by Kim Foster
Jack’s eyebrows lifted momentarily, but he neutralized his expression before she looked back at him. Jack had expected Brooke to flat-out refuse to join them. But she hadn’t said no. Was she playing him in some way?
He gazed more closely into her eyes. There was something new there. Doubt? Was she having second thoughts about her decision to join Caliga’s side? Jack had never known Brooke to have qualms when it came to morality. But . . . perhaps there was a first time for everything.
“Are they treating you well over there, Brooke? Caliga, I mean?”
It was a stupid question, and Jack knew it. Caliga was a ruthless organization, everyone knew that. But he needed to tread carefully here.
Brooke said nothing. She took another sip of her drink. “They’re paying me well, if that’s what you mean.”
Jack shrugged. “It’s not.”
Then he remembered Cat had said she’d seen Brooke’s face right after they killed Esmerelda. Brooke had witnessed the cruelty of Caliga with her own eyes. Maybe that had changed things. Surely she knew Caliga killed people if they got in the way. But knowing something and seeing it firsthand were entirely different things.
Jack watched Brooke thoughtfully. He could tell nothing was certain in her mind. She wasn’t ready to leave Caliga, but she wasn’t completely on board with them, either. Her commitment was wavering.
Then she said, “I can’t help you, Jack. But . . . I won’t work against you. This conversation won’t leave this table.”
Again, Jack forced his face into a neutral mask. If he looked too shocked at her response, he’d reveal that this was all a ploy. That he never really expected her to go along with it.
The trouble, now, was that she had effectively sealed off that line of discussion. Which was way ahead of schedule. He needed to keep both Brooke and Hendrickx’s attention awhile longer. They would need something new to talk about.
But it was Brooke who raised a new subject. “So, Jack, tell me. Are you . . . attached to anyone, now that you and Cat are no longer together?”
Shit. That wasn’t the subject he’d have chosen. He really didn’t want to talk to Brooke about his personal life.
“No,” he said. “Not attached.”
She sipped her drink and raised an eyebrow. “Interesting.”
He plucked his glass off the table and took a swig.
Brooke said, “And you’re not still . . . how should I say this . . . emotionally invested in her?”
He swirled his drink, staring into it. “Cat? Nope. It’s over.”
“You’re not much of a liar, Jack.”
He frowned. Brooke was grinning, entirely comfortable in their new topic, and Jack was itching to get out of there. Which wouldn’t help anyone, of course. “Brooke, can we discuss something else?”
She smiled. “Yes, there it is. A bit too touchy. Your heart still belongs to her. Clearly.”
“It doesn’t.”
“So you’re either lying to me, or lying to yourself. Either way, it doesn’t really help your cause.”
“I don’t have a cause.”
“Here’s an idea—why don’t you just propose? Ask her to marry you.”
Jack cast her a bewildered look. Was she insane? “What the hell are you talking about?”
Brooke rolled her eyes. “Cat. Ask her to marry you. Women love that stuff. If you could get the cojones to ask her, she’d be yours.”
“Forgive me, Brooke, but I don’t particularly feel like taking dating advice from you.”
“It’s not dating advice. It’s more than that. And—trust me. You only have to ask her. It will change everything.”
He tried to ignore her words; she was obviously trying to throw him off his game. But goddamn it, he was supposed to be in charge of this conversation, not Brooke.
And she was not supposed to be planting fool ideas in his head about proposing. It was ridiculous. It was the sort of crazy thing that only happened in movies.
And then, against his best intentions, he found himself visualizing it, like he was watching it on a big screen. He was there in grainy black and white, on a beach somewhere, down on one knee, waves crashing in the background, proposing to Cat.
A full, bright feeling entered his heart. Maybe . . . was Brooke right? He wondered . . .
No. That was not where they were going in this head game. He had to gain control of this conversation again. Jack glanced at his watch and was relieved when the waiter came by with their food. He still had forty-five minutes to go.
Chapter Forty-Seven
I glanced at the screen that showed the interior of the Moluccas Room. Jack and Brooke had just sat down but already appeared deeply involved in their tête-à-tête. A stab of jealousy hit me in the chest. They looked rather cozy. She touched his arm. He flashed her one of his most dazzling smiles.
I looked away, frowning. Whose idea was this part of the plan, again?
I shook it off; it was time to go.
“You ready, Cat?” Felix asked, nodding at me. He was in the van now, having switched places with Gladys, the ace poker player. Templeton had left the van a few minutes prior, returning to his post in the kitchen. There were to be no disappearances or suspicious acts from anyone from this point forward, until the job was done.
If I was going to make a move on this vault, it was going to have to be now. And I was as ready as I’d ever be.
I had the replicated fingerprints, the fake wall, and security codes. Everything was in place. But something was bothering me, like I was forgetting a key piece, or not taking something into account. However, I couldn’t wait any longer. It was probably last-minute jitters, or the remnants of my annoyance at watching Jack and Brooke.
I strolled through the casino floor, heavily disguised in a glossy black wig and dark, bloodred lipstick. I wore a silvery cocktail dress and carried an overly large Louis Vuitton tote that contained all my gear. The goal was to look like someone who was staying on the sub-penthouse floor, because that was the button I pushed in the elevator and I didn’t need anyone questioning it.
All the way up to the fifty-fourth floor the elevator whisked me. It was one floor below the vault level.
There was a small, private lounge on the fifty-fourth floor, and beside that, a restroom. I walked inside and tucked myself into the middle stall, where I quickly changed into my more comfortable black Lycra suit. The stalls had full-height walls and floor-to-ceiling doors, which was good because I was going to be climbing up through that ceiling. It tends to get awkward if people see you doing that kind of thing.
Above the middle stall a vent traveled up through the ceiling and opened on the story above. The area where it opened was inside the hallway behind Ethan’s fake wall, concealed from CCTV. I wrapped the straps of my Louis Vuitton tote around me and began to climb.
“Are you in position, Montgomery?” Ethan said in a low voice through the communicator as I clambered out and replaced the grill.
“Sure am.”
“Perfect. Can’t see you at all.”
“Confirming that,” said Felix, in my ear, from his position in the van. “I’m looking at the security feeds. No sign of you.”
This made me smile. I pulled out the hand film containing the fake fingerprints, positioned it over my own palm, and placed my hand against the wall panel.
The scanner slid over my fingertips. A green light and a beep. The door unlocked, and I stepped through.
I pulled night-vision goggles over my eyes and crept through two layers of swiveling doors. As long as everything stayed dark, my movements wouldn’t be picked up by the CCTV here.
I got inside and located the panel to disable the microwave system layer. Microwave sensors are among the most difficult to bypass, but fortunately we had an advantage. I entered the code we had stolen from Walker’s phone, and I stood stock-still, waiting for the sensor to turn off. I stared at the panel, frozen, waiting.
Any minute now.
But it didn’t turn
off. “The microwave sensor isn’t shutting down,” I hissed.
“Did you use the code?” Ethan asked.
“It didn’t work.”
“Did you use the fingerprints?” Ethan said.
“Yes, of course. How else would I have unlocked the door?”
There was silence.
Why didn’t the codes work? We had just retrieved them from Walker’s phone that afternoon. I looked at my watch. Ten minutes past midnight. And then I remembered, with a sickening thud in my stomach, why they hadn’t worked.
It was Saturday. And there was a small line, fine print in the security schematics, that said the codes were automatically reset every week, midnight on Saturday. We had downloaded the codes from the previous week. Walker would probably be receiving his automatic e-mail with new codes, perhaps sent only a few minutes ago. Little good that would do us now. Bitterness flooded into my mouth. All that work today at the pool for nothing.
“The codes won’t work,” I said. “Is there any other way?”
There was a pause, then Ethan said, “There’s one other way. If you cross the room at a normal speed the sensor will pick you up. But you can hack the system. To do it, you’ll have to go at super slow speed,” Ethan said.
“How slow?”
“Two inches per second.”
That really was slow.
“There’s one other thing you should do that might help a little, as backup,” Ethan said.
“What?”
“You can cover the CCTV lens with something.”
“Something—like what?”
“It has to be opaque.”
I looked around for something I could use that would work. I took a close look at the camera on the wall beside me through my night-vision goggles. If I were MacGyver I’d have a roll of duct tape on me. But I wasn’t, and I didn’t.
But then I thought about something I did have.
Lipstick.
I smeared the dark red lipstick all over the lens, blocking it out. I could only hope it would work. It was the best I could do.
Turning, I faced the vault, on the far end of a very long corridor. I took a deep breath and started walking slowly. My heart pounded and my breathing was loud. Good thing there weren’t noise sensors included in this security network—I was sure they would pick up my heartbeat.
I counted out my steps so they could hear my pace and let me know if I was going slowly enough.
“Okay, that’s a good pace, Cat,” Felix said. I exhaled and kept going.
“You can do it, Montgomery. You’re the best,” Ethan said.
My stomach fluttered at the compliment. Then I reminded myself he was probably just encouraging me, to help me get through this.
Damn. I cared about what Ethan thought of my skills, sure, but realized as I crept slowly across the floor that it wasn’t only about his admiration on a professional level. Our moment on the train came flooding back to me. I could still feel his hands on my skin. Still feel his mouth on mine, his weight on me . . .
But then I thought of earlier. Jack. What had I been thinking? Here I was again, ruminating over a choice I’d already proven I was incapable of making.
Okay, Cat. Stop. Not the time.
I focused again on my steps, on walking slowly, on my breathing.
Somehow, I made it across the room and stood in front of the vault at last. It was a square door to an enormous safe, state of the art. I inspected the locking mechanisms, the control panel that needed to be cracked.
“Okay, I’m at the safe,” I said. “It’s going to take some time. But I think I can do it.”
I pushed aside all the thoughts of Ethan and Jack, locked them up with a key, and turned my attention to the safe. I started working on the tumblers, clearing my mind and entering the safecracking zone.
I lost all track of time as I turned the wheel pack in a precise rhythm, feeling for notches, visualizing the inside of the lock. It might have been five minutes, it might have been fifty, but after a lot of concentration and a great deal of sweating . . . I was in.
The safe released its mechanism with a beautiful metallic clunk, and smoothly glided open. A chill traveled up my arms.
I stepped into the vault, still moving like I was in slow motion, like I was in a dream. I knew the same microwave sensor existed within the vault itself.
Inside, I found myself within a seamless square steel vault, the size of a large walk-in closet. It contained countless treasures, gleaming in cubbyholes and boxes, and in clear, ultra-strong acrylic cases. I had no doubt many of them were stolen. It wasn’t that Chips Walker was short on means. It was just that you can’t buy what isn’t for sale.
It didn’t take long to find the case containing the Lionheart Ring. Being the most recent addition to his collection, it occupied a position front and center, on top of a stack of cash boxes.
It was held within an old wooden box with iron hinges. I wondered if it was the one they’d found in the coffin itself—Robin Hood’s grave—buried deep in the Yorkshire earth. I opened the box and stared at the ring.
After all this time, chasing this jewel across continents, I was finally staring at it. The ruby was the first thing I noticed. Enormous, especially for a ring, it was the size and shape of an acorn. The red fire smoldered within, like a hot, burning coal. The heart of a lion.
I lifted it up and held it in my gloved hand. This was the ring worn by Richard the Lionheart himself. The ring given by the king to Robin of Loxley. Robin Hood.
But I knew, now, it was a gift even older than the twelfth century. I looked at the gold it was fashioned with—lustrous, rich yellow gold. It was the gold of the Gifts of the Magi. My skin felt covered in sparks, tiny electric shocks.
This ring had been buried with the man who had forged the way for thieves and provided legend for centuries to come. My breath came quicker as I stared at it. The connection I felt was deeper than just the kinship of thieves, more profound than that. It wasn’t the first time I’d held an incredible treasure in my hand. The Fabergé egg, last fall. The Hope Diamond, only two months ago. But this ring, it felt even more . . . personal, somehow.
But I didn’t have time to stare and get lost in thought. I needed to get out of there.
With reluctance I tucked the ring into the pouch inside my suit, next to my body. I closed the box, replaced it, and retraced my steps—ever so slowly, moving through molasses—back out of the vault.
I closed and locked the vault door. As I began the long return journey across the floor, I heard Jack’s voice. “Not to put even more pressure on you, Cat, but I need you to get out of there fast.”
I froze. “Why?”
“Because Hendrickx is on his way to you.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
“What?” I snapped. My stomach dropped. I was only partway back to the exit; I had a long way to go down the corridor. The door seemed impossibly far away and I had to keep walking in slow motion. I glanced down at my suit, thinking of what was zipped inside the pouch at my waistband. I would be caught, trapped in flypaper in the vault antechamber, carrying the ring. “What happened, Jack?”
Jack’s voice was tight. “I had him in my sights. He wasn’t going anywhere. And then he got a call. I don’t know what he was told, exactly, but I did manage to overhear him say something about a vault. Within a minute he got a lackey to replace his post in the restaurant. Then he left.”
I bit down on the inside of my cheek. “Can you follow him?”
“Already on it.” I could hear him breathing faster. He was on the move. And it was impossible to miss the concern in his voice.
“Try to do something to slow him down,” I said. “And I’ll go as fast as I can.”
But fast, of course, in this situation, could be nothing but inexorably slow.
“Hang in there, Montgomery, we’ll get you out of there,” Ethan said. Although what he was going to do, exactly, I had no idea. “What’s your progress like?” he asked.
&
nbsp; “I still have about thirty feet to go.” I did quick mental arithmetic. I knew it would take about three minutes for me to cross the space. And then I still had to get out and lock all the doors, removing evidence of a break-in, to get away cleanly.
“Right,” Ethan said. “Felix, do you still have the CCTV feeds?”
“Sure do,” said Felix. “And . . . let’s see . . . oh crap. Hendrickx is coming. He’s heading to the elevators right now. He just pushed the call button.”
I cringed and squeezed my eyes tight. And then, an idea. “Gladys, can you override whichever elevator Hendrickx gets on?” I said quickly in a hopeful rush. “Lock it up, or something?”
There was a pause and a faint rustle on the line, and then Gladys said, “Er, well, I would, dear, if I weren’t right in the middle of a poker game with Walker.”
The air left my lungs. I’d forgotten. She was trapped in the casino. There was no way she could get back to the van in time.
“Felix, is there any chance—”
“Oh Cat, I wish I could, but I don’t have the first clue how to do that . . .”
Never mind. I steeled my jaw and kept moving ever forward toward the door. I mentally judged how long it would take me to cross the floor, and how long it would take Hendrickx to get there. I only needed a couple of extra minutes. But I knew I wasn’t going to get it.
There was also the fact that Ethan needed to collapse the fake wall and get out of there before Hendrickx made it up the elevator. If he didn’t, he’d be caught, too.
“Ethan, you have to get out of there.” I wasn’t going to make it, but there wasn’t any reason for Ethan to get caught, too.
“No way. I’m not leaving you,” Ethan said. His voice was firm.
“Ethan—”
“I’m serious, Montgomery. We’re getting you out of there, or we’re not. But either way, I’m not going anywhere.”
My eyes started to sting and a rueful smile grew on my face. And I kept putting one foot slowly in front of the other, hoping for a miracle.
