Nickel Plated Read online

  “It’s alright, I can fix it.”

  “The power is still out.”

  “Nickel, you exploded a power pole—of course it’s still out.”

  Yeah.

  “I need to get home,” I said.

  “I need to get to school.”

  “You want me to walk you?”

  “I get a ride with a friend.”

  She blushed. A boy. My heart. Destroyed.

  “I’ll call you after school.”

  “Don’t, I’ll call you. I’ve got a busy day.”

  “You will call, won’t you?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “I want to help you spy.”

  It’s amazing how a smile and a kind word can fix even a ruined heart.

  “Alright. Call.”

  She smiled, so I stood and followed her outside. “I’ll see you tonight. Oh. Nickel, your face!”

  She pointed at the hose. It was cold but better than the alternative. I rubbed my face on my shirt and gave Arrow a look. She responded with a thumbs-down, and I gave myself another shot with the hose, another rub with the shirt. Thumbs-up.

  I waved and walked off, cutting between yards to get to the road. I saw two cars before I got to the main drag but didn’t look at either. I didn’t need to see Arrow with her friend to know it would sting.

  I was exhausted by the time I got to my bike. It was unmolested, so I climbed on and got out of there. I didn’t realize just how sore I was until I got going, little nagging scratches all over me. I needed a hot shower and some serious time in a bed. I’d get at least one of them, and not the one I wanted the most. I went home.

  Went in the house and just threw the backpack on the floor; I’d deal with it later. I stripped down and went to the bathroom. My stomach was rumbling, but it could wait until I’d cleaned up a bit. I turned on the shower and climbed in. It was almost scalding, but felt fantastic. I stayed until the hot water ran out and made some food, fried egg sandwiches. I brushed my teeth and went out back, watered my garden. I needed to trim it again soon. Went downstairs and came right back up; it would have to wait. I found two envelopes in my jeans that I hadn’t even opened and thought about my three drop boxes that needed to get checked. I pushed it all aside—the scams, the desire to sleep, everything but Shelby and Arrow.

  I dressed in urban camo, jeans and a Clipse T-shirt. Thought about a hat and thought better of it. Went to my backpack, unloaded the contents on the table. Took it out to the garage and loaded it. Binoculars, spotting scope, moleskin notebook, and pre-sharpened pencils, three of them. Grabbed a little burner cell phone that I bought in bulk at a 7-Eleven. Camera tripod for shooting in the prone position, a ghillie suit that I’d modified to fit me like a glove, and a matching hat and face mask for the suit. I looked back in my war closet, grabbed my spare and yet-to-be-modified ghillie suit, and stuck it in as well, with another face mask and hat combo. I went back inside and got my camera.

  I’ve got a Canon frame that I really like; I just needed the right lens. I did a few calculations in my head and figured a 100–400 zoom would be good enough. I grabbed that and the body, hesitated, and squashed the thought—if that wasn’t a long enough look, then it really wouldn’t matter.

  All of my camera parts are painted with a solution called Dura-Coat. Most people use it for guns; I go shooting with it too, just not bullets. I can do a mean headshot though, and sometimes they even fall down afterwards. Of course, that only happens after the spouse gets the pictures. The lens and body I grabbed for this job were printed with a forest-colored digital camo. I stuck a couple of flash cards in my pocket and let the camera stuff be.

  I paged Gary right before I left with a code we’d come up with to expect a call at seven o’clock tonight. I wanted to bounce some laundering ideas off of him. Just because I was his guy for pot didn’t mean he wouldn’t know a good way to get rid of some money. Gary was loyal, but that didn’t mean he was devoid of other connections. I checked my watch, slung the bag over my shoulder, and got on my bike, and then I went back to Four Oaks to take some pictures.

  Chapter 29

  I rode my bike to Arrow’s house and parked it next to a power pole. As far as I could tell, the power was still out. Whoops. I walked quickly through her side yard and into the woods. If I could make it to her house in the woods while men and dogs chased me, I could make it in daylight back to the site of the bombing.

  I heard the sounds of work long before I was able to see it, and I took the cue as a good indicator to change my camouflage from hapless tween to shrubs. I took off my jeans, sure that Arrow would come walking from behind one of the trees while I was half naked, and pulled on the raggedy custom camo. I slipped the hat and face piece on after I’d zipped the suit. The outfit made me feel like something less than human. This was the first time I’d used it for anything aside from practice, and I felt like I was a big bug wearing it. When the light was plucking in at waist height through the trees, I dropped to my knees and elbows to crawl the rest of the way. I stopped ten feet from the edge of the woods, found a lane to shoot through, checked for insects and ants, and committed myself to the earth.

  There were four men from the electric company, two from the phone company, and two very bored-looking uniformed cops. If there were canines or any other specialty units, I’d yet to see them; I didn’t expect I would until it was far too late. I slid my backpack to my position and removed the camera and lens. Keeping my focus on what was in front of me rather than what was in my hands, I assembled the camera and lens. Next, I removed the tripod and put the mess together under my stomach. I took a deep breath and pulled the camera from beneath me. I sighted, gave the lens a try, and looked. I saw everything; 400 was too much gun, by a good minute actually. I rolled back to 350. To three. Perfect. He turned before I could shoot. Dark hair, thin on top, dyed. Home job. The bits he missed were gray. He had an average build, saw some sun. He turned back. I fired. Head shot. One down.

  They’d already gotten the old pole out of the ground and were working on getting the new one in when I got there. The wires lay coiled up like black snakes on the lawn, and the whole area was cordoned off with yellow police tape and signs saying things like, “Danger! High Voltage!” They’d actually needed to close the street to do the work. I could see a group of five older men across the road watching the work and undoubtedly talking about how they would have done it differently. I aimed over all of them, letting the camera find their faces. I went back to the workers.

  I sighted in on a fat one with guts spilling over his belt, a yellow hard hat, and sunglasses. I watched him for a long time, just his face in the frame. He took off the hat, took off the glasses. Wiped his face. When the arm came down, I fired. Caught him cold, air puffing out of his red cheeks. Two down.

  I checked my watch; I’d already been down for a bit. If there was numbness in me, I couldn’t feel it. One of them climbed the new pole, spike boots on his feet. He was ruddy like the last one, but not fat. Didn’t work outdoors much, I could tell just by looking at him. Didn’t matter. Boom.

  I shot two more, and they broke for lunch. I crawled back the way I came. Soaked into the forest more than I already was, became a ghost. Packed the camera up still built. Slunk back to Arrow’s house. When I got there, I lay my pack next to me and stayed ten feet in the tree line. I closed my eyes and concentrated my internal clock on two hours. I closed my eyes and went away. When I woke, it was three in the afternoon.

  I called Arrow.

  “Hello?”

  “Come out back.”

  “Nickel?”

  “No names.”

  “I know! It didn’t sound like you.”

  I let myself breathe, took two good strong inhales, and said, “Better?”

  “Yes. Be right out.”

  “I’m in the woods.”

  I hung up, and a few minutes later she stepped tentatively onto the patio, still dressed for school. She held her hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun
and scanned the tree line. I called to her.

  “Arrow!”

  She snapped on my position and drifted away from it, not believing her ears. She stepped off of the patio and walked to the woods. She slid through the grass and walked into the trees. She was almost standing on me, admiring my backpack, when I grabbed her ankle. She jumped and yelled.

  “Nickel!”

  I rolled over and looked at her. “Hey.”

  “You were freaking invisible!”

  “No. I just took away my lines.”

  “Your lines?”

  “The way that we identify something as human. Arms, legs, noses. It’s why zebras have stripes, why most prey animals have markings on their bodies. It keeps them safe.”

  “It’s cool.”

  I knelt and started picking through the backpack, pulled out my spare suit and hat, and handed them to Arrow.

  “For me?”

  “I thought you wanted to come?”

  “I do. Hang on.” She unfastened the top button of her skirt and said, “Nickel, turn your butt around. If I catch you looking, you’re dead.”

  I turned; got to do what the lady says.

  A few minutes later she said, “How do I look?”

  “It fits you really well.” It did. Everything seemed to fit well on Arrow.

  “Does this go over my face?”

  “Take your ponytail holder off, then slide down your hair and tuck it into the neck of your shirt.”

  She did it, slowly, making sure she got it right. I nodded approval, and she flashed me a smile. I pulled the mask part over my face and watched her do the same. I took the camera from the backpack and handed her the bag. I led and she followed.

  When we got close, I dropped to a knee and walked low. When we got closer, I crawled. I didn’t look to see what she was doing; I just had to assume she was impersonating me as best she was able. I knew she wouldn’t be able to imitate my herky-jerky movements that were meant to look as nonhuman as possible, but as long as she was staying prone she’d be fine. I could hear her behind me, but she wasn’t loud; she was learning. I got us as close to the tree line as I felt comfortable with and waved her forward. She was smart and left the backpack behind her. I set the camera down, crawled back, and got the spotting scope and binoculars.

  I set up the scope in front of her, working slowly. When it was done, I looked through it and brought the tube to bear on them. Zeroed in, motioned for her to look down it. She did and popped back; I could see the grin through her mask. She gave me a thumbs-up. I readied the camera, and we got to work.

  By the time we were done, I’d taken three new heads, all of them ladder boys with spike shoes, all from the electric company. None of them had that desk look—they were tanned, had strong builds. I didn’t trust a single one of them. To me, they looked like death. It was dusk before we were back at Arrow’s. We changed in the woods, and she went back to her world, I went back to mine. Everything was clicking, and I had work to do.

  Chapter 30

  I called Gary from the pay phone by Arrow’s house. When he answered, I said, “Can you talk?”

  “Yes.”

  “You get that money?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  “How’s heat?”

  “Not bad. They searched my car, came to my house, looked there. Nothing. The principal’s the one with heat now. He’s got my mom yelling up one side of him and the police chief yelling up the other, because my mom hollered at the chief, too. She’s angry, but she’s proud that her good little Gary didn’t do any of the things those liars said, and she has no problem reminding me of just how proud she is. We had to pray about it four times yesterday. I need to get out of this house!”

  “Stay cold, you’ll be out and about soon enough. I’ve got a business proposal for you.”

  “Alright, what do you got?”

  “Say I wanted to move some phony money, ’bout a hundred and fifty K.”

  “That’s a lot.”

  “It is.”

  “Is it good?”

  “Really good, almost fooled me.”

  “What do they want on the back end?”

  “Forty percent.”

  “Does that leave anything for us? I’ve never even thought about this stuff before.”

  “I’ll cut you in for five if you help me get rid of it.”

  “I can look around. See what’s out there. I can’t remember anybody ever doing anything like that at school, though.”

  “Exactly. You got kids that burn money, and the best part is, no one will know where it’s coming from.”

  “Have you thought about selling legit money as funny and making the switch?”

  “Too much face time. I want this anonymous and gone.”

  “It’s never anonymous for me. This whole school knows I’m lightning, and nobody’s talking, except for about how bad they need a bag. No promises on the money.”

  “All I’m asking is to think about it. You move it, you’ll be looking at about seventy-five hundred.”

  “If I don’t get caught.”

  “Gary, when have you ever gotten caught?”

  “I know, man, it’s this heat—it’s got me flustered. I’m not used to being in trouble. I’ll get over it, and I’ll let you know about the money.”

  “Be in touch.”

  I hung up the phone before he could respond. If Gary didn’t get his spine back, I was going to need to send him a message, remind him that anyone with ten cents of brains can sell grass for me. It wouldn’t take much dope flowing to get a school that wanted to get high buying. I could flood it in ten minutes with another Gary. The money was a separate issue; I’d just hoped Gary would have given me something to go on. I left the phone and the gas station, went home to work.

  Chapter 31

  When I got home I threw the backpack on the table with the rest of my mess, and then I turned on the oven so I could make some more chicken strips. I didn’t even care what I ate—I just needed to have something in my belly. I took the camera out and ejected the flash card. I went to the office and plugged the card into the reader and my pager into the charger. Bounced back to the kitchen, turned on the timer, and put the last of the chicken in the oven. I went back to the office and fired up the Web. No scams tonight, I was looking for someone specific. I opened the photo viewer, skipped past the first pictures I’d taken, and went to the ones I’d gotten with Arrow.

  The first man I’d gotten two shots of, and the second one had something I’d been unable to see through the camera, a nametag. Right under the words “Consolidated Energy,” it said “Clyde.” I was practically drooling as I skipped past it without looking at him. I went to the other ones, names on both. Freddy and Hank.

  I shrunk the photo viewer and went online, went to the electric company Web site, and after about fifteen screens realized that my foray into the Consolidated Energy database was a dud. I shuffled back to the phone company site, fiddled for a minute, and came up with nothing connective between the two. Crap. I thought for a minute, stuck a pen in my mouth to disguise my voice, and plugged in line five, and then I dialed the number on their homepage.

  I went through about five different option menus and hit 0 on all of them; finally I got an operator.

  “How can I direct your call?”

  “I need to know who’s been on my lawn. This is an outrage.”

  “What is the nature of your complaint?”

  “Some idiot blew up our power over here, and I want to know who’s been on my lawn.”

  “Can I have the account number?”

  “I’m at work; I don’t have the stupid bill right here.”

  “Address on the account?”

  “1138 Oakway, in Grand Rapids. They’re destroying my lawn!”

  “Just a moment.”

  Muzak. So far so good. A few minutes later, she was right back at me.

  “Sorry about that, how can I help you?”

  “I want to know the name of ever
y one of these idiots so I can report them, and then I want to talk to a supervisor or somebody over there who can tell me why there’s all this digging when we have elevated lines.”

  “I’m not authorized to give out employee information.”

  “I’m not looking to send a Christmas card; I want a list of who’s been on my property.”

  “Sir, I can’t give you any names of exactly who’s been in your yard. If you’d like, I can e-mail you a list of the repair personnel that service your area, and then you and someone at the local office can figure out which of them were there.”

  Fantastic.

  “I guess that will work.”

  I rattled off my e-mail address, let her give me the local number, and hung up. Opening up my e-mail got me nothing; five minutes later, I had mail.

  There was only one Clyde. I looked him up on the online phonebook. Boom. Clyde Cunningham, 3415 Fern Boulevard. He was easy; I copied and pasted the info into a Word doc and went looking for the other two. There were two Freds, but only one listed as Freddy. I copied his stuff out of the phonebook too, Freddy Jefferson, 77 Duiker Road. Hank was easy as well, but I took that one the way I had the Freds. There were two Henrys, one listed as Henry “Hank” Phillips, 92 Duiker Road. My hand was shaking as I clicked the mouse to copy. Same street as Freddy; no way it was a coincidence. The oven beeped, and I jumped so hard I knocked over my computer chair. I ignored it, went back to the pictures to see them. They stared back, eyes cold. The pictures did nothing to help me relax. I needed to move tonight. I left the office to eat and think.

  The way I figured it, musing over a meal of the finest processed, frozen, and reheated chicken money could buy, was that if they were in it, they were in it together. I didn’t know what the twist was, but I figured one, if not both of them, was unmarried. If it was only one, the unmarried guy would have the house with the action. I needed to go to Duiker Road and look around. I let the adrenaline from the find chase any fear or weariness out of me, and I went to the bathroom to take a shower.