Saving Rachel - John Locke

Chapter 38

Some time goes by. Too much time. Finally, Lou says, “Uh, Donovan? We never talked about Sam getting a quarter billion dollars.” “I’m giving it to him out of my part. I’m giving Rachel twenty-five million as well.” Rachel looks at me and smiles. “Thank you, Kevin,” she says. I smile back. Lou says, “We haven’t really discussed this, but do you think you could get out of that cage without my help?” I say, “Lou, we’ve been together a long time.”

“True,” he says. “But your share is weighing heavy on me right now. Not saying I’m ungrateful or anything, but five hundred million dollars seemed a lot bigger to me when this plan was first hatched.” “Half a billion dollars seems small to you?” “Compared to you getting six times as much, and Sam getting half as much, and both of you being in a cage and all.” “You figure to kill me and take my three billion?”

“I feel terrible about it,” Lou says. “You know I’ve always been a team player, but I’ve got two monitors in front of me. One shows three containers with helpless people inside. The other shows more than nine billion dollars sitting in a bank account, waiting to be accessed. I can’t help but notice that two clicks would change everything. One click and the vacuum pumps kill you in five minutes. A click on the bank account and your share—three billion dollars—goes into my personal account, along with the half billion we talked about.”

“Lou, I’m disappointed in you.”

“I was disappointed in you a couple years back, when you killed your best friend. I can only wonder how quickly you’d put a bullet in my head if I ever displeased you.”

“That’s totally unrelated, and you know it. You’re rationalizing.”

“Maybe so, but I guess it takes a certain amount of rationalizing to turn my back on the man who’s saved my life several times.” “Don’t let that part weigh on you,” I say. “You’ve saved my life too.” “Thanks for acknowledging it.” I keep my voice even. “Lou, if it helps you decide, I guarantee I can get out of this cage in less than five minutes.”

He pauses a full minute, weighing my words. “I don’t think so,” he says. “I’ve gone over this a hundred times in my head. I spent several hours in one of the units the other day and tried to find a way out. There was none. Victor does great work, you know that.” “You think Victor’s going to let you walk with my share? Or Sal?” “No. But I think if you’re dead, they’d each take a billion not to come after me.” “I’m not even dead yet, and the three billion you’re stealing is already down to one.”

“True,” Lou says. “But it’s still three times as much as I’ve got now. Every time I tell myself this is a horrible thing to do, I realize I can triple my take by pressing two buttons.” “What about the midgets?” “They’re on break until I tell them to come back and drive. I’m good for at least an hour.” “You’re all alone?” “All alone and getting greedier by the minute.” “Victor is monitoring everything you’re doing,” I say. “He was until I cut his live feed a couple of minutes ago.” “Don’t do it, Lou.” “I can’t help myself. I wish I could.” “Will you at least set Sam and Rachel free?” “No. It’s got to be all or none.” Rachel says, “Kevin?” “Not now, hon, I’m kind of busy.”

I know the clock is running. Every second counts. I kick off my shoes and pry the heels off. I catch Lou off guard, but he recovers quickly. He throws the switch, and the vacuum pump comes on in my cell.

Chapter 39

I pull the plastic explosives from the hollowed-out heels of my shoes, pull off my suit jacket, and remove my shirt and tie. I remove the wires from my shirt collar, where you’d normally find the collar stays. Rachel says, “Kevin!” “Not now, sweetheart,” I say. “But don’t worry. I’ll get you out in a couple of minutes.” “You promise?” I stop working for a second. I need to think it through. I take my promises seriously. I perform some calculations in my head. “Kevin?” she says. “Yes,” I say. “I promise I’ll save you.” “Thank you. I love you.” “Love you too.”

I place one of the charges above the check valve in the floor, the one that allows the air to flow in one direction at a time. I uncoil ten feet of the detonator wire I’d taken from one of my collars and push it into place.

Sam says, “Not to interrupt, but what about me?”

I stop long enough to look at him. Poor Sam, always sucking hind tit. Then again, he had sex with Callie, so he’s already gotten his break in life. “Sorry, Sam, I’ve only got two charges.” He nods and says, “Typical.” The vacuum pump is doing its job, but it is at least a minute away from affecting me. “Hey, Rachel?” I say. “Yes?” “Tell me when your pump comes on, okay?” “Uh, it’s been on about thirty seconds.”

Shit! “Really?” “Really. Is that okay?” I try to sound cheerful. “That’s perfect,” I say. “See you soon then.” “Okay.” “Can’t hardly wait,” she says.

I grab the cooler, lift the lid, and check for the little hole in the hinge I’d told Victor to install as a last resort, the one that covered the blasting cap. I find it, run the detonator wire through it, and wad up the balance of the wire to create extra friction. I slam the lid shut, creating enough energy to set off the chemical reaction.

The blast is instantaneous, and everything I’m about to tell you takes place in a half second. But here’s how it works: When the chemical reaction begins, C-4 decomposes to release nitrogen and carbon oxides. The gases expand over 26,000 feet per second, applying trauma force to anything in the immediate area.

That’s why I used such a small amount of C-4, just enough to do the job, not enough to blow myself to hell.

A C-4 explosion has two phases. In the first phase, the initial explosion blows the check valve open, rendering the vacuum pump ineffective. This phase creates an extreme low-pressure area at the point of origin which blows the gases outward, lifts me off my feet, and hurls me toward the back wall. In phase two, a millisecond later, the gases rush back into the partial vacuum, creating a second, less-destructive inward energy wave, sufficient to implode the Lucite walls, one of which knocks me to the floor and nearly renders me unconscious. My ears are ringing from the explosion, but I manage to hear something that sounds like Rachel’s voice. “Oh my God, Kevin, are you all right?” Rachel says. I’m not—not yet. But my speakers are blown, so how the hell can I hear her? “Kevin? Kevin!” “His name’s Donovan Creed,” Sam says. “Fuck you, Sam!” Rachel says. Then she shouts, “You’re all right! Thank God! I see you moving!”

I am all right, but why am I able to hear everyone? Lou must be on the run, must have turned on the speakers throughout the garage so he could hear what was going on as he made his escape—unless he’s coming after me with a gun to finish me off!

No. Lou wouldn’t take that big of a chance. He knows the trucks have pump-action shotguns in the cabs.

I work my way out of the cage, not an easy thing to do with a thick wall of Lucite on my back. I look around. Unfortunately, I can’t find the rest of the plastic explosive. It has been knocked from my hand. I could probably find it eventually, but I’ve also lost the second detonator wire.

I have to save Rachel, but I have nothing to work with.

She picks up on my expression. Her eyes grow wide with terror. Wait, I think. The truck!

I jump into the cab of Rachel’s truck, roll down both windows, and fire it up. These things aren’t built for speed, and it takes me most of the parking lot to get above twenty miles an hour. By then, I am closing in on the far wall quickly. I make a hairpin turn and manage to miss the wall. But that’s not what I’m hoping for. I’m trying to flip the truck onto its side. I get the truck turned around and head back in the direction we’d started in, only now I am up to thirty. I cut the steering wheel, trying to jackknife the cargo area. Two of the wheels come up slightly, but the truck rocks back into place.

Damn!

I turn again, heading back to the far wall. I cut the wheel sharply one way and then the other. Finally, the truck lurches. I slam on the brake, and it continues pitching over onto its side. While bracing myself for the impact, I pray Rachel will survive the crash.

The truck rests on the driver’s side with the passenger side straight up. I grab the shotgun from under the seat, push it through the open window, and climb out after it. I jump to the parking lot floor, grab the shotgun, and run to the back of the truck to make sure Rachel is alive.

She is!

I motion her to make her way to the back of the truck. She does. I motion her to stay there. Then I walk back to the side where the bottom of the truck is exposed and find the check valve. I pump a shell into the chamber, back up a few yards, and fire into the valve at an angle, hoping not to catch any shrapnel from the ricochet. The valve blows open. I take a deep breath. Rachel is safe.

I turn my attention to Sam. He’s lying on the floor unconscious. But at least he’s lying at the far side of the check valve. I know I don’t have enough time to flip his truck. I pump another round into the shotgun, climb under the truck, place the barrel against the check valve, and wedge the shotgun into place.

I can only think of one way to pull the trigger without getting seriously injured or killed from the shell rebound.

I remove my belt and wedge the buckle under the trigger. It doesn’t quite reach the side of the truck, which means it’s still too dangerous. I take off my pants, tie one leg around the belt, and hold on to the end of the other pant leg. I climb onto the narrow ledge on the side of the truck and pull the pant leg as hard as I can. The shotgun fires. I jump down and climb under the truck to inspect my work. And see a nice-sized hole where the check valve used to be. If Sam is still alive, he’ll be okay soon.

I leave my belt but grab my pants, climb into Sam’s truck, buckle up, and head for the garage door at full speed, which is about thirty. But it’s enough to break through, and within minutes, I’m in the control room with my pants on. Since the containers were built to open from the very back, neither has suffered any damage. I press a button on the console and pop them both open. Then I walk back to check on my girlfriend and her husband.

Chapter 40

Sam is closer, so I start with him. I climb into the cubicle and hoist him out. He is unconscious but breathing, so I lay him out on the floor and go to get Rachel. She meets me halfway, and we do that movie thing where we run to each other from opposite directions and embrace when we meet. She actually squeals and jumps into my arms, and I think of Lula and Sailor in Wild at Heart.

By the time we get back to the room where I’d set Sam down, he is gone.

I know where he’ll be.

Rachel and I continue to the control room where I’d gone moments earlier to set them free. Sam is so out of it he is fairly swooning, but he sits at the computer, trying to track the money. When Rachel and I approach, he gives her a withering look. She stiffens and leans into my side. “I love him, Sam. You’re just going to have to deal with it,” Rachel says. Sam ignores the remark, proving he’d rather lose Rachel than the money.

“Nothing makes sense,” he says. “My Web site’s totally trashed. I see the money in an account, but it’s an account I’ve never seen. I keep trying to access the funds, but the screen remains unchanged.” “That’s Lou Kelly’s bank account,” I say. “The screen is locked on it.” “So you’ve lost your money,” he says, “which means I’ve lost mine.” “Kevin,” Rachel says, “I’d rather have you than twenty-five million any day!” “For the love of God,” Sam says, rolling his eyes.

Rachel is about to respond, and if she’d had the chance, I would have expected some cussing to pass her lips. But she sees what we all see on one of the security monitors: someone approaching the front door.

Lou Kelly comes in first, followed closely by Callie. Lou’s arms are behind his back, which tells me Callie has twist-tied his wrists with plastic. “It’s Karen!” Sam says. Rachel’s back seems to arch. “I don’t want her here!” she says. “Relax,” I say. “She’s bringing Lou back.” “Could be a trap,” Sam says. “He’s twice her size. What’re the chances she got the drop on him?” “A hundred percent,” I say. “Lou’s a good hand, but he’s older and partially paralyzed on his left side. Callie knows that.” Sam sets his jaw. I say, “Tread lightly, Sam. Callie will fuck you up.” “Yeah? Well, I’m not old or paralyzed,” he says.

We watch them on the bank of monitors. Callie nudges Lou into the hallway. Lou isn’t fighting her over it. As they’re about to enter the war room where we stand watching them, I say, “Be nice. Both of you.” “But, Kevin,” Rachel whines. “I mean it. You and Callie are going to be friends.” “Fat chance,” Rachel says. “Fucking whore.” “For once, we agree,” Sam says. I give Rachel a look that makes her wince. She says, “Sorry, Kevin. I’ll try.” “See that you do.” Lou and Callie approach. “Lou,” I say. “Donovan.” After a moment of us looking at each other, I say, “What was that all about, Lou?”

He presses his lips together tightly, then opens them, and takes a breath. “Ah, shit, Donovan. I can’t explain it. I would have bet I was a better person than that.” I nod. Lou says, “By the way, that was incredible.” “My escape?”

“Looked like the old days, back in Europe. I should have left sooner, but I just had to watch, you know? It was like watching a movie.”

“Like Rambo or something?” “Yeah. Like that.” “The critics panned those shows,” I say. “But they were entertaining.” “Sly’s one-dimensional,” Lou says. “But if a guy’s entertaining enough, one dimension’s all you need.” I pause. “About the money …”

“I want to make it right,” Lou says. “I know things will never be the same between us, but I want to put the finances back like they were. Let me go and I’ll transfer the full three to your account.” “Before the heist, I started with two-fifty of my own,” I say. “I thought that was part of the three,” Lou says. “Nope. Same with Victor. We both had two-fifty in. We get that back first, then the split.” “If I knew that, I would have tried to shoot you!” Lou says. “Lucky me.” He chuckles.

Sam and Rachel look at Callie. Callie puts her hand out to Rachel. Rachel looks at me. I nod. Rachel approaches Callie and embraces her. “I’m sorry I called you a whore,” she says. Callie bristles. “You probably should have kept that remark to yourself.” “Well, you did sleep with her husband,” I say. Callie says, “We can get past that.” She smiles at me and says, “You’ve got your hands full with this one.” Sam says, “Hey, Karen, how about a quick fuck before you hit the road?”