Chapter 40
This was a really bad idea, but Jack assured me that Juan and Jesus were the best tile guys on the island and could match the tile in the living room after we cut into it. There was just one slight problem. The house alarm.
I had a plan for that.
We pulled to the curb in front of the house.
With the surveillance van wrapped like a public works vehicle, we wouldn’t draw much attention.
Wearing neon vests, nobody would give us a second look.
Though no matter how we disguised him, Henrik looked a little out of place.
Just a tad past the age of retirement for manual labor.
We hopped out, walked up the driveway, and entered through the back gate. I knocked on the back door a few times just to make sure nobody was home.
No dogs barked.
From the French doors that opened to the patio, I got a view of the keypad for the alarm. With my phone, I zoomed in and took a picture, then sent it to Isabella.
Every manufacturer had a default service code.
Even if the homeowner had changed it, there was always a backdoor to get into the system in case of an emergency.
Most home alarms were hard-wired with a landline.
Many had a backup battery and a cell phone in case the power was cut.
Trouble is, most people don't replace the backup battery when it dies.
Some people don't go to the extra expense of having a dedicated cell line just for the alarm.
It's always user error that creates vulnerabilities in a security system.
Within a few minutes, Isabella had identified the make and model and downloaded the security codes from the dark web, which were readily available.
For no other reason than to cause mayhem, hacker groups were notorious for posting sensitive information about consumer electronics.
Almost everything could be breached, from smart TVs to digital thermostats to networked wireless printers.
Everything offered a backdoor into the system. You could never be too careful.
From his wallet, Jack pulled out a small lock-picking kit.
He knelt down by the back door, slipped the tools into the slot, and jiggled them around.
In under a minute, he unlocked the door and the deadbolt.
He gave me a last look before opening the door.
Last chance to back out. Last chance to avoid felony charges.
I kept telling myself it was for a good cause.
You know what they say about the road to hell…
I nodded, and Jack twisted the handle. He pushed open the door, and the alarm began its countdown of incessant beeping.
Dressed in ball caps, dark sunglasses, and dust masks, our faces were obscured from any cameras that may have been positioned in or around the property.
We had swapped out the plates on the utility vehicle with fake temporary tags.
We hustled through the house toward the keypad, and I punched in the code that Isabella had sent me. Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep.
Just like that, the system was deactivated.
JD and I shared a relieved look.
By that time, Henrik had meandered through the house to join us.
I said to him, "I need to know exactly where it is.”
He had previously counted the paces from the back fence to the French doors in the living room. From there, he stepped off exactly where he had buried the crystal. Just as he had said, it was directly under the coffee table.
JD and I carried it out of the way, then moved the couch against the wall. It would give us a clear area to work.
Jack closed the blinds at the front of the house. The frosted glass of the front door would keep anyone from seeing us inside. But it was about to get hella noisy in here.
We searched the area for cameras, but didn’t find any. It seemed the only camera on the property was the doorbell. By parking across the street, we hopefully hadn’t activated the motion sensor, but that was anyone’s guess.
Jack opened the front door, stayed clear of the lens, popped the cover, and dropped the battery. With the camera offline, it wouldn’t send updates to James’s phone.
He gave another look around before stepping back inside and rejoining us in the living room.
I stood over the tile that marked the spot. "In the spirit of measuring twice and cutting once, you’re positive this is it."
Henrik glared at me. "I've never been more certain about anything in my life.”
We didn't have a way to scan for the object. Infrared wouldn't penetrate the tile, and neither would ground-penetrating radar. The foundation slab was too thick, and the rocky substrate underneath was too dense. I didn't figure Henrik would have buried the crystal too deep. A few feet at best.
I looked at my watch. "Where's Juan and Jesus?”
“They'll be here any minute.”
Any minute turned into half an hour. Every second was precious. They pulled behind the public works vehicle in a nondescript white van with temp tags. JD had given them a heads-up that this job might be a little on the shady side.
Jack and I hustled down the driveway to greet them.
Juan and Jesus were the best tile guys on the island… with a criminal record. An important caveat. They stepped out of the van wearing dust masks and neon safety vests. These guys knew the drill.
We escorted them to the back of the house and ushered them into the living room. Jack made introductions, and we shook hands.
"Nice place," Juan said.
“Everything needs to return to exactly the same condition,” I said.
“Gotcha.”
“You need to wear gloves and face masks at all times. If anybody asks, you’re with the city.”
“This ain’t our first rodeo.”
Jack told them what needed to be accomplished. "You sure you can match the tile when it comes to putting it all back together?”
"No problem," Juan said.
"We need to be quick and quiet about it. And this stays between us. It never happened. You weren’t here."
“That kind of discretion comes with a price.”
"I don't care what it costs," Jack said. “Can you do it?”
"Sure. No problem. What's underneath the tile? A dead body?" He and Jesus chuckled.
"No." JD asked Henrik how far down it was.
"Maybe a foot or two.”
"Below the slab?” Juan asked.
Jack nodded.
Juan shrugged. "It's going to be loud and messy."
"Put up some dropcloth so it doesn't get all over the house.”
“Si, senor.” He looked around and spotted the family photo of James and his clan on an end table nearby. “You know, my nephew got popped on a B&E charge. He’s a good kid. Got a trial date coming up. Would be great if you could talk to someone. Make that go away.”
It wasn’t quite a request. I knew we were doing a deal with the devil.
“I’ll talk to the state’s attorney. Maybe we can work out a plea agreement.”
Juan shrugged, not satisfied. “He’s so young. Would be a shame to have one mistake on his permanent record.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“You can either do it, or you can’t. I mean, I don’t see how that’s really different from what we’re doing right now.”
“We’re not stealing anything from the homeowner.”
“We’re just going to put a hole in his floor.”
“First offense?” I asked.
“Like I said, Carlos is a good kid. Right now, he’s looking at a 2nd degree felony and a max of 15 years. Just like we all are right now.”
I was in no position to make a deal, but I was confident I could nudge things in the right direction. “I can’t make any guarantees, but I can push for deferred adjudication and probation, maybe even a pre-trial diversion with full restitution and community service.”
Juan thought for a moment, then we shook on it. “Okay, boss. Let’s get started.”
They stepped out of the back door and walked down the driveway to grab their gear. The duo returned several minutes later with plastic sheeting, tape, a concrete saw, and an array of tools.
Juan fired up the saw and cut into the grout around the tile. There was no turning back now.