The Lock Box, page 16
She squeezed tighter with her right hand.
Her grip held. But even after her arm absorbed the impact, the realization that she was now hanging five stories up by four fingers caused her heart to slide into her throat.
Locke gritted her teeth and shook off the panic. She’d hung by one arm plenty of times. Making sure she had a solid grip with her right hand, she drew in a deep breath and shot her left hand upward.
Once that locked on, she felt better. Although now she could feel lactic acid starting to burn in her right shoulder and arm.
Locke swung her hips once, twice, and on the third swing, she flung her foot up to the girder. Hooking it through one of the triangular trusses took some of the pressure off her arms. Enough that she could finally figure out what the fuck Jack was doing with the flashlight.
Clamping her eyes shut to protect the remains of her night vision, Locke hung her head backward. “Stop it!” She tried to keep her voice down to a hiss. “Turn it off!”
From the way the inside of her eyelids continued to glow red, she knew the light wasn’t going anywhere.
And then the whistle started.
Tweeeeeeeet, tweeeeeeeet!
The shrill noise sliced through the air, over and over.
Locke had no choice now—she opened her eyes. Through the glare of the flashlight, she could see Jack upside down on the floor below. The black whistle clutched between his lips was unmistakable. His shoulders lurched and the flashlight bobbed every time he blew it again.
Between the piercing bursts, she heard shuffling.
Building lights around her started to glow. As white circles began to appear on the floor, she could see Huang and the others, staring upward and maneuvering underneath her.
For the first time, she could truly see how high up she was. From this distance, even King looked small.
“Boss!” Jack was jabbing his finger up at her. “I caught her trying to escape!”
CHAPTER
20
THE WATER CAUGHT Locke square in the face.
Cold jabbed sharply at her skin even as the wet trickled over her scalp and spilled down into her shirt.
“Wake. Up.”
Locke blinked her eyes open to find Huang standing over her, clutching an empty cup. From the backlighting, she guessed it was well past dawn.
As she reached to wipe her eyes, the solid steel grip on her left wrist reminded her: she was handcuffed to the metal shelving. She used her right hand instead.
After Jack sounded the alarm, Huang had marched to the top of the structure and ordered her off the girder with the gun. Once she’d descended, he’d punched her square in the face. She’d seen stars the whole way down, even as he dragged her by her hair.
Then he’d locked her in the janitor’s closet alone.
The moment the closet door shut, she’d reached for a bobby pin to pick the lock. Despite nearly dislocating her shoulder to reach it, when she finally felt along the metal shelf, it was empty.
They’d found her stash.
The rest of the night, she’d rubbed her wrist raw trying to squeeze free from the cuff. She must have passed out at some point, although the pain radiating from her face and scalp mixed with the fatigue to fog things up.
Huang squatted in front of her now. Close enough she could smell cigarettes and tea on his breath. “I said, wake … up.”
“Where’s Evan?” Before locking her in, they’d dragged him from the closet, kicking and screaming. Although the noise had rapidly subsided, she’d told herself he was okay—Locke wouldn’t let herself believe anything else.
“He is eating breakfast. Or, should I say not eating, just as he did not sleep after your … escapade last night.”
Locke took some comfort in the idea of Evan keeping Huang awake. “You should have left him with me.”
“And you should have thought of him before trying to escape.” Huang’s eyes narrowed. “I have the opportunity—the privilege—to correct nearly two hundred years of injustice. I will not lose it because of you. I have treated you and the boy well—”
“Oh yeah. Totally a five-star kidnapping experience.”
Huang’s eyebrows rose even as his voice dropped. “If you will not cooperate, he will pay the price.”
Locke’s temperature soared at the threat. Her right hand, which had lingered near her face, now shot forward and seized Huang by the ear. Simultaneously, she jabbed her left leg out. Down in the squat, he didn’t have much balance—she forced him over her leg onto his back.
She rolled with him, pinning his arms under her knees. While the cuff neutralized her left arm, Locke jammed her right forearm under Huang’s chin until she felt the hard structures of his throat. Leaning all her weight forward, she pressed down.
Huang’s mouth popped open. His eyes gaped even wider in surprise.
As his face flushed, Locke’s strength surged. The heat coursing through her intensified, and she felt a familiar tingle in her chest.
She lifted her knees to apply even more pressure.
Tears spilled out the corners of Huang’s eyes and rolled straight to the floor. He let out a couple of small gasps.
“Let him up, Ace.”
Locke’s head whipped around to find Jack in the doorway. Evan stood in front of him, pouting. Jack’s right hand was clamped over the boy’s shoulder while his left held the knife aloft, its point angled up at the ceiling.
“Momma—”
Jack’s right hand shifted from Evan’s shoulder to his mouth. “Seriously, Ace. Let him go.”
Unlike that first night in the car, Jack’s expression was as flat as the sound of his voice.
Locke’s muscles clenched so hard that she started shaking. A tremor down in her gut vibrated up into her throat where it escaped as a frustrated growl. She rolled off Huang, who remained on the ground, sputtering.
Locke slid as far away as her cuffed arm would allow. Facing the rear of the closet, she pulled her knees to her chest and stared down between them. Her breathing turned ragged as her shaking continued.
She didn’t dare check Evan’s expression. She couldn’t bear the thought of how he might be looking at her.
In her peripheral vision, she sensed Huang rising to his feet and maneuvering around her.
“Look at me.”
Although Huang’s voice was reduced to a raspy croak, she understood the words. She just didn’t comply.
“I said, look at me!”
Locke started to look up.
Her eyes hadn’t even reached his knees when Huang’s open hand hit her cheek. Connecting right where he’d struck her the night before, this new impact seemed to set off a bomb inside her head. Everything flashed white, then black, as her brain exploded with pain.
“Mommaaaaaa!” Evan’s howl cut through the haze that filled her head.
“Get him out of here,” Huang shouted at Jack.
“No!” Locke tried to struggle to her feet. “He needs to be with me!”
Huang whipped back around in a blur—the fastest she’d seen him move—and clamped his hand around her throat. She’d never given him any credit for being strong, but his fingers felt like iron digging in beneath her jaw.
“You have lost that privilege.”
Locke could see the rage in Huang’s bloodshot eyes. The way his nostrils flared.
“Take him out,” Huang barked again. “And keep the brat quiet. Ms. Locke has work to do.”
* * *
Huang didn’t move her himself.
She figured that, deep down, he knew he couldn’t.
Instead, he sent King to do it.
When the Giant arrived, Locke considered putting up a fight anyway. Although the odds were crazy, she considered what kind of cheap shot might take him down. Everyone had soft spots. Eyes. Balls.
Her wheels were still spinning when he tossed her the handcuff keys.
Whether they were too small for his massive fingers or he sensed her plan, King remained standing at the door. Blocking the only exit.
As she undid the lock, Locke scanned King’s face. It looked … different. For one thing, he wasn’t scowling—his mouth merely stretched into a straight, unflinching line. His brow, so often furrowed, had softened.
After removing the cuff, Locke rubbed her wrist and started to stand.
He pointed back at the cuffs.
“We bringing those?”
King nodded. Then he jerked his head outside.
Locke watched King duck his shoulders to squeeze through the door. She didn’t know whether to take him turning his back on her as a compliment or an insult. But even when she emerged from the closet, he didn’t act aggressively. Standing several feet away, he simply nodded toward her work area.
As they walked, Locke’s head swiveled. “Where’s Evan? Where’d they take him?”
King pointed at the offices.
Locke’s eyes scoured the plexiglass windows, but she couldn’t make out anything.
A heavy weight dropped onto her shoulder. She looked over and found King’s giant mitt. He pointed at the offices, then gave a thumbs-up.
“Evan’s okay? That what you mean?”
He nodded.
“I don’t trust—”
King made a sawing motion with one hand, then shook his head.
“Evan’s not with Jack?”
King leveled his palm and lowered it toward the floor.
“Queen? Evan’s with Queen?”
The Giant’s bald head bounced.
When Locke checked the offices again, the windows didn’t reveal anything more than before. She hated the thought of Evan being with any of these people, but she imagined Queen was the safest of the bunch.
Forcing a swallow down, Locke turned back the way they were headed. Ahead, she could see the Ticonderoga waiting for her. As King walked silently alongside, she noticed he wore a different jersey today, white with orange numbers. “Did you play?”
King blinked.
She pinched her own blouse, then pointed at his shirt. “Football?”
He set his jaw before giving a single nod.
Although she’d never enjoyed watching it, everyone around her—at home, in the army—was so preoccupied with football that she’d ended up following along. Locke tried to imagine how much more imposing King would look in a helmet and shoulder pads.
When they reached the work area, he stopped at the sawhorses. Once she’d slipped inside, Locke held up the cuffs. “Am I supposed to …”
King nodded.
Locke glanced around and wondered what she could get away with. She reached for the metal chair.
King shook his head. He pointed at the safe.
Locke scanned the Ticonderoga but didn’t see how she could clip herself to it. She shrugged at him.
King circled behind the box. As tall as it was, the Ticonderoga rose only to the middle of his chest. He threw his arms across the top of the safe, hooking his hands over the front lip.
Then he flexed, and growled.
The Ticonderoga’s front legs tipped back off the floor.
Locke took a half second to blink away her shock. But then she fastened one cuff around the safe’s front leg. Once she was clear, King let the box go.
She’d felt smaller earthquakes than when that steel slammed down against the concrete.
After King emerged from behind the box, she clipped the other cuff to her ankle and twisted to show him.
He flashed her a thumbs-up before lumbering away.
The moment his back was turned, Locke’s eyes flew to the toolbox. She started inventorying what she’d seen inside. Thinking what could pick the lock or saw through the chain.
As her pulse quickened, she ordered it to slow down.
There was no point in escaping now, not with Evan being held by the others. She’d risked enough by angering Huang. Better to be a good girl.
For now.
After a deep breath, Locke turned back to the Ticonderoga. She swung the door open and stared at the circuit board.
If she and Evan weren’t getting rescued, she needed to figure out the digital lock in a hurry. That was the only way to keep them safe now. But after yesterday’s frustrations, she really didn’t see what else she could possibly try.
The information she needed was stored inside the digital lock’s memory chip. But outside the safe, all she had access to was the keypad. As she’d learned yesterday, those two never talked directly—they each spoke only to the processor between them.
Locke stared hard at the little black square. Like a safe within a safe, it was tucked away, guarding its secrets.
So crack it. That’s what you do.
Locke thought for a long time.
The processor chip took numbers entered on the keypad and compared them to the combination. But all she could see were the keypad entries themselves, not the action inside the processor. That was no help.
But.
The processor had known the combination somehow. Otherwise there’d be nothing to compare the button presses to.
So how did the processor get the combination?
Duh, Locke told herself, the processor asks the memory chip for it. That was the whole point of “memory”—it “remembered” things for the processor.
The memory had to tell the processor what the combination was.
Locke grabbed the oscilloscope probes and clipped them between the memory and processor chips. Then she activated the oscilloscope—with her ankle cuffed, it required turning and stretching backward like an odd game of Twister.
When she ran traces, though, the scope showed the weirdest result: nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
It didn’t matter what she did with the keypad, the processor and memory never seemed to talk. No signals passed between them. Ever.
Locke rubbed her palms against her eyes.
What was the point of the memory chip if the processor never used it? And how the heck did the processor receive the combination if it never asked for it?
“I hate electronics.” She said it aloud this time.
“Little chow might help.”
Locke wheeled around to find Jack standing at the sawhorses. Dressed in his chef’s coat and bandanna, he held a paper plate.
“Fuck you.”
“You’re angry, I understand—”
“What you should understand is that if my ankle wasn’t chained to this safe, I’d be over there ripping your beating heart out so I could shove it down your throat.”
Without realizing it, her fingers had curled into fists. Locke knew firsthand what it felt like when bones broke beneath their weight. The satisfying way resistance was there one moment, gone the next. More than anything, she wanted that sensation again, right now.
Jack gave a little shrug. “So you know, Evan ate—”
“Don’t go near him. You so much as look at him, I’ll—”
“—a full breakfast. I thought you might be hungry too.”
“I’m not. I don’t want anything from you.” Locke inched toward the fencing. Far enough that her cuffed ankle started to rise off the floor.
“I’ll leave it here. Just in case.” He set the paper plate down and tucked it inside the fencing before turning to walk away.
Locke stretched to hook the edge of the plate with a fingertip. Dragging it closer, she scooped it up and hurled it after him.
When the plate struck Jack between his shoulder blades, he whipped around and reversed course. Brow furrowed, neck veins popping, he looked like he’d march right up to her.
The corners of her mouth turned up in a smile. C’mon.
Without warning, he halted at the fence line.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Afraid another girl’s gonna kick your ass?”
“You’re tough as all fuck, you know that? But you’re really not too bright.”
Locke lunged at him, but the cuff stopped her short.
Jack shook his head. “Thinking I’ll come in there and let you beat on me is about as dumb as thinking I’d skip the chance to turn you in.”
“You lied—”
“No, I didn’t. I never said I’d help you. I never promised you anything—I just pointed you at the bright, shiny object and let you chase it.”
Locke’s face flushed.
“That’s your problem, Ace—you’re too easily distracted. Haven’t you noticed? How I run around like a hamster on a little wheel, making all the boss’s favorites, speaking to him in Mandarin? The whole time I’ve been here, I’ve only had one thing in my mind.” He flashed his index finger at her, then jabbed it against his temple. “One thing, from the start. Getting home. And if catching you red-handed for the boss man gets me one step closer, so be it.”
“Selfish prick.”
“Maybe. But I’ve been plenty nice to that boy of yours. Better than you’ve been, almost making him an orphan.”
Jack spun on his heel and stormed away.
Her face on fire, Locke strained at the cuff. She stomped over to the metal chair, planted her cuffed leg, and fired her free foot against the seat back.
The chair rolled several yards, clanging and clattering the whole way.
Although a part of her enjoyed the noise, quickly Locke’s eyes returned to the safe. Right now, what Evan needed most was for her to figure out that digital lock. That was the only way to keep him alive.
As she opened the door and stared at the circuit board, though, the only thing in her mind was Jack.
“One thing in my head this whole time.” She said it out loud, mocking his tone and accent. “One thing, from the start.”
Stupid boy brains only had room for one thing at time. Food, sex, violence.
Another growl formed down deep in her throat. She swung the safe door shut, letting it clang against the frame.
Her eyes settled on the digital keypad. Locke wasn’t quite sure which she hated more: the little silver circle with the buttons or that arrogant Scottish prick.
She noticed the keypad screen had gone dark. While she’d been arguing with Jack, the system had turned itself off to save power.
Jack’s words echoed in her head.
“One thing.”
“From the start.”
Suddenly, the digital lock made sense.
