“We’ll need all of that and maybe more, wood,” Tristan said to his partner.
“Why should you hold it all?” Jerzy retorted.
“Okay, you wanna rent the van? Here,” Tristan said, and he handed the remaining bills to Jerzy. “You wanna buy the bed and other shit?”
“Let’s not start off squabbling!” Dewey said as Jerzy stared down at his smaller partner, whose eyes were directed at “Foo Fighters” in red across the chest of Jerzy’s black T-shirt. “How about letting Creole handle the money, Jerzy? He’s the one that’s already set up with ID to rent the van.”
Jerzy grunted and handed the money back to Tristan without further comment.
“Okay, then,” Dewey said. “Unless you got a better plan, I say this goes down at the storage locker in Reseda.”
“Like how?” Tristan said.
“You two are in there when I arrive with Ethel. You’ll ambush us.”
“How do you plan to get your old lady to the storage room?” Jerzy asked.
Dewey said, “I think I have a way. It’s possible that we could be ready as soon as tomorrow night. Are you two good to go?”
“Holy shit!” Tristan said. Then he thought about it and said, “Why not? But how do we get in the storage room to ambush you?”
“If I’m able to set it up for tomorrow night, I’ll meet you at our office in the afternoon at about two o’clock. We’ll drive to the storage facility, where you will enter behind me just like you did last time. We’ll park the van at the next row of storage buildings so there’s no vehicle parked by our storage room when I arrive with my wife. You’ll be hiding behind the merchandise boxes, and when we arrive, you’ll jump us, tape her up, blindfold her, and one of you will run and get the van from the neighboring parking area.”
Jerzy said, “How the fuck do we drag this taped-up woman from the storage room to the van without somebody seein’ us? As I remember, there were other people comin’ and goin’ around there.”
“There won’t be at eight thirty at night,” Dewey said. “There’s twenty-four-hour self-storage access for customers, but I’ve seldom seen anybody there after dark, except for the security guard in the front office. After you get us in the van, you lock up the storeroom, take my keys, and leave my car where it’s parked. I’ve seen customers’ cars left there for two or three days after they took away their stored belongings in a rental truck. Just wave to the guard when you drive out. It’ll be a minimum-wage employee who’ll probably be too busy watching TV to even wave back.”
“You’re sayin’ we gotta sit in that hot storage room for more than five hours?” Jerzy said.
“Yes,” Dewey said. “I need time to get back to Hollywood and set up the gag for her to go with me to the storage room. I’m gonna get a phone call and say that our runners Creole and Jerzy called and need four laptops and a plasma from there to deliver for a very good price, and that I gotta do the pickup ASAP. It’s not gonna be comfortable for you in that room, but you’re gonna get a hell of an hourly wage for those five hours and for the following two days after it’s all over.”
Tristan, who was listening intently, said, “Okay, as long as you seem to be writer and director of this here show, have you worked out how the woman thinks we got in that room to pull off the ambush without you bein’ involved?”
“Yes,” Dewey said. “I’ve worked out the dialogue. She’ll know that you’re Creole and Jerzy, our runners. She’s heard of you. She’ll also know that you, Creole, were the guy from Water and Power, so she’ll know you staked us out for this kidnap. When you throw us in this apartment, I’ll tell her that you musta made a duplicate key when we transferred the merchandise from Los Feliz to the storage facility, and that I also shared the gate code with you on that job. She’s never been to the facility before. She’ll buy it.”
“And did you write the dialogue for when we get your hysterical old lady up here?” Jerzy asked.
It took several seconds for Dewey to say, “That part will be mostly improv.”
“And what the fuck’s that mean?” said Jerzy.
“I want this to go down without her getting hurt,” Dewey said.
“Yeah, well, I wanna fuck every waitress at Hooters,” Jerzy said. “But I might jist end up in jail, fuckin’ a package of lunch meat if this don’t get done right.”
“She talks tough, but she’s not a brave woman,” Dewey said. “Maybe if you let her know about that very impressive knife of yours, she’ll fold. But first you’ll have to beat me up.”
“I’m gonna love that part!” Jerzy said.
“No, not really beat me up,” Dewey said quickly. “But she’s gonna have to believe that you did it. Remember, she’ll be blindfolded and think I am too. You’ll have to punch your fist into your palm several times, and I’ll have to yell out and beg you to stop. I’ll throw myself on the floor. That kind of thing.”
“I’d rather make it more real with you,” Jerzy said with that worrisome grin of his.
“Get your mind in the game, dawg,” Tristan said.
Dewey ignored Jerzy and said, “After you pretend to beat me up, you’ll take me outta the apartment for about twenty minutes. Then you’ll take me back in, and since she’ll have a blindfold on, I’ll be able to convince her that I’m hurting, and I’ll tell her that you asked for half a million to let us live. The important thing is that you never remove her blindfold. In fact, duct-tape it to her face.”
“This is all good,” Tristan said, “but I still don’t see how you get the money outta her bank account and into your hands.”
“I’ve already laid the groundwork,” Dewey said. “If you can scare her enough and then leave us alone, it’ll be a done deal.”
“Like, how do you actually do it, Bernie?” Tristan said. “Tell me the steps involved.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Dewey said. “It’s a wire transfer.”
Suddenly Jerzy stepped close to Dewey and said, “There ain’t no secrets between us here, Bernie. You ain’t Mr. Kessler no more. Now tell my little partner what he wants to know.”
Dewey looked up at Jerzy Szarpowicz, then at Tristan, and said, “She’ll give me the password and the account number and routing number if I need it. And whatever else she used to identify herself, like her mother’s maiden name of the name of her first doggy, or whatever the fuck I need to order her bank to wire the funds to my bank. Satisfied?”
“Back off, Bernie,” Tristan said. “We got a right to know all the details. Like, why is she gonna be content to be the one who stays with us, while you leave her for two days to do the deal?”
“Because you’re gonna tell her that one of us stays and the other goes and gets the money, and I’m your pick to go.”
“Don’t tell me,” Tristan said. “Lemme guess. You’re gonna offer to stay, because no manly man would leave his wife to die with a couple of insane kidnappers, but we’re gonna say, no, Momma stays. And you’re gonna go and bring the money back to save her life.”
“That’s what we have to sell,” Dewey said.
“I keep goin’ back to the possibility that she won’t buy it,” Tristan said. “What if she’s braver and smarter than you think? What if she’s layin’ there blindfolded and starts to think this might all be a gag that her rat-fucker husband arranged?”
Dewey turned then and walked to the window, looking at the blinds. Finally, he said, “Be sure to tape these to the wall.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Jerzy said. “We’ll do the details. Now answer Creole’s question.”
“I’m a good actor,” Dewey said. “I’ll sell it.”
“Yeah, but what if you ain’t quite as good as you think you are, and she just smells somethin’ that ain’t right?” Tristan said, pressing the man.