CHAPTER 7

The ensuing weeks after my initiation into the Black Lamb were very different from my puny middle school gang’s way of training.  During the day I would stand on street corners to beg, and attempt to find ways to exploit the government’s welfare system.  When I returned home in the early evening, I would relax a little, maybe spend some time with Alyssa if she was available.  Often I almost fell asleep, only to be awakened by Leo, who, no matter what I did, always managed to find a way into the house uninvited.  With his arrival came the hardest part of my day: training.  I felt like a high school football player during preseason, apart from the fact that now I was learning how to lie undetectably, operate a gun, and, like Leo, how to sneak into houses or buildings quietly and unnoticed. 

Learning to lie well was a pain in the ass, mainly because of the obvious reason that Leo was an expert at telling when one was lying.  When I learned to shoot a gun, I never practiced with real bullets, or even blanks.  Some people ought to notice something is different when their neighbor is suddenly running around waving a pistol in the air firing off random shots, which is probably close to what I would have done in the first place.  As it was, I learned to shoot straight and while running with a pistol, and the basics of firing a semi-automatic.  I didn’t even want to know how they managed to obtain so many guns without drawing attention, but then again, that’s what they do, so I guessed it made sense.

Now the stealth instruction was the fun part.  I had somehow been bestowed with a certain gift that I discovered in middle school, when I repeatedly slipped in and out of my house to participate in Lion conferences.  That experience helped to improve my mediocre image in the eyes of Leo and the rest of the Black Lamb when I (almost) aced the stealth tests.

After a month or so of rigorous education in the ways of gang life, or at least that’s what I made of it, Leo said he thought I was ready for my first big chance at proving myself.  He told me the Black Lamb was preparing for its first open crime since the immediate aftermath of the Border War, during which rogue members would run wild in the streets.  Ironically, a few of today’s Black Lamb aided in suppressing these “loose ends” before actually joining.  Anyway, this job was to be quite profitable, reasonably safe, and moderately uncomplicated.  The biggest trick in pulling it off was to make sure no one lost focus.

When I went to the Yum Yum Factory to meet one of Roger’s contacts the day after I met him, the man pointed out the DeLión jewelry store across the street.  It looked unspectacular from the outside, but one only needed a glance inside to tell that this was one hell of a jewelry stop, and one hell of a profitable steal.

The DeLión jewelry store is part of a strip of four little stores that face the Rockyside Road, which intersects 12th and 13th Streets.  12th runs along the left side, and 13th on the right.  A pawnshop lies at the end of the side next to 12th.  Moving toward 13th, next is the DeLión, followed by a café and a barbershop on the opposite end.  An alley runs from 12th Street behind the entire strip, and it ends before reaching 13th in a concrete wall.  On the other side of the alley are the rears of another strip, and the back doors of all these stores empty into the alley.  Across Rockyside Road are the deli and other small restaurants.

This was the setting for my first true entrance into life on the streets.

***

The Red Legion met again the day after I “graduated.”  We gathered at the same place as the month before.  This time, however, I wasn’t the guest of honor.  After all of us had assembled, Lance returned to his position at the door without coming to the table. 

I leaned across the table at Leo and asked, “Isn’t he going to join us?”

“Not right away.  We’re waiting for someone you’ll definitely recognize,” Leo responded quietly.

I leaned back in my chair, wondering who this person was, but at the same time not really caring.  I looked over the guys introduced to me last month: Leo, Bruce, Chase, and Dante.  I shuddered inwardly as I looked into his eyes again.  They were still as disturbing as before.

“Hey, Lane,” called Chase.  “Ain’t nervous, are you?  The boss guy ain’t such a bad man.  Haha, that is, until you get to know him.”

I narrowed my eyes at his peculiar statement.  His face seemed honest enough, but when I looked at his expression closely, I saw his eyes were relaying a different message.

“I’m sure,” I said.

“No, seriously,” Bruce said.  “Getting on his nerves is a bad choice.  We all know that.  I just wish one of our members would feel the same way about me,” he announced gruffly as he pointed his head toward the door.  Chase chuckled faintly.

As if by an accidental command, the door opened after Bruce jerked his head toward it.  I saw Lance, his usual grinning self, carrying a black suitcase.

“Make way,” he exclaimed as he stepped to the side with a sweeping bow, “for the most royal and im-por-tant…K…M……...C!!!”

I gripped the arms of my chair as I saw the man.  This was definitely unexpected.  Though I knew he was connected with the Black Lamb, who would have thought that the head of the Black Lamb would be…Roger?

“Finally,” Bruce grunted.  I guess he was still feeling some antagonism at Lance for pointing out that his position as leader of the Red Legion was still below the KMC’s, er, Roger’s.

Roger nodded at Bruce vaguely and took a seat next to him.  Lance chose to remain standing, leaning against the table.  Roger quickly surveyed us with a casual, slightly amused face, pausing for a moment on me.

“So, Lane, what do you think so far of your training?” he asked.

“Wha—?  Oh…great!” I replied unconvincingly.  Roger looked at me humorously with his head cocked.  “Uh, well, maybe it wasn’t the most fun I’ve ever had,” I corrected, my eyes flicking over to Leo, who was also smirking.

“Tell us what you’ve learned,” Roger said.

“Well, I—”

“Not now, I’m sure we all trust that Leo has given Lane sufficient knowledge of how we do things, right?” interrupted Bruce.  He did seem quite anxious to be diving into the business of the day.  “Roger, let’s get started on the plan.

Roger smiled placatingly.  “Yes, of course, Caruso, we are rather short on time, I suppose.”  I saw Bruce grimace at the babyish tone he used on him, though he vainly tried to disguise it.  It seemed as though a hidden rivalry existed between the two, although the reasons for it were unknown to me.

All of us began shifting around to Roger, who was slowly, almost teasingly, rolling the combination lock on his briefcase while shielding the code from the rest of us.  Then he clicked it open, but still held it closed with his fingertips.

“Gentlemen, this is your last chance to back out of this operation.  Especially because you currently have limited knowledge on what it really is.  So if you decide to back out, you will be kicked out of the Black Lamb, but you will have no connection with it whatsoever.”

“Yes, Roger, we all know the deal, so can we continue?” grumbled Chase.  Roger eyed him disapprovingly, and he grew silent.

“Ignoring Mr. Gordon’s snide comment, are any of you having cold feet?” Roger asked quietly.  Upon seeing no one backing out, he sighed, broke out into a huge, genuine grin, and announced energetically, “Then let’s get us some dough!”

He let the briefcase open; it was filled with packets of paper, presumably containing information on the DeLión job.  He handed them out briskly with a smile on his face.  I took mine, which had my name scrawled on the top in a thin, scraggly, yet elegant script.  I flipped back the first page to find the entire floor plan of the DeLión, complete with electric routes and plumbing.  The next page showed a delivery truck with its original license pate taken off, replaced by another one that said, ‘CATCHME.’  The next page showed a detailed map sketch of the area around the DeLión store, encompassing the alley behind it, the stores across from the alley, and everything on the other side of Rockyside Road.  The next page was a mapping of the city, with a red line indicating an escape route seemingly headed to the heart of the H&S district at first, turning back to the middle of the Greenhouse, and coming back to cross the bridge across the bay to an area on the west side of the Point.  A few pages following listed a bunch of numbers indicating times of important events (shop opening and closing, police patrols, etc.), the cost of pulling off the job, and the money we possibly would reap from it.  I blinked when I saw the total: a whopping $11.3 million.  I glanced up and caught the others nodding their heads appreciatively when they, too, spotted the total.

After a while, Roger cleared his throat.  “If all of you are finished reviewing the packet…?” he said like a command, though it was posed as a question.  We all looked up, and Roger grinned at the smiles on our faces.  “Yeah, I know, this is going to be a major job, so I hope we can pull it off quick and easily.”  Then surveyed the group, and announced to everyone, although his eyes were pinned on me, “And this is how we’re going to do it.”

“Our target date is June 29 at the DeLión closing time, which is 9:00.  We have found that its owner, Theodore Berkeley, has ordered a new desk for his store, and is expecting delivery at that time and date.  We will intercept the truck, license plate number 3572398, replace the license plate, and proceed to the alley.  Lane, you’ll be driving.”

I was horrified at the concept that I would play such a large part in the steal; I would have thought that as a novice, my role would be nothing, almost negligible.  Roger smirked at seeing my unease, but he continued.

“Dante will be with you, hidden inside the box.  Just until you get into the garage,” he added hastily, seeing Dante look up suddenly.  “Lane, you drive down to the end of the alley, where Berkeley won’t find you loitering behind his shop for no apparent reason.  But do not leave!  This is vital.  Now, Dante, as soon as Berkeley gets in his car to go home, radio in with these,” he said as he handed out tiny earphone walkie-talkies.  We need to know exactly when he exits the premises, and allows us to do our job.

“After he leaves, Dante will hurry inside and unlock the front door, but roll down all the shades in the room so we don’t have any unintentional spectators.  Immediately after, go back to the garage and radio Lane to get back in the garage.  Then reload the desk into the truck.  This is important, so don’t neglect it.  Then you can start working on the locks of the display cases.

“Leo, Lance, Bruce, and Chase, you four will be the main infiltrators.  After Dante radios in a second time to let you all know that he’s done his job, come inside and get to work, except Chase.  Chase, you go to the back to the electric room,” he pointed it out on the floor plan in the packet, “and find out to which tape the security camera wires its recording.  In the meantime, someone unplug it, just in case.  Chase, you know what to do from there.

Once Lane says he’s in position, open the garage and let him park backwards so the cargo area faces inside, because the truck won’t fit in the garage.  Lane will roll out the ramp and send some metal carts that we will have previously loaded on down the ramp, where the rest of you will begin loading up.  By this time, it should be almost midnight, which is when the first police car makes his rounds around Rockyside Road.

“Five minutes prior to his arrival, everyone except Leo get inside the truck’s cargo.  Leo, you run inside the store.  Lane, jump into the driver’s seat.  Quickly start the engine, and as you see the cop drive into the alley, attempt to drive forward to exit, and make it seem like you unintentionally blocked his way.  Apologize, wave your hand, whatever, just make the cop feel at ease.  That is, until he realizes the garage is open, and you have no obvious business in the store.

“At this point, Leo, you step out and wave at the cop, signaling everything is fine.  If he decides to make trouble and gets out of his car to question you, just say that you forgot you were receiving delivery late at night, and your car was in the maintenance shop, so you had to walk.  Now, this is the part where it could all go wrong.  Hopefully, the cop will believe your story and get out of there.  If things get ugly and the cop refuses to believe you, invite him into the store.  And make sure he stays there.

“Now, we continue our job.  Lane, put the truck back where it was, roll out the ramp, and let the stealing resume.  You should finish around two-thirty in the morning.  If you’re not finished by then, that’s too bad.  Lock the front door, and hurry back to the truck.  Everyone jump into the cargo area, close the garage door, and Lane, get them the hell out of there.  You have to make it out of the alley and get on Rockyside Road before 2:40, when the second cop makes his rounds.  Then he’ll drive into the alley, find nothing amiss, and continue on his shift.  Lane, head for the Point district, via the route I’ve provided for you in the packet.  There’s an abandoned shed in the woods nearby there, and that will be our pit stop for the night.  Lane, make sure to replace the license plate tag on the delivery truck, and park it on the side of the Rockyside Road somewhere far from the DeLión.  We’ll put the delivery guy who was supposed to drive it in the seat, holding a bottle of beer.  Someone will eventually find him like he had a bit much to drink and forgot that he was on route to a delivery.  Then we’re home free!  The next few days will be spent emptying the shed piecemeal.  And the next few weeks will be spent in celebration.  Overall, I think we can pull it off.  Any questions?”

“Yeah,” said Lance, looking deep in thought, which was unusual.  “Um, how many times can I go to Putt Putt with $11.3 million?”

Roger smiled.  “About as many times as you’ve been turned down by women.”  Bruce snorted; Leo bit his lip hard to keep from grinning.

“Wow,” said Lance, “that’s a lot…”  We all laughed pretty openly at that, and I even thought I spied a small grin between Lance and Bruce.

“Oh, and everyone,” Roger said as he handed out some black gloves from his briefcase, “wear these on June 29, and do not bring any firearms.  No Lance, not even a paintball gun,” he added in a mock-serious tone.  “All right then, I guess this meeting’s over, and we can all go—”

BOOM BOOM BOOM!

 We all jumped and turned to the door quiet as mice, from which the sound had issued.  Someone was pounding on it.

“After several complaints from different witnesses, you have been requested to stay away from this parking garage from this day forward by the law enforcement of New Rodham.  Open the door immediately, and please let us escort you to the nearest police station for questioning.”

“Damn it,” growled Bruce through clenched teeth.

“All right,” murmured Roger out of the side of his mouth, “Everyone put your gloves on.  Leo, you answer the door.  Lance, when he opens it, get behind the door and do your thing.  The rest of you, Cop Strategic Escape Beta positions.  Lane, come over here,” he said as he gestured to the far side of the room, “and watch my team get to work.”  Dante lit a cigarette while leaning on one side of the table, and Bruce leaned against on side of the table while playing rock-paper-scissors with Chase.

“Open the door immediately, or we will be required to use force—”

“All right, all right, hold ya horses, big guy,” Leo shouted in a thick drawl.  He slowly unlocked the door and found himself staring at a plump, rather bored-looking man holding a small Tonfa rather loosely.  Behind him, a skinny, nervous guard pointed a flashlight directly at Leo’s face.  Leo held a hand up to his eyes.  “Damn, man, let a brother see.”  The guard lowered the flashlight.

“After several complaints by different—” the first guard began, spraying Leo with spit.

“Hey, hey, buddy, I heard ya the first time!  Yuck…so, are you gonna come in or what?”  Leo backed up a few steps to let the guard in.  As he did so, I saw him slightly flick his left hand…

Like lightning, Lance kicked the door from behind it, sending it swinging full speed into the cop’s face.  The door swung back after hitting him.  He had dropped the Tonfa and seemed to be unable to speak, let alone do anything to prevent Leo from sending a solid upward thrust to his nose with the base of his palm.  It connected with a sickeningly wet crunch, and as the guard bent back, clutching his broken nose, Leo delivered a second solid punch to his gut.  This one sent the cop flying to the ground, where he remained, moaning.  Now I saw why they had chosen Leo to tutor me!  The second cop fumbled with his gun frantically.  Leo bent down and dived at him.  They connected with the force of two tackling football players, and the gun went spinning across the floor back to the stairs at the entrance.  Leo jumped up and ran for it while Dante struggled with the cop, who was up and fighting.  The cop threw a half-hearted punch in his fright, and Dante took advantage of it.  He hooked his left arm on the inside of the cop’s fist, quickly twisted his body, and sent the guard flying into the concrete wall.  He dropped like a stone.  Meanwhile, Leo returned, gun in hand, and pointed it at the first cop, who looked pathetically like a frightened crab, scuttling to and fro, with eyes wide and scared.  Lance bent down to pick up the cop’s radio and took it into the conference room.

“Leo,” said Roger, who was following me into the hallway outside, “tie these two buffoons up and lock them in the closet back in the conference room.  We may be able to use them sometime.  Check up on them once a day, and give them some food.  Not more than once a day, though.  This one could afford to lose a few pounds.”

As he said this, his voice was hard and cold, completely void of the mirth it had held only a few minutes ago.  His eyes were set and cruel, and his lips curled in a most disgusted manner. 

He walked toward the stairs to leave, and shouted over his shoulder, “All of you get ready for the DeLión job.  And Leo, if those two ever complain,” he stopped walking, “put them out of their misery.”

All of stared at Roger’s back as he made his way up the steps and into the garage.  I could hear the limp cop’s breath rattling through his broken ribs and the other moving around nervously, but the only thing I was conscious of was how the six of us Black Lamb members respected, followed, and yet loathed without remorse every last bit of that old man named Roger.