Elijah's Coin Chapter 3 Excerpt

The man standing in the doorway was huge. He nearly filled the door frame. He was a black man and wore a steel blue night watch¬man shirt with black pants and patent leather shoes. He switched off his flashlight.

“I told you there was no way out. Why did you run?”

I didn’t answer. My eyes searched the room for any kind of escape or weapon. The man didn’t have a gun. He stepped for¬ward, and I realized my chances of physically overcoming this guy were significantly limited with any kind of weapon, short of a plutonium-enriched one. I couldn’t open the doors behind me, and my new friend blocked the only exit available. He hooked his foot around a ten-gallon paint can and slid it across the room toward me.

“Sit down.”

I looked up at him as I sat down. He was bald but had a silvery white short-cropped beard that ran from ear to ear. Despite the way he had raced around and dogged me in the store, his face was calm—no sign of stress, no anger. Although he appeared to be in his sixties, he was certainly not out of breath.

Great. I had gotten busted by a retired rent-a-cop.

He slid another paint can over and sat down facing me. He was quiet for a long time. He just looked at me. It was clear I was not free to leave. Finally, he spoke, almost in a whisper.

“What were you going to take?”

I shrugged my shoulders and just looked down. I could feel he was staring straight at me.

“What were you going to take? Did you know before you came in?”

I looked back at him. “What difference does it make?”

He paused. “It makes a lot of difference.”

“Are you going to have me arrested?”

He looked at the flashlight in his hand and slowly put it on the floor, then he looked at me like he was seeing through me. “That’s up to you.”

My mind raced. This guy was going to let me go. I at least had a chance, but he hadn’t stated any conditions yet. Stay calm. “What do you mean it is up to me?”

He spoke forcefully and slowly. “Did you know before you came in what you were going to take?”

“No…no, not really.” I lied. I knew exactly what I was going to take. “I was…money if I could, maybe a few jerseys, some shoes. I don’t know.”

“You are not very good at either thing,” he said.

“Either thing?” I asked.

“Burglary or telling the truth.”

“Well, yeah, I guess I’m kind of learning that.” I was curious about the “up-to-me” part. “So what’s the deal? Are you going to let me go?”

“You have a driver’s license?”

“Huh?”

“Do you,” he pointed at my chest, “have a driver’s license?”

“Sure.”

“Let’s see it.”

I pulled my wallet from my back pocket, extracted the driver’s license, and handed it to him. He looked at it a long time.

“Thomas Wagner. Hhmmm. Some people call you Tommy?” he said as his eyes moved from the driver’s license to mine.

“My mom did.”

The past tense of my remark was not lost on him. He softened somewhat and leaned forward on the bucket. “Okay, I’m going to call you Tom.” He paused like he was thinking about how to proceed. “Tom, you’ve done a pretty stupid thing here. You might want to think about another occupation. Let me guess, this is the first time you’ve tried something like this. Am I right?”

I nodded my head.

“Tom, I’ve helped a few people in my time. I think you are probably a good kid. I’m going to let you decide if I call the police.”

I shifted my weight on the paint can and looked him in the eye. “Look, I’m really sorry. This was a really dumb idea. I’ll clean up the mess…”

“Oh, you better believe you will.”

“I…I promise I won’t do it again, and…we’ll pretend like this never happened.”

The man nodded his head toward me slowly a few times. He cocked his head to the right and said, “Tom, not good enough. Not even close.”

“Wh…what do you want? What do I have to do for you to let me go?”

“Tom, I’m going to give you a huge break here. But you have to learn a lesson about life. If you learn the lesson, I won’t turn you in. If you fail, then I turn you over to the police. Simple enough?”

“What’s the lesson. I mean…I…whatever it is, man. I’ve got it. Just tell me.”

“Well, wouldn’t that be easy. No, Tom, I’m going to help you learn a lesson. It is not just something I tell you and away you go. It is not just something you memorize. You have to learn the lesson and live the lesson. If you do, it will be worth it. If you don’t?” he shrugs his shoulders “Well, then you’ve got a pretty serious problem.”

I leaned forward and tried to look attentive.

He stood up. “Tom, let’s go back in the store, and you can start cleaning up.” As I followed him through the swinging door, he said, “What do you want?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you want out of life?”

“I don’t know.” I needed to come up with some kind of answer—anything to keep him amused. “Get a good job. Make a lot of money.”

He walked past the basketballs, and I started to pick them up. “Wrong answer.”

I looked up toward him. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with a good job and making money? Isn’t that what everyone wants?”

“There’s nothing wrong with either of those things. But they are not what you want in life; they are byproducts of doing the right things in your life. If you live your life trying to get rich or important, you’ll one day realize you missed the whole point. You will have missed your whole life.”

We moved to the far aisle and started toward the mess of golf clubs on the floor.

“Have you ever been riding in a car and looked sideways out the window as you passed a picket fence?”

This man was seriously out of his mind. I decided just to play along and get the heck out of there. I shook my head as I leaned down and picked up some golf clubs. “Yeah, I guess.”

“What did you see?” He noticed the look on my face. “Think about it before you answer.”

I wanted to say “I think you’re nuts,” but I had to play along to get out of this jam. “I don’t know. You see…I guess you see, between the fence posts, and after a while you can’t see the fence posts as they go by. Kind of like a sideways movie.”

“Okay, now we’re getting someplace. You know what you see between the fence posts?”

This was insane, but I had no choice but to placate him. “I have no idea. What?”

“Life.”

“Life?”

“What you see between the fence posts is life. The fence posts are just posts.”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay. Whatever.”

“If you learn the lesson, this will make perfect sense to you. Tom, I told you that I’ve helped a few folks. Mentored them. Have you heard of Richmond Davies?”

“Sure, the software guy. Multi-zillionaire.”

“How about Kendall McDaniel or William Leary?”

“Isn’t McDaniel a lawyer in Roanoke?” The man nodded. “I don’t recognize the other guy.”

“Leary runs the Seventh Street Mission. Has for years. Great guy. Anyway, I mentored all three of those guys. They learned the lesson. You can do the same. It’s up to you.”

“Yeah, sure. I’m in.” I finished with the golf clubs, straightened the display, picked up the three baseballs, and moved back toward the bin.

“You know, I have a question though? If your lesson is so good—I mean so good that Davies got rich and the other guys, y’know, did well,” I’m thinking I should just shut up, but it comes out anyway, “why aren’t you rich and famous? Why are you a night watchman in a sporting goods store?”

He looks at me with calm and peaceful eyes and smiles. “Tom, I am rich. I am famous. I have a bank account that is never ending. I have people who would do anything for me. Anything. And if you learn how to live, you will too.”

He stops suddenly as we are walking back toward the loading dock. “Tom, you want to know the deal? Here’s the deal. Tonight was the first lesson.

Think about what we’ve talked about and come back tomorrow night for the second lesson. After three lessons, you will be ready.” He reached into his shirt pocket and lifted out my driver’s license. “Oh, and I’ll hold onto this just to make sure you come back.” He slid the card back into the pocket. “And don’t even think about it.”

“What?”

He smiled and said, “The part where you report your license lost or stolen and don’t come back tomorrow night. You see, I’ve known the police here for a long time, and your word against mine won’t stack up.” He unlocked the padlock on the side door to the loading dock, unlatched the dead bolt, and pulled the door open. “See you tomorrow night.”

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he said.

“What’s your name?”

“My name is Elijah. Elijah King.”

I shook his hand. It seemed like the thing to do since we had a deal. This guy was seriously crazy, but he was crazy enough to let me go if I met with him three times. I could do that. He seemed like a trustworthy guy even if a little whacked. I walked down the alley and looked to my left at the overhead door. The padlock I had cut earlier in the evening was back in place, holding the door shut. Completely intact.

(Excerpt from Elijah's Coin by Steve O'Brien and reprinted with permission from the author).