“Try me.”
“We don’t know where they are.”
Liam was standing only a few feet from him now, and he raised his arm, pointing his pistol at Ballick’s head. Ballick hoped he would pull the trigger then and there, but knew it would be too easy. “You’re going to have to do better than that.”
“I’m telling you, we don’t know where they are,” he said again. “No one does.”
“Someone does,” Liam replied. He motioned toward the door to the shack with the barrel of his gun.
“It’s gonna be like that?” Ballick said.
“It’s up to you.”
Ballick stood. “Nothing I can tell you is gonna be of any use,” he said. Liam didn’t respond, but motioned to the door again. To Ballick’s left, the other man emerged from the shadows. He seemed large and shapeless, and he had a face from a child’s nightmare. He had a gun, too, and he moved with economy and confidence.
Ballick turned toward the water to take one last look. A stiff breeze kicked off the harbor and swept in, working over his face like a farewell. He inhaled deeply, letting the frigid air fill him to the core, closing his eyes in memory, feeling comforted.
Then he took two steps toward the door, and flanked by Liam and the other man, he stepped into the shack.
Devon led the way through the museum hallways and around to the security guard’s desk. He and the Irishman had discussed the fact that Devon was the only one who would talk. He had the thick Boston accent shared by the vast majority of the police on the streets. It wasn’t as though there were no cops in Boston with Irish accents, but it would stick out, and possibly give the guards cause for alarm. They couldn’t afford to take the risk. The Irishman had reluctantly agreed to allow Devon to do the talking.
Devon came around the corner first and saw the guard standing behind the security desk. That was bad. He was hoping the man might have come around from the back, and they simply would have tackled him to prevent him from setting off the alarm. Now it looked like Devon was going to have to lure the man away from his post.
“You the guy givin’ us such a hassle out there?” he yelled at the guard. The kid couldn’t have been older than twenty-two.
“Sorry, Officer,” the guard said. “I wasn’t sure whether I was supposed to let the police in. I was told no one gets in after closing.”
“That’s the dumbest fuckin’ thing I ever heard,” Devon pressed. He looked at the Irishman. “You ever heard anything so fuckin’ stupid? It don’t even make any sense.” He turned back to the guard. “You wanna try again?”
The guard was nervous now, Devon could tell. That was the goal-make him nervous. Some ratty little pot-smoking musician-slash-security-guard would be naturally scared of the cops, and fear would make him compliant. “I don’t understand,” he said. “That’s what I was told.”
“Bullshit,” Devon shot back. He stepped in close and examined the kid. He was so close that the guard involuntarily pulled back from the security desk. “Don’t I know you?” Devon asked him.
“I don’t think so.”
“Yeah, I do. I busted you three months ago down on Mass Ave, right? Possession, or some shit like that. You never showed for your court hearing. Bad mistake; you probably would’ve gotten probation, but judges don’t like when you skip. We got a warrant out for your arrest.”
The guard shook his head so hard, Devon thought he might break a vertebra. “You’ve got me confused with someone else, Officer. I swear it.”
Devon made his eyes go dark and he moved toward the desk. “You little shit! You callin’ me a fuckin’ liar? I swear to God, if you are, I’ll make you fuckin’ pay. I know a bunch of guys down at Corrections; I make one phone call, and you’ll be fucked so hard in jail, you’ll shit spunk for weeks. You got that!”
“Yes, Officer, but I swear you never arrested me.” The guard was in a panic now, and Devon could literally smell the fear on him. For a moment he wondered whether the kid had pissed his pants.
“You got someone else here, a partner?”
“Yeah,” the guard stammered. “He’s just finishing his rounds. I called him, and he’ll be right down.”
“He better be, because you’re in a shitload of trouble, and we’re gonna have to deal with it. Is there anyone else here?”
“No, sir, just the two of us. I don’t understand why I’m in trouble.”
“Get your ass out from behind that desk,” Devon ordered. The guard hesitated. “Move, you little shit! Or I will make you wish you’d never been born, I swear it!”
The guard relented and walked around the desk. “What? What do you want from me?” he asked.
“I want you to shut your fuckin’ mouth, and I want you to move over toward the wall.” As the kid moved toward him, Devon knew it was all just about over. It was unlikely that, even if the guard realized there was a problem now, he could get back to the desk to set off the alarm. Still, Devon wanted to play the role out so that it would make the rest of the evening as simple as possible.
“This is ridiculous,” the guard said. “I haven’t done anything!”
Devon spun him by the shoulder and pushed him in the center of his back toward the wall. “Keep talkin’,” he said. “It only gets worse.” He shoved the guard against the wall and kicked his feet. “Spread ’em,” he said. The guard spread his feet. His hands were already up against the wall. “Now put your hands behind your back,” Devon said.
“You’re making a serious mistake,” the guard pleaded.
“We’ll know soon enough,” Devon said. “I’m gonna call this in and run you through the system. But right now, I want you to put your hands behind your fuckin’ back!” The guard put his right hand behind his back, and Devon closed the handcuff around his wrist. Almost there. “Now the left one.”
The guard put his left hand behind his back, and as the second cuff closed, Devon realized he hadn’t frisked the kid. Not that it really mattered-he knew the guards weren’t armed. But no cop puts someone in cuffs without frisking him first. He turned the guard around and smiled.
“You’re not the police, are you?” the guard said.
Devon could feel his smile broaden.
Just then the other guard walked around the corner from finishing his rounds. He saw the first guard with his hands cuffed behind his back, and the two police officers standing there. “What’s going on, Officer?” he said.
Devon nodded to the Irishman, and passed the first guard over to him. Then he moved toward the second guard. “This asshole’s under arrest,” he said. “You’re next if you don’t watch it. I want you up against the wall, now.” He was manhandling the guard, who was so taken by surprise he wasn’t even resisting.
It took less than five seconds for Devon to cuff the second man, and by the time it was over, the last chance the guards had to avoid disaster had slipped fully away. All he said as Devon put the cuffs on him was, “I don’t understand why you’re arresting me!”
Devon spun the man around. “You’re not being arrested,” he said evenly. “This is a robbery. If you don’t give us any trouble, you won’t get hurt.”
“They don’t pay me enough to get hurt,” the guard said.
Devon smiled. “Good. You boys keep your mouths shut and don’t tell the police anything for a year, and we’ll send you a reward.” Neither of them replied to this. “Which way is the basement?”
“Down the hallway,” the second guard said, motioning with his chin.
Devon nodded again to Liam. “Downstairs,” he said. They walked the two guards down the hall to a doorway that led down to the basement. As they walked, Devon questioned the two captives briefly. “No more guards, right?” he said. That was the information they had-that there were only two guards on duty at night, but that sort of intelligence can be wrong, so he figured he’d confirm it.