I didn’t care if he believed me or not. I could hear the condescending tone in his voice, but if I told him everything now, then I could give him the “I told you so” when we finally saw Metatron.
“There are three relics, I don’t know what the other two are yet, but I’m sure they’ll be just as obscure and just as guarded.” He probably was thinking I was a nut job, but he still figured me good for the two million. I think he thought I had some serious cash stashed away, and I did…
He puffed up. “Cool. You’ll need me for those too.”
“I’m not paying you for them.”
“We’ll talk about that later.”
“Whatever. Let’s focus on the first one for now.”
“Okay.” He got up and grabbed a laptop from under a huge haphazard stack of stuff on the edge of his kitchen counter and brought it back. “Let’s see what they’ve changed at Felt’s place.”
With half the keystrokes it took Malcolm, he was in the security system and had Felt’s place pulled up. I scooted closer on the couch. He rapidly switched through different views of the house, making little humming noises as he saw things I couldn’t.
“Interesting.” He toggled the view of the house and the wire model showing the security sections that were activated.
“What?”
“They haven’t changed anything.” He flipped to the wire image and pointed to sections of the house. “See this? The exterior sensors are on, but they didn’t turn on any of the ones in the house.” He dropped his hand and flipped through four other images.
“Pull up the camera in the room. That’s where the piece is.” He squinted at the screen and double-clicked the interior camera feed.
I nodded. I didn’t want him to know that I’d gone into Felt’s place kind of blind. Malcom’s systems hadn’t picked up the ring, but we had figured it was there. Clay’s programs and technology was even more advanced and the surveillance he had on the place was crystal clear as he zeroed in on the room.
“Uh-oh. That’s not good.”
I saw it at the same time. Half the pieces that Malcolm and I had seen had been taken out of the room since. “When did that happen?” I doubted Felt’s staff would have had the time or inclination to move all the pieces between when Malcolm and I had done our research and driving up there. Though it was possible, neither Clay nor I had made it into the room that night and there had certainly been time.
“I don’t know,” Clay said, typing Felt’s name into an internet search. “Let’s see if there’s an article about it. These guys move pieces into museums and sell off pieces all the time to other dealers. There could be some information about it.”
The first entry was a write-up in the Times about Felt and the uniqueness of his collection. I leaned forward and skimmed the article. “A portion of the religious artifacts will be housed in a small gallery at the Smithsonian.”
Clay groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I can’t get in there. I do houses.”
I leaned back, furious and frustrated. “How did you not know that? I’ve only been on Felt’s trail for two days. Haven’t you been planning this heist for a while?” I was pissed that I’d come so close and now the chance had been stripped.
“I don’t care what happens after I steal a piece. Felt could give away the rest of his whole damn collection and it wouldn’t affect me. I do my recon up to the moment I steal what I’m after. Those are the facts that matter to me. And, that was supposed to happen a couple of days ago. I never have complications so I don’t ever factor those in.”
Clay threw the laptop on the couch beside me and got up. “But now this does affect me because I don’t have the piece.”
He paced the small living room, making the dog whine, but he didn’t leave his spot on the floor.
“I’d have it if you hadn’t been there.”
“No shit. This wouldn’t be costing me two million bucks if you hadn’t shown up. If we even get it now. And, you should always plan for complications!”
The dog whined, feeling the tension thickening between us. I glanced sharply at Marvin and he turned away, tail tucked tightly against his butt and whimpering as he hurried from the room.
“Bullshit. You’d have still screwed it up. You’re an amateur.”
I rocketed off the couch and got in his face. “Now who’s the amateur? Do I even need you? You have no idea how to get in and out of that museum.”
“More than you.” We puffed up into each other. Damn him for being incompetent where I needed him. I was frustrated with myself for relying on him, even for a moment. All those emotions layered over the top of the fear that I’d never get it now and that we’d lost the best chance we’d had.
“We’re never going to get in there.” I shoved him and spun away.
He stuck out his foot and pushed me. The momentum let all my anger break loose. I rolled and came up swinging. “This is your fault!” I caught him on the shoulder and he leaned back and grabbed a handful of the front of my shirt and held me away. I brought both forearms down hard on his and broke the hold, then leapt backward, fists up, but I held my ground. We were in serious tight quarters and I didn’t want to fight like this.
But I did want to punch him again. It felt good.
“You do need me,” he growled, shoulders high and tense. “You don’t have the first clue how to breach that system. Yeah, it’s more than I’m used to, but don’t tell me what I can’t do.” He lifted his chin up a notch. “I’ll get in there.”
“Us in there—you’ll get us inside.”
He glowered at me. Nice to know he had it in him. Maybe that fire was what we needed for this one.
“I can handle the guards,” I said.
“Like you did at Felt’s?”
“I didn’t anticipate needing to take one out. I was supposed to be in and out without any issues. I didn’t plan on you.”
He straightened and grinned. “Always plan on me.”
I lowered my hands. “Just do your job.”
“Just write the check, baby.” He winked.
“Whatever. You need me, too. This job is way too big for one person.”
“I’ve done just fine without a sidekick.” He walked past and slapped me on the shoulder. “But I like you.”
“Sidekick?”
He grabbed us two more beers and peered in the fridge. “You hungry? I could eat.”
I threw my hands in the air. “Does anything rile you?”
He peeked at me over the door. “Yeah.” He laughed. “When people try to steal my stuff and…” He cleared his throat.
He closed the door and handed me a beer. “What about you, Lina? What gets you riled? Other than someone calling you an amateur.”
“I’m not an amateur.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Yeah, got that. Won’t make the mistake again—so what do you do?”
I reached across the empty distance between us and clinked our bottles together. “I kill people.”
Chapter Sixteen
The muscle in his jaw bulged and I watched him try to work that out in his head. “I get the feeling that’s not a metaphor, like ‘I killed it today at work.’”
“Um, no. I’m an assassin.”
He nodded slowly. “That would explain your affinity for doing me bodily harm.”
“I’ve taken it easy on you.”
He winked. “I’ll remember that. Now let’s figure out how we’re going to get into the museum.” He leaned over to pick up the computer and when he sat back up, his jaw dropped as something made him look past me.
“I know it’s a huge reveal, Clay. Just it you, huh? Took a second. I get it. If it makes you feel any better, I only kill bad guys.”
Clay pointed at something behind me.
“For the good love of Christ,” Metatron said and I spun around. “How long is this going to take you?” He brought his silver wings to his sides and shook his head at me.
“I didn’t hear you come i
n.”
“I’m an archangel. Stealth is an expertise. What’s the update?”
“We hit a snag,” I replied. Clay’s jaw was still dropped and he’d had yet to say a word. He looked from me to Metatron, whose angel wings fluttered at his sides from the breeze weaving in from an open window. Marvin trotted back in the room, tail wagging but with a more subdued greeting, lying down directly at Metatron’s feet.
“Yes, I’m well aware you failed to get the piece while it was at Dr. Felt’s.”
“You know, for a guy who’s the all-knowing voice of God, you sure don’t use it. Don’t you think that would have been useful information? That the piece had been moved to The Smithsonian?”
“Your journey, Evangelina. I gave you everything I thought you’d need, and you missed your chance.”
“Everything I’d need?” I pointed at Clay. “Forget to mention something? Where does he come in? I wouldn’t be in this situation if he hadn’t shown up.”
Metatron made a huge production out of walking around Clay and looking him up and down. Clay followed him with his eyes. “Yes, I think he’ll do fine,” Metatron said.
“For what?” Clay found his words. “I’ll do fine for what? Did you drop a roofie in my beer?” He looked at me. “I think I’m hallucinating.”
“Everyone needs a sidekick,” Metatron said.
I snorted. I doubted either one of us was going to be okay with that moniker. What I needed now was answers. “Did you come to share your supernatural secrets?”
“Did you say I was a sidekick? Is this that Megatron dude? Really? I’m no sidekick.” Clay shook his head vehemently. “Not even close. You didn’t have to roofie me. I so would’ve been easy to get into bed.”
“I didn’t roofie you!” I yelled. “And yes, this is Metatron. You are not hallucinating. This shit is real!” I faced the archangel. “We need some of those supernatural secrets you have in your brain or soul, or wherever archangels store their secrets. That’s the only way we’re getting past security at the Smithsonian.”
He tsked and shook his head. “Evangelina, Evangelina… For an assassin well-versed in recon, you certainly do miss the big clues.”
I narrowed my eyes and tried to think of what I’d overlooked.
“You never went back to see Ralph. Dr. Stephano.”
“Oh.” He was right. I’d totally forgotten that Dr. Stephano had contacts at the Smithsonian. He might not be able to get us a code to override security, but maybe he could put us in touch with someone we could manipulate or use.
Metatron pretended to check his watch. “I really don’t have time for these visits. Get your game face on, will you?”
His wings outstretched and Marvin looked up at him, eyes wide and trusting. Metatron encircled the wings completely around himself and then vanished from the room. The dog barked and turned in a big circle where Metatron had been. Clay frowned at him, then glanced over at me with a questioning look.
“You okay?”
“Sure,” he said, sitting down hard on the couch. “Super. I’m not drunk. You didn’t roofie me, but God I wished that was the case. I just came face to face with a goddamn archangel. I’m super. Your story checks out. Unbelievable. Unbelievable. And, I’m your sidekick? Really?” He tossed up his arms, stood and headed to the fridge. He returned with two more beers. “What now, boss?”
We need a better plan than trying to best the security. We need to go see the guy Metatron was just talking about … Dr. Stephano. He helped me recently. We’ve got to take a little trip.”
He stiffened. “No. We’re not bringing anyone else in. I’m already heavy one cosmonaut, and now an archangel.”
“What?”
He shook his head. “Movie reference.”
“Whatever. I’d rather work alone too, but we’re in over our heads on this.”
He scowled and crossed his arms. “I’d say.” He grumbled and I watched him work his way through the process of what had just happened, then he folded the laptop against his side. “Let’s go, but I’m driving.”
I tugged my earlobe and decided to skip telling him about the private jet I would have waiting for us at the airport.
Chapter Seventeen
“A Gulfstream. Nice.” He fingered the leather on the headrests as he moved toward the table and chairs at the back. I shrugged. This was normal travel for me. TSA wasn’t too keen on letting me take my work “equipment” on commercial flights. The NSA didn’t care as long as I wasn’t traveling with the president.
“Kind of a shocker, though.”
“Does it change anything? And, how could you be so surprised? I’m giving you two mil if you get the ring, and I’m a trained assassin, so what’s the big deal if I have access to a private jet? Not to mention that I work for an Archangel these days. You met him, so why are you so shocked?”
He frowned and picked up a crystal ice pick, then set it back down. “Just a lot of excess.”
“You’re a thief, for Christ’s sake. You bathe in excess every time you fence something.” I shook my head in disbelief and dialed Dr. Stephano’s number, hoping Anna would answer.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Anna. This is Judy Parker. I was there a few days ago and talked to Dr. Stephano. I apologize for the incredibly short notice, but would the doctor be okay with a pop-in?”
“Of course.” I could hear the smile in her voice. “I’ll prep him and let him know you’re coming. He’ll be so excited.” She lowered her voice. “He hasn’t stopped talking about your visit. You really did make his day. He doesn’t get near enough visitors now that most of his friends are in the nursing facilities.”
“I don’t want to be a pain, but we could really use his help.”
“No problem at all. He’s had a string of good days.”
“Great.” I told her when we expected to be there and I really hoped today would prove to be another good day. Maybe after this was done, I’d touch base with Anna again and see if I could get him enrolled in a couple of testing groups that were having mild success with their drugs. Dr. Stephano had already proven highly valuable and I had a feeling that Metatron’s little tests weren’t going to get any easier. Plus, I liked the doc.
I looked up and Clay was still wandering around the plane, poking the cushions and touching the inlaid grain of the wood, his forehead set in a deep frown. “You all right?”
He sneered. “You could have housed an entire neighborhood for what this thing cost.”
I tipped my head to the side. What an odd comment, and the first serious one he’d had since I’d met him. I was going to have to pursue that further, but right now I wanted to finish our planning that Metatron had interrupted.
“Don’t take it out on me, I just use it. Now come sit down and figure out how to get us into the Smithsonian.”
He grumbled the entire way to his seat but once we started planning he calmed down. Breaking and entering was some sort of security blanket for him and his rough edges smoothed out and I could tolerate him. He pointed out random facts along the way, things I’d need to be wary of as we entered. “See this corner? It’s a blind one. That’s a good place to get ambushed by a guy just randomly going to the bathroom.”
I made a mental note and tried to see this through his eyes and experience. “I think this is our best door.” He pointed to a small service door off the loading dock on the main floor. “It’s close to the storage for the janitor and probably has a lot of traffic throughout the night, but at least it’s not on top of security like some of these other doors.”
I hoped that Dr. Stephano would be able to offer some additional help. The main building at the Smithsonian was massive and we’d had zero luck figuring out what part held Felt’s display, since it was a temporary one. We’d have to figure that out once we got inside and that made my stomach churn.
The plan wasn’t solid, but it was the best we could do. I had to trust that Clay’s instincts would get us what we needed, and my own training wou
ld keep me from screwing things up again like they had at Felt’s.
Clay went to the bathroom, unable to keep his hands off the leather as he went and I stared out over the wing, thinking about how fast my life had changed. Today was my anniversary—no longer Griffin’s. So I couldn’t say our anniversary. We’d dated for three years today and my heart ached with missing him.
I had to succeed at the Smithsonian. I couldn’t fail him again.
I closed my eyes and inhaled, remembering the feel of him and how much I loved the stupid small things we did together like grocery shopping and antiquing. He was such a sucker for tea tables. The affinity for them had come from his mother, but it had been fun to tease him.
I’d met him at the GreenFlea Market on Columbus. I was searching for something unique to give Malcolm for his upcoming birthday when Griffin caught my eye. He looked like he could’ve just walked off a movie set—in particular, an adventure or thriller. He had that dark wavy hair that I would soon love to run my fingers through. Chiseled cheekbones, and those damn green eyes of his. A fitted gray t-shirt revealed that he worked out, and his faded jeans fit as perfect as possible. He took my breath away. I tried to look away, reminding myself that dating was not an option for someone in my line of work.
He glanced over at me again and flashed a smile. Oh my God—melt-worthy. He walked over to me and nodded at the abstract ceramic tea set I’d been looking at. “You like Eva Zeisel?”
“Who?”
He laughed. “The artist. Eva Zeisel. She was a Hungarian-born American industrial designer big on ceramics. Her forms like the set there are often abstractions. Her work is included in important museum collections across the world. Zeisel declared herself a ‘maker of useful things.’ Good choice if you get it.”
“You know a lot about antiques?”
“Some. Tea sets mainly. My mom is a huge collector.”
I took note that he didn’t have a ring.
“Griffin Jacobs.” He reached his hand out.
I fumbled and replied, “Lina Heart. Nice to meet you. I’m actually trying to find something for my, uh, my dad.” I did think of Malcolm as such, and I certainly didn’t want to tell the hot stranger my long drawn-out sordid story.
The Archangel Agenda (Evangeline Heart Book 1) Page 9
