The Millionaires - Brad Meltzer [42]
“I got it,” Charlie says. “How about Track 117?”
I smirk. Shep’s lost. A quick whisper in his ear fills him in.
“You sure we can—?”
“Trust me,” Charlie says. “No one even knows it exists.” Watching us carefully, Shep doesn’t have much of a choice.
“So I’ll see you at noon?” Shep asks. The two of us nod our heads, and he takes off up the stairs. He disappears quickly, but we still hear his shoes clicking against the concrete steps.
The door slams above us, and I hit the stairs like Stallone in the first Rocky.
“Where’re you going?” Charlie calls out.
I don’t answer, but he already knows. I’m not waiting till lunch—I want the rest of the picture now.
Tearing up the corkscrewed stairs, I look back just enough to see Charlie trailing right behind me.
“They’ll never let you in,” he calls out.
“We’ll see…”
Fifth floor… sixth floor… seventh floor… I shoot out into the hallway, heading straight for Lapidus’s secretary. Charlie waits back, watching the rest through a crack in the stairwell door. That was his floor; this one’s mine.
“They still in there?” I ask, blowing past her desk as if they’re expecting me.
“Oliver, don’t…”
She’s not even close to being fast enough. I fling the door open and disappear.
Inside, the noisy chatter falls dead silent. Every single head turns my way. Lapidus, Quincy, Shep, Mary… even the two Secret Service agents who’re crowded around Lapidus’s antique desk. They look at me like I crashed their funeral.
“Who the hell is this?” Mr. Squat barks.
I look to Lapidus for the save, but by now, I should know better.
“I’ll take care of it,” Lapidus says, rushing toward me. He reaches out for my elbow, and with the gracefulness of a ballroom dancer, glides past me, spins me around, and escorts me back to the door. It’s so smooth, I barely realize what’s happening. “We just need to take care of a few things first. You understand…” he adds as if it’s no big deal. There’s a loud creak and the door opens. Three seconds later, I’m out on my ass.
Across the hall, I catch Charlie watching from the stairwell. My eyes drop to the carpet. Behind me, Lapidus gives me the standard boss back-pat and sends me on my way.
“I’ll call you when we have some news,” Lapidus adds, his voice suddenly waning. At three hundred million, it’s too big even for him. As I glance over my shoulder, he looks more ragged than both me and my brother—and the way he’s clutching the doorknob, it’s almost like he needs it to stand. Watching me leave, Lapidus slowly shuts the door. But in the last second… just as he turns away… just as he brushes his hand across his top lip… I swear, he’s fighting back the slightest of grins.
* * * *
“So he wouldn’t give you anything?” Charlie asks as we race up Park Avenue, zigzagging in tandem through the lunchtime crowd.
“Can we please not talk about it?” I snap.
“What abou—”
“I said I don’t want to talk about it!”
Charlie steps back, his palms facing me. “Listen, you don’t have to tell me twenty times—I got better stuff to do anyway. Now what d’you wanna buy first? I’m thinking something small, but easy to hide—like Delaware.”
This time, I don’t answer.
“What? You don’t like Delaware? Fine—how ’bout a Carolina?”
I continue to stay quiet.
“Oh, c’mon, Ollie—throw me some love—a shrug… a yell… something.” He knows I’m too opinionated to bite my lip—which means he also knows that when silence steps in, my mind’s on something else.
“Helloooooo—Earth to Oliver! You speaka de Spanish?”
I step off the curb and cross 41st Street. Only one more block to go. “Do you think Shep would turn on us?” I blurt.
Charlie laughs out loud. That little-brother laugh. “Is that what’s got you crapping your pants?”
“I’m serious, Charlie—for all we know, that’s why he agreed to meet us. He’ll tape our entire conversation, and then all he’ll have to do is turn us over to the—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa… it’s time to jump on the trolley and get out of the Land of Make-Believe. This is Shep we’re talking about.