look in the mirror as he pushed a hand against his stomach, feeling the flatness of it. Satisfied, he moved to one of the open benches and slid forty-five- and twenty-five-pound plates on to each end of the bar. With the bar weighing forty-five pounds, that put the weight at one hundred and eighty-five pounds. He sat down on the end of the bench and then lay back, adjusting his position so he could properly grip the bar. Sucking in his breath, he pulled the bar from the rack and let it bounce off his chest once as he proceeded to do twelve quick repetitions before dropping the bar back on to the rack.
As soon as he finished the set, he sat back up and wiped a towel along his forehead and neck. He stood up and replaced the twenty-five-pound plates with forty-five-pound ones, bringing the weight to two hundred and twenty-five pounds. He sat back on the bench and shook his arms, trying to psych himself up for his next set. As he sat there, his thoughts drifted to the robbery and to his plans for afterwards.
An adrenaline rush hit him every time he thought about the robbery. While he needed the money, maybe even more important to him was the chance to prove himself. If he could do this, he knew he’d be capable of doing anything. He had no doubt that they were going to be successful. He and Dan had worked out every detail and their plan made too much sense for it not to work. Afterwards, when he had his share of the money, he would transfer it to a Swiss account and later to an account in an Indian bank. When he moved back to India, he would use the money to start his own software contracting company. He had enough contacts to know he’d be able to line up business. With a touch of bitterness he reflected on how the same people who had been so reluctant to hire him in the States would be more than happy to throw money at him to build software for them in India.
He noticed a girl at a quad machine nearby smiling at him. She was cute, maybe in her early twenties with light brown hair, and, as her Lycra workout clothes revealed, a slender, athletic body. He smiled back at her. What he was going to miss more than anything about living in the States were the girls. All different colors, shapes and varieties. He was always running into girls here who viewed him as something exotic, and he was only too happy to show them how exotic he could be. His parents had arranged for him to marry Amrita once he moved back to India. He remembered her from high school as a plump and not very attractive girl. Always a sour look stuck on her face.
Nectar
my ass, he thought, reflecting on the meaning of her name. Maybe the nectar of some spoiled fruit. That was who he was going to be stuck with for the rest of his life.
Well, he still had some time left in the States. He got up and walked over to the girl who had smiled at him.
“Excuse me,” he said. “I need someone to spot me for another set of bench presses. Maybe you would be willing to help me?”
“I’d like to. I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”
“You won’t have to lift much. When I’m on my last rep, you’ll only have to pull the bar with a couple of pounds of force. Believe me, you’ll be able to do it with one hand. Maybe even one finger.”
“Maybe
you’d
be able to do it with one finger,” she said, laughing. “I’ll need both hands.”
“You will be surprised how easy it is.”
As she stood up, Shrini introduced himself. She told him her name was Sonia.
“Sonia? That means
golden
in Hindi. And you certainly are golden.”
She laughed. “Are you looking for someone to spot you or to hit on?”
“No,” Shrini said, smiling broadly. “Even if you were some smelly guy I would’ve asked for help. Believe me.”
“Sure you would.”
“Yes, of course. I wouldn’t lie to someone so golden. Come on, help me out.”
Shrini led the way back to the bench and showed Sonia where to stand.
“All you need to do is wait until I ask for help. Then use one hand to guide the bar back to the rack. I’ll do most of the work, you will only have to help a little.”
“I hope so,” she said, laughing. “This looks heavy.”
He made a face. “This? Two hundred and twenty-five pounds? That is only sixty pounds more than I weigh.”
After positioning himself back on the bench, Shrini firmly gripped the bar and jerked it off the rack. With each repetition he cheated a bit, letting the bar bounce off his chest with each explosion of breath. Usually, he only did a set of six repetitions with that weight. Having Sonia watching him, he went past that. On his eleventh press both arms started shaking and the bar started to sink towards his chest. Sonia reached to help him.
“No, no, not yet,” Shrini forced out, his face red.
With a grunt, and arching his back, he got the bar moving back up and was able to push it back on to the rack.
“That looked difficult,” Sonia said.
Shrini quickly sat back up. Exaggerating a look of dismay, “That? That was nothing.”
“It was nice meeting you, Shrini.” She hesitated for a few seconds, then, “I guess I’d better let you get back to your workout.”
“I enjoyed meeting you too.” Shrini held out his hand, and smiled a bit inside noticing she seemed reluctant to let go of him. “Of course, the least I can do for your help is to buy you a drink later.”
“Sure, I’d like that.” She blushed slightly. “I have to admit, I’ve noticed you here the last few times I’ve worked out.”
“I noticed you too,” Shrini said as he tried to remember if he had ever seen her before. He found himself smiling a bit more on the inside when he noticed the subtle change in her expression, the way her smile became that much more bold. Yes, he was going to miss this country. But he was going to enjoy it while he still could.
*
Viktor Petrenko ignored the heaviness in his arms as he threw two left jabs and a right uppercut. The two jabs hit the heavy bag solidly, the uppercut lifted the bag half a foot. He stepped back and threw the same combination, making sure to concentrate on his footwork and the acceleration of his body as he let loose with the uppercut. He had been at the bag for over forty minutes, maintaining the same pace as he threw his combinations. Almost all of his punches hit solidly. The few that didn’t brought a thin brutal smile to his otherwise vacant expression.
He had been boxing most of his life. When he was eleven he was enrolled in the Soviet youth boxing program. While punishing and powerful, by age eighteen it had been determined that he lacked the speed to be an elite boxer and he was dropped.
Boxing had been his one true passion. There was something exhilarating about connecting a punch to your opponent’s ribs and feeling his body lift from the ground as his breath was simultaneously pushed out of his lungs. Later, when Petrenko became a chief interrogator for the KGB, he was able to experience that feeling many times but it was never quite the same. Now he had to settle for punching a heavy bag. At least most days.
There was a knock on the door and Yuri Tolkov walked into the boxing studio that Petrenko had set up in his home’s basement. Petrenko ignored him and continued to hit the bag for another ten minutes before straightening up and removing the leather wraps from his hands. With pale, almost translucent blue eyes, he examined the hard calluses that had built up over his knuckles throughout the years. He grabbed a towel off a hook, wiped some of the sweat from his arms and neck, and sat at a small table in the corner where a bottle of Pravda Vodka was chilling in an ice bucket. After pouring himself a glass, he acknowledged Yuri.
“So?” he asked.
Yuri approached, stopping four feet away from Petrenko. “I spoke again with the Arabs. They have agreed to let us appraise the diamonds.”
“I don’t like this. How did they get my name?”
Yuri shrugged. “They claim they got it from Ekhardt.”
“Ekhardt? That German bastard. What’s he doing giving those Arabs my name?”
Yuri shrugged.
“I don’t like it. This could be a sting operation. Perhaps FBI?”
“I don’t think so.” Yuri smiled, showing off badly discolored teeth. “I checked. One of the Arabs is on the FBI’s ten-most-wanted list.”
Petrenko considered that for a moment. “These diamonds are supposed to be uncut, correct?”
Yuri nodded.
“Then we will have them appraised.”
Yuri turned to walk away, then hesitated. “Why don’t we simply steal them?” he asked.
“These Arabs might have more they want to sell us.” Petrenko showed a thin smile, the type of look you might see on a rattlesnake before it strikes. “Don’t worry, we’ll steal them with our price.”
Yuri had his hand on the doorknob when Petrenko stopped him.
“Remember,” Petrenko said. “Tomorrow morning we have business at that market. Bring Sergei also.”
Yuri nodded and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Petrenko poured himself another glass of vodka and sipped it slowly.
6
During most of the ride back from New Hampshire, Dan found himself seething over Joel punching him in the face. The guy was a hothead; he knew that about his friend, and here he was planning a bank robbery with the guy? The thing was, Dan was an only child, and over the years Joel had taken on the role of an older brother, at least in some ways. If you’re going to tell an older brother something he thinks is crazy, he’s going to do whatever it takes to snap you out of it, right? That’s what Dan needed to convince himself of anyway – as well as remembering that, when push came to shove, he could count on Joel. By the time he arrived home, he had pretty much accomplished both.
After leaving the car in the driveway, Dan walked into his house through the side door and found Carol sitting alone in the kitchen. From the redness around her eyes and nose it was obvious that she had been crying.
“You’re home late,” she said.
“Sorry, I was talking some stuff over with Joel.”
“You weren’t just drinking beer and playing backgammon?”
“No. I had one Bud. That’s it. We were trying to work out some business ideas.”
“You come up with any?”
“Too early to tell. We’ll see.”
“What happened to your cheek?”
Dan grimaced as he lightly touched the swollen area around his cheek. “I slipped getting into my car and smacked my face against the door, if you can believe it.”
Her eyes shifted away from him. “There’s some macaroni and cheese in the oven,” she said.
“Thanks. I’ll have some in a little while. Where are the kids?”
“Susie’s upstairs. Gary is sleeping over at a friend’s house.”
“Which friend?”
“Brandon.”
He nodded. “I’ll see Susie and be right back.”
“Take your time.”
Dan hesitated before turning away from her. He wanted to say something, but there was nothing he could think of that could possibly provide any comfort.
Don’t worry about a thing, honey, I’ll be robbing a bank soon and we’ll be on easy street then
. He felt sick inside. As he made his way up the stairs, he forced a smile, preparing himself to see his daughter.
After knocking on Susie’s door, he waited for her to yell out
What?
in that overly exasperated voice of hers before he walked in. She was lying on the bed plugged into her iPod. He sat down on the edge next to her and kissed her forehead. She ignored him for a moment, then removed the plugs from her ears.
“Hi, Daddy,” she said without much enthusiasm.
“Hi, Princess. I just wanted to say hello. See how you’re doing.”
“I’m okay,” she murmured sullenly.
He felt his smile strain as he looked at her. She had been such a beautiful baby, but as she grew older that changed and it became obvious that physically she was going to take after him. Instead of being blessed with Carol’s delicate features and lithe, near perfect body, she had inherited his bone structure and body type. Broad shoulders, wide hips, thick neck. It didn’t seem fair for a twelve-year-old girl to have to be short-changed like that. Susie’s genetic makeup was one more thing for him to feel guilty about.
“Do anything fun today?” he asked.
“There was nothing to do. Everyone I know is at camp.”
“You’ll go next year.”
“Whatever.” She peeked at him as her mouth pushed into a hurt look. “Mom said we’re going to have to move,” she said.
“No, honey, that’s not true.”
“Why did Mom say it then?”
“Your mom is very tired, that’s all.”
“If we moved, where would we move to?”
“Honey, please don’t worry about this. We’re not moving. I promise.”
“I don’t want to lose my friends.”
“You won’t have to. Honey, you’ve got a promise from me, okay?”
She nodded, but didn’t look convinced as she pushed the plugs back into her ears. Dan sat for a moment, then patted her head and left the room. When he went back downstairs to the kitchen, Carol stared straight past him as if she were catatonic. He ignored her, grabbed a plate, and spooned out some macaroni and cheese. Instead of joining her at the table he pulled a barstool up to the counter. He took a few bites of the food before he could taste it. Not that there was much to taste anyway.
“Nancy quit today,” Carol said.
Dan looked up from his plate. “Who?”
“Nancy Goldberg. Probably my only friend at work.”
“I’m sorry. Why’d she quit?”
“They’re cutting our hours. They’re starting to outsource some of the paralegal work to India.”
“You’re kidding.”
Carol shook her head.
“People in India can do that type of work? They know Massachusetts law?”
“Apparently so.”
“How is that possible?”
“Law books and court decisions can be put on compact discs and studied anywhere.”
“What are they cutting your hours to?”
“They’ll let me know by the end of the week. Nancy thinks this is just an experiment. That they’re waiting to see if the Indian paralegals work out before getting rid of us.”
Dan got off the barstool and moved to the table, taking the chair next to his wife. He took hold of her hand. “Whatever happens, don’t worry. We’re going to be okay.”
She reacted as if she had been slapped. Incredulous, she asked, “How can you possibly think that?”
“You just have to trust me.”
“No, Dan, I don’t think so. What I do think is that you have to face reality. We have no money, we can’t pay our bills and we’re starting to get calls from collection agencies.”
“That’s going to be over soon.”
“How?”
“I’m working on some ideas. Just trust me, it’ll work out.”
She fell back into a catatonic stare, then all of a sudden hit the table hard with her open palm. The noise made Dan jump in his skin.
“Damn it! I’m not going to just sit here and trust you! We’re going to lose our house! We’re going to lose everything we have and be penniless, can’t you see that?”
He stared at her for a long moment before shaking his head. “We’ll get through this,” he said at last.
“No we won’t. We don’t have the money to live the way we’re living. Dan, I know you don’t want to hear this, but we have to sell the house.”
“We’re not selling the house. And you had no right worrying Susie about it!”
“She’s a smart kid, so’s Gary. They both see what’s going on.”
“Why don’t we just drop this, okay?”
“How are we going to pay the mortgage?”
“We’ll find a way.”
“No, we won’t. We need to sell this house and move someplace we can afford.”
“What’s the point?” Dan said. “We’re mortgaged up to the hilt. With property values dropping, if we sell now we won’t get a dime out of this place. We’d probably even have to bring money to the closing. So why not just stay where we are? Worst case, we get foreclosed on. If that happens we can move someplace cheaper.”
She opened her mouth to argue with him, but seemed to get stuck. Slowly, her mouth closed as resignation set in. Then, under her breath but loud enough for him to hear, “Maybe you could get a job.”
“What do you think I’ve been trying to do?”
“It doesn’t have to be in software.”
“What do you want me to do? Wash dishes? How about bagging groceries?”
“At least you’d be bringing in some money. It’s not as if I enjoy working in that law office.”
As he stared at her he felt himself slipping over the edge. Whatever control he had was gone. At first all he could hear was the blood pounding in his head. After a while he could hear the words that were pouring out of him.
“You got some fucking nerve. Twenty-five years as a software engineer. Last thirteen years you sit on your ass while I’m out there working like a dog. Sometimes putting in sixteen-hour days, seven days a week. And you have the fucking nerve to complain after working for a little over one year. Goddamn you!”
As quickly as the rage had hit him it was gone. Drained, he collapsed back into the chair, dropping his face into his hands.
“I’m so sorry,” he said.
He could hear Carol sobbing next to him.
“Darling, I didn’t even know what I was saying. I guess we’re both on edge, huh? Can you just forget the last few minutes?”
He reached over to touch her shoulder. She moved quickly, knocking his hand away.
“Don’t you dare touch me,” she said, still sobbing, hard lines etching her neck.
Dan sank back into the chair. For a long while all he could do was watch her as she sobbed. Eventually her crying subsided.
“How many times do I have to apologize?” he asked.
“Just leave me alone.”
“You know I didn’t mean any of those things.” He looked away from her. “I love you.”
A good minute passed as she sat still, an internal struggle tightening the muscles around her mouth. “I love you too,” she finally said. “But I’m not like you. I can’t just flip a switch and have everything be okay. I need time to process my feelings.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Just leave me alone right now.”
“All right, sure, if that’s what you want.”
Dan pushed himself out of his chair. He got to the kitchen’s entranceway before Carol called out to him.
“I know some of the things I said to you weren’t fair,” she said. “I know you worked hard for a lot of years while I stayed home with the kids. And I know that you just had that three-month contract, and that you’re trying. But I’m scared right now. I don’t have your sense of optimism. And I just don’t see how we’re going to make it.”
He started to open his mouth but she raised a finger, warning him. “Don’t say everything’s going to be okay. Please! I’ll scream if you say that!”
He wavered, then lifted his hands in a sign of surrender and left the room.
The fight with Carol wiped him out. There was so much blame, so much disappointment simmering inside her. Deep down he knew he still loved his wife, but it was getting so damn hard to be in the same room with her. That would change after he got his cut from the bank robbery. Of course, that was if the robbery was still on. Joel hadn’t made his decision yet and there was still Gordon to talk to. If either of them turned it down, the robbery was dead and finished.
He turned on the set and was surprised to see the ten o’clock news had already started. He remembered he owed Shrini a call.
No one answered. He started to leave a message when Shrini picked up.
“Hey, man,” Dan said, “sorry about the time. I should’ve called you earlier.”
“No problem,” Shrini said in an exaggeratedly serious tone. “I’ve been tied up most of the night working on my cardiovascular.”
Dan heard a girl giggling in the background. “You got company. Damn, I’m really sorry about bothering you now.”
“No problem, dude, we’re taking a break. A well-deserved break, believe me.” There was some more giggling and Shrini left the phone for a moment. When he came back, he said, “Give me a one-word answer, yes or no, so I am not held in suspense all night.”
“The word would have to be
maybe
. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Okay, dude, tomorrow.”
Dan sat back in the chair and watched the news for a few minutes, then flipped through the channels until he came to a new reality show called
Bank Job
. He sat transfixed, not believing what he was watching. The point of the show seemed to be to have the participants plan a bank robbery. The robbery would be staged after two months of planning in a building that used to be a real bank. Everyone would be in on it. There would be no real bullets or anything, but if the members were successful they would get to keep the million dollars that was going to be placed in the vault. Dan just started cracking up. He couldn’t help himself. At some point Carol came in. She looked exhausted as she stood in the doorway.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“Nothing,” Dan said, wiping tears from his eyes. “Just this stupid reality show.”
“If it’s stupid, why don’t you turn it off?”
“I will, I just need to veg for a few minutes.”
“I’m going to bed now,” she said. “Would you like to join me?”
“In a little while. I need some more time to clear my head.”
“I’ll meet you upstairs. Could you turn the set down? It’s really loud.”
The volume was barely audible, but he lowered it anyway. He wasn’t sure whether she was becoming hypersensitive to noise or if she was just busting his balls, but they’d been having too many fights as it was.
“I’ll see you soon,” he said. She nodded and left the room.
The eleven o’clock news came on. After that, Dan flipped between the different late night talk shows. Later he found
The French Connection
on one of the movie channels. Sometime during the movie he drifted off.