In the corner, Olive had her hand on Tyler Ryan’s shoulder and appeared to be giving him a pep talk. Tyler was pale beneath his makeup, but seemed composed and ready.
Katrina flounced by with her phone to her ear. “Have you heard back from Young Bling yet?” she demanded. “How did my pictures come out?”
Adam felt a twist of guilt. That poor agent was going to get harangued when it became obvious that the magazine had no intention of featuring Katrina. He took another look at Kat, wondering why she was in costume. After all, Olive was in perfect condition and ready to roll. There was no reason for Kat to be trussed up in the tight dress.
As she hung up her phone, she glanced over her shoulder at Olive and gave a nasty smile. Oh God, thought Adam. What has she done?
He crossed the room and took Olive’s arm. “Kat’s up to something,” he said. “She keeps watching you like you’re about to fall over. And she’s in costume.”
Olive grinned up at him. “Can’t say I mind when a handsome man is concerned about me,” she teased. “But I told you—I’ve got eyes in the back of my head and Kat picked the wrong woman to screw with.”
She held up her Diva water bottle. It was filled to the top with ice water. “She’s fucked with my water,” Olive said, matter-of-factly. “The little bitch put some sort of illegal laxative into it.”
Adam’s mouth dropped open. “Diabolical,” he managed. “How did you know?”
She shrugged. “She’s inventive, but sloppy. I saw her take my bottle into the bathroom earlier. Then I found the laxative container hidden behind the toilet. The water smells off too—it’s a little sweet.”
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
Olive smiled. “Pretend to drink it.” She giggled. “I’ll keep emptying it into the sink, bit by bit. She’ll think that I’ll get sick any second and she’ll be called to action. But really, I’ll be fine and she’ll spend the night in a state of suspended disappointment.” She wrinkled her nose. “Not very mature of me, but I figure it might stop her from doing something even more drastic.”
Adam was impressed. “Good idea. We certainly don’t want her trying anything else.”
Olive sighed. “After the show, I’ll have to tattle to Daddy. Not sure if he’ll applaud her initiative or be appalled that she tampered with his show, but I’m betting on the latter.”
“God, I can’t wait to get out of here.” The words popped out of his mouth with heartfelt feeling.
Olive laughed at him. “Just a few more hours.”
Chapter Thirteen
Just a few more hours, Jess thought. Then this whole thing would be over. No more exhausting hours at the theatre, no more of Webb’s constant scrutiny. Professionally, she was pretty proud of their work on this: she’d learned a ton of new skills, Adam was holding his own with West End actors, and they had a solid shot at stealing one of the world’s most famous pieces of jewelry. But in spite of her professional pride and anticipation...tonight, she was mostly just hoping that no one got caught. Adam hid it well, but she knew he was terrified for Tony’s safety. He’d never forgive himself if his uncle went back to prison. She sure hoped this little escapade would satisfy Tony’s need for “one last job” because she didn’t want to tackle something like this again for a long time.
The music started to play, and the murmurs of the crowds surrounding her hushed into silence. Her camera booth was an elevated space in the middle of the back row that allowed her to record the stage without capturing the back of the audience’s heads. She double-checked that the camera was connected to her laptop and that her live-streaming software was functioning properly.
She glanced over at Webb, who was watching the performance in the same seat he’d taken for the dress rehearsal. There would be no tantrums tonight, she knew. He was onstage every bit as much as one of the Dial M for Murder actors. His expression right now was one of soft pride and wonder. He probably wouldn’t alter it for hours.
The curtains parted and Act I began. Jess occasionally made minor adjustments to her camera angle, but there was very little for her to actively do. She resisted bouncing in her seat. Frank and Tony would be nearing the Cotswolds by now, waiting for her to announce Intermission and to time their perimeter entry to Adam’s.
As Act I finished, Jess idly noticed that Tyler Ryan was putting his own flourishes on the Tony Wendice character. In the last week or so, his performance had been a carbon copy of the movie actor’s, but right now he looked different. His movements were stiff and clenched. He was talking through his teeth. His face was so shiny he looked wet. Odd, she thought. But maybe he just couldn’t get over a case of the nerves.
As the actors left the scene at the end of Act I, Jess repositioned the camera slightly. Act II was supposed to begin immediately afterward.
But it didn’t.
The stage remained empty for such a strangely long amount of time that murmurs in the audience started. Then the curtain closed. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t how the dress rehearsal went. Wide-eyed, she watched Webb leave his seat and head backstage.
She wasn’t sure what to do with the live-streaming. She supposed she had to let it keep going. She grabbed her phone, her head-set, and headed for the lobby. Before she could escape the auditorium, however, a voice spoke over the PA system. “Ladies and gentlemen, there will be an additional short intermission at this point. Please feel free to grab a refreshment from the bar in the lobby. The show will resume in fifteen minutes.”
What the hell? There was supposed to be one intermission after Act II, not now. What was going on back there? She texted the group to join the line, put her headset on and waited for everyone to announce themselves.
“Team One not in position yet,” Tony said. “You’re early.”
“Something’s wrong with the show,” Jess said. “They’re taking an unexpected intermission. Team Two, are you there?”
No response from Adam.
“Are they still doing the later intermission too?” Drew asked.
“I think so, but I don’t know.” Crowds of people pushed past her, taking advantage of the extra time to get a drink. Feeling hemmed in, she wanted to climb back up to her camera perch but she didn’t want to be recorded on the webcast.
Her phone beeped, signaling another call. She glanced down—it was Adam. He must want to talk to only her instead of the entire group. “I’m going to talk to Adam,” she announced. “Everyone get back on the line in five minutes.”
She flipped to the other line. “What’s wrong? What’s going on? Can you talk freely?”
“For about one minute,” he whispered. “Fuck, Jess. OK, OK. Kat tried to make Olive sick by putting some sort of ultra-laxative in her water bottle. Olive knew, so she didn’t drink it. Between the scenes in Act I, Tyler had a frog in his throat and he grabbed the tainted water bottle and drank half of it. I honestly can’t believe he made it through the rest of the Act. He can’t get off the toilet.”
The implication sank in. Oh no. Oh no no no. “You’re going onstage.”
He let out a harsh laugh. “Webb’s against it. Tyler’s the box office draw. But he can’t even stand up. They’ve got paramedics back here putting an IV in him.”
Jess blinked again and again. Focus, she ordered herself. Priorities. “OK,” she said calmly. “You will go onstage. It’ll be difficult, but I’ll avoid directly filming your face. We’re going to have to abort the Chelsea townhome part of the plan unless Tyler recovers in Act II and you guys switch out again at the normal intermission. Right?”
“I don’t see a way around it,” he agreed.
His voice got louder. “One minute! I’m coming!”
Then he whispered again. “I’ve got to get in makeup. Jess. I don’t know all the words. I’ve read the play but I sure as fuck didn’t think I’d be performing.
I’ve got the next scene memorized, but shit, after that, I don’t know every word.”
Mind-racing, she climbed up to her camera booth and reached into her laptop bag and pulled out her spare tablet. With a few clicks, she brought up a transcript of the play. “Put your bud for the group calls in your ear,” she said calmly. “I’ve got the play in front of me. If it seems like you’re pausing, I’ll feed you the line. But if I’m doing that, I can’t be by the webcast or it’ll record me. So I can’t point the camera away from you. Alter your face as much as possible with the stage makeup. Dial into the group line ASAP. I’ve got to let everyone else know what’s happening.”
Good God, what a mess. She stormed out of the auditorium, across the lobby and forced her way into the staff bathroom and locked the door. The webcast was going on auto-pilot and God help any poor lobby attendant who had to pee. This was her command station now.
She dialed into the group call. Frank, Tony and Drew were still online.
“Listen up and don’t ask questions,” she said. “Change of plan. Adam has to go onstage. I need to help him with his lines, which I will be doing using this call. Mute your phones, all of you.” She swallowed. “The Chelsea townhome piece of the job will not happen. Repeat, the Chelsea townhome will not happen.”
She softened her tone. “Sorry, Tony. I hope the Blue is at the Cotswolds.”
“Is my boy OK?” he asked.
“Yes,” Adam answered softly. “I’m OK.”
* * *
Jess heard the lobby chimes warning the audience that the show would be starting again soon. For a moment she almost felt like giggling. “I had no idea my man was going to star in the West End’s hottest show,” she cooed. “I’m all aflutter.”
“Shut it, Blondie,” Adam growled in her ear. But she could tell he was smiling.
The orchestra began to play. Unable to resist a quick peek, Jess scampered across the lobby and stood in the back of the darkened theatre. When the curtain rose, Olive and the Halliday-actor were seated on the sofa and Adam stood at one of the shelves, wearing a double-breasted dinner jacket and mixing drinks. All three actors were laughing.
Adam spoke the first line of the scene. He sounded so confident and absolutely Wendice-like, it was hard to reconcile with his nervous voice from just a few minutes ago.
Jess overheard two women whispering in the last row. “Is it just me or did the husband get taller and better-looking during the intermission?” She suppressed a snort and went back to her office-bathroom.
True to his word, Adam did fine in Scene One. He and Olive had great stage chemistry, and Jess suspected Olive was a little relieved not to have to carry the pivotal scene all on her own.
It wasn’t until the middle of Scene Two that Adam faltered. Jess was following the lines on the computer and listening to Adam and Olive in her ear.
Olive-Margot mentioned getting dressed for the imminent arrival of the police, and Jess waited for Adam-Wendice’s response.
There was none. Just a long pause.
Jess scrambled and annunciated the correct line as clearly as she could.
Adam repeated the line, and picked up the next one just fine. Jess pulled her black blouse away from her skin and fanned her body. She was sweating from head to toe.
He needed two more saves before the end of the Scene Two and four in Scene Three. She wondered if the pauses were obvious to the audience but she didn’t really care. They just needed to get through it.
Finally, finally, it was intermission again. The curtain went down, the lobby was flooded with cocktail seekers, and Jess shifted her attention to heist time.
“Team Two, can you talk?”
“I have about two minutes before Director Dickhead berates me about my performance,” Adam said dryly.
Jess looked at her watch. “I assume you’re still stuck? How’s the leading man?”
Adam audibly winced. “He’s moved on to dry-heaving. He might be able to stumble out for the curtain call, but that’s about it. Poor guy.” He spoke louder. “Coming.” He sighed. “I’ll be out of commission for the next several minutes. I’ll be getting chewed out, costume-changed and re-made-up.”
Jess hoped that karma would swallow Katrina whole. “Copy that. Listen in to the rest of us if you can. How’s your familiarity with Act III?”
He huffed a laugh with very little actual humor in it. “Speed-reading it now.”
She blew out a long, calm breath and shifted her mental focus to Frank and Tony. “Team One, are you in position?” she asked.
“Ready at the door,” Tony answered.
“Enter the twelve-digit code. Reading it now,” Jess said. “8-3-1-9-5-7-7-4-5-2-1-7.”
“Done,” Frank answered.
“Now the keys,” Jess prompted.
“We’re in,” Tony said. Jess nodded to herself and bit her lip. On to the panic room. Now they’d find out if her photos would trick the iris scanner. She was almost positive the audio recordings of Webb’s voice would work fine. Tony had said it would only take them a minute to get to the panic room from the front door. She waited to hear his voice tell her that he was approaching the scanner.
Instead, she heard something unexpected. Something that would terrify her for years to come.
Drew’s voice. Filled with giddy excitement. “I’m in too. The Chelsea townhome is back in!”
Chapter Fourteen
Complete silence on the line. Or maybe it was just that Jess’s heart was thudding so loudly in her ears that it was drowning out all other noise. Nausea overcame her so suddenly that she was glad she was already in a bathroom.
“Please tell me you’re joking,” she bit out.
“Nope!” Drew sounded so proud of himself that she wanted to punch him in the face. “I took the tube down right when I heard that Team Two was out of commission. I grabbed Jonno’s set of keys. From the station, I followed Adam’s planned route to avoid the CCTV cameras. It took a little longer than I thought since it started snowing, but I made it!”
“This is not a game. Leave right now.” Jess hadn’t heard that tone come out of her mouth since she was fourteen, Drew was ten, and he’d smashed the screen of her very first computer.
“No way,” he said. “I’ve got the photo. I’ve got the recording. I can do this.”
“Uh,” Tony interrupted, clearly not sure how to surf the contentious family dynamic. “We’re at the eye scanner.”
Jess was breathing hard. Too hard. Get it together, she warned herself. If she hyperventilated and passed out, nothing would get better. Besides, Adam was counting on her to help Tony. “Place the photograph in front of your face and stand about six inches in front of the camera,” she reminded him. Tony was approximately the same height as Webb, so using the photo like a mask was a helpful device.
Damn you, Drew. You better be leaving that townhome right now, she thought. But if she knew her little brother, he was starring in his own little movie, prowling around the townhome’s lower level and searching for the panic room.
Ugh, her hands were shaking with fear. This was all her fault. If she hadn’t looped Drew in and involved him, he never would have put himself in such a risky situation.
Sweat ran from her forehead and burned the corners of her eyes. This wouldn’t do. This wouldn’t do AT ALL. She needed her trademark calm. She needed to focus on Tony and Frank; they were waiting on her verbal instructions. “Get the recording ready. Play it about five seconds after you stand in front of the scanner.”
She waited, breath held. Through her ear, she heard the faint sounds of Webb’s recorded voice: “‘Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.’”
A sliding sound, like a door against thick carpet. Frank’s triumphant whisper. “We. Are. In.”
Jess had a half second to take pride in their biometric problem-solving abilities—before she heard an echo: “‘Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.’”
Drew’s exhilarated exhalation: “I’m in too!”
Jess closed her eyes and trembled. There was absolutely nothing she could do from this overheated, claustrophobic, miserable bathroom. Nothing except stay calm and listen.
When she spoke, it sounded like a run-of-the-mill business phone call. “What is the situation on the interior? Team One, go.”
“No safes, thank Christ,” Tony said. “But it’s way bigger than I was expecting. It’s like a sitting room. Shelves. Some exposed artwork. Lots of cabinets with drawers and small boxes.”
“Team Two, go.”
“Same,” Drew said. “Much deeper space than a typical panic room. Biggest one I’ve ever seen. Jewels aren’t just sitting out in the open or anything. Several antique curio cabinets and jewelry boxes.”
“Begin searching,” she ordered. “Alert if you find it or if something seems odd.” She heard the chimes in the lobby. The intermission would be ending soon. Checking her watch, she noticed that it had gone longer than scheduled. Maybe Webb had been hoping Tyler Ryan would recover with additional time.
She wondered if Adam had been listening to this debacle. Wondered if he wanted to throttle Drew as much as she did.
Four full minutes of silence from the searching teams. It felt like a year. Jess bit her lip so hard it bled. If there were no safes, why was it taking so long to search?
The orchestra began to play and the lobby grew quiet. Intermission was over. Through the bud in her ear, the noise grew intense. At any moment the actors would begin speaking.
Shit. New problem. They all couldn’t communicate on the open line anymore. The Wendice character had dozens of lines in Act III, and if Adam was speaking, it would be hard for the rest of them to talk. Not to mention, any blabbering from the team would be a hell of a distraction for Adam onstage.
Wicked Stage Page 11
