Jack_ Secret Vengeance - F. Paul Wilson [20]
Weezy was sorry?
Before he was through, someone else was going to be much sorrier.
7
Jack’s chest felt heavy as he walked the block and a half home. He turned his thoughts from Weezy to planning his first move against Toliver. The key, he figured, was to make it look like innocent mischief. Nothing harmful. Its impact would come from the simple and inescapable realization that someone had targeted Mr. Wonderful for a prank.
By the time Jack reached his house he had an idea or two. Inside he found his mother puttering about the kitchen.
“Where’s all the Halloween stuff?” he said.
His mother looked up. “You must be psychic. I was just going to ask you to bring it up from the basement.”
“Okay. But where in the basement?”
The storage area was so crammed he needed a Sherpa guide to find anything.
“Right rear corner, middle shelf.”
Sure enough, the box was exactly where she’d said—right next to the Thanksgiving decorations. She liked to dress up the house for each holiday, and Halloween was only a week away.
Jack pulled out the box and pawed through it until he came across the big fuzzy black spider she liked to hang by the front door. It had huge white, googly eyes with black pupils that rolled around when it moved, and was attached to an elastic string. It looked kind of goofy and cute, almost snuggly.
Jack pulled off the eyes and set it on the floor. Suddenly it was anything but snuggly. It looked like a humongous tarantula.
Perfect.
After bringing the box upstairs, he slipped out the back door to the garage. An old backpack hung on a hook. He slipped the spider inside and added a penlight, a roll of masking tape, and a screwdriver from his father’s tool shelves.
Then he removed the padlock shims from the lock-picking kit. He had four of them, each slightly larger or smaller than the others. He’d never done this before, but he’d studied the booklet that came with the kit—Lock Picking Made Easy—and it looked, well, easy.
He removed his bicycle padlock from the chain and snapped the shackle closed. Then he tried different shims until he found the one whose half cylinder best fit the shackle. When it was snug against the metal, he worked it down into the shackle hole. Then, with his thumbs against the flanges, he rotated the shim to the right.
The shackle popped up.
Jack stared in joyous wonder.
That’s it? That’s it?
He did it again—just as easily.
It took all his will to keep from pealing a loud Mwah-ha-ha-ha!
Operation Toliver was a go.
WEDNESDAY
1
Jack stopped on the shoulder of Route 206 and squinted at the glowing dial of his watch: just shy of quarter to two in the morning.
He’d left his bike on the side of the house before going to bed. That way it had been right there and ready to roll when he’d climbed out his bedroom window. He’d gone as far as he could on off-road paths. Now he was going to have to ride most of the rest of the way—maybe a mile—on Route 206.
Here he faced the greatest risk of exposure. The good news was that 206 ran pretty much arrow-straight along this stretch. He’d be able to spot approaching headlights a long way off, giving him plenty of time to find cover along the roadside. Even better was the fact that hardly anybody in these parts was out at this hour.
He felt his gut crawl as he looked up and down the road. Was he out of his mind? This was one crazy stunt he was pulling. So many things could go wrong. The worst would be getting caught inside the school—he could be arrested for breaking and entering.
Then he remembered the tears on Weezy’s face as she told him she was never going back to school. All because of Carson Toliver.
Some things you could let slide, and some things you couldn’t.
Sometimes, when it mattered enough, when a friend was involved, you had to go out on a limb. Weezy was that kind of friend. He had a feeling she’d do the same for him. And even if she wouldn’t, so what? He needed to do it for her.
He just hoped this particular