The Lock Box, page 28
Next, she turned to the manual dial. Spinning and feeling for the notches, Locke found the combination digits quickly: 1, 7, 8, 14, and 21. But, like before, the issue was the order of numbers. And she only had five tries to get it right.
Her eyes dropped to Huang’s body at her feet.
While low-to-high and high-to-low were almost always her first two attempts, something about Huang’s face told her those wouldn’t work. That he would have worried about her cracking the safe. And, counting on her trying those patterns first, he would have deliberately chosen something different.
Locke tried to put herself in Huang’s shoes. Knowing he needed to retrieve the money from the safe, he’d set the combination while the crew was dressing. He would have been in a hurry—that suggested something obvious. Something easy, right at his fingertips. But the combo also needed to be simple to remember. Ideally, you wanted it to be like your name—an arrangement you’d never, ever forget.
For Huang, what was as basic as his name?
Wait a second.
The combination had five digits. Huang’s name had five letters.
It couldn’t be that easy, could it?
Which letter of the alphabet was H?
Locke counted on her fingers and got to eight.
U took a minute to count out, but she found it was letter twenty-one. A was obviously one.
Quick counts showed N and G were fourteen and seven.
All the numbers matched.
Locke drew a deep breath and then spun them out in order, 8, 21, 1, 14, 7.
When she grabbed the lever under the dial, it didn’t budge.
She pulled on it again but found the same result: the combination was wrong.
Locke’s heart climbed into her throat. Had she really just wasted one of her only chances?
Reaching for the dial again, she saw her hand shaking.
She couldn’t afford to panic. Lowering her arm, Locke closed her eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath. She reminded herself she’d been in this spot before. Heck, a few hours ago.
As she reopened her eyes, Locke took another look at Huang’s face. He wasn’t smiling now, but she thought of all the smug grins she’d wanted to wipe off his face. The way he’d mansplained testing the safe, even though he’d been completely wrong about the way the digital lock worked.
Locke reached for the dial and spun the name numbers again, this time in reverse order: 7, 14, 1, 21, 8.
She reached for the handle.
It turned!
Locke’s mouth hung open, even as tears started to fill her eyes. But, as happy as she was, she warned herself that Evan wasn’t free yet.
She signaled King, who lifted Huang’s body to make his hand accessible. When Locke took it, she assumed the dead flesh would turn her stomach. But it was so cold it didn’t feel real. She was able to jab it into the scanner straightaway.
As she waited for the biometric sensor to beep, every second that ticked by made Locke worry. She had no clue whether the exposure had affected Huang’s handprints—he’d certainly taken on a ton of water.
Finally, though, the green light flashed.
She reached immediately for the main handle. When she pulled the door open, Evan tumbled out.
Locke caught him before he hit the floor.
CHAPTER
37
UNLIKE HUANG, EVAN’S skin was flushed and warm. With limp muscles and eyes closed, he looked like he was sleeping. She could feel his chest moving, so she dragged him away from the box, stretching him across the floor on his back even as the oxygen bottle clanged against the concrete.
Once Evan was laid out straight, Locke noticed his arms and legs twitching slightly. She pressed her ear to his chest. His little heart was beating, but it sounded faint.
King, who’d moved to Evan’s feet, gave her a quizzical look.
She threw her hands out to the side. “I … I’m no nurse. I don’t …”
A noise interrupted her. A soft puff of air.
Then another.
She turned back in time to see Evan’s shoulders twitch as he coughed.
Locke ran her fingers over his forehead. “Evan?”
He sputtered, his body rocking to each side. He ended up facing her.
“Muh … Muh …”
“I’m right here, baby!”
When his eyelids cracked open, Locke’s throat clamped shut. Tears began pouring from her eyes as her head dropped to his chest and she sobbed against it. While she tried to be gentle, she squeezed him in a hug that she didn’t want to release.
“Momma …”
She lifted her head and looked at him. “Yes, baby. I’m here.”
“You smell fishy.” He smiled weakly, then coughed.
Locke laughed through the tears.
“They messed up your pretty dress.”
She shook her head. “That’s okay. Getting back here was what mattered.”
King circled to Evan’s other side, kneeling next to him.
Evan’s head lolled over. “Hi, Henry.”
King smiled at the boy, then patted his shoulder.
“Henry?” Locke asked King. “That’s your real name?”
He nodded, then pointed between himself and Evan. With noticeable effort in his face, he forced out a word. It sounded like sense. Or cents.
Locke tried to understand, but couldn’t. When she shrugged, King held up one finger, then rose to his feet and jogged off.
While he was gone, Locke traced her fingers through Evan’s hair. Some of the red had already drained from his face, and he seemed to be relaxing.
He looked up at her. “The dark was really scary.”
“I bet,” she said. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
“I told myself you’d be back soon. That if I just went to sleep, it would happen faster.”
Locke smiled. She said that every Christmas Eve, not that it seemed to help. “Did you fall asleep?”
“Yeah. But I’m still tired.”
“It’s been a very long day.”
King returned, carrying Locke’s bags from the janitor’s closet in one hand and the air mattress in the other. Over his shoulder, he’d slung one of the heavy towels Queen had purchased. He flopped the mattress next to Evan, then gently scooped the boy onto it before draping the towel over him. King patted his head with one of his huge mitts.
Locke nodded at King, then smiled at Evan. “Rest now. Sleep if you can, okay?”
Evan didn’t argue. He simply shut his eyes and said, “Oh-kay.”
Once Evan’s breathing deepened, Locke jerked her head toward the front of the building. King nodded.
As they started walking, he pulled a pad and pen from one of the bags. He wrote something and turned the paper to show her: Evan and I are friends.
Friends.
That was the word King had been trying to say. Not sense.
Locke thought back through the times she’d found King near Evan. She’d assumed the worst, but with the Giant’s problems speaking and the way the others had mocked him, his openness to Evan made sense. And, of course, Evan would have reciprocated.
When that all clicked, a pang of guilt rang in Locke’s chest. “I … I didn’t know,” she said. “I’m … sorry.”
King nodded. He gave her a thumbs-up, then wrote some more. Change clothes. Eat.
When they reached the front, King handed her the shopping bags before beelining into his office. Locke made her way gingerly to Queen’s room and shut the door.
When she flipped the lights on, they glinted against the rhinestone makeup case.
In addition to the bags, traces of the Pink Punker were scattered throughout the tiny room—a makeup brush sitting on the chair, clothes piled in the corner, her phone lying on the desktop.
Locke decided to ignore all of it for now and extinguished the lights. After stripping off the dress in the dark, she donned the denim shorts and blouse she’d set aside earlier. An extra benefit of the dark—it helped her resist the temptation to check her thigh wound. Leaving the bandage in place, she slipped into her flip-flops. It had been hours since she’d worn shoes.
When Locke emerged from Queen’s office, King’s door was still closed. While her outfit provided more coverage than the dress, it still wasn’t enough to calm the gooseflesh that covered her arms and legs. So she went looking for extra layers.
Having never searched Huang’s office, she checked there first. The room itself was identical to the others, but inside he’d stored a suitcase and a small leather handbag.
A quick check of the suitcase revealed nothing useful, only slacks and golf shirts that smelled of tobacco and wouldn’t have fit anyway. The handbag’s contents were slightly more interesting—US and Chinese passports bearing Huang’s name and picture, a few hundred dollars in both countries’ currency, business cards written in Mandarin, and a set of airline boarding passes. While she expected the tickets would be routed to somewhere in China, Mexico City was listed as the destination.
Not knowing whether any of that might be useful, Locke shoved it all into her pockets.
As she debated whether to search Jack’s office, the chill still ringing in her bones convinced her it was worth it. He had no carry-on bag, only a suitcase splayed out next to his cot. Locke rummaged through the case, finding an extra, unused chef’s coat and a pair of baggy chef’s pants that would fit over her existing clothes.
Happy about the extra warmth they provided, she left Jack’s office at almost the same moment King emerged from his own. He’d ditched the suit and was once again clad in sweatpants and a jersey. He waited for her as she limped over, smiling at her new outfit.
Locke shook her head. “You like this, huh?”
King nodded vigorously, releasing one of his deep chortles.
With King’s office door still ajar, she was able to peer inside as she passed it. She saw the same suitcase and hanging bag she’d searched before. But the floor was different. The book she’d seen earlier now rested on the carpet, with no sign of the air mattress.
Locke did a double take back to Jack’s. And then to where Evan was resting.
“Wait … is that your mattress Evan’s been sleeping on?”
King nodded. He raised the pad again and pointed at the Evan and I are friends note.
Locke’s head fell back against her shoulders. She’d assumed Jack had given Evan the mattress, but now she remembered King exiting the closet as she’d voiced her thanks. Evan had tried to correct her, but she’d shushed him, too busy to listen.
After a long look at the ceiling, Locke grabbed King’s elbow. “I am … so sorry.” She took a hard swallow. “You were sleeping on the floor for us—for him—and I didn’t even realize.”
King’s gaze dropped to the floor.
As best she could on her weak leg, she bent down to maintain eye contact. “Really, thank you. For the mattress. For Queen. For … rescuing me.”
Locke pictured the Giant, leaving her on the staircase to return to the sauna. He’d likely drawn some of the guards away from her as she chased Huang. Moving farther into the bowels of the ship had seemed like suicide at the time, but now, thinking about the bubble he’d arrived in when she was adrift, Locke recalled the door she’d passed with Queen on the way to the spa. “How on earth do you know how to drive a submarine?”
King’s face cracked into a slight smile.
She returned it. “Seriously, I don’t know how you got out of there, or what else to say. But … just … thank you for getting me home to him.”
King nodded once. Then he made a note on his pad: FOOD.
When they reached the round table, King steered Locke into a chair. Then he lifted her bad leg and stretched it across to another seat.
“I’m okay,” she said, starting to rise. “I can help—”
King pushed her back down with one of his heavy hands. Circling to Jack’s refrigerator, he dug out some containers. In a matter of minutes, he was scooping a frypan’s contents onto two plates and delivering one to her.
Just the smell of the scrambled eggs and vegetables energized Locke. She waited for King to sit, and once he dug into his pile of food with a plastic spoon, she took a bite.
Not as refined as Jack’s cooking, but the warm calories were exactly what her body needed. She and King both ate silently for several minutes until their plates were nearly empty. Heat radiated from her full belly out to the rest of her body. Her muscles were relaxing now—she noticed her eyelids growing heavy.
But there were still things to do.
When Locke looked over at King, his eyes were closed. That made what she had to say a little easier. “I don’t know where you’re headed next. But … if you need a place … you could come back to California. With us.”
She held her breath. The offer was the least she could do for the man who’d saved her, twice, and by extension, her son.
King’s eyes flicked open. He thought a moment, then scribbled something. Going to Switzerland. Need my surgery.
“Surgery?”
King scribbled some more. Cancer.
Locke blinked blankly. She read the words three times before looking up.
King must have noticed her expression, as his mouth opened in a goofy grin. He wrote, Don’t I look like a cancer patient?
She chuffed. “No, not at all.”
Tumor made me this way. Who knew cancer made you big and strong? King raised his arm and flexed his bicep.
Locke shook her head—it was easily the biggest muscle she’d ever seen, even among some of the ’roid heads in the army. “I don’t get it. If it’s good for you, why remove it? How do they even do it?”
King’s brow furrowed as he wrote this time. This is second time. First one, when I was a kid. Made me big. They found later, took it out. He rubbed the scar on his scalp. Now, another one. Gotta remove it. King bent his index finger and made a twisting motion by one nostril, as if miming how a kid picked their nose. Then he yanked the hand down suddenly.
Locke giggled in spite of herself. “They’re gonna go up your nose to pull it out?”
King nodded and chortled.
Locke took a breath to cleanse that image from her mind. Then she decided she had to ask the question that had been eating at her. “Queen.”
King grunted.
“Was that always the plan? I mean, did she know Huang wanted her to …”
The Giant scribbled something, then showed her the pad with a raised eyebrow. Do you really want to know?
Locke swallowed but didn’t answer.
After a silent moment, King took their plates to the trash. Then he disappeared for a moment. He returned carrying the shrink-wrapped cash from the safe, the satchel Huang had used on the yacht slung across his shoulders.
One at a time, he separated the bricks of money into two piles on the table, one-for-you/one-for-me style. He slid one stack to Locke, then dragged the other to his place.
“Huang said you owe some kind of debt,” she said.
He nodded, then reached for his pad. When doctors found first tumor, football coaches didn’t want me anymore. Worried I’d die or something. Not easy to get job like this. He pointed to his mouth.
“So, you’ve never …”
King shook his head. Tongue too big. Got in way. With no football, needed money. People hired me for this. He flexed his mighty arm again. Huang bought me away from them.
His words echoed the story Queen had told. Remembering Queen’s fear of having to go back to her previous life, Locke pushed her stack of money toward him. “You should take all of this. Get your surgery, and pay off whoever you need to.”
King closed his eyes and shook his head. With his hand, he sliced the air in front of him.
“Even Steven? No.”
The Giant nodded, then cut the air again.
“Won’t whoever it is come looking for you?”
King scribbled something quickly. When he turned the pad toward her, his face narrowed into a sinister grin. Let them come.
After a moment, King retrieved the satchel from across his shoulders. One at a time, he withdrew each of the four wooden boxes from the bag and set them on the table. Then he looked at Locke and gestured toward them with an open hand.
She pulled herself up onto her feet and hopped over. She removed each of the box tops and looked at the statues inside.
The figurines left her cold. With all the trouble they’d caused, she wasn’t sure she wanted to have anything to do with them. Besides, with that story Glebov had told, it didn’t seem right. They belonged elsewhere, in China, wherever they’d been made.
Locke looked at King. “I don’t … You should take them.”
He shook his head. He pointed two fingers at her, then at himself.
Turning back to the table, she looked over the figurines. If King was going to insist that she take a pair, maybe she could find a way to turn them in or something. Recognizing the one from Malibu, the Rabbit, she plucked it off the table.
“If it’s okay, I’ll take this one. Otherwise, you pick.”
King nodded and moved two of the statues over with his money, a rooster and a dog. That left her with the final figurine, a small monkey. She placed that with the rabbit and quickly replaced the tops on both her boxes.
As the two figurines disappeared from sight, the jade glinted one last time in the light.
Locke felt a bit of relief once the stone figures were covered, and she smiled at King. He grinned back. A moment later, a yawn forced its way to her lips.
He made a sleeping sign, tilting his head over his hands pressed together.
“That sounds wonderful.”
They made their way back to the offices. Wanting to be close to Evan, Locke decided to move the cot from Queen’s room out to the edge of the workspace. When King saw her trying to move it, he gently nudged her aside, then lifted the folding metal frame like it was nothing.
After he placed it next to the sawhorses for her, Locke mouthed thank you. Evan was snoring lightly, but she didn’t want to risk waking him. Finally, she raised a hand in a silent good-night wave.
