chapter 29
WALTER HUDDLED WITH his team in the library of the historic hotel. He paced while they settled in their seats and then shut the door. His emotions were all over the place, and anxiety flooded him, just as it had eleven years ago in the Minnesota police station. He fought to suppress the memories and keep his mind on track. Fortunately, the meeting with the security team had been much less intense than he expected. Samantha’s presence had totally changed the dynamic. When he was alone with them a few days earlier, he had been certain they were onto him and about to call the police. Maybe they were just fishing, he thought.
Glancing at his watch, Walter exhaled deeply. Bernard, Sebastian, and Lucille all awaited Walter’s update.
“Samantha was a big help this morning. That was a great suggestion, Sebastian,” Walter said.
“Balloons are ordered,” Bernard blurted. “Sebastian and I are taking her a special cut magnet and glue when we get outta here. It was a refrigerator magnet from Rose Drugs that I spray-painted.”
“Perfect. I’ll need you to park across the street when they close and monitor to see if the alarm goes off. It could take a few hours.”
“Lucille…we need small flashlights, two handheld radios, a small tool kit, and gloves for all of us,” Walter explained.
“Is that all?” she asked as she jotted down the list.
“Some Clorox wipes, unscented if you can find them, a small tote bag to carry it all, and a larger bag for the cash.”
“Anything else?”
“How ’bout black coveralls with black stockin’ caps?” Bernard offered excitedly.
“I think we’re better off looking like a bunch of old guys working than a bunch of old, white, crippled ninjas.”
“I’m definitely not the covert-spy type,” Sebastian said matter-of-factly. “I’m more of the ‘just walk up and shoot ’em in the head with a forty-five’ type.”
Bernard imagined the three of them in all black, pumping gas and getting strange looks or having to explain to the police what they were doing. “Lucille, since you’re goin’ out, I’m gonna need some Zantac. All this stress has got me so wound up you couldn’t pull a greased string outta my butt with a tractor. My heartburn’s killin’ me.”
Everyone chuckled except Bernard.
Walter looked at each of them and then placed the cigar he had been chewing into the corner of his mouth and smiled. They weren’t exactly the A-Team, but he liked their spirits. They have heart…and probably heart disease, he thought.