Chapter 25: The Heist
Fun fact: The house described in this chapter does actually exist. You can see it here if you want to: $3,495,000.
You know that feeling you get after coming back from a vacation? The one where you feel like your hometown is nothing but a drag and you really, really want to go back to vacation again? Yeah, I had a terrible case of that after we got back home. My camera was chock-full of pictures, most of them candid shots taken on the beach, although I did have some shots from the condo, Big Kahuna's, and the extremely long car ride back home that was slowed down by a terrible rainstorm around Hartsfield Airport. As they were uploaded onto my computer, I really just wanted to leave Atlanta and go back there again.
Soon after, though, and just before prom, Angie finally got a car! She said that it was an early graduation present. It's a Volvo station wagon with tons of room in the trunk, which is good considering that she's going to take the car to college…in Washington, DC. Anyway, on her inaugural drive, she decided to come down to The Freak Show and visit me on the job.
Feli was baking a big velvet cake and I was drawing a heart in the foam crown of a latte when Lauren admitted Angie to the store.
"Feebs! I drove over here!" Angie chirped when she came inside.
"In the Mazda?" I asked, not looking up from my latte art. Angie's mom drives a Mazda sedan. In fact, Angie learned how to drive in it.
"No! In my Volvo! I just got it today!" We shared a squeal and I hurriedly finished drawing, rushing over to her.
"Let me take a peek at it," I commanded. Angie nodded, cracked open the door, and I angled my head to peek at the shiny silver Volvo parked out front. "Oooh! Shiny!"
"I washed and waxed it," Angie explained proudly. "I'm so happy! Now I can go to college!"
"Here, why don't you get something to celebrate?" I suggested, winking.
"I think I will." Angie closed the door and came back inside, pondering our menu while I delivered the heart-topped latte to a smiling customer.
"Actually, I think I'll have some of that." Angie pointed to the red velvet cake, which Feli was decorating with buttercream frosting, slivers of white chocolate, and a thin layer of raspberry jam. "What is it? It looks amazing."
"It's red velvet cake," I answered. "Feli's a great pastry chef."
"I should go to Le Cordon Bleu," Feli muttered as she spread the jam over the cake's surface. "Do you want a slice?" she asked Angie, who nodded vigorously.
"I was on that forum you go to," Angie told me as I rang up her order. "Someone posted a really, really long post in Spanish and everyone was crying for a translation, so I typed one up."
"Cool! What did it say? That'll be $3.15, by the way."
"Well, this maid who works for some rich guy in Alpharetta was ranting about how her employer treats her badly because she's gifted. She can levitate stuff like Char can and uses that ability to clean faster." Angie took out her wallet and counted out four dollars. When I gave her change, she dropped it all into my Instant Karma jar, which was decorated with a drawing of Buddha. Feli served her the cake on a plain white IKEA plate.
"Go on," I said as Angie leaned up against the counter to eat her cake.
"Mmm, it gets juicier. Turns out her employer, who is mad rich, like I said before, has a working prototype of the vaccine in his basement. He's using it as a threat to Rosalinda and forcing her not to use her power when cleaning his giant mansion. She's fixing to quit in protest and really wants to destroy that prototype, but knows she can't get past all the security measures alone."
"Man, that sucks," I said.
"Tell me about it. But after I posted the translation, this person called Electrochick said that her power has something to do with interrupting electricity or something like that. She wants to help. Then I just happened to mention Robbie's power and…"
"And what?"
"And Rosalinda really wants him to come along. Um, she and Electrochick are going to come down here to talk strategy."
"OK, I guess. Wait, can I come too?"
"Yeah, that would be a good idea. What if someone gets hurt and needs healing?"
"Can I butt in?" Lauren asked politely. "I can do surveillance. Y'know, in case the employer sees us or something. And Dylan, though he's currently being a…" Lauren said something in French that made Angie gasp in shock. "He can provide a quick escape, should we need one."
"What'd she say?" I asked Angie expectantly.
"She called him a dickhead. And he's her brother!"
"I know, Angie. Remember? I used to like him."
"Anyway, there's a basement we can meet in. It's the storage area for the store and it's nothing to write home about, but it's more secluded. We can meet down there," Lauren offered.
"Rosalinda said she could come around 10. I think Electrochick, whoever she is, can come around the same time," Angie said. "Mm, this cake is awesome."
"Thanks!" Feli said sweetly.
"I think we can close a little earlier tonight to accommodate this," Lauren said, glancing at her surveillance monitors.
---
My shift ended at 6, so I went home, ate dinner, checked my e-mail, and called Robbie, who agreed to meet up with me at The Freak Show. Angie insisted on picking me up this time (to pay me back for all the times I've picked her up, she said) and drove us over to The Freak Show, where a young Asian woman stood smoking by her car. Lauren was showing the last customers to the door, bidding them a good night, and starting the shutdown procedures.
Angie and I walked past the smoker and stepped inside. While Lauren worked busily, a woman who closely resembled Salma Hayek was sipping a macchiato and reading People en Español.
"Hi, Rosalinda," Angie said in Spanish. Rosalinda responded by glancing up, smiling, and waving. I recognized what she said as a greeting and smiled back.
"Phoebe, can you change the sign from Open to Closed, please?" Lauren asked. She looked harried. I nodded and flipped the sign around. A moment later, the door opened and the Asian woman came inside.
"Are you Electrochick?" Angie asked.
"In the flesh," she replied. "But call me Asuka." Asuka had her hair in dreadlocks and rings of black around her eyes. Pretty much everything on her face was pierced—she even had a Monroe. She was wearing a black halter top, a black and white plaid miniskirt, and black combat boots.
"Hi, Asuka. I'm Phoebe. It's nice to meet you," I said, setting off a chain of introductions in two languages that was interrupted by Robbie's fashionably late arrival. As soon as he came in, I noticed Asuka eating him alive with her eyes. While I don't deny that he is incredibly attractive, he's mine. I needed to assert this fact, so I performed a fairly obnoxious display of affection, culminating in a long hug where I whispered to him that Asuka was checking him out.
Once all of us were there—Lauren explained that Dylan couldn't show up because of "some damned thing"—we all went down a flight of creaky stairs to the basement, which was indeed a storage area filled with all sorts of mysterious cardboard boxes. It smelled musty and there was nowhere to sit, so we all leaned up against the cold cement walls. Lauren took copious notes while Rosalinda, aided by Angie, described the house and its security features.
"The house is in the Country Club of the South," Angie explained. "So, it's a gated community with extremely limited access. You have to know who you're coming in to visit."
"I can fix that," Asuka said in a husky, deep voice. "Watch this." She looked up towards the feeble lights that lit the room, snapped her fingers, and they flickered out, blanketing the room in darkness. That scared me and I tensed up as Asuka snapped again, making the lights come back on. "That's basically my power, except I can control what it affects and the range of things it affects."
"Cool," Lauren said breathily.
"The house also has its own system of cameras and alarms. There are six—no, sorry, eight—cameras and one alarm. Asuka, I assume you can take care of those," Angie said.
"Can and will," Asuka said, nodding.
"Then you have to go down to the basement, find the prototype, tamper with its own little alarm, take it out, destroy it, and get the hell out of Dodge. Her employer, Mr. Bullard, usually just stays at home all day when he's not at work, but he's going to go play golf next Saturday and that would be a good time to do this thing." As Angie said this, I grimaced.
"Ugh, that's prom," I pointed out. Angie explained what I said to Rosalinda, who replied to her.
"Rosalinda says not to worry, that you'll be back in time to become a princess for the prom," Angie said. "She guarantees it."
"Well, I'll do it. I mean, if this prototype is destroyed, then it will become much harder for people to make other copies of this vaccine, right?" I asked. "As long as I make it back in time to get prepared for prom." I have to have some priorities.
---
Listen: This is how the heist of the vaccine's prototype on April 21, 2007 in the city of Alpharetta went down. All of us met up at The Freak Show and piled into the SUV belonging to Lauren and Dylan's mysterious maman. It was an Explorer or Excursion or some damned thing, one of those gas-guzzlers that seats 7 or 8 (which is pretty much its city MPG, I might add). Lauren offered to drive and put Dylan in the front seat with her. Asuka and Rosalinda took the second row while Robbie, Angie and I piled into the very back row.
"Full disclosure," Dylan warned us. "Lauren drives fast on the highway." I shrugged this news off at first—everyone drives faster than the recommended speed limit of 55 on the highways, especially when you're on 285—but when Lauren merged onto 85 bound for 400, I swear that the car was doing about 90 or 100 MPH. I was too nervous about all of this to think very well, so I simply sat and gazed out the window as the sights of downtown Atlanta were replaced with subdivision after subdivision. Once we got onto 400 (and had to cough up the 50-cent toll to do so), this change was the most pronounced.
Nothing really compares to the houses at Country Club of the South, though. Lots of athletes and entertainers live here. I think Whitney Houston has a house here. Anyway, you can see it coming up from a while away. Suddenly, you see nothing but mansion-size houses, surrounded by beautifully manicured green grass and a black fence that looks fairly sharp and foreboding. It's crazy.
Lauren drove up to one of the two access gates, where two men sat in a tiny box and watched TV. They looked up when we drove up and one held out his hand, commanding us to stop.
"Who are you visiting?" he asked us. He had on big aviator sunglasses and was chewing gum.
"Um…" Lauren looked back at Rosalinda. "Who are we here to see?" Angie translated the question and Rosalinda offered up 'Señor Bullard' as an answer. "Mr. Bullard?"
"Oh, Mr. Bullard? Okay." The man commanded his partner to open the gates for us and we drove right in.
"Well, that was easy," I commented.
"Like taking candy from a baby," Asuka muttered.
Aided by directions from Rosalinda, Lauren successfully found Mr. Bullard's house, a huge stately white mansion with two winding staircases in the front, and stationed the SUV on the curb.
"Rosalinda says she has a key to the house," Angie told us as Rosalinda took out a silver key and waved it in the air.
"I think it will look really suspicious for all of us to go inside while Mr. Bullard's away," Dylan pointed out.
"No problem!" I exclaimed. "That's where Robbie comes in." I walked over to him and took his hand. "As long as we're all holding hands when we go in, or even just touching one another, like on the shoulder or whatever, we should all be invisible. Robbie, demonstrate your power for everyone." He nodded and I suddenly felt cold chills all up and down my spine. I didn't know that this was a side effect of invisibility, but there it was. Some of the others gasped in awe. "Join up!"
I let Rosalinda get in front, but I made sure to keep Robbie's other hand because Asuka was eyeing him again. Does she just not get that he's mine or something? Angie took my free hand, Lauren took hers, Dylan took hers, and Asuka brought up the rear. Together, we walked up one of the winding staircases—I noted the presence of a pretty female statue pouring water into a little pond—and to the grand front doors. Rosalinda turned the key and opened the door just enough for us to get in. We all hurried inside because an open door and nothing going in sure looks suspicious, then slammed the door right as a shrill alarm began to shriek.
"Shit!" Asuka shouted. She frowned and snapped her fingers, which stopped the shrieking. We all dropped hands and became visible again.
"Whoa, marble floors," Angie noted.
"Look at all this stuff!" Lauren exclaimed bitterly.
"These folks probably have more money than I'll ever see in my life," I grumbled.
Rosalinda began to speak again.
"Rosalinda says to follow her to the basement. She is also worried about when or if Asuka's power will stop working. Does it ever lose effectiveness, Asuka?" Angie asked.
"No, it shouldn't," Asuka replied with a shrug. "I'd be surprised if it did."
"We all would," Dylan said. "Because the Alpharetta Police would be on us like that." He snapped. Some of us nodded.
"Man, I've had enough interaction with the police for a lifetime," I said. "So let's get this thing over with, get out of here, and get back home. I have to get ready for prom."
"Me too," Angie said.
"Me three," Dylan said.
"Me four?" Robbie asked. "That sounds weird."
Rosalinda led us through the most amazing kitchen ever and to an unassuming wooden door. It creaked open and led us down a flight of surprisingly un-creaky stairs to a fantastic-looking finished basement. Unfortunately, it reminded me of the basement I was held captive in and I suddenly felt very, very tense and scared. I think I was shaking as I descended the stairs.
"Is something wrong, Feebs?" Angie asked me.
"Angie, this basement reminds me of the one I was held in," I said shakily. "Let's do this quick and get the hell out of here."
"Okay," Angie said softly.
"Aquí es," Rosalinda said. I didn't need that translated for me. In front of us stood a small glass case, much like the ones you see in jewelry stores, except that instead of holding necklaces, earrings, and rings, it held a single silver syringe, a tiny unmarked bottle of some liquid, and a small unlabeled booklet that I assume detailed how to make this particular substance. No keyhole or any other obvious way to open this case was anywhere to be found.
"How do we open this thing?" Asuka asked.
"Does Rosalinda have a key?" Lauren asked. Angie relayed the question to Rosalinda, who gravely shook her head. "Does she know of any way to open this thing?" Lauren asked, sounding slightly annoyed. Rosalinda shook her head again.
"How do we open this thing?" Asuka asked again. We all stood around and pondered what to do before I realized that I could open it.
"I can do it," I declared.
"How?" Dylan asked.
"Watch." I balled my right hand into a fist, shot off a quick prayer, and punched the glass case with all my might. It caved in behind the force of my fist, although a few good-sized shards managed to get in my hand and scrape it up nicely. I grasped the syringe, bottle, and booklet with my hand, which was starting to bleed, and pulled them out.
"Oh my God!" Angie cried out. "Look at your hand!"
"I can heal it," I said nonchalantly. "What should we do about all this crap? Answer quickly. I'm starting to feel a little faint."
"I think we should pour the serum down the drain, break the syringe, and set the booklet on fire," Angie recommended. "Does that sound like a good idea to y'all?" Everyone nodded their general agreement. I started feeling dizzy after I looked at my hand and saw all the blood spurting out.
"Um, guys?" I asked. "Can I sit down for a minute?" After I posed this question, I became tired all of a sudden and then everything started fading out, like my vision was just a scene in a movie and the scene was changing.
---
I woke up in the very back row of the SUV as we headed back towards Atlanta. A towel was wrapped around my hand to stop the bleeding and I was supported by Robbie and Angie's laps—one for the head and one for the feet. As soon as I woke up, I realized what was going on and sat up suddenly, alarming both of the folks who were supporting me.
"Did everything go all right?" I asked.
"Everything is fine," Robbie said, touching my hair. "Except for your hand, of course."
"You passed out before you could heal it," Angie explained. "Take off the towel and see how bad it is. I hope you can heal it."
"I know I can," I said as I unraveled the towel. Shards of glass jutted out from my flesh at odd angles, but my hand was cleansed of all blood. It was much paler than my other hand, though. Nodding my head, I began to take out the shards and pile them up on the towel as if they were merely decorative rhinestones or stickers on my hand. When the glass was gone, I was left with gaping wounds that I healed immediately. My hand returned to normal. "All better."
"You scared the shit out of us!" Angie shouted after I healed myself. "Fainting like that—I was really freaked out!"
"I'm sorry, Angie. At least I got the case open, right?"
"Right. We had to clean it all off, though, to get your blood off. We ended up destroying all the glass, too, because we realized that our fingerprints were all up on it. But we poured that crap down the sink, broke the syringe, and we're going to set the booklet on fire back at The Freak Show because it won't arouse suspicion in the kind of folks who live at the Country Club of the South," Angie explained with a smile.
"Yeah, people in Cabbagetown tend to care less about that sort of thing," Lauren observed. "In fact, some people might think we're making a bonfire and maybe they'll want to join in."
"But we're going home," Angie said. "We'll stay to watch the fire start, but as stated before, four of the people in this car have to go home and get all pretty."
"Even the guys?" I asked.
"Maybe," Angie replied, stifling a giggle.
We rode off towards 400, away from the bland mauve-ness of the suburbs and back into the smoky, spicy flavor of Atlanta proper, drunk off the happiness of having destroyed this prototype and the heady feeling that we actually managed to help people out in the process.