Chapter 1

The door bell rang and Evan jumped up from his daily nap. "Wonderwall" was playing, quite loudly, in the background and Evan was drifting off into a light haze. Who could possibly be at the door? It was probably the FBI looking to ask him questions about his neighbor. The neighbor, or the weasel as Evan had secretly named him, was a peculiar man and had something to hide. He was probably involved in some money laundering scheme or was on the lamb for some white collar crime. As he opened the door, Evan was prepared to be greeted by two men in neat suites with dark shades but it was just his other neighbor, Mrs. Willard, who said "Turn down that damn music" before turning face and walking back to her door. She was such a mean old lady. Her apartment was probably filled with 57 cats whose fallen off fur had carpeted the living room furniture so much so that any visitor (not that she had any) would have a problem even distinguishing its natural color.

Evan laughed it off and went into the bedroom to get changed. He wasn't one to get upset over silly things and maybe the music was a tad bit loud. Anyway, tonight was the big Oasis concert at Madison Square Garden, an event that Evan had been anticipating for months. As he pulled on his Beck t-shirt and donned his “concert” jeans, a smile came cover his face. It had quite some time since he had been to a show and a nice distraction is exactly what he needed. Evan had just lost his job a few weeks ago due to the “poor economy” and things with Carrie had not been going so well. He had offered to take Carrie to the show but she really wasn’t that into Oasis, so Evan decided to just go by himself and meet up with her after the show at her apartment in the city. Since losing his job, Evan had felt a little bit lost and needed something to get back his drive. Evan had always been a dreamer, looking for the opportunity in every situation. People would tell him he should be a writer because he would always make an extraordinary situation out of the mundane.

One day a few months before, he had found a ten dollar bill on the street. Instead of counting his good fortune, Evan's mind began to twist and turn on the situation and by the time he was finished analyzing the situation, he was convinced that the ten dollar bill had to have come from a bank robbery gone wrong. He could picture it in his mind. The thieves had held up a bank at gun point and had made a narrow escape, but the cops were in hot pursuit of their 1969 GTO as it flew down the streets of Newark, New Jersey. Tommy, the driver, had his eyes glued to the road, studying and looking for an opportunity for escape. Billy, the bagman, was looking at the loot when he discovered that some of it had been covered with the dye banks use to track down stolen money. Upon finding the dye, he tossed a pack of ten dollar bills out of the car window. The money straps broke and the ten dollar bills flew in a million different directions. The wind, which had been very gusty that day, had scattered the bills in every direction and Evan's good fortune had pushed a crisp new green and white rectangular piece of freedom right in his path.

The train approached the platform at the Ridgewood Station and Evan boarded for the thirty minute trip to New York City, a trip he had made so many times since meeting Carrie. She never liked to come out to Jersey so he was the one who made the commute on almost a weekly basis. “City people are a funny lot,” he thought. “They never like to cross a bridge or go through a tunnel. Seems like it’s too much trouble for them.” Evan had grown up in New Jersey and, although the city was so close and alot of fun, he really didn't enjoy the trip through the tunnel. Tunnels were a bit too ominous, especially on the train. Riding on the train you would suddenly venture into complete darkness and you would never know when the light might return. The darkness usually only lasted 10 minutes but Evan feared one day the light would never return.

As the train pulled out of the darkness and up to Penn Station, his cell phone rang. 212-555-9731. Evan had just gotten this new phone and had not gotten around to programming anyone’s name into it. That seemed like a strange number, could be one of those fake numbers they used in television programs all the time. “Hello,” he said as he stepped off the train and was met with the hot, electric smell of the train station.

“Hi Evie,” Carrie said from the other side of the connection.

“Hey Carrie! How ya doin?”

“Good. Just wanted to see what time you would be by tonight,” she inquired.

“Probably about 11 or so I’m thinking.”

“Ok. See you then. Have fun and buy me a shirt, a cheap one.”

“Um, ok. I thought you didn’t even like Oasis even though they are your wonderwall.”

Either she didn’t get the humor or chose to ignore Evan completely because she continued on as if ignoring the statement, “It’s for some guy at work. I told him you were going to the show and he asked me to ask you to get a shirt, but he only gave me $10 so get him a cheap ass shirt like the knock-offs they sell outside.”

“Ok, will do. See you later,” Evan replied as he walked towards the Garden for a night of Oasis.

Evan walked out of the Garden happier than he had been in awhile. The show had been awesome. As he walked towards the street to find a cab his cell phone beeped with a text alert. “Don’t forget the shirt!”

Evan looked around and spotted a guy on the street hocking illegal Oasis shirts. As Evan approached the guy, he noticed the vendor was nervous and appeared to be a little shaky. “How much for the shirts?” Evan asked.

“20 bucks man,” the vendor said looking through Evan at the street.

“I’ll give ya 5,” Evan said knowing how the game works. They would settle around $10 and his task from Carrie would be complete.

The vendor’s eyes lit up as he saw something that seemed to trouble him from behind Evan. As Evan turned to see what had spooked the man, the vendor said, “I'll tell you what. I'm going to make your day and double your fun kid. On the house,” as he shoved a shirt inside Evan’s jacket. He then whispered, "1512 Penn Station," in a very light, almost inaudible tone. Evan wondered if he heard it correctly or if it was just the wind.

“Hey Pete,” a loud thunderous voice said from directly behind Evan. As he approached, the man, who could mostly appropriately be described as a brick wall with legs, gently laid his hand on Evan’s shoulder and said, ”Beat it kid.”

Evan’s momma didn’t raise no fool so he did just exactly that. After putting approximately 15 yards between himself, the nervous vendor and the Wall, Evan turned to see what had transpired. He saw the Wall’s hand firmly around the vendor’s neck and the vendor pointing directly in Evan's direction. Evan swore he could hear the Wall’s teeth grinding together as the veins in his forehead popped out. The Wall turned to move towards Evan and Evan thought it was probably wise to get the hell out of there.

Luckily for Evan, a cab was right there so he jumped in and screamed, “78 West 89^th Street. Go. Go. Go,”

The cab left and Evan turned back to see the Wall at the curb the cab had just vacated. As the cab tore away down the street, Bruno, a.k.a “the Wall” asked, “Did you get it?” to another much thinner man.

The other man replied, “78 West 89^th Street.”

Bruno grabbed his cell phone and made a call.

Evan stepped out of the cab at Carrie’s building and headed towards the door. What a strange night it had been. He approached the door and buzzed apartment 5K. As the door buzzed open, Evan grabbed it and went through with another man, presumably a tenant in tow. Evan got in the elevator and hit the number 5 button. The man who had entered the building after Evan followed him into the elevator.

“Where ya headed?” Evan asked.

The man looked up after scanning the elevator. “Oh sorry,” he said as he pulled the earphones of his iPod out of his ears. “Going to the 5^th floor,” he said matter of factly.

“You got it,” Evan replied.

Evan pulled the Oasis shirt of his coat and looked at it. It looked like a normal, cheesy shirt one would get from the fine vendors outside any concert.

“That’s a real nice shirt,” the other man in the elevator said jokingly. “Where did you get it, on a street corner?”

“As a matter, yes I did. Long story, it’s for some idiot at my girlfriend’s job,” Evan said defending his shirt.

“Pretty lame, huh?”

The elevator opened as they both shared a laugh. Evan made a left out of the elevator as the other guy made a right. Evan walked about 15 feet and opened the door on the right, which had been left open for him by Carrie. As he did this, the guy from the elevator peered over his shoulder and made a mental note of which door Evan had disappeared into. The man pulled out his cell phone to make a call.

As he walked through the door, Evan saw Carrie sitting on the couch eating some Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream out of the container with a spoon. Carrie loved her ice cream and it was her nightly ritual to have a little bit before going to bed. She limited herself to two spoonfuls every night but those two spoonfuls were something she looked forward to every night.

"Hey Evie! I'm glad you are ok. I was trying to call you but you didn't answer." Carrie said as she put the lid back on the ice cream. Apparently, she had finished her daily allowance of two spoonfuls.

"Hiya! Oh, I forgot I turned my cell phone off when I went into the concert. Here's your souvenir," Evan said tossing the shirt over to Carrie.

"Did you see the shooting?" Carrie asked pointing to the TV.

"Shooting?"

Evan turned to the TV as the on-scene reporter from WPIX was out in front of Madison Square Garden. The volume was turned down, but Evan felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he saw the exact area of Madison Square Garden he had just left 15 minutes before. It was eerie and Evan had a crazy feeling it had to do with the vendor who had given him the shirt and the guy he had affectionately thought of as the Wall.

Carrie held the shirt out by the shoulders. "Wow, pretty cheesy, but perfect," she said. "What size did you get?"

That question stumped Evan a bit. He had never thought about asking what size to get and he didn't even ask for a particular size. He looked at Carrie and shrugged.

A little bit annoyed, Carrie peeled the shirt apart to look at the tag. "What's this?" she asked.

Evan came over to the where Carrie was sitting and peered at the tag of the shirt. The numbers 7-15-3 were written in marker on the tag underneath the word LARGE. " That looks like the combination to something," Evan said somewhat excited.

"You know, the guy who sold me that shirt said something strange to me to as he was giving me the shirt. He said something like Penn Station 1512. I really didn't think much about it, but now it all makes sense. There is something important in that locker. It could be a treasure map or a government secret. This is just like in the movies!"

"You're crazy," Carrie said shaking her head. "You really need to get a new job."

"Well, I'm going to check it out tomorrow," Evan said with a new found zest for life. Evan had a strange feeling that everything was connected and this was a huge plot. Then again, it could just be his overactive imagination running amuck, as usual.

The guy on the other side of the door to apartment 5K, the same man Evan had spoken to in the elevator, could hear the entire conversation, and a slight smile came to his face. He pushed away from the door and dialed a number on his cell phone. "I got part of it," he said. "Penn Station locker number 1512." He listened intently to the other side of the line for a few seconds and then finished the conversation with, "I have a plan to get the combination."