The Millionaires - Brad Meltzer [41]
Sure enough, as the door swings wide, I spot Mary’s computer up on her desk. The disk drive slot is covered with evidence tape. Nothing goes in; nothing gets out.
It takes another second for the clown car to spit out its last passenger—the one person we’ve been waiting for. As he steps into the hallway, Shep’s eyes lock on Charlie. I expect a grin, or maybe even a fiendish Elvis lip-curl. But all we get is wide-eyed anxiety. “Uhoh,” Charlie says. “My boy’s looking crappy.”
“Everything okay, Shep?” Mr. Squat calls out as he and the rest of the zoo crew wait for the elevator.
“Y-Yeah,” Shep stammers. “I’ll meet you up there in a second. I forgot something in my office.” Heading to the other end of the hallway, he shoves open the metal door and ducks into the stairwell. Just before the door closes, he shoots us one last look. He’s not running up the stairs. He’s just standing there, waiting. For us.
As Mr. Squat turns our way, I duck back down. Charlie doesn’t move.
“What’re they doing?” I whisper, still trying to stay out of sight. I hear the elevator doors slide open.
“They’re waving to us…” Charlie says. “Now Quincy’s standing behind Lapidus, trying to give him the bunny ears… Oh, Lapidus is on to him. No bunny ears for anyone.” He can make all the jokes he wants, it doesn’t hide the fear.
I hear the elevator doors slowly slide shut.
“C’mon…” Charlie insists as he motions to my cup of coffee. “Let’s go get some coffee.”
Leaving my coffee cup on his desk, I follow him out of the cubicle and straight to the coffee machine—which just happens to be next to the stairs. Charlie plows forward. I check over my shoulder.
“Are you sure it’s—?”
“Stop hesitating, Ollie—it’s only gonna rot your brain.”
Without looking back, he takes a swan dive into the abyss. But as he ducks into the stairwell, it’s completely empty. Over the banisters, he looks up and down. No one’s—
“Not exactly what we had in mind, now is it?” a deep voice asks as the door slams with a thunderclap. We spin around. Behind us is Shep.
“Not a bad day’s work,” Charlie whispers, extending the high-five.
Shep doesn’t take him up on it. He’s too focused on me. “So it’s all in the account?”
“Forget the account. Why’d you call in the Service?” I insist.
“They were here when I got here,” Shep snaps back. “I’m guessing it was Quincy or Lapidus—but believe me, when it comes to law enforcement, the Service is better than the FBI. At least we’re dealing with friends.”
“See…” Charlie interrupts. “Nothing to worry about.”
We both shoot him looks that’re meant to knock him on his ass. Me, he can handle. Shep’s another story. Time to get serious.
“We’ll catch the people and get the money back as quick as we can,” Shep announces, leaning over the banister and eyeing the floors above us. He lowers his voice and mouths two words: “Not here.” He’s not taking any chances.
“So where do you want to go for lunch?” Charlie quickly adds. Smart. We need a place to talk. Someplace private. Simultaneously staring at the floor, the three of us fall silent. We’re all on the same page, churning through the mental atlas.
“How about the Yale Club?” I suggest, going with Lapidus’s favorite hideaway.
“I like it,” Charlie says. “Quiet, secluded, and just snotty and repressed enough to know how to keep its mouth shut.”
Shep shakes his head. Reading our confused looks, he pulls out his wallet