“Tracy knows everything?”
“I know everything,” Tracy said.
“Welcome to the club, Tracy,” Mike said. Despite his words, he felt bothered by Tracy being in the circle. Nothing suspicious had come up in her background when he had run a check on her a month or so back, but he always had the belief that the fewer people who knew what was going on, the better. Obviously that theory was shot to hell now that Tracy was in the fold. It looked like they were going to have to do the best they could with what they had.
“I’m trying to be as calm about this as I can,” Mike said, still closing his eyes. “I’m trying very hard not to completely lose it, so I am going to need all the help I can get. Okay?”
Tracy, Vince, and Frank nodded. Frank said, “Yeah, man, I hear you.”
Mike opened his eyes and looked up at them. His eyes burned; he supposed they were red with irritation. “I know this is going to sound shitty, but I have to go to the bank and check on that safe deposit box. That’s the only way I’m going to know if… if what I’m afraid has happened…”
“I understand, man,” Frank said. “We’ll get you there, pronto. And just to put your mind at ease, I think it’s safe. Bank regulations would not have allowed Carol or anybody else to access it if you’re the only signatory.”
“I know that,” Mike said. “But I panicked last night.” Mike looked around the room, still feeling a little disoriented. “Where’s my wallet?”
“In your pocket,” Frank said.
Mike felt his hip pocket, the reassuring bulge creating a calm feeling. He turned to Vince and Tracy. Vince still looked nervous but it appeared he was trying to live with the situation. Mike guessed he hadn’t been too happy about bringing Tracy into this, either.
“I think we should call William Grecko today,” Frank said. “Put the last part of our plan into action now.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Mike said. “But first, I want to go to the bank. Humor me on this, okay?”
Frank nodded as Mike swung his legs over the bed.
“I think we need to get out of this room and find another location,” Mike said. “Preferably somewhere busy, with lots of people around and a lot of cops.”
“Venice beach?” Frank suggested. The slight inflection of jovialness in Frank’s tone suggested he was joking, but the location was exactly what Mike was looking for.
“Perfect. Does everybody have their cell phones?”
Vince nodded. “Yeah, I got mine.”
“Turn it on,” Mike said. “Take Tracy and get a room in Venice. Then sit on the boardwalk and wait for us. Frank and I are going to my bank to check on my safe deposit box. Then I’m going to call—”
“Do you really think we should separate again?” Frank asked, concerned. “I mean—”
“We’ll be fine,” Mike turned to Frank. “We don’t even know if they’re responsible for what happened at my house. If they are, that means they’re going after our families, not us. Tracy, your family is from Huntington Beach, is that correct?” He dredged that information up instantly. He turned to Tracy.
“Yes,” she nodded, looking a little surprised. “My mother is. My dad’s from Monrovia.”
“If you’re in this, you’re in all the way. Do you understand?”
Tracy nodded. For the first time Mike detected a hint of nervousness in a face that, up till now, had been bold and defiant.
“Be honest with us and yourself if you want in,” Mike continued. “This isn’t some bullshit game. If I’d had any inclination that I was putting my family in danger six months ago, we wouldn’t be having this conversation now. I wouldn’t have even gone through all the bullshit of setting up a false identity and investigating all this under a pseudonym. I erred on the notion that if I put that kind of distance between my real self and personal life and this other identity, that my family and I would be safe. I was wrong. If you want to get involved, there is the very strong possibility that you may be placing your family in danger. Do you understand?”
Tracy nodded, suddenly looking worried. She glanced at Vince, who put his arm around her shoulders in an encouraging hug. She turned back to Mike, straightening herself up. “Yes. I understand. And I want in.”
Mike nodded. “Okay.” He looked at Frank. “You got a tooth brush I can borrow? My mouth feels like a septic tank.”
“Go for it,” Frank said, motioning to the bathroom. “My stuff’s in there.”
“Thanks.” Mike stepped past them and paused briefly. “We’ll call you in a few hours and discuss what we’re going to do next. If you don’t hear from us by the end of the day, do what you can to drop out of sight completely. Disappear.”
Vince and Tracy nodded. They left the room as Mike brushed his teeth and freshened up quickly. Then he and Frank left the room for the Bank of America in Fountain Valley where he kept his safe deposit box.
THEY ONLY HAD to wait a few minutes for the bank official to wait on them. She was a small woman with porcelain features and waist length black hair. “Can I help you?”
Mike presented his pseudonymous identification. “I’ve got a safe deposit box I’d like access to.”
The woman smiled and typed into her computer. “Box number?”
“1356,” Mike replied.
The woman typed the number in the computer and waited. “Identification?”
Mike pushed his wallet across the desk. The woman looked at it, looked at Mike, then smiled. She reached into her desk for a set of keys. “Come with me, Mr. Costello.”
Mike motioned for Frank to stay seated and followed the clerk towards the vault.
The woman opened the vault with a key and escorted Mike in where the safe deposit boxes were. “Box 1356?”
“Yes,” Mike said. He reached into his pocket for his copy of the key, which he’d attached to his key ring. The woman took it, slid it into the lock, and opened it. She took out the box and handed it to Mike. The moment Mike took the box, he felt a sinking sense of despair. This should be heavier than it is, he thought.
“There’s a room around the corner.” The woman said. “Call me when you’re finished.”
“Thank you.” Mike followed the woman out of the vault and went to the room where he closed the door.
The box he’d gotten was the largest the bank had to offer. It was three feet long, four inches deep and seven inches wide. It was large enough to fit manila file folders and manuscripts in. Mike had stored two zip disks of information as well as three file folders of affidavits, notes, and photographs, among other things. His heart hammered in his chest as he opened the box.
For a minute it felt like his heart was going to stop. He stared into the box, not believing what he was seeing. He pulled the plastic top all the way off, running his hand inside. This can’t be, he thought. I was just here last fucking week!
The safe deposit box was empty.
Mike Peterson felt the room spinning. His stomach lurched, doing slow flops. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. It felt like he was going to be sick. Good thing he hadn’t eaten yet; still, it was probably his empty stomach giving him the jitters. But no, the box was empty; that was a cold, hard fact. He opened his eyes again, hoping his vision had been deceiving him but it wasn’t.
“Miss.” His voice sounded shaky, trembling. He stepped outside the room and caught the teller’s eye. “Miss?”
“Yes, Mr. Costello?” The woman approached him, a smile on her face.
Mike stood aside, conflicting emotions of fear and surprise and anger battling for position. “My box is empty. Who emptied my box?”
The woman looked puzzled. “Excuse me, sir?”
“I said my fucking box is empty!” Mike yelled. He suddenly had the irresistible urge to slap this woman, this bank drone, to take her by the shoulders and shake her, demand that she tell him who she’d let in here to take his stuff. He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. Calm down, he told himself. It’s not her fault, just calm down, calm down—