Thief Trap

by Jonathan Moeller

  I didn’t see much of Nicholas or Corbisher for that week. I had the impression that Nicholas and Corbisher were working on some important plan between them. My suspicion that Nicholas had been going to Venomhold to meet with Natalya Karst was confirmed on the second day when a rift way opened in the center of the warehouse, and Nicholas and Corbisher strode out.

  Maybe they were meeting with the Knight to decide what to do with the Sky Hammer.

  And I was helping Nicholas and the Knight of Venomhold claim an ancient superweapon.

  God, what was I doing? There had to be a way out of this mess, something that would stop Nicholas but preserve Russell’s life.

  I spent most of that week working with Morelli and Murdo, helping them to get set up for our raid on the Grand Warrior Casino. There were a lot of little things to prepare, and I was the only one who had all the necessary skills. We forged paperwork, bought a van under an assumed name, created a false identity to insert into the casino’s database, and prepared smoke bombs. Since I could Cloak, and if I Cloaked outside the casino I could slip in and out without the Elves noticing me, I hid the smoke bombs in various ventilation ducts and service areas, places where they wouldn’t be found.

  All that was easy. The awkward part came on the third day.

  “I need to take your measurements,” said Morelli.

  “Why?” I said. We sat at a table in the warehouse’s open area, assembling smoke bombs and wiring cell phones to them. Russell sat nearby, watching the work.

  “For your uniform,” said Morelli. “They are close-fitting enough that they need to be individually tailored to each waitress.”

  “Fine,” I said. “Go get a measuring tape and we’ll do it quick.”

  Morelli sighed. “You’ll need to be in your undergarments.”

  I glared at him.

  “The uniforms are that close-fitting,” said Morelli, “and the casino’s waitresses are required to have weekly weigh-ins to make sure they neither gain nor lose too much weight. If your uniform is too loose or too tight, it will draw attention, and…”

  “Fine,” I said. “Did Hailey have to do this, too?”

  “She did,” said Morelli. “She complained quite extensively, as you can imagine. If you prefer, I will instruct Hailey to take your measurements.”

  “For God’s sake,” I said. “Hailey can’t count past ten without using her toes. Let’s get this over with.” I stood up. “Russell, come with us.”

  He gave me a dubious look. “Why?”

  “To make sure Morelli behaves,” I said. And I didn’t want to leave Russell alone. I glared at Morelli. “But if you try to grab or squeeze or pinch anything, it’s not going to go well.”

  “Lorenz did, and look what happened to him,” said Morelli, getting to his feet. “This way. If it’s any consolation, Miss Moran, I find this just as unpleasant.”

  “I really doubt that.”

  We walked to one of the little rooms the Rebels had set up using prefab walls. This room served as an infirmary, with a cot and a cabinet of medical supplies. Morelli produced a cloth measuring tape and a notepad, and Russell leaned against the wall. I grimaced, took a deep breath, and stripped down to my underwear. Russell looked embarrassed, and Morelli only seemed irritated by the whole thing.

  With quick, efficient movements, he measured my height, the length of my legs, the length of my torso, and the width of my hips, waist, shoulders, and bust, jotting down numbers as he went. He managed to do it without touching me very much, but when his fingers brushed my skin, they felt icy cold. Maybe he really was as cold-blooded as he seemed.

  “How the hell did you learn how to do this?” I said.

  “Off the books importation of jewels for the Men of Honor,” said Morelli, which was a polite way of saying he had done diamond smuggling for the Italian mafia. “You would be surprised how many places on the human body can conceal jewels.”

  “Yeah,” said Russell. “I don’t want to think about that too much.”

  “How much do you weigh?” said Morelli.

  I eyed him. “Why do you want to know?”

  “Because the tailor will ask.”

  A reasonable point. “One hundred and twenty-four pounds.”

  “Uh huh,” said Morelli. “Mr. Moran, there’s a scale under the cot. Kindly get it out.”

  I sighed and rolled my eyes. Russell reached under the cot and slid out the scale, and I stepped onto it.

  “One hundred thirteen point four pounds,” said Morelli. I blinked in surprise. I really had lost more weight than I thought. I had to start eating better. Or more. Unfortunately, while Murdo had taught me a mental technique to help keep the chill at bay, I hadn’t figured out a way to deal with the nausea that my memories of the Eternity Crucible sometimes induced. Thank God for smoothies. “Usually people lie about their weight in a different direction.”

  “Yeah, I’m special,” I said. “We…”

  The door opened, and Murdo took a step into the room and froze in surprise, as abruptly as if he had walked into a brick wall. He was staring right at me, and the intensity of his stare was…

  It was unsettling. But it a good way. Like, there are two kinds of unsettling in life. The bad kind, when your car spins out on an icy road, and you realize that you’re out of control and that you might die. There’s also the good kind of unsettling, like when you’re looking at a man and your heart is thundering in your chest, and you’re wondering what it would be like to lose control and kiss him, and maybe do more than kiss…

  “Does no one ever knock here?” muttered Morelli, flipping his notepad closed.

  “The van’s done,” said Murdo, not looking away from me, not blinking. “Should be indistinguishable from a municipal service van.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Good.” I didn’t feel any urge to cover myself. If anything, I wanted to stand up straighter, have my shoulders back a bit. “Um. I’m getting fitted for my uniform.”

  “Yes, so I observe,” said Murdo. He still hadn’t blinked.

  “I have what I need,” said Morelli, sliding past Murdo and walking away. “You can get dressed now, Miss Moran.”

  “Yeah,” I said. Some embarrassment started to leak into my mind. What the hell was wrong with me? This was a life and death situation, and Murdo was here to rescue a woman he loved. “Um. Yeah, I should really do that.”

  I grabbed my jeans and started pulling them back on.

  “I’ll check on the van,” said Murdo, and he stepped out of the room.

  “For God’s sake,” said Russell.

  I blinked at him in surprise as I buttoned my jeans. He usually didn’t swear. “What?”

  “The two of you,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s like…how do you not know?”

  “Know what?” I snapped as I picked up my sweater.

  Russell sighed. “None of my business.”

  “That’s right,” I said, pulling the sweater over my head.

  Later. I could worry about how I felt about Murdo later. Once I had completed Morvilind’s deal with the Forerunner, I would be free to act. I could deal with Nicholas, and help Murdo free his girlfriend. Then I could worry about my feelings.

  Assuming, of course, that there was going to be a later.

  ###

  On the night of June 30th, we were ready.

  It was time to go rob a casino. Well, the museum attached to the casino, anyway.

  I got dressed…and I had never worn anything like this on a job.

  It wasn’t pleasant.

  Morelli hadn’t been lying when he said the tailor needed exact measurements because the damned cocktail waitress uniform was skin-tight. Like, it was so tight there wasn’t room for a bra underneath it, though the underwires made that unnecessary. The underwires also made it into something like a corset, which added an additional degree of discomfort. The whole thing was tight enough and left enough of my chest exposed that I worried I might pop right out of it if I inhaled too deeply, but a
combination of the wires and the precise tailoring meant that it wasn’t going anywhere. Hell, it would probably be easier to use a pair of scissors to cut myself out of the uniform rather than removing it properly once the job was done.

  The four-inch heels were an annoyance, too. Hailey loved them, but Hailey was several inches taller than I was. Working an eight-hour shift in this outfit while hauling trays of drinks and appetizers back and forth had to be a hell of a workout.

  Fortunately, I was in good shape, and I was used to physical discomfort.

  After all, once you’ve had your guts ripped out a few thousand times, the discomfort from a bustier and a pair of high-heeled shoes is trivial by comparison.

  The thought was so absurd that I laughed.

  “Oh my God,” said Hailey, giving me a disdainful look. “What are you laughing about?”

  Oh, yeah, I should mention this.

  Hailey had to go with me to pull this off, so we got ready together.

  It was just about as much fun as you would expect.

  Hailey had converted one of the prefab hotel rooms into an impromptu dressing room, complete with bright lights and a big mirror. We sat on stools in front of the mirror. I had finished my hair and makeup and wanted to leave, but Hailey was still fussing with hers. That gave me a chance to stare at my reflection, which I didn’t enjoy. I looked…well, I’ll admit I looked good, albeit in a trashy sort of way. I had my hair up in an elaborate crown, and the tricks of makeup made my eyes look bigger and my mouth redder, and they also did a good job of hiding the dark circles beneath my eyes. I barely recognized myself.

  Though my eyes still looked kind of crazy.

  “I’m laughing about death,” I said.

  Hailey gave me a disdainful look and then turned her attention back to her eyeliner. “God, you get tedious. I’m just glad I don’t have your arms.”

  “What?” I said, baffled. “What’s wrong with my arms?”

  “They look too sinewy in a sleeveless top,” said Hailey, peering closer at the mirror and putting down the applicator for her eyeliner.

  Well, excuse me for lifting weights. A dozen different cutting remarks came to my tongue. I suppose I could have harped on some physical defect of hers, but she really didn’t have any. But Nicholas hadn’t seduced Hailey for her brains, and definitely not for her pleasant personality.

  “Hurry up,” I said. “We’re on a timetable here. No one will care if your makeup isn’t exactly perfect.”

  “It’s part of the disguise,” said Hailey. “It has to be perfect.”

  I couldn’t argue against that, but I knew that wasn’t her real reason. She loved this kind of thing – makeup and dressing up and so forth. I suppose I’m kind of a tomboy, but I didn’t mind dressing in a feminine way and even enjoyed it at times. It was just something I did when necessary. But Hailey loved it and had strong opinions on the right kind of lipstick and eyeliner to use.

  So, I waited, trying not to shiver as I focused on holding the magical chill at bay. Turns out that a skin-tight uniform that leaves your shoulders and a big portion of your back and chest exposed isn’t all that warm.

  “Okay,” I said. “We really have to go. Else Nicholas will send Swathe to drag us out.”

  “Swathe wouldn’t dare touch me,” said Hailey, not looking away from the mirror as she adjusted her hair. “He’s an old creeper, but he knows I’m Nicholas’s woman, and if he touches me, I’ll use the mindtouch spell to put so many nightmares in his skull that he’ll kill himself in five minutes. And if he touches you…well, I hope he does, because I don’t like him and it would be kind of funny to watch you murder him.”

  “Thanks,” I said. I stood up and was immediately pleased that I didn’t fall over in my four-inch heels. “But we really have to go.”

  “Fine,” said Hailey. She sounded exactly like a teenage girl, but she stood up, smoothed the front of her bustier, and we headed back into the warehouse proper.

  The van was parked near the main door. Morelli and I had dug up the van, and Murdo and Russell had painted the vehicle so it looked exactly like one of the Las Vegas city government’s vans. We had even added flashing yellow lights to the roof. Murdo, Morelli, and Russell waited near the van, dressed in jeans, gray work shirts, and orange safety vests and hard hats. I had broken into some city offices to deposit forged paperwork, and one of Corbisher’s minions had hacked the city’s servers to create false records. Now Murdo, Russell, and Morelli had false identities as city maintenance workers, and the van had a fake registry in case Homeland Security tried to look it up.

  I suppose I had just helped Russell commit his first crime – impersonating a government employee. Though some of the stuff he had set up with Mr. Vander had to be at least technically illegal.

  Nicholas stood talking with Morelli, wearing yet another expensive-looking suit. With our high heels clacking against the concrete, he heard Hailey and me coming from a long way off. All four men turned at our approach, and Nicholas smiled.

  It didn’t touch his eyes. I wondered if Hailey noticed.

  “Well,” Nicholas said. “Don’t you two look pleasant. Go on, give us a twirl.”

  I gave him the middle finger instead.

  Hailey, however, obliged and did a graceful twirl, bending her legs a little as she did. Then she walked over and draped her arms around Nicholas, giving him a kiss.

  “Do you think I look nice?” she said.

  Nicholas kept smiling. “You do.”

  Hailey beamed at that. I mean, genuinely beamed. Maybe that was all she wanted out of life, to be pretty and to have men give her compliments. But I had seen inside her mind on the day we met, and I knew it was more than that. Don’t get me wrong, she enjoyed being pretty and having men give her compliments. But what she really wanted, deep down, was for someone to love her.

  She thought Nicholas loved her.

  That made me think of Riordan (yet again), and I found myself looking at Murdo. He was still calm, but he was looking at me without blinking again, and that pleased me. A lot. Which made me feel guilty again. I was attracted to him, and he was just as obviously attracted to me. And he knew how dangerous and crazy I was, but he had come through for me again and again and again.

  Whoever this woman he loved was, I hoped she was worthy of him.

  “Well,” said Russell, clearing his throat. “You look…”

  “Don’t bother,” I said. “I look like a low-class prostitute.”

  “Nonsense,” said Nicholas. “You both easily look like mid-range prostitutes.” Murdo’s eyes flashed at that, and Hailey laughed and slapped Nicholas’s shoulder.

  “If we’re quite done amusing ourselves,” said Morelli, “we have a deadline to keep.”

  “Yes,” said Nicholas, stepping back from Hailey. “Good luck, all of you.”

  I wanted to tell him that good luck would mean figuring out a way to escape Morvilind's deal that would bring the Rebels down and save Russell at the same time, but I didn’t bother. Morelli was right. We had a deadline, and I needed to keep my head clear. Our plan was a good one, and we had put a lot of prep work into it, but anything could go wrong.

  That’s the thing about plans. There’s always something coming that you didn’t foresee.

  “You drive,” said Morelli to Murdo. He nodded and crossed to the driver’s side of the van.

  “Get in first,” I said to Russell. “Then Hailey, then me. I’ll need to get out in a hurry.”

  Russell nodded and opened the side door in the van, and he got in first, sliding to the far side. Hailey got in next, and Russell shot a quick look at her long legs before he fixed his gaze on the seat in front of him. I came in last, sat next to Hailey, and closed the door.

  “We’re ready,” I said.

  “Go,” said Morelli from the front passenger seat. He had a notebook computer open on his lap, and he was typing, white text scrolling down a black remote terminal window.

  Murdo nodded, started the engin
e, and eased the van out the door, through the warehouse yard, and into the street. It was past 7 PM, but at this time of the year in Nevada, the sun doesn’t go down all the way down until eight or so, and the western sky was a beautiful shade of red scaling into purple.

  There’s no sunset quite like a desert sunset.

  We drove into downtown Las Vegas, joining the steady stream of traffic heading for the Strip and the various casinos and clubs. I saw the line for the Grand Warrior’s parking ramp circling around the block. Fortunately, since we were driving one of the city’s vans, we could park wherever we damn well pleased. Murdo circled the Grand Warrior Casino, leaving behind the line of waiting cars and the glittering entrance, and came to the back of the huge building. The rear entrances and truck docks were much less glamorous. I saw a row of truck docks, a garage for the casino’s fleet of vehicles, and six enormous dumpsters the size of small houses. A place like the Grand Warrior had to generate a huge amount of garbage.

  Murdo parked at the edge of the lot, next to a row of power transformers humming inside their locked metal cabinets. A chain link fence surrounded the transformers, festooned with signs proclaiming DANGER and HIGH VOLTAGE and SERIOUS INJURY AND DEATH. It reminded me of the signs had seen on the Royal Bank’s emergency generators back in Washington DC.

  Of course, we had knocked out the Bank’s power. We wanted to keep the lights on here.

  “All right,” said Morelli, tapping a few more commands into his laptop. “We’re ready to go. Mr. Moran, once the timer starts, get outside and start putting down the safety cones. If anyone shows up, I’ll do the talking. We’ll claim to be tracking down a malfunctioning transformer that’s causing power surges in the grid. Miss Moran, Miss Adams, once I start the timer, you have exactly fifteen minutes until the distraction triggers.” He frowned at me. “You sure you don’t want a watch?”

  “I’m sure,” I said. “None of the waitresses on duty wear them. And I can keep an accurate count in my head.”