New York City
1988

The sheets were a hot, dead, prison. Reed always got nervous before he had to break into someone’s house and the hours that he had to lie awake in bed and pretend to be asleep were always hell. A heat wave was passing through New York and Reed was already nervous so he practically drowned in his own sweat that night. The digital clock that shone so obnoxiously in his face read 10:57.
Reed muttered, “Close enough,” and slid out of bed.
The clothes he was wearing earlier were already in a messy pile next to his bed. He pulled his jeans on first, then his Pink Floyd t-shirt, and finished up with his sneakers; dressing entirely in the dark. His trademark black hoodie was sitting on his dresser on the opposite side of the room from his bed. To finish the look he slipped it on.
Reed had a stained-wood nightstand with three drawers down the length of it. He knelt down in front of it and pulled out the bottom drawer. It was filled with about a dozen inconsequential miscellaneous items. Reed groped around on the bottom of the drawer until his delicate finger nerves were graced by a small string lying along the left vertice. Reed took the string into his hand and pulled on it. The bottom of the drawer came loose from its bindings revealing a secret compartment. This compartment was filled with a black strap-on ankle scabbard, switchblade, and a lock-picking kit. Reed strapped the scabbard to his right ankle and slid the switchblade inside. The lock-picking kit was placed in the hoodie’s front pocket.
The whole process took less than two minutes; soon Reed had replaced the cover and was on his way. He quietly opened his bedroom door and stepped out, barely making a sound. He crept, so silently past Angela’s room and his mother’s. The stairs were usually creaky during the daytime, but for some reason always remained silent when they needed to be. Reed liked to think of it as providence. He was meant to sneak out and steal from the rich so his family could be happy.
Reed passed through the kitchen and eased the front door open, careful not to make any sort of noise that would disturb the women in the house. Opening the door was tense but closing it was worse. For the most part doors can be closed slowly, but then it gets to that point where you have to exert extra pressure to get it into the door frame. Once the door is in the frame all of that extra force comes back to haunt you as the door’s bolt skirts uncontrollably along the frame’s many angles. At night, when you’re sneaking out of a house and your nerves are on end these noises seem even more pronounced. Reed grimaced even though he’d experienced it a dozen times without incident.
The first challenge was over. Reed was outside. Step two was to acquire transportation. The only people worth robbing are rich and rich people didn’t live within walking distance of Reed’s house. What Reed really needed was to get his own damn car, but if he could afford a car he wouldn’t be robbing people in the first place.
Reed stepped onto the sidewalk and moseyed down the street. People have the ugly habit of parking their cars on the curb all night, which make them easy to steal. Reed supposed that they really didn’t have anywhere else to put them though. Every time Reed went out he would have to steal a different car to get where he was going. Tonight the victim turned out to be a 1969 Chevrolet Caprice. Reed loved old cars, no matter how beat up, and this one was beat up indeed. The body was missing large patches of its dilapidated red paint and the lock on the driver’s side door was missing entirely. Reed had to reach inside the void left in its wake and depress the release lever to open the door.
Inside, Reed eased into the driver’s seat. It really used to be a nice car with genuine leather seating. Only now the seats have large holes in them where the leather and cushioning is torn away. It was actually kind of sad.
Reed swallowed down his disgust at the car’s mistreatment and ducked under the dashboard. The car’s wiring was already bare. Reed pulled up his pant leg and unsheathed his switch blade. Flicking it out, Reed severed two of the red wires and stripped a good deal of the insulation off of the ends. The newly exposed wires inside were twisted around each other and left hanging. Next Reed severed a brown wire and touched one of the ends to the two newly connected red wires. The car roared to life and settled into an unpleasant chugging sound. Reed revved the engine a couple of times with the gas pedal to ensure that the engine didn’t stall on him and sat back in the seat.
Challenge two was passed. Reed had transportation. He would need it too. This new mark was all the way up in the hills of White Plains; a twenty-five-mile-walk from Harlem. The Moltini’s were notoriously reclusive. Only two members of the family actually lived in the house; a father and his only daughter. The security in and around the house is supposed to be legendarily tight but the amount of expensive valuables rumored to be contained inside make it worth the risk. Reed had convinced himself. He shifted the car into the proper gear and pulled away from the curb, driving off into the night.
Reed loved classic rock music and would normally listen to some whenever he was in a car, but not at night. Not when he was driving to rob another person’s home. Reed felt tense and basked in the tranquility of the city. Only the sound of the distressed engine filled the void.
The city passed by uneventfully. Reed was only on the streets for a few minutes before he hit the New York State Thruway and was moving at high speeds toward his destination. At the checkpoints Reed respectfully paid the required tolls and drove by without any of the guards knowing the car was stolen. Who would want to steal a car like that anyway?
About a half hour passed and Reed was gazing upon the rolling hills of White Plains, New York, black against the starry night sky. The city’s lights seemed to be the sky’s equal and opposite; a reflection on a lake that couldn’t be ignored, but Reed didn’t have the time to stare. Usually he would sit, stare, and think, but not now. Now Reed turned off the thruway and dove into the hills; the headlights on the Caprice slicing a path through the dark.
All at once Moltini Manor appeared to him, its outline poking out from the hills surrounding it. Reed decided to pull the car over and shut the engine off a ways away from the grounds proper so he could sneak in. He got out of the car and walked the rest of the way.
Moltini Manor was surrounded by a brick wall ten feet high. The front gate could easily be climbed but that would be the first point the guards would expect an intruder to enter. Reed decided instead to scrabble up the walls themselves. He found a portion of the wall hidden from the extensive driveway and started trying to enter.
First Reed was just trying to jump straight up and catch the lip of the wall. He couldn’t even reach it, almost, but no prize. Reed took a second to think and catch his breath. After that he tried running up the wall, jumping, kicking the wall, and grabbing the ledge. The first try Reed snagged the ledge, but couldn’t hang on and fell back to the ground. On the way down Reed’s palms scraped against the unforgiving brick and left a nasty burning sensation. Reed shoved his hands under his armpits and danced around for a while, breathing through his teeth.
Serious time was being wasted. It was almost midnight and Reed knew the most important thing with home invasion robberies was that you had to get in and get out, as quickly as possible. He gathered himself and tried again, jumping up and clinging to the edge of the wall as hard as he could. This time Reed’s fingers held. He was hanging from the wall just as planned.
Reed was a pretty light kid, and definitely strong enough to handle his own weight, so he began to slowly pull himself up. It put a lot of strain on his muscles and an almost undetectable groan escaped his lips but soon his head was peeking over the lip of the wall.
The courtyard was filled with lone standing trees dotted about. It was the kind of night where Reed couldn’t see any shapes milling about the courtyard, but if he couldn’t see them, they probably couldn’t see him either.
Reed swung his right arm over the wall and grabbed the other edge on the far side. Next he swung his right leg up and landed it on top of the wall. He used both appendages to pull himself up.
Reed wondered if that was challenge three. He made it on top of the wall but he wasn’t technically in the house yet.
He sighed and lie prostrate, trying to blend into the wall. Reed turned his head slightly and gazed into the courtyard to double check if there were any guards. There still appeared to be none, so Reed rolled over as hard as he could and threw himself off the wall, landing in a crouch. Quickly, Reed glanced to the right and left, then sprinted to the nearest tree. The trees in the courtyard were hardly thick enough to hide anyone but Reed figured his shadow could blend into the shadow of the tree.
Reed continued toward the house and approached one of the windows. He probed the pane with his fingers and found out that they were the old-fashioned kind that doesn’t open whatsoever. Reed sighed, figuring he might have to pick one of the locks on the doors. That took time and he felt he had already been there too long.
With reluctance, Reed moved around to one of the side doors. He placed his hand gently on the handle and slowly depressed it. To his surprise the door was unlocked. For a place with such a reputation, it actually had horrible security.
Reed tentatively pushed the door open. It made a horrible creaking noise as it moved that seemed to explode in Reed’s ears. He stopped short, waiting for some enormous guard to bound down the hall on the other side and take him by his hoodie. No such event occurred. Reed waited a few more seconds, then shoved the door open as fast as he could, clinging to the doorknob and stopping it before it smacked into the wall. The door squeaked once and was quiet. Reed eased inside the house and closed the door as quickly as he had opened it. It made an audible click as it locked into the door frame that seemed to echo throughout the whole house. Reed once again squeezed his eyes shut and waited. No guards, no alarms, nothing came to oppose him.
Reed’s heart rate was unbelievably high. His breathing had become erratic and the shakes had set in. It was becoming extremely dangerous in his mind. He really hadn’t done anything yet. It was too easy. Where are all the guards? Where are you hiding? Just come out!
He moved down the hallway, regaining his composure and surveying everything he passed. The very first hallway was already filled with neat items. There were vases on small tables and landscape art on the walls. The carpet was a beautiful velvet red and the walls were nearly the same blood color. Reed moved along this hall in utter silence. Even his footsteps were completely inaudible.
At the end of the hall Reed peeked around the corner, immediately spotting a large man coming up the hall toward him. He jumped back behind the wall and pressed himself against it. The guard was very large and heavy. His footsteps were loud and Reed could hear them getting closer. The guard was wearing a very dapper beige suit instead of some security uniform. Reed mused at the thought of the owner of this mansion being affiliated with the mafia. His last name was Moltini.
Reed peeked back around the corner to observe what the guard would do next. Somehow he was more relaxed then, as if the confirmation that there was something to be worried about made the worrying less unbearable. The guard scanned the halls in the dark with sweeping eyes as he moved. He came to an adjoining hall several yards before the exit and turned into it. Reed released a bunch of pent-up air he had in his lungs and gazed up and down the hall again. It was empty, so he moved on, quickly checking the hall the guard walked down to see if he was still there. He wasn’t, so Reed could move further into the mansion.
The manor looked pretty much the same no matter where Reed went. Everywhere there was art and expensive looking furniture, but nothing Reed could take with him to sell. The place was like a maze. He expected to find maybe a large ballroom or foyer but hadn’t come across any such place. One part of the house looked very much like a middle class home stuffed inside an upper class residence. Reed passed through a small dining area and then went into a likewise miniscule kitchen. He couldn’t shake the sensation that he was being watched. Every once in a while the floor would creak but it would feel like the creak wasn’t exactly in time with his own footsteps.
While passing through the kitchen Reed finally stopped, listening for the slightest noise. There was no noise. What did happen was much worse.
Suddenly something hard was pressed into the back of Reed’s head. His heart slammed itself against his chest, but only once, and then it returned to normal operation.
“What do you think you’re doing?” The voice was that of a girl, she possessed just the faintest hint of a Brooklyn accent. Reed didn’t dare turn around and look.
Reed searched hard for something intelligent to say. “Uhh, this is the Moltini house isn’t it? I was hired to test your security, remember?”
Reed thought he heard a light chuckle barely escape the lips of his acquaintance, then she said, “Yeah, sure.”
Without any real warning Reed felt a delicate hand come to rest on his upper back. Moments passed in silence. He wondered what the strange woman was up to.
“Ya know, I’ve done this to people a lot;” the girl said, “put guns to their heads. I like putting my hand over their heart to see just how fast it’s going. Most people are scared out of their minds. The heart is beating so fast that I can almost dance to the beat…strange that yours…is so calm.”
Reed didn’t respond, he didn’t know how to.
“Turn around, slowly.”
Reed obeyed, gazing upon the face of his captor. She was very young, looking to be about his age. Her hair was a dusky red color, probably dyed a cherry red and washed out. Her face wasn’t extraordinarily beautiful but had an interesting, almost uncanny quality. It possessed a hungry look and hard, piercing, green eyes. She was wearing a plush pink robe and holding a .357 Colt Python six-shooter barely an inch from Reed’s nose. In her other hand she held a half-glass of milk, strangely enough.
“How can you be so confident? Think you’re pretty good, huh?” the girl asked. “Got all the angles figured out and can take whatever you want. I don’t think you’re so good. I think you’re just a cowardly little boy who’s not really all that smart. But maybe you are. We’ll see. Will you play a game with me? I won’t tell you what the game is until after you agree but if you win I’ll let you walk out of here with whatever you want. Got it?”
Reed didn’t really have to think about it. “No. No way.”
“I could just kill you.”
Reed was silent for a time. “Fine.”
A sick grin surfaced on the girl’s face. “Good. Sit down in that chair on the other side of the table.”
Reed turned around. There was a small white table with two chairs in the middle of the kitchen. He moved around the table, pulled out his designated chair, and sat down. The girl set her milk down, pulled the chair on the other side out, and took her seat, keeping the gun trained on Reed the whole time.
Once she was seated, the girl opened the cylinder on her pistol and kicked all of the bullets out onto the table. From the pile, she selected one bullet, held it up for Reed to see, and put it back in. She spun the cylinder as hard as she could, let it spin for a couple of seconds, and then knocked it back into place with a flick of her wrist. Reed wanted to jump from the chair and sprint from the room right there.
“The game is Russian Roulette,” the girl said. “Every time you exhibit your cowardice or stupidity I will pull the trigger. If you exhibit even one instance of bravery or intelligence, I’ll let you go. You win. Got it?”
Reed nodded numbly.
“Alright,” the girl started. “What you have to think about now is how you like your odds, and try to be honest, okay?”
Reed thought about that for a second. How did he like his odds? With one bullet in a six-shooter the odds of a bullet firing from the barrel and making a sizeable hole in his head were about…sixteen point six percent. It sounded like good odds math-wise; but all it takes is one.
“First question; what are you here for?”
“I told you already--”
Snick!
The girl pulled the trigger and Reed flinched at the sound of the hammer clicking against the gun, instantly ending his sentence.
“I told you to be honest with me,” the girl said. “You were afraid to tell the truth based solely on who you were talking to. This is the fear of a cop. They have to deal with it all the time. I know you’re a thief”
Reed took a deep breath, trying to stay calm.
“Okay guy. Let me see your wallet.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Take out your wallet and let me see it.”
Reed leaned over on his chair and pulled out his wallet.
The girl sitting across from him rolled her eyes, aimed, and pulled the trigger.
Snick!
Reed flinched so badly he dropped his wallet on the floor.
“You actually brought your wallet with you on a robbery? What if you were caught? Then they’d know exactly who you are and even where you live! Look at you! You’re not even wearing gloves!” The girl raised the gun and pulled the trigger again. This time Reed instinctively ducked.
Snick!
The girl was shaking her head. “Sit up!”
Reed looked at her with scornful eyes and did as he was told.
“Now give me the wallet!
Reed picked the wallet up and handed it to her. She opened it with one hand and peered inside.
“Richard Dean Newton. Harlem? Huh, you’re tougher than I thought; white kid in Harlem…Alright, next question, Richard Dean Newton. It’s a hypothetical. You’re faced by a crazy person--”
Reed rolled his eyes at the irony.
“—this person tells you that you get to choose the way you die. If you tell the truth, you are strangled, and if you lie, he chops your head off. What do you say? You have unlimited time to think about it.”
Reed took his time. His eyes were fixed on the girl’s face as he thought. Finally he said, “I would say, I’m lying to you.”
Snick!
Reed flinched at the noise again, this time muttering, “Jesus!”
“What the hell is the matter with you?” The girl asked. “I gave you all the time in the world to think about it. You could’ve come up with a better answer; you could’ve even waited until my dad woke up! He probably wouldn’t let me kill you, but no, you lose again!”
“Are you sure?” Reed shot back. “Think about it.”
“There’s nothing more to think about! You said you’re lying to me!” At that the girl fell silent. Her face was a mask of confusion for a time. Finally she started musing out loud. “But if you really are lying to me…you’re telling the truth; which means you can’t be lying, but that makes your original statement a lie all over again. But…”
The girl chuckled suddenly. “Ha ha! You really got me there, didn’t you!” Carelessly, the girl put the gun up to her head and pulled the trigger.
Snick!
“Ha ha!”
Reed sighed in what sounded like relief. A small smile spread across his face and he started chuckling too.
The girl stopped. “Why are you laughing?”
Reed indicated the gun with his hand. “I thought there was real bullet in that gun!”
The girl cocked her head to the side, squinting at him. “What makes you think it’s not?”
“Well you couldn’t really pull the trigger on yourself if it were!”
The girl smiled wryly and moved the gun to point at the glass of milk sitting on the table. She pulled the trigger and a loud BANG! immediately erupted from the barrel. The glass exploded into a thousand tiny pieces, splattering milk everywhere. This time Reed completely jumped from the chair, knocking it to the floor.
There was silence for a time, in which Reed and the crazy lady just stared at each other. Suddenly the sound of rushing footsteps filled the hall. In the next instant guards were filing in room, all decked out in dapper suits. They took a second to assess the situation, then made for Reed.
“No! Don’t touch him!” the girl shouted.
All of the guards froze in place, one already reaching for Reed. The girl’s sudden cry possessed an inexplicable desperation that held them with authority.
“Don’t lay a single finger on him,” the girl ordered. She held her stare on Reed. “Get out of here. Take anything you can carry with you and don’t come back in. Caleb? Make sure he finds the door when he’s done.”
“Yes, mistress,” one of the guards said.
The guards made a path so Reed could leave, and he did. On his way out, Reed took a painting, a Faberge Coronation Egg that was sitting in a display case, and the crazy girl’s Colt Python. They were to be fenced through a pawn shop where Reed knew someone who could take care of it. The guard followed Reed wherever he went and showed him to the front gate when Reed said he was done. Reed walked back up the road in the dark and stuffed the objects in the trunk of his stolen vehicle. He dropped the items off with his contact at the pawn shop and returned the car back where he found it.
Last challenge of the night: fall asleep. After Reed snuck back into his house, took his clothes off, and curled up in bed, he tried to find a happy thought and drift away. It didn’t come easy. The thoughts of what transpired in that house haunted him, and as he slowly slipped into unconsciousness, a part of him knew that he would regret meeting that crazy little girl for the rest of his life.

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 16.03.2011

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