Hard Candy - Andrew Vachss [36]
The back of the house was protected by an unbroken row of thick hedges. Max unscrewed the top of a cardboard tube, the kind you keep an expensive fishing rod in. Pulled out two aluminum poles. They telescoped like car antennas. He cross–latched the two poles with some X–braces, making a ladder. Max went up first, climbing backwards as easy as if he was using a staircase. The Mole followed him, satchel on a strap over his shoulder. I came next—the Mole was no athlete.
It was a short drop to the ground. The windows were free of burglar–alarm tape. The doctor's wife wouldn't like the look. The Mole fluttered his hand—a flag in a breeze. Motion sensors. "Hard–wired," he whispered. "Expensive."
"Can you take it out?" I asked.
The Mole didn't answer, looking through the window with some kind of lens held up to his glasses. "There," he said, pointing.
I saw a wooden box in a corner of the living room. Some kind of dark wood, a slim crystal vase standing on top. A tiny red light glowed near the base.
The Mole fumbled in his satchel. Max braced the pane of glass with his hands as the Mole fitted a tiny drill against the surface. He nodded. Scratched an X on the glass with a probe, fitted the drill point into it. Pressed the trigger. A split–second whine. He reversed the drill bit, pulling it free of the glass. Then he threaded a wire through the hole. Attached the other end of the wire to something inside his satchel. The Mole pushed a toggle switch and the red light on the box inside the house winked out. I could have opened the back door with a credit card.
We left Max on the first floor in case somebody came home. The Mole took the upstairs bedrooms, I hit the basement.
The doctor had a nice little home–office setup downstairs. IRS would approve. I pulled the antenna on the same little box Terry had used to show off for his mother and went to work. It only took a couple of minutes. Second–rate wall safe behind a framed painting of assholes on horses chasing a fox. Amateur Hour. I could have knocked off the dial and pried the thing open in twenty minutes.
It took the Mole less than five. It looked like gray putty he pasted around the edges of the safe. Until you saw the fuse. When he touched it off, we stepped back to watch. A soft pop and the door crumpled.
Our Krugerrands were inside. The doctor liked gold. Canadian Maple Leafs, Chinese Pandas, Australian Koalas. American cash in neat stacks. A small leather loose–leaf book. A Canadian passport. The doctor was prepared—but not for us. We took it all.
68
AN AMATEUR steals only when he's broke. I'm a professional—I work at my trade.
It didn't stop the pain, just put it on hold.
I've had bad dreams all my life. But now it was sad dreams…bone–marrow pain. Belle. I never would have left her. Now she wouldn't leave me.
I told Michelle I'd pick Terry up at Lily's. Got there early, looking around. Waiting. Lily came down the corridor at high speed, shrugging out of her parka, long black hair streaming out behind her. "Tell her I'll call her back!" she shouted over one shoulder. She pulled up when she saw me, a busty, glowing woman with a scar over one of her big dark eyes. Lily's old enough to have a teenage daughter, a little heart–breaker named Noelle, but she looks like she's still in college. Noelle's at the age where she's always griping because her mother isn't stylish enough. She tried to get me on her side once.
"Don't you think Mom would look cool with her hair up?"
"Your mother is beautiful, baby. She looks like the Madonna."
"Oh, Burke!" the kid shrieked. "She's not even blond!" It's not a generation–gap anymore, it's a time–warp.
I waited until she ran up on me. "Hi, Lily."
Her face was reserved, eyes watchful. "Is there trouble?"
"I'm here to pick up Terry."
"Okay." Dubious.
I lit a cigarette, ignoring her frown, moving aside to let her pass.
She wasn't going for it. "She doesn't bring Scotty herself."
"Scotty?"