Disclaimers in part one.
Note: Haeffer High-Tech Security Alarms and Teleric Heavy Duty All Purpose Security Locks are more things I pulled out of my noggin, so don't try to look for them in stores. You can if you want, but I'm telling you they won't be there. Unless you go to the hardware store in my mind, but that's another story....
Chapter 3: Dealing With the Devil
The next morning Darien awoke to the harsh sound of the the telephone. Grumbling, he looked at the clock and saw that it was one in the afternoon. Fawkes dragged himself out of bed and to the phone.
"Hello?" he asked groggily.
"Hi, is this California Video?" spoke the voice on the other line.
"What?" Darien replied. Suddenly the events of the night before began to return to him.
"Oh," he said again, "no, sorry man. You must have the wrong number."
"Sorry, thank you," and the line went dead.
Darien checked the clock again and reminded himself that he had one hour to get to the park. After noticing that he was still in the same clothes as the night before and that he smelled like scotch and smoke, he decided that a shower was in order. The hot water woke him up and made him more alert. It also made him notice the pounding headache that was growing in his skull.
"Ah, the hangover. Worst part about drinking," he sighed.
He dried himself off and then headed to his closet, picking out a random shirt and pants. He then headed back to his bathroom and mixed just the right amount of hair gel and mousse and created his one-of-a-kind do. Once dressed, the grumbling in his stomach told him that it was time for breakfast, or lunch. Darien shuffled over to his kitchen and grabbed some Cinnamon Toast Crunch. When he went for the milk he noticed a video tape in the refrigerator.
"How the hell did that get there?" he pondered out loud, "Whatever," and he set the tape on the counter. After finishing his 'brunch' he checked his watch, 1:45pm, the calendar, December 22, and his tatoo, one red and eight green.
"Looks like I'm good to go, eh Darien?"
Fawkes fed his rat and then headed out the door. It was a quick drive to the park and he was there by 1:55pm. He parked his piece-of-crap-Agency-funded-heap-of-junk car and walked to specified location. All the while he still couldn't understand why he was doing this. Kifton was right last night when he had said that he [Darien] was clean now. Fawkes could just turn back right now and forgotten everything. Yet, something was pulling him to his old friend, back to his old life when he didn't care about anything or anyone. Back to when all that mattered was himself and not the gland, not his family, not his true friends. It was a time when he was free, and that was what Darien figured was pulling him. Walking towards Kifton, he realized how much he missed the thrill of the plan, the secrecy, and the eventual successful heist.
'What the hell,' thought Darien, 'it's only this one job. No big deal. And I might as well do something productive while I'm one vacation.'
At exactly two p.m. Darien was standing next to his old friend and partner in crime, Max Kifton.
"Didn't think you'd actually show Fawkes. Thought you'd wimp out on me or something. Glad to see your still strong."
"What ever Kif. Now, what's this 'big job' you're so eager to tell me about and that's so great you need the best lock and alarm man."
Kifton's tone turned serious, the way it always did when he explained a job.
"Come on. Let's sit on the bench over there."
Darien and Max made their way over to a nearby park bench that seemed secluded from the bike path. Once there, Max pulled out some neatly folded papers and handed them to Darien.
"First thing I need to know is if you can disarm those kinds of alarms and pick that brand of lock. If not that you're of no use to me and I'll send you home without another word."
Darien took the papers and smiled to himself.
"The ol' 'need to know' uh?"
"What?"
"Nevermind."
Darien opened up the papers and studied them. It was a detailed map of an alarm system integrated through what appeared to be a house. He carefully looked over the map and the brand of alarm, Haeffer High-Tech Security Alarms, the best in the nation. Fawkes studied the location of each control panel and the places where silent alarms, motion detectors, and heat sensors were located. Then he looked at the paper describing the type and location of the locks. There location was also marked on the first map. Teleric Heavy Duty All Purpose Security Locks, both key and combination styles. Fawkes thought carefully again. If he said he couldn't get through these, he could leave with no questions asked. Simply return to his regularly scheduled life.
Then he thought again. What was so great about his regular life anyway? Why would he want to return to it? That life was just full of pain, anguish, regret, fear, depression, and more unwanted feelings. If he did this heist, it wouldn't change that fact. However, he thought yet another time, it would be a change. It would bring some happy excitement into his a dull and dreary life.
'Well, the only thing constant is change, right?' he thought.
He handed the papers back to Kifton.
"The locks will be no problem. I've done a lot of, uh, work with Teleric and I know the tricks to get them open. The Haeffer's can be pretty tricky. All the control panels have special backup systems that are wired to the company's mainframe. That means if they are disconnected without the code the company knows and they'll send out cops and a phone call to the house. But, I know a way to turn off the system and put it on a loop so that back at the company it looks like the house it still armed when it really isn't. It can takes some time and some very careful handy work, but I'm pretty sure I could make it work."
"How sure are you?"
"Oh, I don't know..."
"Well, I have to know Fawkes. I'm not joking about this one. It's big. Not some two-bit operation to steal some t.v.'s and a stereo."
"Okay, okay. Calm down. 90% sure as long as I'm given enough time."
"How much time?"
"Fifteen minutes tops."
"Fine. You'll have fifteen minutes. That is, if you're still interested."
The whole time since handing the papers back, Darien had been staring at the ground, into space, letting his arms rest on his legs and his hands hang between them. His head was also hung down. His hangover headache made his head feel like it was going to explode. His shoulders were slumped as well. This gave the overall impression that he was either deep in thought, or getting scolded.
"So, are you still interested."
After a few seconds, Darien began nodding his head and began to sit upright.
"Yeah. Yeah, I'm still interested."
"Good."
"So when do I get to hear about this great payoff?"
"Tomorrow."
"Alright. Call me. This time ask for Jim R., and I'll do the wrong number thing again. I'm always getting calls asking if 'Jim' is there. Make sure you say the last initial so I know it's you. This time make it two hours and we'll meet outside the amusement park."
"Sounds good. I'll tell my, uh, superior that you're in. We're gonna have fun with this one Fawkesy! Here, take these papers back and study them."
" 'K. I can't wait," smiled Darien.
With that, the two men shook hands and went their separate ways. When Darien got to his car he threw the papers on the passengers seat and started the drive home. Halfway there he laughed.
"Why do I feel like I just made a deal with the devil? Oh well. Too late now. 'I'm in!' "
His depression seemed to disappear again, as did his hangover, and he smiled the whole way home. Once there he parked his car and locked himself in his apartment. Before getting settled he checked his answering machine, (there were no new messages), and his mail (only junk mail). Then, Darien studied the map and the type of alarms and locks the rest of the night. He even forgot to eat dinner, which was very rare.
"Man, why did I ever give this up," he sighed happily after successfully memorizing anything and everything on the map. Just then he looked at his tatoo.
"Oh, right."
He tried not to think about it. He couldn't stand to be depressed just when he was about to something exciting.
"Looks like it's gonna be good Christmas after all, eh Darien?"
He smiled again and then laughed at himself for smiling so much. He couldn't believe how happy he was. He hid the map and papers and started dancing and strutting around his apartment, singing his little rap.
"Man, if dealing with the devil feels this good all the time, I should do it more often!"
He laughed again and headed out the door to grab some late-night Wendy's. Darien the rat stared at his owner as he left out the door. Usually calm and sad, the poor rat could not seem to understand his owner's sudden happiness. He wouldn't be the only one.
TBC
Feedback is appreciated.