The parking lot appeared to be empty of people. Eerily empty and quiet. Something didn’t feel right. Probably the fact that I was about to break the law. I crouched down and peered under the car. How hard could this be? Attach the box to the gas tank. Just reach up under the car, and-wasn’t going to work. The box wasn’t grabbing the tank. The magnets weren’t attaching. I assumed it would be a quick mount, but it wasn’t. I scooted a little, my upper body now under the vehicle. The blacktop was hot, the muffler hung low, and I had to move to the rear of the car. I reached up and pushed the box against the gas tank. Nothing. Sweat ran down my forehead and into my eyes, and the hot asphalt burned my back.
I jammed the unit, shoved it, slid it over the tank, finally putting my hand up and pressing on the gas tank. It was then I realized the problem. The gas tank was plastic. Plastic. And even though I’d done poorly in science classes, I knew that magnets don’t attach to plastic.
There’s an entire metal frame on a car, and I ran my hand over some of the undercarriage. Would the magnets be strong enough to hold the GPS to other metal parts on the car? I’d have to give it a try. I could picture the GPS unit falling off and Feng finding it. Or, even worse, the gray box dropping off, and I’d be out five hundred dollars.
I took a deep breath, and reaching up, I placed the unit against a strip of gray metal. It snapped into place, almost like it was fitted for the position. I looked up, admiring my handiwork. That’s when I heard the voices. Someone, two people maybe more, were walking the lot. I pulled my legs under the car and held my breath. The voices were close, and I could make out some of the conversation. Something about security. Something about letting him think that this would solve all the problems. It made no sense, but I latched onto words and faint phrases.
The voices were closer, and I curled into a fetal position, praying that the Accord would give me the cover I needed.
“When’s the project going to be done?” The voice was low, rumbling, and now it sounded like it came from five feet away.
“One month. They’ll get this security system up and running, and within three weeks Synco will start installing the software.”
“When do they release the codes?” The deep-voiced speaker asked the question. And I knew who was answering.
The voice was Feng’s. I would have bet on it. “We can’t install the program unless they give us the codes.”
The rumbler came back. “It’s that simple?”
“We’re banking on it,” Feng said. “Ralph was supposed to get them. He was the contact, but you know what happened to Ralph.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement.
“Yeah. I know.”
Sweat continued to run into my eyes, running down my chest, as I was crouched into a tight ball, saying a silent prayer that I would not be discovered. Something on the ground tickled my right arm. Wearing jeans and a T-shirt for the installation day left me somewhat exposed, and I could feel this particular tickling on my right elbow. I shuddered and the sensation stopped. For a couple of seconds. I gave my head a short shake, trying to get rid of the perspiration from my eyes. Squinting, I peered down at my right arm and saw the large black beetle with gray antennas, chewing on my skin. My eyes stinging, I shook my arm and the beetle moved. I didn’t follow him, just closed my eyes and prayed that he wouldn’t return.
“You don’t see any hitch?”
“None.” Feng responded.
“It can’t be this easy.”
“It can. It will be. It is.”
“Jesus.”
“Are you Christian?”
“No.”
Silence. Finally Feng spoke.
“We’ll get the codes. The plan is the same. We will be victorious.”
I could see their legs, Feng’s gray uniform pants and polished black shoes, and the other man’s black pants and scuffed loafers. And even though they spoke in hushed tones, I could hear their voices as if they were under the Accord with me. They were so close I could see lint on the fabric of their pants. Certainly they would realize I was two feet from them. They’d hear me breathing or I’d sneeze. Then I felt a funny sensation in my nostril, and I really started to worry.
“It’s in your hands.”
“I understand that, and I don’t take it lightly.”
There was no more conversation. The shuffling of shoes and the separation of the two men was audibly and visually evident, and I drew a deep sigh of relief. They were leaving. I couldn’t have been happier. I sniffed, trying to stop the sneeze sensation. Once, twice, and then I sneezed, muffling it by pressing my face into the rough surface of the asphalt. Everything was quiet and I strained to hear even the faintest sound. And there it was. I heard the faint click, the opening of a door and a second later, the slam of a door. The suspension shifted. Someone was inside the car. I was under the car. This was not the way it was supposed to go.
A moment of silence. Then a roar of the engine, and I shuddered. I shuddered, then shuddered again. Someone, my guess would have been Feng, had started the Honda and I was directly underneath. Would the wheels run over me? Could the car scrape me off the parking lot? I was in an extremely uncomfortable situation. For some reason I flashed back to one of the dozens of Hardy Boys novels I’d read as a kid. Frank Hardy was in a do- or-die situation. With all his might, he pushed, pulled, or did something and miraculously escaped from a life- threatening situation. The guy was like Houdini.
I stuck my head out from under the car and dug my fingers into the asphalt, pulling with all my might. Any second he’d throw the Honda into drive and crush me into the pavement. I threw my arms forward, pulled hard, and only gained inches. Then, maybe a foot, and another. Again, and again. The car jerked forward and I curled my legs with lightning speed as the car lurched from the parking spot and the driver squealed the tires as he left the row of cars. I pulled myself forward, under another car, now getting the hang of it, my raw fingers scratching at the pavement. Under another car, huddling for just a moment, then easing out, my head swiveling this way and that, trying to see if anyone had noticed. I heard and saw nothing.
I lay on the blistering asphalt for a moment, running my hands over my arms, my legs, my neck, and head. I ached, but everything seemed in one piece.
And there I was, stretched out on the black surface, thanking God that I’d escaped with my life. Thanking anyone who would listen that I’d escaped with my limbs intact. Thanking my lucky stars that no one had discovered me. Thanking the spirits that protected me that I was protected.
I wiped my eyes with my left hand and took several long, deep breaths.
“So. You have one small job to do, and you end up sleeping on the blacktop.”
James was looking down at me, shaking his head in mock disappointment. I’m telling you, there are times when I’d like to strangle him.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“P ard, he let us out on a short break. If I’d known we were getting the break, I would have done the job myself.”
We sat on the solid cement slab behind our apartment in cheap green and white Walgreens lounge chairs, drinking cheap Genny long-neck beers. I’d accepted the beer from him, even though I’d paid for it, but I hadn’t said a word. I was still shook up over the GPS incident. The one that my roommate suggested. The one he was going to handle. Until he conveniently couldn’t do the job.
James took a deep drag on his Marlboro, letting it drift into the air. I took a deep breath. Secondhand was better than starting up again. And besides the health issue, I couldn’t afford to smoke.
“Skip, I will admit, I talked to Eden, and she sent me to Sandy’s office. I asked him if he didn’t think we
