“I did.” Kat didn’t sound confused at Marcey’s accusation. If anything, she sounded amused.
“No, you fucked me, Kat. Got me put on some sort of list so now I can’t see Darius. I’ve driven almost nine hours today already for nothing. Now all I can hope for is a phone call that I could just as easily had sitting on my ass in Central Park.” Marcey saw red. She wanted to reach through the phone and shake Kat. How was she so calm?
“Darling…”
“Don’t you dare,” Marcey hissed. Her fingers were white around her phone. All around her, families drifted in from the road to use the facilities. A young-looking guy got out of a battered Subaru Outback and tipped his hat at her. Marcey looked away, guilt pulling at her. She was yelling at the woman she’d had a fling with in the privacy of her car. She was pretty sure she looked like a damn fool.
A quiet rustling sound came over the phone. Marcey closed her eyes, drawing her knees up to her chest. She pictured Kat wrapping herself in a sheet, crossing the room and leaving the sleeping form beside her—the true culprit in this crime—behind. “Marcey, I—” Kat fumbled for the words.
Marcey waited. Kat was going to explain this, and her explanation had better be good because Marcey was so close to cutting her loose and forgoing this whole thing. It would be so much easier to not be involved with someone like Kat Barber, who came with a warning label the size of fucking Texas.
“I only just caught wind of it. Wei called me—told me—about twenty minutes ago. There wasn’t time to tell you.”
The words bit at the back of Marcey’s throat, cutting her down and curling around her. Kat knew exactly what to say to dispel the blame from herself. Was it even true? Had Kat sent Marcey on a ten-hour trip just to see what would happen? She could, and she would. Whatever trust they’d built fell away. This was intentional. Had to be. Marcey hated her for it. Hated how easily she could make Marcey feel for her. She’d known, when they’d spoken earlier, she’d known and she’d said nothing. “You’d already left…and I wasn’t sure until I saw the paperwork.” Kat sighed, long and loud, the exhalation of smoke in an already hazy room. “Wei has your name, Marcey. She has your name and she knows what we did together.”
“Because you told her?” Marcey’s tone was accusatory.
Kat scoffed. “Do you think I’m stupid?”
“Pretty stupid for an art thief to be involved with a woman who catches art thieves for a living,” Marcey shot back. “What did you do? Get caught somewhere and have to sing like a canary to get out?” She was building into a rant. Kat ignored the barb. Marcey stopped herself, swallowed, and thought of the end goal. “How the hell does she even know who I am if you didn’t tell her?”
“You said William arrested you, down at the Perôt, right? They work together, Marcey. People share information. Wei’s in New York right now. Surely you’d put this together by now.”
Marcey pressed her lips into a thin line. Of course she had. Letting Kat believe her to be stupider than she was, though, that was far more important. Marcey counted to five and then pushed her voice to the brink of annoyance. “I did,” she said though gritted teeth. “I did and I hoped—I stupidly hoped that maybe I could go unnoticed. Or that your sense of decency would prevent you from dragging my name into this until we’re able to put the full plan in place.”
“You dragged your name into this on your own. She was bound to find out. You’re not exactly good at being careful.”
“Neither are you.”
“Humph.”
The flippant dismissal, the assumption it was Marcey who had brought this upon herself, rather than Kat, who loved the sound of her own voice, had Marcey wanting to scream at her. To tell her that Charlie never wanted her to have the book in the first place, and that Marcey was only having her along because she wanted access to that painting.
No, that wasn’t the tactic. Kat had to be handled differently or she’d run straight into the arms of Topeté, vindictive and hurt. She could ruin everything. “You’re the one who told her in the first place. This, all of this, it could turn on a dime, Kat, and it’s your plot.”
There was too much resting on this plot to let Kat’s fragile ego get in the way. Darius was going to be paroled. Marcey was going to have a future for him where they could be safe, they could be happy. Where Linda Johnson could never touch them again. Kat couldn’t influence that goal.
“But in the end, it won’t be my glory, will it?” There was a harsh edge to Kat’s voice. It set Marcey on edge. That same flintiness she’d seen in person. It was hard, cutting like a knife through the silence of her car. It was black here. Bleak. “Little girl wandering into a world she doesn’t understand, basking in the glory of those who came before her.”
“No,” Marcey answered coldly. “You know my reasons for doing this. You know I don’t give a shit about Charlie or his legacy or whatever bullshit you guys have wrapped up in this mythical man. Your girlfriend getting in the way of things was never part of Charlie’s plan, was it? It isn’t part of mine either. Keep her out of this.”
Marcey ran a tired hand through her hair. She wanted to be home, not two hours from the city. She didn’t like the vast open space of here—the trees and the granite-hearted mountains that surround this rest stop. She was used to the fast pace and endless light of the city. All this green, all this space, was wonderful, but it was not what she wanted.
What do you want?
She hated that she let herself want Kat Barber. Was she driven by lust and revenge? Or did she like this as much as Kat seemed to? Did she like the games and the subterfuge? She wanted to ruin Linda Johnson’s career, but fuck, in this moment she wanted Kat Barber. To strangle her or kiss her, Marcey didn’t know. But she wanted it so badly that she was willing to do pretty much anything.
“Look,” Kat began. “Wei has her ways of doing things. I often don’t find out what she does until it’s too late and they’re already done. It means that I must plan for contingencies within contingencies, to be alert to any little morsel she thinks to throw my way.” Kat sighed deeply. “Though I wonder…” Kat trailed off, pensive. “If Johnson’s trying to right her final case—the one that didn’t work out—wouldn’t she be more interested in finding a way to implicate…” Kat’s breath caught. “Oh,” she said. “Bugger.”
“That’s all you have to say? Fucking ‘bugger’?”
“Quiet,” Kat hissed. There was more rustling, like she was digging through a huge pile of papers. “There’s something we’re missing. Something I’m not seeing… I need to…” She paused for a moment, inhaling sharply before speaking again. “I’m coming. With the painting. I’ll see you shortly and I promise I’ll tell you everything once I confirm. This…this could get messy, Marcey.” And then she was gone again, her voice fading out into nothingness.
The weight of the world settled onto Marcey’s shoulders, heavy and unyielding.
In her mind’s eye, as she plugged the auxiliary cord back into her phone and navigated back to her music app, Marcey saw how this would end. It was a twisted web that Kat wove, and Marcey still wasn’t sure what was on the other side. The problem was that she had to know. Getting Kat to admit her end game was the only way this would ever work. Marcey was the one who should have been holding all the cards. She couldn’t catch herself waiting for Kat to deal her pocket ace into a round.
She was missing something. There was more to this. The pieces weren’t slotting into place. Kat’s sudden panic and change of plans; why Linda Johnson wanted the book. Nothing made sense, but it carried the thread of what could be the weight of it. It was not a matter, now, of getting Kat to tell the truth.
“What the hell are you hiding?” Marcey asked the empty car.
Kat wanted more from this heist than anyone else, and Marcey couldn’t put her finger on what it was that Kat wanted. It bothered her more and more with every passing moment. There was something more going on here, she knew that much. However, it couldn’t be about some de
al struck in Barcelona. No, there was something more complicated at work.
She swallowed, thinking of Kat. Marcey wanted—no, she needed—to see Kat pay for what she’d bargained away that wasn’t hers. The urge was strong. She didn’t know why though. What was it about Kat in that moment of weakness when she was caught that made Marcey so angry? What could she possibly have offered Topeté that the woman wasn’t already getting?
Marcey threw the car into gear. She had to get back to her own turf. Her expression was dark as she got back onto the southbound highway, mulling over everything Kat said. Marcey’s scowl deepened, her focus on the road.
Twenty minutes later, she reached for her phone and dialed Shelly’s number. “Hey.”
“How is your friend?”
“Couldn’t see him.”
“Why not?”
“Kat’s Interpol agent.”
Shelly laughed. “I told you it was a bad idea to sleep with her, Marcey.”
“I get it, okay. I gotta deal with this. It sucks.” She bit her lip. “I’m sorry. I’m pissed at Kat, not you. I actually didn’t call you to talk about it either.”
“Well, so long as I don’t have to add relationship counselor to my resume…” Shelly laughed again, only this time it was with genuine amusement. “What did you need?”
“How do I tell Kim and Gwen that Kat’s inserting herself into this heist and wants to meet up with us once she’s got the painting stateside?”
“Well, first, you should get back from Siberia or wherever the hell it is you went.”
“I’m on my way back. I’m about an hour and change away now.”
“I’d imagine.” Shelly paused, as though thinking. “You sound sad, Marcey. It can’t just be because you couldn’t get in. That anger is understandable. The sadness, though…”
“Kat called me, on the way up. She didn’t think to mention that this ten-hour round trip would be worthless. It was all a game to her, I think, to see if I’d catch her in the lie.”
“Oh, Marcey…” Shelly sighed deeply, and Marcey prepared herself for a lecture on her choices. It came as a surprise when Shelly simply added, “Perhaps she didn’t know until it was too late.”
Marcey wasn’t inclined to think so, but she kept it to herself. “Maybe. That’s what she said…but I’m not sure I believe her.”
They lapsed into silence for a moment before Shelly spoke again. “Drive safely. Go see Kim and Gwen. Tell them why you have to do this. They’ll understand.”
Will they, though? Marcey thought darkly as she hung up. Nothing was certain in this business.
CHAPTER 22
Wei, Fretting
There’d been many moments in Wei’s life she’d later come to regret. For every action taken there was a trail of hurt behind it. To hurt had become her nature. It had become habit, cutting deeply into her psyche and hardening her soul. In time, she came to view her ability to absorb and inflict personal pain as an asset. She was a trained investigator. She spent hours poring over documents, looking for threads and connections. Finding patterns of terrorism and the easy way money, people, and goods slipped around the world when no one thought to look for them.
Those patterns had drawn Wei into their fold, making a career out of tracking them, pulling little threads of information apart and sewing them into larger canvases of conspiracy. She’d taken what little she could, ferreting her way into a murky underworld with the intent of blowing it wide open, only to find herself face-to-face with a man with dark, curly hair and a slightly crooked nose. He’d offered her assistance, taken a priceless sketch off her hands for her trouble, and thus began a relationship Wei had spent half of her career trying to forget about.
Now though, the chance to be rid of that monkey on her back was too strong. It was time to stop letting a ghost and a wish for different life choices rule her life.
Two problems stood in her way: the book and Kat.
Kat was not, in fact, a true problem, as much as Wei sometimes wished she could be labeled as such. Love, twisted though it was, lingered in the heavy silences of their relationship. They were two people crashing together, remembering their dirty secrets and airing out who they truly were only to each other. Kat knew Wei’s secrets, and Wei knew Kat’s secrets.
It was why they worked.
Sometimes though, Kat used this secret. She used it to remind Wei that despite everything she did, the passive-aggressive nods in her direction by some of her peers in Lyon were entirely earned. Wei hated lying about this to them, to Johnson, hell, even to LePage—though she was fairly certain he had worked out the details on his own and was simply waiting for the appropriate moment to broadcast his knowledge. She hated lying to Kat that there was nothing to their relationship either.
This was another lie, but this one, at least, was built on some modicum of good intentions.
Much could be said about the disinterested look on her face as she sat smoking her cigarette on bench in a small park not far from her hotel, intent on meeting a criminal. She didn’t know the park’s name—it was unimportant to Wei. Going into a situation uninformed like this was not what a good agent of an international organization tasked with counterterrorism did. She had to be aware of herself, of her choices. Did she regret this choice? The nicotine hit did little to quell her anxiety over this meeting. She wasn’t sure what to expect from it, and already she was certain she would come to regret it.
She was sitting in a sunbeam, soaking in the weak spring warmth that broke through the patchy clouds and gray-blue sky above. The shadow of a tall woman fell across Wei’s face. She squinted, and then a slow smile pulled at her lips. “It’s a bit cold for this,” she said.
“Maybe, but it’s finally warm enough to be outside.” Shelly Orietti was wearing a gray wool coat, unbuckled at the waist with a tunic and thick leggings tucked into boots underneath. She sat down next to Wei. Her hair—an Indian weave Wei was envious of—fell over one shoulder. “Topeté.”
“Shelly.” Wei nodded coolly. She stubbed out her cigarette. “I heard there’s a crew together now. And that you’re on it.”
“I heard that you’re walking a fine line between legal and illegal these days. Wonder if we’ve been talkin’ to the same people.” Shelly met Wei’s gaze evenly. “You want something that I don’t think you know how to get without breaking the law.”
“Oh? And what is that?”
“You want to catch lightning in a bottle and turn it to do your bidding. Or to do something that could be considered your bidding, in a perfect world. It won’t work. Freedom doesn’t come that cheap these days.”
“You’re rather sure of that.”
“Let’s just say that we’ve known each other a long time and if she gets involved in this directly, it’ll be all you can do to keep her name clear long enough to execute your endgame.”
Wei itched for another cigarette. “Then you’ve guessed the play.”
“Figured it out when you called me about the girl and Charlie’s book. You’re a fool for trying it again after Barcelona. Rio was dangerous enough. Johnson almost caught you in your lie once—who’s to say she won’t catch ya at the game this time? LePage is sharp enough to put it together and you’re saddled with him for better or for worse.” Shelly reached over and touched Wei’s forearm. “You need to think about why you’re doing this and if you want to tell her why you’re doing this. She’s gonna want to know. Sooner rather than later. If she doesn’t already suspect. In which case you’re fucked anyway because she’ll cut her losses at the soonest sign of engagement…”
“I can’t tell her. She’ll never let me—”
“No. She wouldn’t. That’s why you have to.” Shelly stared up at the shifting clouds overhead. Her eyes fluttered closed. “This is a mess.”
“I just want her safe.” Wei’s hands clenched into fists. They were shaking. She dug in her pocket for another cigarette. “That’s…the right thing to do. Free us all from the yoke that Charlie Mock’s put
around our necks. He saw so much he never talked about. Sometimes I think Rio was his greatest act of mercy. Like God himself came down and wrecked that job before it could get off the ground and we could all end up in jail. Noble, isn’t it?” She lit the cigarette and sat back, waiting for Shelly to pass judgment on her.
“Nobility in this line of work is decidedly overrated. As is honor amongst thieves.” Shelly’s expression was open, kind as she angled herself to face Wei. It was the most open Wei could ever remember seeing her face. “But I’m feeling charitable and you look like a sad sack of lovesick bones. The plan’s moving forward. Kat’s inserted herself into the play. She’s going to put it all together and see your long game, Wei.”
“Why?” They weren’t on the same side. Or rather, their loyalties were not, but Wei would always go to Kat, no matter what anyone else said. Kat was her whole world, twisted as it was. She wouldn’t let anyone take Kat from her. “Why tell me, Shelly? There’s no love between us. I took the man you loved away from you, let him die alone in jail.”
“Because I believe in a level playing field, Topeté. The girl is young, but she’s sharp. She’ll pick up on what you’re doing soon enough. It’s all there in the book, after all. And Kat’s pushing her toward an inevitable conclusion, as I’m sure you know.” Shelly shook her head. “That was a cruel trick you played on the girl, taking away her best friend. Crueler and more foolish even than what you did to Charlie and me. Might have overplayed your hand. She’s ticked.” Getting to her feet, Shelly stared down at Wei for a moment longer, fiddling with her purse strap. “You should talk to her.”
Wei sucked on her cigarette and shook her head. “That defeats the purpose. I need her ignorant, as I needed you to be as well.”
“Shame I’m so observant, then.” Shelly’s expression was wry. “Or maybe’s more of a shame that you’re in every damn book in the city as an investigator willin’ to look the other way. Being thirsty for a cushy job isn’t a good look, Wei. That’s marked you since before you sold your soul to Interpol. Now you’ve got that and you’re facin’ down another one. Gettin’ what you want by sleeping with the opposition won’t get you anywhere. Shame that Johnson’s probably aware of it already and is playin’ you.”
A Heist Story Page 20
