Uncommon Criminals

by Ally Carter

  “Just Charlie?” Hale guessed.

  Kat nodded and sighed. “Just Charlie.”

  She turned slowly around, her gaze sweeping over the room—tuxedos and ball gowns and the place where the emerald would soon be holding court at the center of the party. It was almost as if the world turned to black-and-white and it was 1967 all over again. Kat didn’t dare think what it would feel like to chase that stone for fifty more years.

  “Here,” Kat said beneath the din of the crowd. “We do it here.”

  “Um, Kat, not to be a spoilsport, but you did see the guards, didn’t you?” Hale asked.

  “Yes,” she said, and for some reason, she couldn’t hold back a laugh.

  “And that number is going to go up by…say…twenty percent once they get the stone in here?”

  “More like thirty,” she corrected. “If we’re lucky. But it has to be here, Hale.” She thought of her uncles: handsome, young, identical. A genetic sleight of hand. “We can do it here if we can get help—if we can get someone inside.”

  “Okay. I can—”

  “Not you.”

  Hale hung his head, but eventually admitted, “Fine, then Nick…”

  But he trailed off when Kat turned to him and smiled as if she’d temporarily forgotten what it felt like to be the mark.

  “We’re not the only ones who are going to have to trust him,” she said with a shake of her head. “Which means we’re going to need the inside man.”

  Hale took a tentative step back and studied her. “So…”

  “So how do you feel about helicopters?”

  CHAPTER 29

  “Hello, Uncle Charlie.”

  Kat and Hale stood with their hands in their pockets, shivering inside too-thin coats while the snow swirled around them. A storm was coming. The wind was colder than she’d remembered. Or maybe, Kat thought, it was just the look in her great-uncle’s eyes as he said, “You have a lot of nerve, bringing your trouble to my mountain.”

  He pushed away from the door and moved through the dim house, sidestepping urns and canvases and furniture, calling behind him, “Go to your uncle, Katarina.”

  “I am with my uncle.”

  “Edward would—”

  “Eddie’s on the other side of the world, Uncle Charlie. Eddie doesn’t care—”

  Charlie stopped and spun. “He’d care about this.”

  “Why?” she asked, easing closer to the place where he stood, a poker in his hand, staring down at the fire. “Why does the Cleopatra Emerald matter so much, Uncle Charlie? What happened in 1967?”

  “We do not talk about that, Katarina.”

  “Fine. Then let’s talk about her.”

  Kat had torn a picture from a newspaper, and she pulled it from her pocket, the headline screaming out in French.

  “She’s calling herself Maggie now. A few weeks ago she said her name was Constance Miller and that Visily Romani wanted me to steal the Cleopatra Emerald. She’s a con artist, Uncle Charlie. A great one.” She studied her uncle’s face, watched his breath stay even and slow, with not a single telltale sign of recognition. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

  Charlie shook his head and gestured toward the tiny cluttered room. “I’m afraid my circle of friends is not as big as it used to be. I’m sorry I can’t help.” The words sounded right, but it was like watching an athlete who’s been away from the game. He was rusty and slow, but the talent was still there, oozing underneath.

  “Nice try, Charlie.” Kat smiled. “The timing was right, but your eyes”—she pointed to her own dark lashes—“they’re a little out of practice.”

  “Kat—”

  “She conned me, Uncle Charlie. She is so good, and I was…cocky.” Kat laughed even though she knew it wasn’t funny—not funny at all. “She told me exactly what I wanted to hear.” She risked a glance at Hale, waited for him to nod before she went on. “So we did what no crew has ever done before. We stole the Cleopatra Emerald.”

  In the stillness of the room, only the cracking and popping of the fire made a sound. She wasn’t expecting Charlie to tell her it was okay. She had no hopes of comfort. Only truth.

  “I got conned,” Kat admitted. “And for a long time I couldn’t see why. Why take the risk of angering Uncle Eddie and my dad and a whole bunch of people who are really good at revenge? Why use me when there are a half dozen crews who are just as good?”

  “I don’t know her,” he said again.

  “Yes you do, Charlie,” Kat told him. “Because the only way to pass the Cleopatra off as the Antony is if no one knows the Cleopatra is gone. The only way to run the con she’s running is if you have a fake Cleopatra. And the only person who can fake the Cleopatra is you.”

  “I don’t know her, Katarina.”

  “Yes.” Kat reached into her pocket and found the second photo—the one with ball gowns and tuxedos, really big hairdos, and an emerald at the center of the fair. “You do.”

  Charlie’s hands didn’t shake when he reached for it. He stood by the mantel for a long time, staring down. “She got old,” he said softly, then in a flash, the picture was in the fire, dissolving in the flames. “But I guess she’s not the only one.”

  Not for the first time, Kat wondered what had happened to Charlie, what made him stay at the top of that mountain, trapped inside the snow and the wind, hidden from his family and his world. Kat let herself wonder if Uncle Eddie was right—if she was still running—and maybe bound for a mountain of her own someday.

  “What happened in ’67, Uncle Charlie?”

  “Jobs go bad, Kat. You know that.” He tried to move away, but Kat grabbed his hand, held on for dear life.

  “Bad enough to scare Uncle Eddie? To drive the two of you apart?” She gripped his fingers, stared into his eyes. “What happened in ’67?”

  Charlie tried to pull away. “Ask your uncle.”

  “I am,” she countered. “Whoever Maggie is, she used the name Romani. She used me. And you. She used us,” Kat said, pleading, but Charlie only laughed.

  His eyes were dark, joyless, when he whispered, “It’s not the first time.”

  Kat watched her uncle ease into the chair by the fire and take a deep breath. He seemed years older when he said, “In 1959, two brothers left Romania and struck out on their own. They made their way across Eastern Europe and the Baltics—London for a time. And along the way, they met a girl.…”

  Kat took her place on a footstool, felt the heat of the fire burning through the back of her legs, thawing her from the inside out. It was almost like being in Uncle Eddie’s kitchen as she sat there, listening, learning, trying to understand more about their world.

  “She changed us, Katarina. You wouldn’t have recognized Eddie—or me,” Charlie added with a laugh. “We were…drunk…on her. She was just the kind of woman it was hard not to love. Smart. Fearless. I never told anybody how I felt, but Eddie swore he was going to marry her. He even bought the ring. All he was waiting for was one big score to prove himself to her. The big score.”

  “Like the Cleopatra Emerald,” Hale said.

  Charlie nodded. “Exactly. The whole world was infatuated with that stone. Everyone said it was cursed, sure—but truth be told, that just made us want it more. All the best crews had tried for it—and failed. But the three of us…we didn’t listen.

  We just watched and planned. And waited.”

  “Until the World’s Fair?” Hale guessed. Charlie nodded.

  “It had never been shown in public before, so I went to work on the fake. Eddie played inside. And she…” He trailed off. “Well, she played everyone.”

  “What happened?” Kat said.

  “Eddie planned it so that I could make the switch and get the real stone out, but she said I should give it to her instead—that she’d take the stone to Eddie and tell him…tell him that she and I were in love. She said we’d let him keep the Cleopatra to soften the blow. And then she and I would be free to be together.” Charlie loo
ked down at the fire. “You were right, Katarina. She is good.”

  “So you changed the plan,” Kat said, finally starting to understand. “Is that where the job went bad?”

  “Honestly?” Charlie raised an eyebrow. “No. She’d thought of everything. It would have worked, but a guard messed up…a fluke thing. He left a window open and a bird flew in, set off all the sensors—brought an army down on us. Eddie and I barely made it out alive. That’s when we learned she’d planned on taking the stone and running away from us both. Brothers. She was willing to come between brothers.” Charlie sighed. “And we let her. So don’t feel bad, Katarina. As far as marks go, you are in excellent company.”

  Hale was moving forward, leaning close. “In three days she’s going to sell the Cleopatra—pass it off as the Antony.”

  “Of course she is.” Charlie reached out to stoke the fire, sparks and embers flaring. “That was the original plan.”

  “But we can get it back,” Kat heard herself confiding.

  “It won’t work.” Charlie shook his head in the manner of someone who has lived and learned and is content never to make the same mistakes again.

  “It will work,” Kat said. “It will work if we have you.”

  “I can’t make another stone like that. Not in three days.” He ran a varnish-stained hand across his scruffy face. “Not ever.”

  Kat shook her head. “I don’t need a stone, Charlie. I need a con.”

  “No. No,” he said, and his gaze flew to the door, as if there were something lurking outside, beating against the side of the house like the snow and the wind, fighting to get in.

  “Yes, Charlie.” She reached for his hand. “I’ve been trying for days to think of someone she doesn’t know—someone we can trust to work inside. But then I realized that someone she knows is the perfect person.”

  “Eddie. You want Eddie.”

  She would have given anything to tell him he was wrong, but Eddie was the master, the best. He was also on the other side of the world and the other side of a line that said no one steals the Cleopatra Emerald, so Kat shook her head and stared up at the next best thing.

  “Uncle Eddie can’t…No, Uncle Eddie won’t help me, Charlie. Not this time. This time I need you.”

  “I loved her, Katarina.” Heartbreak seeped into his eyes. It seemed to take him a moment to realize what he’d said. “And so did he.”

  When Charlie pulled away, the best hands in the business were shaking. His lip quivered. And Kat hated herself for bringing that darkness to his door.

  “I’m sorry, Charlie.” She hesitated for a moment but then leaned down and kissed his head. She started for the door. “I won’t bother you anymore.”

  “Margaret Gray.”

  Kat stopped and turned. She watched him run a hand through his hair in a gesture she’d seen his brother make a thousand times.

  “Her name is Margaret Gray,” he said slowly. “And I never want to see her again.”

  CHAPTER 30

  It was almost dusk by the time the small motorboat made it back to the W. W. Hale. It said a great deal about Kat’s current state of mind that she really didn’t want to crawl aboard the larger, safer vessel.

  “Maybe I could just sit here for…a week or two,” she told Hale.

  “Not this time,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her on board.

  Marcus stood ten feet away, posture perfectly straight, a tray of tea and scones in his hands.

  Simon had covered the ship’s massive windows with figures and formulas, and he pointed between them and Gabrielle. Ordinarily, this would have been a source of very little concern, except that Gabrielle was wearing high heels and a rappelling harness and arguing.

  “Kat!” Simon threw up his hands in disgust and walked toward her. “Will you tell your cousin the kind of damage falling from over a hundred feet can do?”

  On the deck above, the Bagshaws were yelling something about old wiring systems and backup generators, neither bothering to remove their protective headphones, so they just yelled louder.

  “Why don’t you just ask Kat?” Hamish yelled.

  “Yeah,” his brother countered. “Be that way and I’ll ask Kat!”

  “Guys,” Gabrielle said, but the word was lost amid the smoke and the headphones. “Guys!” she tried again. “Kat’s here!”

  Hamish was oblivious as he turned and pointed. “Hey, Kat’s here.”

  It was Nick alone who looked from Kat to the way Hale leaned against the rail with his arms crossed. It might have been a perfectly adequate poker face anywhere else in the world, but it wasn’t quite good enough for Monte Carlo.

  So Nick stepped closer to Kat and asked, “Where were you?”

  “Austria,” Hale answered, but Nick acted like he hadn’t even heard.

  “You fly off in the middle of the night, leaving nothing but a shopping list and an I’ll be back. So where were you?” Nick wanted to know.

  “Austria,” Kat said, as if Hale’s answer should have been good enough.

  “You know how to do it, don’t you, Kitty?” Hamish was practically out of breath from his run down the stairs when he bolted onto the deck before her.

  “So what is it?” Angus asked, appearing at his brother’s side and rubbing his hands together. In the dim light, his eyes seemed to glow. “Is it Hansel and Gretel?”

  “Can’t be,” Hamish told him. “We only have the one grenade launcher.”

  “Right.” Angus nodded as if Hamish had a most excellent point.

  “That’s not it, guys,” Hale said with a quick shake of his head.

  But Nick was stepping closer to Kat. The words, she could tell, were meant only for her. “What was in Austria?”

  Kat no longer felt the rock and sway of the ship, but she was far from steady on her feet as she told him, “Our exit strategy.” She pushed past them. “He said no.”

  She’d hoped that would be the end of it, but then she saw the way the deck was lined with cord and cable, a feather boa, two ball gowns, three tuxes, a box with a French label citing that the contents were extremely explosive, and at least six dozen long-stemmed roses (which Kat had yet to decide whether or not they should even try to use).

  “Kat,” Simon spoke softly, “what happened?”

  Kat looked across the faces that stared back at her, open and tired and confused, and she knew it was too late. For everything.

  “I thought I had a way, guys. I really did. But Uncle Eddie was right—no one steals the Cleopatra Emerald. I’m sorry I conned you all into thinking that we could do it twice.”

  Every decent con man knows that the simplest truth is more powerful than even the most elaborate lie. Kat saw it then. It broke against them all like the waves.

  “So we get another plan,” Gabrielle said.

  “What about the bank?” Simon asked. “We’ve got the Bagshaws.…”

  “While we appreciate the vote of confidence, my boy,” Hamish said with a slap on Simon’s back, “it’s a vault thirty feet beneath the priciest real estate in the world.”

  “So no?” Simon said.

  Hamish shook his head. “No.”

  “Does she know the Wind in the Willows?” Gabrielle asked.

  Angus looked at his brother. “I’m pretty sure she was the original Willow.”

  “Transit?” Hale asked.

  “Yeah…um…no.” Simon shook his head as if even the thought scared him. “LaFont was on his cell most of the day arranging for transportation.”

  “Armored car?” Hale guessed.

  “For starters,” Simon said. “It seems the Palace Guards are also going to escort the truck. And there was talk of maybe a parade.”

  Hale spun back to Kat. “How do you feel about parades?” he asked.

  “Hate them.”

  “You could ride on the back of a convertible,” he teased.

  “No, thank you.”

  “What if I throw in a sash? Gabrielle could teach you to wave, couldn’
t you, Gabs?” But Gabrielle was too busy changing the ice pack that was now a permanent feature on some part of her body to notice.

  “Anne Boleyn?” Hamish suggested.

  “No!” Hale and Kat cried in unison.

  “Oscar the Grouch?” Gabrielle suggested.

  “Does LaFont look to you like the kind of guy who takes out his own garbage?” Angus shot back, then shrugged. “Besides, he’s not in on it. The best we can tell, he’s getting conned just like everyone else.”

  It took a second for that knowledge to wash over them all, but then Gabrielle bolted upright, saying, “Ooh! I know!”

  Kat cut her off with a wave. “The Prince’s Palace is a fortress, Gabrielle.”

  “I know,” Gabrielle said. “But palaces are fun.”

  “This one isn’t. It’s got a twenty-foot fence and a thirty-man rotating guard detail. And they’re armed.”

  Even in the dim light, Kat could see Gabrielle beginning to pout. “Which wouldn’t be a problem if you’d let me scale the cliffs.”

  “Wait.” Hamish eased forward. “Why do we have to do it this week? We let ol’ Maggie sell it, see? Then when it’s all safe and sound in its new home…”

  “There’s no way of knowing where it’s going,” Hale said. “It could end up underground.”

  “In the private collection of some warlord or weapons dealer,” was Gabrielle’s guess.

  Simon shook his head in frustration. “There are too many variables to account for the—”

  “They might not be crooks.” As soon as Kat blurted the words, she saw five sets of eyes turn to her, look at her like she was crazy. Only Nick seemed to understand.

  “Not everyone’s a bad guy,” he told them. “We wait and do this job later, and we might be the bad guys.”

  “This is our window. Now.” Kat stood back and paced. “We’ve got tomorrow morning…”

  Hale shook his head. “No time. No access.”

  “The auction at the palace?”

  “No good,” Simon said. “If we get over the walls”—he gave a considerate look at Gabrielle—“no exit.”