CHAPTER NINE
The door on Fitz’s trailer would’ve been right at home in a dumpster.
Most of the white aluminum frame was dented, and half the screen was flapping in the wind.
The trailer wasn’t much better. But it wasn’t the worst place Conor had ever seen.
Even if it was, Fitz had done pretty good for a kid who lost his dad because of Conor’s colossal screw up of a father.
Conor pushed the ripped screen out of the way and opened the door.
Sully and Fitz stared at him from the couch.
He stepped inside. Time to see what all the hubbub was about.
“Finally. The man, the myth, the asshole who never returns calls—give him a big hand, folks—it’s dickwad of the year, Conor Monroe,” said Fitz.
“Where you been, man?” added Sully.
Conor took a seat in a ratty armchair. Crushed empty beer cans covered the coffee table between him and the couch. He kicked a few out of the way as he put his feet up. “When’s your maid getting here? This place could use a light dusting.”
Fitz stood, walked to the kitchen, and opened the fridge. He strolled back with three cans of beer. Conor caught one thrown his way. “Little early, isn’t it?” he said, holding the can of beer.
“Just drink,” said Sully, cracking his open. “You’re gonna need it.”
Conor opened his beer, and then leaned forward. “Alright, fill me in. What are we dealing with?”
The upshot was simple.
The bishop of the diocese was holding some kind of special mass to commemorate the hundred-year anniversary of Sacred Heart Cathedral.
The safe in the Sacred Heart Cathedral sacristy was currently holding religious items the bishop brought to celebrate the mass, such as a chalice, a staff, a monstrance, and other Catholic voodoo.
The items in question were made of gold.
Melted down, that gold was worth about four-hundred thousand dollars.
Conor stayed quiet while the broad strokes were laid out. After hearing everything, he agreed with Sully and Fitz—it sounded great.
It wouldn’t be hard to break into the church.
They could pick a time when it was empty, so security guards and other people wouldn’t be a problem.
And best of all, Sully and Fitz reminded him of how he’d been an altar boy at Sacred Heart Cathedral before his mother left town.
And as luck would have it, Father Kilgarren, God bless his departed soul, had given him the combination to the safe those many years ago.
Back then there had never been anything worth stealing but communion wafers and sacramental wine, but he still remembered the combination, along with all his other altar boy duties.
It was a terrible job. Getting up at the crack of dawn during the week.
Spending Saturday nights serving mass rather than hanging out with his crazy friends.
But there was always the thought that his sacrifice would bear fruit someday.
Maybe even get a delinquent like himself into heaven.
He’d never dreamed it could get him rich.
The hitch, however, was that as good as the job sounded, no robbery was easy. Every job had hidden razor blades. He started with the most logical question.
“I gotta say, it sounds good. But are you guys serious? Robbing a fucking church?”
Fitz rolled his eyes. “Like the Catholic Church is gonna miss four hundred thousand.”
“They’re supposed to help the poor, aren’t they?” added Sully.
“Fair enough,” said Conor. “I just hope we don’t end up cursed or something, you know?”
“That ship already sailed,” said Fitz.
Conor nodded and grinned. Fitz wasn’t wrong. “So, how did you hear about it?” he asked.
Sully looked at Fitz, who sniffed and said, “I’ll tell you, but you gotta promise not to interrupt until I’m finished.”
“Why?”
“Cause I said so,” said Fitz.
When Conor opened his mouth to argue, Fitz talked over him, raising a finger to emphasize each point he calmly presented.
“Because you already got our timeline all jacked up. Because we don’t have time for your hand-wringing about the details.
Because me and Sully already buttoned this whole thing up while you were out doing fuck all.
And lastly, because you don’t get to play devil’s advocate after going AWOL while we sat here watching this job nearly slide through our fingers.
That’s why you’re keeping your mouth shut, dumb ass. ”
Sully nodded. “Yeah. Dumb ass.”
Conor drank his beer. He shrugged. “Points taken. Please continue.”
“Alright then,” said Fitz, leaning forward, his gaze pinned on Conor. “It was Duck and Artie.”
“Duck and Artie!?” sputtered Conor. “The old Muppets that hang out at the Fox?”
Fitz pointed at Conor. “What did I say?”
Conor rolled his eyes. He also shut his mouth.
“That’s right. Keep your fucking bullshit to yourself and listen,” said Fitz. “I overheard them talking about it—right after I heard them say two guys had stolen all the money from the concession stands at the football game.”
“And that was less than an hour after we dropped you off,” added Sully. “There’s no way they could’ve heard about those cash boxes that fast.”
“Unless they’re connected,” said Fitz.
“Which means that whoever’s talking to them knows his shit,” said Sully.
Conor rubbed the stubble on his chin. “You know, breaking into a safe is a felony. Whoever’s talking to them better know their shit, cause we’re not risking prison for stealing communion wafers.”
Fitz nodded. “Agreed. That’s why we did some checking.”
“I called the bishop’s office,” said Sully, tucking his long black hair behind his ears. “Told them I had a large donation, but I wanted a photo op with the bishop. They said he’d be out of town all weekend.”
“At Sacred Heart Cathedral,” added Fitz. “Then Sully called Sacred Heart to see if he could have his baby girl baptized this weekend.”
Conor eyed Sully. “Let me guess—”
Sully nodded. “Yeah. No baptisms this weekend. And the secretary was nice enough to tell me it was because, ‘We’ll have a special guest in town.’”
“Okay. The bishop’s coming,” said Conor. “But how’d Duck and Artie find out about the gold?”
“Think about it,” said Sully.
“The way we figure it, there’s only one person that would know about us stealing those cash boxes and the gold being at the church,” said Fitz.
“It has to be that off-duty cop that sicced his rottweilers on you and Sully at the stadium. We checked him out. He also moonlights as a security guard at Sacred Heart. He’s either running security for the bishop or knows who’s doing it.
And he probably told Duck and Artie all about it for a finder’s fee. ”
Conor couldn’t argue against any of it—it all made sense.
All it took was one dirty cop. Telling Artie and Duck about the cash box heist was just gossip—keeping them informed.
But giving them information about the transportation and storage of items worth four-hundred thousand was what people in the breaking and entering business called, “actionable intelligence.” And the best part was, although Duck and Artie now knew about the bishop’s gold, it was what they didn’t know that was going to hurt them—that a group of nobodies not only knew about it, but also knew the combination to the church’s safe.
Conor took a long drink of his beer, put the can down, and leaned in toward his friends.
“I think we got something here,” he said, smiling. “So, what’s next?”
“We go in tonight at eleven o’clock,” said Fitz. “We steal everything before Duck and Artie even know what happened.”
“What do we need?”
“Not much,” said Sully. “You got the combination. All we gotta do is get in, get out, and run.”
“Is there a security system?”
“Oh, by gosh and Begorrah, who woot steal from ta house of ta Lort?” said Fitz in a terrible Irish accent. He held out his beer can.
All three started laughing. They tapped cans and chugged their beers. Conor crushed his empty beer can and tossed it across the room. It rattled into the kitchen sink.
“What about after?” he said. “If Duck and Artie are connected, I’m guessing they’re gonna come for us.”
Fitz stood, took Sully’s empty can, and walked into his kitchen. “All we gotta do is hide the gold and stay outta sight until things die down. Nobody knows us. We’re so small time we’re not on anyone’s radar. There’s no way they’re gonna know it’s us unless we screw up.”
Conor thought that over for a moment. It made sense. There was no way anyone could figure out it was them.
The hinges on the cabinet door under the kitchen sink squeaked as Fitz opened the door and dumped beer cans in the trash.
He kneed the door closed. “We figured that, just to be safe, we should split up and leave town for a little bit afterward. Then, after a few days, we check in with Angel. He’ll let us know if anyone’s looking for us.
And even if they are, we just stay gone. ”
“With four-hundred thousand in our pockets,” added Sully.
Conor stood. Angel Silva was their boss who ran the auto repair shop.
Good guy if he was your friend, but you didn’t want to get on his bad side, which was where about ninety percent of humanity stood.
“Yeah, if anyone would hear anything, it would be Angel,” Conor said.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think this is perfect. ”
Fitz and Sully looked at each other and smiled.
Conor looked at his watch. “Alright then, eleven o’clock. Do we know how we’re getting into the church?”
Sully shrugged. “I’ll check it out on my way home. It won’t be hard.”
“Nah,” Conor said. “You guys hooked all this up. I’ll take care of it.”
They all smiled at each other for a silent moment.
Then Conor turned and followed Sully out the front door.
The day had barely started and he was already busy as hell.
He had to stop by the church to check on Julia, scope out a way to break in, go home, pack for a trip out of town, and get some sleep before meeting Fitz and Sully at eleven. Busy, busy, busy—but it was all good.