“I understand. But I’m here, Guy, right here. Anytime. I’m always here for you.”
He recalled thinking it was a significant choice of words. It revealed deeper feelings. “Thank you,” he’d said, kicking himself a little. He’d wanted to explore those feelings but couldn’t sort through the turbulent emotions rattling around his brain fast enough. Right now, they couldn’t afford to reflect on Eli Cross’s death. Grief was a long-term thing, he knew. He’d lost his parents when he was eight and still mourned them every day.
“The surveillance photos are good,” Jemma said, shuffling through them with Lucie. “We can track vehicle and people movements. Obstacles . . .”
“But I,” Gunn said, running a hand through his gelled hair, “have the best part. I get to play with the Ritters’ smart home.”
“You sure you can handle that, kid?” Cassidy asked with a glint in her eye.
Gunn looked ready to defend himself but quickly realized she was teasing. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”
“If I die because you pressed the wrong button, I’m gonna haunt you for the rest of your days.”
Bodie reached for a bottle of water. “Let’s get some food and an early night. Tomorrow’s the first incursion and puts the relic hunters back in action as they were meant to be.” He glanced over at Heidi. “Which is stealing treasure from privileged criminals who’ll never know the difference. It’s gonna be a big day.”
CHAPTER THREE
Bodie slumped in the passenger seat of the van. “Anything?”
“No,” Cassidy said patiently. “In the last thirty seconds we have received no phone calls.”
“Shit, I’m sorry. I’m finding it so bloody hard not to think about Cross and the bloody Bratva.”
“Well, get it together, Flash. If we put one foot out of place inside that house, we’re liable to lose it.”
Bodie shuffled, trying to get comfortable, but only succeeded in making the leather squeak. “I know; I’ll be fine. But if I relax, all I can think about is Cross and what happened on that boat.”
“Nobody could have saved him. He chose to sacrifice himself for Yasmine. I guess we’re the ones who have to live with that decision.”
Bodie stared at the side of her head. “I don’t know how I feel about Yasmine.”
“Wow, aren’t we feeling sharey this morning?” Cassidy said quickly, then sighed. “She needs time just like we do.”
“And you?” Bodie peered at her. “You said you felt . . . different.”
“I’m struggling,” Cassidy admitted. “I mean, I don’t mind a fight, and I’ll always be there with you, but now . . . I’m feeling something else. I think it’s fear.”
“You’ve never known fear before?”
“I don’t know. Most fighters or soldiers don’t know fear in its rawest form until they love something. A wife or husband. Family. Children. Love makes you weak, I guess, and I loved Cross.”
Bodie straightened his frame, considering her words. They were sitting in the parking area of a gas station several miles from the Ritters’ home. It was 11:15 a.m., the sun was shining, and the skies were clear. Bodie was glad for the steady air-conditioning. Their uniforms were new but clingy, a bit restrictive. He wondered if he’d put weight on through comfort eating. They had decided that the first incursion would consist of just Cassidy and him, with the others lending support from outside and Gunn close enough to hop onto local Wi-Fi signals to infiltrate the Ritters’ smart home.
His eyes fell upon the coffee-and-doughnuts sign. Caffeine and sugar sounded like the perfect therapy right now.
“I’ll be—”
As Bodie reached for the door, Cassidy’s phone rang. The redhead answered immediately. “Yeah?”
Gunn’s voice came through the speaker. “I’m ready to go. How close are you guys?”
“Fifteen minutes max.”
“All right, I’ll cut the air-con and turn up the heat. Just wait for Heidi’s call.”
“Got it.”
Bodie knew their plan was far from perfect. The Ritters would have a manual heating override, for instance. But as both Cassidy and Heidi insisted, you had to put yourself into the mind-set of a wealthy, self-important, murderous gangster. Would he go sort the problem himself, would he divert his men to solve a domestic problem, or would he expect expert help?
They were counting on the latter.
“Don’t hit the doughnuts, Flash,” Cassidy said. “I’d hate to see those pearly whites start to rot.”
Bodie winced. “Gotta love that bluntness, Cass.”
About an hour later, the phone rang again. Heidi’s voice filled the van.
“The Ritters are getting all hot under the collar,” she said. “You guys are up.”
Bodie fought for focus as Cassidy exited the gas station and followed a short route to the Ritters’ house. Traffic was scarce, and soon she was slowing alongside a ten-foot-high brick wall that followed the bend of the road. Along the top, Bodie saw rolls of barbed wire and occasional CCTV cameras. Presently, they came to a set of gates where, at the right side, a guard station was being operated by two large individuals.
Heidi pulled into a waiting area and wound down her window. “MBA Heating,” she told one of the men and flicked a thumb toward the logo on the side of the van. “We hear you got problems?”
“Who sent you?” he asked, consulting a clipboard.
Cassidy rattled off the name of the smart home service provider.
“Wait there.” The guard spoke into a shoulder-mounted radio, announcing their arrival. The squawk of irritation he received made him practically stand to attention. “You’d better get it done real quick and keep the hell out of the way,” he said, addressing Cassidy. “And trust me, that’s my friendly advice.”
Cassidy waited for the gates to slide open and then drove through. Sculpted gardens lay to both sides of the meandering tarmac path, and soon a sprawling mansion could be seen ahead, dominating the skyline. The lawns to the front bristled with marquees and people setting up for tomorrow’s birthday party. Bodie could also see a small stage being erected as technicians worked on the lighting.
“Some celebration,” he said.
“Yeah, let’s hope it keeps them busy.” Cassidy touched her ear, opening a comms line to Gunn. “We’re here,” she said. “I’ll let you know when you can reverse your magic with the air-con.”
“Ready and waiting.”
They parked, climbed out, and made a show of grabbing their gear—two small carryalls. Bodie’s feet crunched over small, pristine chunks of white gravel as he walked. They were met at the front door—an eight-foot-wide, ten-foot-high all-glass arrangement that could have been the entrance to an office building—where two armed men flanked the opening.
“Are you MBA?” one of them asked, not bothering to check the side of the van. “Just wait here. Dwayne will be out in a minute.”
They waited in the heat for a short while before being ushered inside by a small sweating middle-aged man wearing a suit and a harassed glare and sporting a limp. Inside, the house was sweltering.
“You know the problem? Heating’s stuck on full and the air’s out. It’s not often in Florida that you go outside to cool down. Mr. Ritter won’t be kind to idiots the day before his daughter’s twentieth, so I hope you two know what you’re doing. Follow me.”
Bodie and Cassidy stayed quiet as they followed Dwayne through the house. They took everything in—the placement of tables, chairs, sculptures, mirrors, and paintings. The CCTV array, alarm wires, and infrared points.
Not that they would need any of that right now, but from experience they knew that those who held a wealth of information were far richer than those who held a wealth of coins. Dwayne led them to the air-conditioning unit, told them where the boiler was, and then stalked away.
“If you need me, just grab one of the guards,” he said as he left.
Bodie tried not to smile. Perfect.
Bodie
saw a single guard keeping an eye on them from one of the doorways.
“No statues so far,” he informed Cassidy from the corner of his mouth.
“Me neither,” Cassidy said. “Time for the distraction.” She walked purposefully toward the guard, excuses at the ready.
“Well, if you need extra muscle . . .” Bodie flexed an arm. Cassidy smiled, recognizing a weak but valiant attempt at humor, his first in a while. Bodie slipped out of sight, taking his carryall with him. If he was seen, the carryall would add to his credibility. Quickly, he examined three rooms, staying away from the windows, but found nothing that resembled the statue he’d once stolen from the Bratva.
Why does this place have three bloody floors? He paused, listening, spotting an unassuming staircase ahead and guessing it led to the second floor. The owners probably used it for quick access rather than the grander, wider ones. He was aware that one of the best resting places for the statue was Ritter’s master bedroom.
A mix of blueprints and surveillance photos had revealed exactly where that was.
They hadn’t come in here blind. Bodie hurried to the foot of the staircase and went up two steps at a time. The second floor appeared to be empty; everyone was outside helping set up the party. Bodie saw two maids tidying guest rooms but scooted past them without making a noise. He also saw a guard staring out a far window down at the front lawns. Soon, he stood before the double doors of the master bedroom, which were, unfortunately, closed.
So far, he could probably talk his way out of this incursion. But if he opened those doors . . .
Bodie didn’t hesitate. It wasn’t just daring. It was knowing Cassidy was downstairs, working to keep him safe. It was knowing that Gunn had his back too and would be manipulating the CCTV feed, ensuring its fuzziness was blamed on the intensifying heat inside the house. The team had his back.
The right-side door opened easily. Bodie slipped through the gap. It took only seconds to determine the statue wasn’t there. For the first time frustration struck, coupled with a chronic awareness that Cassidy could buy him only a limited amount of time. He appraised the space again, ignoring the glitz and trying to imagine where a man like Ritter would store such a prize.
A den? Something like a man cave, perhaps?
Yeah, but that could be practically anywhere. And this place was bloody enormous. It was then, as his mind fixed explicitly on the job at hand, that he saw the small alcove off to the left, away from the windows. It was darker over that side of the room, as the floor stepped down a level. Bodie entered the alcove and spotted a concealed door.
Man cave close to bed, he thought. Makes sense.
The door opened easily, and beyond, on the top shelf of a trophy cabinet, he saw the only thing guaranteed to make him smile.
“I’ve found it,” he whispered in Cassidy’s ear through the comms. “Tell Gunn to switch the heating off and the air back on. Oh, and tell him we’re coming back tomorrow night to do our thing properly.”
“Any chance you can swipe it now?”
“No way. We’re out of time. They know we’re inside. And tomorrow—the whole focus will be on the daughter and her party.”
“Sounds good, Guy. Now get your ass back here. I can’t go any further with his friggin’ guard without actually removing something.”
Bodie smiled and walked out of the room, already looking forward to tomorrow night.
CHAPTER FOUR
The next evening, before darkness had fully blanketed the skies, Bodie, Cassidy, and Jemma scaled the brick wall that surrounded the Ritter property, used thick blankets to negate the effect of the barbed wire as they rolled over the top, and dropped into the grounds. Gunn thwarted the CCTV feed until they found cover, and then everything—apparently—returned to normal.
Bodie lay in the undergrowth, listening. The party was in full swing, with pumping background beats and a live singer on stage entertaining what sounded like a large crowd of guests. Multicolored lights were stabbing both at the skies and at the expensive cars parked in a single line down the driveway.
Bodie looked at Cassidy. “Ready?”
“Yeah, I used to attend this kinda thing back in Hollywood. With all the stimulation they have up front, nobody will be looking back here.”
Jemma nodded. Bodie scanned ahead with a handmade device that used stabilized liquid crystal technology to find infrared beams. Nothing appeared on the small screen. Cassidy told Gunn to scramble the CCTV for fifteen seconds as they made their way to the rear wall of the house.
Once there, they stood and waited, backs against the wall.
Bodie breathed easily, savoring the darkness and the cool breeze that played across his face. The faint breathing of his friends came from his left. He felt the bulk of a small pistol pressing into his back at the base of his spine. Nobody had wanted to carry weapons tonight, but Heidi had insisted on it, talking them around in her persuasive way. They ended up packing knives too, as well as a few smoke grenades and spare ammo. “Bloody CIA,” Bodie had grumbled.
“Just trying to keep you safe,” Heidi had said, smiling.
“The Ritters are no more than gunrunning, murderous thugs, despite all their airs and graces,” had been Gunn’s response. “Never forget that.”
Now, Bodie followed as Cassidy led the way to what was usually the simplest access point to a house—the patio doors. Many weren’t even alarmed, but the team expected that these would be. Jemma gave it the once-over first and then turned, sending Bodie silent confirmation that they would need to employ a bypass device. A career thief, Bodie usually kept all these items close to hand, but even if he didn’t have direct access to a piece of equipment, he could usually build something in a matter of hours. Of course, Eli Cross had excelled at that . . .
Bodie shrugged away the memories of his friend and used a circular glass cutter to punch a hole in one of the door panels, then redirected the infrared alarm beams using a specially designed prism. Once the alarm was neutralized, they quickly hefted the PVC door off its hinges and leaned it up against the house. Brash, but it was the quickest and most effective way, utilized by thieves and moving companies all over the world. Jemma slunk in first, looking every inch the cat burglar Bodie remembered. They all wore black outfits with ski masks to hide their identities. Bodie followed Cassidy through the new gap. The interior of the house was quiet, the celebrations now muffled.
Jemma led the way. She traversed a narrow corridor, then saw the rear staircase and paused for a moment, crouched in darkness, looking back. “This is actually fun. Just like the old days.”
Bodie straightened his mask. “Reminds me of a few good nights on the King’s Road,” he said. “The art of the steal, I mean, not the surroundings.”
“Less talk,” Cassidy murmured, “and more progress. I don’t feel like a fight tonight.”
Jemma sneaked onward. “That makes a change.”
“Guess I could manage a nightclub, though.”
Jemma remained silent, still resisting the redhead’s efforts to find her a date. Cassidy sighed quietly. “Ah, that shut her up.”
They reached the foot of the stairs and stole a brief glance through a tiny oval window that overlooked the front lawn. To their left they saw revelers talking and dancing in groups and the multicolored play of strobe lights. No guards were in evidence, but Bodie guessed they would be mingled with the crowd, positioned around the daughter, and watching the guests’ perimeter.
In darkness they slipped up the back stairs, reached the second floor, and paused to check for signs of life. Gunn whispered in their ears that he’d seen the routine night patrol begin through the CCTV feed—but that left them a whole twelve minutes before it would reach the back of the house. They were in the clear.
“We’re almost there,” Cassidy whispered back.
“All right,” Gunn said. “Scrambling their camera feed in three . . . two . . . one . . .”
Jemma clicked open the door of the master bedroom. Bodie watched
as she reassured herself that it was empty before moving in. They crept over to the alcove and pushed at the door, so close now to the statue that the expectancy of stealing it had raised all their heartbeats.
Jemma stopped. Bodie peered over Cassidy’s shoulder. “What?”
“It’s locked.”
“Bollocks.” Of course, Bodie had already factored in that Ritter would secure a personal man cave during a party of this nature. It made sense. The problem was that their time was short.
“Keypad?” he asked.
“Yeah, it’s nothing we haven’t prepared for, though.”
Bodie passed her the little machine that would mate the keypad to its processor and feed them the code. Three minutes went by before he saw a four-digit readout.
“Hurry,” Cassidy said. “I don’t want us to have to fight our way out of here.”
Bodie blinked at that. Normally, she looked forward to the combat. It was clearer than ever that Cross’s death had badly affected her.
“You have six minutes or so before the patrol gets here,” Gunn said.
Bodie checked the time. Jemma punched in the code and opened the door. “Got it.” She crossed to where the statue was displayed among several other objects and lifted it clear before transferring it to a rucksack.
“I’d love to be able to check the provenance of those other items,” Cassidy said.
“No time,” Bodie urged them. “Five minutes.”
Leaving everything as they found it, the relic hunters returned to the ground floor. With no change to the muffled revels outside or to the interior lighting and ambience of the house, they headed for the rear patio door. Bodie led cautiously but saw that nothing had changed.
“All good,” he whispered back.
“CCTV back to normal,” Gunn informed them.
Bodie imagined somebody inside the CCTV control room might be harboring suspicions by now, but with all the party preparations, the heating breakdown of the day before, and tonight’s added burden to security, they might well be doubting themselves too. And, of course, tonight was the perfect time to steal the statue, as there were hundreds of suspects. He entered the final room, inching toward the open door, enjoying the slight breeze that wafted through. Cassidy and Jemma were right behind.
The Amber Secret Page 3
