Mr. McGee sat the phone back in its cradle and looked to Brooklyn. “I apologize, Ms. Daniels, it seems nothing can be done around here without me.” His face lit up with a smile. “Now, where were we?”
“You were giving me information about your safety deposit boxes,” she said.
“Ah, yes.” He placed his elbows on the desk and enclosed his fingers.
“Our safety deposit boxes come in different sizes, the smallest being a two by five and twelve inches long. Is there a specific size you’re looking for?”
“The smallest size will do. I only need to keep an ancestral document inside. Let me ask you, would this document need to be insured or will the bank take care of that for me?”
“Unfortunately, the FDIC only insures funds that are in your account, but the box itself is kept in our vault. I would consider it safe, but getting insurance is always a good thing.”
“I see.”
“Do you have an account with us, Ms. Daniels?”
“No, I don’t. I’m new to the area, so I’m looking to change institutions soon enough, which is why I’m here today.”
“I understand. If you don’t mind me asking, are you from the south? I couldn’t help but notice your accent.”
Taken back by the question, Brooklyn thought a bit longer than necessary on an answer. “I was born in Louisiana.” She lied. “But I’ve lived in DC most of my life. Now I’m looking to settle here in New York.”
“A bit of a traveler I see.”
“Well when I was young I didn’t have much of a choice since it was my parents doing, but now I’ve been presented with an opportunity of a lifetime, so moving is only fitting.”
Brooklyn had lied before, but after recovering from the shock of his question, the lies eased off her lips like butter. In reality, she was from Savannah, Georgia. After her grandparents passed, her mom Constance and father Grant Patterson whisked her and Drew to New York at the age of thirteen. It was amazing that folks could still hear her southern accent, and being questioned about it always surprised her.
Brooklyn didn’t like being questioned. It was none of his business where she was from and with that thought, she flipped the queries back at him.
“How much is the fee on the box?”
“The smallest boxes are one hundred and forty-four dollars annually, but if you prefer it, we could bill you monthly. Would you like to see the room? I’ll show you how you’ll have access if you decide to purchase one with us today.”
Brooklyn beamed. “Of course.”
Mr. McGee rose from his chair and closed his suit jacket. He was a heavyset man, and the jacket wasn’t big enough to accommodate his girth while he sat. He wobbled around the desk, “This way, please.”
Brooklyn followed him closely, glancing at her watch. It laced her wrist seeming just as ordinary as any accessory, but a closer look would reveal its true nature. Brooklyn considered herself the nerd of the group. She was brilliant in science and mathematics. It wasn’t often that she applied her genius, but sometimes it came in handy. Like with the watch she’d built; it was smart enough to pick up camera sensors as she strolled behind Mr. McGee. The watch collected information on the position of the red eye lasers that were hidden behind the tinted frame of the security cameras. The days of old fashioned casing of banks were over when it came to Brooklyn. The only thing she needed was to keep her head level so none of the security cams would pick up a schematic diagram of her face.
The two rounded a corner and pulled up to a large closed vault. Mr. McGee slid his keycard inside, and she watched as a variety of lights counted down from red to yellow, then finally green. There was a loud click and the door popped ajar. Mr. McGee pulled the heavy door, and they stepped into a metal box that held containers lined up and down against the walls of the room. In the middle sat three simple metal tables. Mr. McGee wobbled to a box already open and pulled it out of the wall placing it on the table.
“Here’s an example of the box you would be renting.”
“Hmmm,” she said examining the box closely.
“Mr. McGee,” a woman called out, standing on the other side of the vault entrance. He glanced up, momentarily giving Brooklyn time to slip another electronic gadget underneath the metal table.
“There’s someone else who’d like to take a look at a safety deposit box. Do you mind if they come in now?”
On cue, Brooklyn’s phone sang out, and she pulled it from her purse taking a look at the screen. “I’m sorry, I need to get this.”
“No problem,” Mr. McGee said.
Brooklyn brought the phone to her ear.
“Hello?” she listened intently then gasped. “Oh my God! I’m on my way right now!” she disconnected the call.
“I’m sorry, I have to run.” Brooklyn sprinted to the door. “I’ll be back tomorrow to finish what we started here.”
“Oh, okay sure,” Mr. McGee called after her.
Brooklyn fled the building through the banks rotating doors as if the devil was hot on her heels. It made for a dramatic exit as she fell into the midday shuffle of pedestrians on the downtown sidewalk. Her heels took her across the street, two blocks down from the institution. As she approached a mobile dog grooming truck, the doors slid open, and Leah held a hand out to her.
“Thanks,” Brooklyn said, quickly stepping inside.
“You were so good. Have you ever thought about becoming an actress?”
Brooklyn snickered. “Maybe I’ll try it once we’re done getting our coins. How’s the display?” Brooklyn leaned towards the three, twenty-inch flat screen monitors that sat in a row.
“As you can see, the picture quality is good.”
Brooklyn nodded her head in agreement.
“Come here, Danger,” Brooklyn said speaking to the chihuahua they’d taken as a prop for their cover. Danger came on command and sat down next to Brooklyn. Reaching onto the table in front of the monitors, Brooklyn grabbed a doggie trip and gave it to her four-legged friend.
“You know he’s never going to want to go home if you keep feeding him like that,” Leah said.
“Danger’s practically at my house every day anyway. The neighbors don’t mind. I always take him home. Right now, they think I’m out walking him.”
Leah shook her head and smirked. “And why’d they name him, Danger? He’s not about to hurt anybody.”
Brooklyn laughed. “You’d have to ask his owners.” She studied the monitor. “Yes, this picture is really good,” Brooklyn stated.
“No sooner than you clamped the sensor to the table, the screens lit up.”
“Good, good,” Brooklyn repeated. They had eyes inside the bank. Now it was about twenty-four hours of surveillance until they figured out the institution's daily operations.
Brooklyn sat back and pulled the clear sticky makeshift covers from her fingertips.
“I still can’t believe you made those,” Leah said.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s the last thing I would’ve thought of.”
Brooklyn cracked a smile. “They work like magic. Can’t leave my fingerprints behind, can I?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Have you heard from Drew and Symone?”
“Yeah, but I only spoke to them briefly so I could keep my attention on you. Drew’s going to approach her contact.”
“When?”
“Supposedly tonight.”
“Will Symone be with her?”
“I didn’t ask. Why? Are you worried?”
Brooklyn sighed. “I’m always worried when it comes to Drew. She’s so determined to prove something, it makes me paranoid.”
“That’s true, but we don’t need to hold on to the Saliera any longer. I can call Symone and ask her to stay with Drew.”
Brooklyn thought for a moment. It would be smart for Symone to have Drew’s back, just in case. On the other hand, if Drew suspected Symone was around to babysit her, she’d cry foul and throw a tantrum and possibly blow
the connect.
“No,” Brooklyn said. “Let her handle it.”
There was a sharp bang on the door. Leah and Brooklyn whipped to the first monitor.
“Shit, it’s the police,” Brooklyn announced.
Quickly, Brooklyn and Leah moved, pulling a silver door over the monitors. Leah grabbed dog grooming shampoo, scissors, and a blow dryer and sat it in front of the doors that encased the monitors.
Brooklyn whistled to Danger, and he jumped into her lap, his tongue hanging out. She looked back to Leah and Leah nodded. When Brooklyn opened the door, she put on the brightest smile she could muster.
“Good afternoon officer, how can I help you?”
The officer perused Brooklyn from head to toe and smiled at the chihuahua.
“Good afternoon, ma’am. I’ve got my K-9 back in the truck, and he could use a good grooming. How long will you be here today?”
“Oh, until the rush hour is over, then we’ll head to Fifth Avenue.”
Danger wriggled in Brooklyn’s arms and growled at the man in front of him. Brooklyn held the dog firmly and stroked his coat to calm him.
The officer seemed to be stuck in his thoughts. “I’m sorry, what is your name,” he asked.
Brooklyn’s mouth went dry. “Jessica,” she held her hand out for a shake, “Jessica Daniels.”
“If you don’t mind me saying, Jessica Daniels, you… are… beautiful.” He glanced down to her ring finger. “Is that Mrs. or?”
“Oh my goodness, thank you, and that’s Ms. Daniels.” Brooklyn feigned flattery and Danger growled again. Leah kept her eyes peeled on the officer, still unsure as to whether or not they had a real problem.
The officer pulled out a business card and handed it to her.
“This has my personal cell on it. If it’s okay with you, give me a call sometime. I’d love to get to know you.”
Brooklyn puckered her lips and peered at him.
“Officer if you don’t mind me asking, did you see me enter the grooming van?”
He smirked, “Guilty.”
“So then there’s really no K-9 waiting for you in the truck, is there?”
“No there is, but it seemed like the perfect excuse at the time.”
She chuckled, “I’ll think about it,” Brooklyn smiled.
“That’s all I’m asking.” He lit her up with a charming smile. “I’ll let you get back to it. It was nice to meet you, Ms. Daniels.”
She tilted her head in response, and he walked away. Brooklyn shut the door and turned to Leah.
“What the hell?” Leah said with her hands on her hips.
“I don’t know, but we’re not sticking around to find out. Wait until Officer Bob pulls off, put this van in drive, and let’s get out of here.”
Chapter Ten
When he walked through the museum doors, the fine hairs on Drew’s neck stood at attention. This was it; she was going to ask him out. Drew knew she had an important meet up with the man who could help them unload the Saliera but for the moment, connecting with the man she’d been daydreaming about was far more important. Drew didn’t have a lot of time. She had to make her move and make it quick; while at the same time, not making herself look foolish.
He was doing his usual stand and stare at the art and looking absolutely delicious. Drew could feel her knees getting wobbly and the thump of her heart pulsating in her ears. You can do this Drew, she thought to herself. Smoothing down the deep lavender sheath she wore over slim black slacks, Drew advanced in his direction. She opened her mouth slightly and blew out slowly trying to achieve calm before speaking to him.
He noticed her coming. He always noticed her. She was part of the reason he continued to stop by the museum, in addition to the art, of course.
Drew walked up immediately behind him and stood slightly to his left. That way, she had one last chance to appreciate his exquisite face, just in case he summarily dismissed her and rejected her forthright advance. This wasn’t something Drew did before. She was used to occasionally being pursued, not pursuing. But she was willing to make an exception for him.
He felt her and the energy that emitted from her person. He knew that energy as he’d felt it before. They stood there, in that moment, vibing without speaking. The thumping in Drew’s ears increased, drowning out the traditional silence of the museum. Her body vibrated as if a heavy bass beat blasted through six-foot speakers. Maybe this wasn’t the best time. Maybe she should just wait.
“I’ve been waiting for you…”
Initially, Drew didn’t hear him, couldn’t hear him because of the nervous energy and the pounding of her heart.
“I’m sorry?” Drew’s response was hesitant and barely audible. But he heard her and turned to face her. When their eyes met, it was like in the movies. Everything in the background faded into nothingness. The only thing that existed were these two people suspended in space and time. Drew met his downward gaze, and she saw everything she ever wanted in his dark brown eyes. There was no need to smile in her direction. His brooding eyes said everything Drew wanted to hear. And instead of being more anxious, surprisingly enough, the noise in her ears quieted. Her heart rate regulated and took on a steady beat that caused any signs of anxiety, fear or nervousness to fade away.
He thought to repeat his earlier statement when she spoke.
“Drew…”
“I know…”
He smiled and she smiled again.
“I’m Legend…”
Symone did her best to stay out of sight, but that was proving increasingly difficult as the museum had few visitors. She knew if Drew saw her, Drew would automatically assume Symone had no confidence in her ability to discern whether the connection would be appropriate or not. The Saliera heist was a big deal; it was Drew’s baby. She masterminded the entire thing, so it would be hard for Drew to believe they didn’t trust her ability to finish the job. At the same time, Symone couldn’t help wanting to be there to support Drew, whether she wanted it or not. Drew and Brooklyn were like family to Symone. They were family. But this was business. The weight of the family legacy rested on all their shoulders, but Symone felt that weight a little heavier than the other girls. At least that’s how she felt.
There was a certain expectation that Drew, Leah, and Brooklyn would come to their parent’s aid. They were direct heirs to the Patterson and Hunter legacy. They were committed to saving the pharmaceutical company and the family’s land by blood. For Symone, her blood was distant, not direct lineage. But Auntie Natalie and Uncle Derrick treated Symone like she was their own. They never differentiated how they cared just because Symone was not their child. Symone felt a deep abiding obligation to make things better for them. Symone felt she owed them so much because of the way Natalie and Derrick loved her.
Symone looked down at her watch. Drew was supposed to be meeting with the connection in less than ten minutes and here she was gawking and gazing up in some boys’ eyes. Symone was so tempted to cross the room and demand Drew to focus on the job. There was a time and a place for everything and this wasn’t either of the two. Symone’s foot patted rhythmically against the concrete floor, shattering the relative silence in the museum. Symone wasn’t really mindful that she was doing it. It was an involuntary reaction to her lack of patience. When Symone heard her foot taps echoing back is when she stopped. She looked in Drew’s direction to see if the sound reached her. Fortunately, Drew was still daydreaming, looking up in that guys’ face. Symone decided to move closer to Drew. She didn’t want to have to reveal her presence, but she would if it looked like Drew wouldn’t make the meeting.
Symone’s foot tapping may not have gotten Drew’s attention, but it certainly got the attention of Agent Stinson. Brittany was there, clandestine, unbeknownst to her wayward partner. She knew Symone Ellis was the key to breaking the Austria case and Brittany was like a dog with a bone. She refused to let go. Brittany had been tracking Symone ever since Brittany unceremoniously returned from the Kunsthistorisches
Museum situation. Brittany was incredibly frustrated behind Mason’s latest stint; leading her on and discounting her value to him. After he left her apartment, Brittany pulled out her computer, determined to make headway on the Austria heist; not to benefit Mason’s career, but her own. They had Symone Ellis’ name from the bank robbery months earlier. Symone willingly gave it to Mason when he relentlessly flirted with her while the bank was being robbed.
Brittany was sexually frustrated. She hadn’t had a good lay since Mason. And for him to tease her on the very same couch they last screwed aggravated her even more. When he relaxed on the couch and opened his legs, she thought Mason was inviting her back to him. Just maybe he was ready to rekindle some things. Brittany thought Mason missed her as much as she missed him. Fuckin’ bastard… But instead of inviting her in, Mason walked out. Brittany was left alone with nothing to show for their little encounter other than moist panties.
“I need a drink,” Brittany said aloud. She dragged herself into the kitchen. There was a bottle of Merlot resting on the counter. Wine would have made a perfect refreshment after a steamy session with Mason. That didn’t happen. Brittany smacked her lips and pushed passed the wine. She reached for the bourbon instead. In the upper cabinet, Brittany found an eight-ounce glass and filled it nearly to the brim. Reaching into the cutlery drawer, she retrieved a pinstriped straw and stuck it in her drink. Making her way back to the couch, Brittany picked up her computer and clicked open the file she kept on Ms. Ellis. Mason didn’t know anything about this file. He didn’t deserve to know. He was so deluded with Symone’s looks, Brittany felt he no longer saw Symone as the criminal she was. Symone Ellis was a bourgeois street thug. Brittany decided that if Mason didn’t do anything to bring Symone to justice, she would.
Drawing her mind back to the situation at hand, Brittany kept an eye on Symone while trying to forget about Mason sexually frustrating her. If Brittany could connect the dots, link Symone to that crime and who knows how many others, their Director would certainly take notice. She could even take the lead position from Mason. That would teach his ass, Brittany thought as she kept a close eye on her primary suspect. Brittany took note of Symone’s focus. Just like the bank heist, Symone stalked around unassumingly, but Agent Stinson knew there was more to it than that. Symone kept watching this couple. No matter where Ms. Ellis moved in the room, her eyes never left the pair. But they didn’t even seem to know she was there.
Prowl (Nothing Else Matters But Survival Book 1) Page 6
