Monroe nodded, then stood and set out the plans for the next three weeks. Raj would get directions from him, and the two of us would start visiting gang representatives. Finley was checking out a building site that looked almost ready for wiring, which meant almost ready for a late-night visit from the crew. At the end of three weeks, we would meet again at The Spa Club to adjust our plans-unless anything went seriously wrong in the meantime. If that happened, we would meet sooner.
When Monroe finished, Finley raised a finger and Johnson nodded to him.
“About three miles west of here, before the highway, there’s a construction site. Looks like it’ll be a processing plant of some kind. A lot of pipe. Probably a lot of wire. It looks good.”
Johnson nodded again. “When?”
“Tonight?”
“Without checking out the place first?”
“There are no guards,” Finley said. “We go in and out. Snatch and grab. Leave behind anything we can’t take in five minutes.”
Johnson thought about it, then shrugged. “Why not?”
I said, “You’re planning on bringing in thousands of dollars a day from the gangs. Why bother with this stuff?”
Johnson looked at Monroe like he couldn’t believe Monroe had brought me into the group. Then he said, like I’d missed the obvious, “This is the fun part.”
The others laughed.
Raj grinned and slapped my shoulder. “Come on. It’s playtime.”
SIXTEEN
WE DROVE IN FIVE SUVs and vans back through Pleasant Prairie, past bare farm fields, and through the industrial strip. We turned onto a dark road with a street sign that said COUNTY HIGHWAY H, drove past a bunch of single-story white-sided factories and more farm fields, then swung to the shoulder by a construction lot surrounded by a tall chain-link fence. The top of the fence was lined with barbed wire.
Lights strung around the lot showed a main building that matched the ones we’d passed-single story and white-but it had three smokestacks at one end and a tall structure next to it, connected to the main building by a series of wide pipes. A temporary aluminum storage shed stood where I figured a parking lot would be. Next to it were piles of pipe and sheet metal.
Raj pulled to the front of the line of cars but stopped short of a pole that held a video camera focused on a gated driveway onto the lot.
He reached under the driver’s seat, pulled out a pair of work gloves, and slipped them on. “There’s another pair under your seat,” he said.
He got out, took a piece of steel pipe from the back of the SUV, and walked behind the pole that held the video camera. He smashed the camera. Pieces of metal and plastic flew to the ground and when the camera stopped turning it faced toward the clouds. Raj came back and exchanged the pipe for a pair of bolt cutters, went to the gate, and clipped the chain, then swung the gate open.
He ran back to the SUV and we led the others onto the lot.
We poured out of the vehicles and spread across the lot, scavenging for copper and anything else valuable that wasn’t bolted down. “All right,” yelled Johnson. “We’ve got five minutes.”
Finley shouted for assistance. Under a plastic tarp outside the storage shed, he’d found a small store of copper piping. In two trips, we loaded it into the back of one of the vans.
“Four minutes!” Johnson shouted.
The wind had picked up and the night had gotten cold, but we took off our coats and tossed them into our vehicles. We stripped the lot of everything that could be carried by hand and fit so the van and SUV doors would shut.
Raj went to the SUV and came back to the aluminum shed with a crowbar. He rammed the end into the gap between the door and the frame and threw his shoulder against the bar. The door didn’t move.
“Help me!” he said.
I stood on the other side of the crowbar and pulled as he pushed.
The door slowly pulled away from the frame until the lock bolts cleared their housings. The door swung free.
Raj dropped the crowbar and grinned. “Thanks.” He reached inside the door and flipped on a light.
“Three minutes!” Johnson shouted.
The contractors had partly finished the inside of the shed. At the back end, they’d built three small rooms complete with locked doors. The shed smelled like new lumber and a chemical I didn’t recognize. A stack of insulated cable stood near the door. A large pile of two-by-fours stood against a side wall. Other stacks of sealed cardboard boxes stood in the middle of the large room.
I went for the insulated cable.
“Leave that,” Raj said. “Get those.” He pointed at a pile of gray metal boxes.
“What are they?”
”Transformers. Worth a couple hundred apiece.”
We carried a dozen of them to the SUV.
When we finished, Raj brought the crowbar inside. He went to one of the locked doors. A sign that hung on it said WARNING-GUARD DOGS. He jammed the end of the crowbar between the door and the frame.
“What are you doing?” I said.
He cocked his head toward the door. “Listen,” he said. “No dogs.”
“So?”
“So, someone’s using the sign to keep people away from this room. That means something valuable’s inside. Could be electronics. Could be cash.” He pushed the crowbar deeper.
“Two minutes!” Johnson shouted but a moment later he yelled, “Forget it! Let’s go!”
“What’s wrong?” I said.
Raj shrugged. “A car’s coming or there’s something on the police frequency.”
“Come on!” yelled Johnson outside. “Go, go, go!”
Raj laid his weight against the crowbar.
“Come on,” I said.
“In a moment.” The door started to separate from the frame.
Outside, the other men were shouting.
Raj eased the crowbar, reached into his pocket, and tossed me a ring of keys. “Start the car.” He went back to work on the door.
I ran to the shed exit and looked back at Raj as he pried the door and it ripped out from the frame. Raj stood for a moment like he expected gold coins to pour over him.
Then three German shepherds lunged out.
“Fuck!” Raj yelled and one of the dogs landed on his chest. Raj fell back and rolled across the floor, the dog on top of him.
I started toward him but another dog came after me. I sprinted out the door to the SUV. As I fired up the engine, I looked toward the county highway. Two sets of headlights were approaching.
The other SUVs and vans spun their tires on the dirt, snaked across the lot, and shot through the gate and onto the road, heading away from the headlights. I followed them, but when I reached the gate, I hit the brakes. Two dogs, maybe three were ripping into Raj inside the storage shed.
I shifted into reverse, bounced back over the dirt, and looked over my shoulder in time to see Raj run from the shed, blood on his face, the dogs behind him, lunging at his hands and legs like he was a wild animal that they meant to bring down. I headed toward him but it seemed like he couldn’t see the SUV. He ran for the fence and, when he reached it, climbed and kept climbing until his clothes hung up in the barbed wire stretched across the top. The dogs stood against the fence on their hind legs and barked and howled.
With the crowbar I might be able to clear them. But the crowbar was lying on the floor inside the shed.
I drove the SUV to the fence, shined the headlights on the dogs. Raj hung onto the top of the fence, bleeding, his face wild with fear. The dogs ignored me.
The headlights on the road were a couple of blocks away.
I pulled the SUV away from the fence, turned it around, and shifted into reverse. I backed toward the fence until two of the dogs ran to the side and the other yelped and then followed them. The rear end of the SUV touched the fence and I opened my window and yelled, “Climb onto the roof.”