by Ally Carter
“Yeah, Nat,” Kat told her. “See you around.”
Hale said they weren’t supposed to use her—that she had no place in what they had to do. And maybe he was right. Maybe it was a coincidence, seeing her in the very place Garrett had stashed the prototype—the bank that Kat and her crew needed to rob. But Kat had learned at a very young age not to believe in coincidences. She watched Nat walk away, gave a little wave when the girl glanced back.
She was still staring after her when a dark shadow fell over Kat’s shoulder, and she felt Hamish and Angus beside her.
“Don’t let her out of your sight,” she told them.
“Yes, ma’am,” they said, and together they started down the sidewalk, dissolving into the crowds.
For the rest of the day, Kat couldn’t stop pacing. She bit her nails and twisted her hair, anything to keep moving, thinking, breathing in and out. Anything to fight the feeling that something was wrong.
“Kat, you’re going to wear a hole in the floor,” Simon told her. “And I really like this lab.”
Silas was still at work on the prototype, but Simon’s office had morphed into a not-exactly-to-scale replica of the bank, and Kat totally didn’t like what she saw. Lasers and cameras and guards, a vault door that would require a nuclear bomb to blast through, and a maze of safety deposit boxes in a deep, dark room, any one of which could have been the box they needed.
“Don’t worry, Kat.” Simon must have read her mind, because he placed a hand awkwardly on her back and patted. “It’ll work out.”
But Kat didn’t feel so sure.
Something felt off about the job or the day or maybe both. She couldn’t quite name it, and the not-knowing was the worst feeling of all.
“How was the scouting trip?” Simon asked.
“Weird,” Kat said.
“Was it the motion detectors? Because I think I have a way around—”
“Natalie.” The word was a whisper, and yet it made Simon stop cold.
“What about her?”
“She was there.”
“Why?” Simon asked.
Kat bit her nails. “That’s what I really want to know. The Bagshaws are tailing her now. There’s just something about that girl I don’t trust. Gab would say I’m acting jealous, but—”
“Are you?” Simon asked.
Kat shrugged. “Maybe. But I still don’t like it. She’s always around and a little too accommodating. She reminds me of…me.”
“Then clearly she can’t be trusted.”
“Exactly!”
“Kat!” Angus’s voice boomed through the lab. “Simon, I’m home.”
“I thought you said they were tailing Natalie?” Simon asked.
“I thought they were.”
A moment later, Angus came pushing through the office door.
“Never to worry, love,” he said before Kat could scold him for abandoning his post. “She’s just popped into Daddy’s office. Hamish is waiting for her outside, but I thought I’d—”
“Simon, call up the feed to Garrett’s office.”
“He’s not doing anything interesting. He never does anything interesting. Except for that one meeting, the office bug hasn’t given us—”
“Just call it up. I want to see what the two of them are talking about.”
Simon didn’t have to be asked again. Soon, a familiar image filled the screen, but something about it was off.
“Where’s Natalie?” Kat asked.
“I dunno,” Angus said. “Maybe she’s already gone.”
Kat reached for a phone and dialed. “Hey, Hamish, what’s Natalie’s location?”
“She’s in the Hale Building,” Hamish’s scratchy voice answered through the speakerphone. “Probably talking to her dad.”
“No.” Kat kept her eyes glued to the screen, at where Nat’s father sat stoically at his desk, talking to no one. “She’s not.”
“Maybe she went to see someone else? It is a big building,” Simon guessed, but another thought had occurred to Kat. She saw the way Garrett sat at his desk—so still. No sudden movements.
“The bug Gabrielle put on his watch at the gala. Is that still active?”
“I don’t know,” Simon said. “Probably.”
“Turn it on. Now.”
As soon as Simon punched the keys, the image on the screen stayed the same, but the voices were new.
“Hello, Father. Nice of you to see me. It’s not so nice to keep me waiting.”
“What do you want, Natalie?”
“We have trouble.”
“I’m busy.”
“Well, I’ve been busy too. Trying to lose the doofus Kat Bishop had following me, for starters.”
“Clearly that girl is talking about Hamish,” Angus said, but Kat didn’t have time for bruised egos. She was too busy studying the picture that absolutely did not match the sound.
“And the highlight of my afternoon was a trip to the bank.” Natalie talked on, but she was still nowhere to be seen. It was almost like the video they were watching had been faked. Staged.
“They looped our feed.” Kat’s voice was full of disbelief. “We’ve been looped.”
It was exactly what Kat would have done—what she had done on a number of occasions—and she felt the sting that comes from knowing that turnabout is absolutely not fair play.
“They must have found the cameras.” Simon looked like someone had just killed his puppy, but Kat closed her eyes, absorbed by every word.
“What are you talking about?” Garrett asked his daughter.
“I just met Bobby Bishop. He’s more handsome than he looks in his mug shot. Charming, too.”
“Natalie, I don’t have time for this,” Garrett said, but there was a slamming sound, like a hand on the desk.
“They’re going to rob the bank.” Natalie enunciated each word so clearly there could be no mistaking what she’d said.
“Don’t be silly. We chose that bank because it has never been robbed,” her father said.
“No. I chose that bank. And I was the one watching it this afternoon. And I am telling you that Scooter and his merry band of thieves are casing the joint. My guess is we have a day or two at the most.”
“That’s ridiculous. They’re kids.”
“News flash, Dad. I’m a kid! Do not underestimate them.” Her voice broke, and Kat thought she could just as easily have been saying Do not underestimate me.
“If you think Scooter and his friends are just kids, Dad, you’re delusional. Besides, the girl’s father isn’t a kid. Neither is her uncle. I’m telling you, we’ve got to move up the meeting with the buyer.”
“We don’t have to do anything,” Garrett shot back.
“Listen to me.”
“No, you listen! You’re not in charge here. I am. I’m the one who’s taking all the risks. I’m the one who changed the old woman’s will. The family would still be huddled around Hazel’s bedside if it weren’t for me, so don’t get high and mighty,” he huffed.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m the one who forged the Do Not Resuscitate order,” he said. “So don’t act all innocent. This was your idea, as you love to point out.”
“Are we recording this?” Kat asked.
“Not that feed,” Simon said, eyes wide, and Kat felt her heart plummet.
“I never said anything about a DNR.” Natalie’s voice cracked. “I never said…I never wanted…Hazel was good to me.”
“Hazel was a Hale. You don’t know them like I do.” Kat could hear him shoving papers around, tidying up for the night. “She was dying, Natalie. I just made sure it happened before she could fire me and ruin everything.”
“You killed her.”
“I did her a favor!”
It was like it wasn’t really happening—like Kat was listening to an old-time radio show about deceit and betrayal, and she sat waiting for the scene to end.
“Don’t worry, Natalie. I’ll leave an anonymous tip with th
e FBI. No one is going to rob that bank this week.” The door opened. “Are you coming?” he asked as if they had never fought at all.
The silence that came next was the longest Kat had ever heard. No one moved. No one breathed. No one did a thing until a voice came from the back of the room, asking, “That was Natalie?”
Kat didn’t know when Hale had come in or how much he’d heard, but the look in his eyes said that it was enough.
“It was Natalie’s idea?” he asked, then swallowed hard. “And Hazel…she didn’t have a DNR?” He nodded slowly, as if taking it all in. “That makes sense. She would have wanted to fight. She would have hung on for as long as she could. Yeah,” he said, sounding resolved. “That makes sense.”
“Hale…” Kat was up and walking toward him.
“You know what, Kat, I don’t really feel like working today.” He was moving, backing away. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Hale!” Kat yelled, but he was already through the lab and out the door.
She ran after him, but by the time she reached the parking lot, there was nothing left but tire tracks and a cloud of dust.
Kat had run away once. And even though she could have gone anywhere—done anything—she had chosen the Colgan School, with its manicured lawns and ivy-covered towers. She had run to Hale’s world. And Hale had run to hers. Perhaps they were destined to meet somewhere, at some time along the way. And maybe they were both destined to someday return to the worlds that had made them.
She would have traded everything she knew for one glimpse at where he might have run to on that night, but it wasn’t possible, so she didn’t try. All she could do was send the rest of her crew out looking, dispersing into the city, trying to chase the boy that, if Kat knew him at all, wouldn’t be caught until he was good and ready.
So Kat walked through the streets of Brooklyn alone, all the way to a familiar stoop and a wooden door, and the smells of the Old Country drifting from the kitchen.
But something else, too. Voices. Deeper, darker, and older than the ones she had grown accustomed to hearing.
“Casper the Friendly Ghost?” somebody said as Kat crept slowly closer.
“Doesn’t get us past the cameras,” Uncle Sal said. “What about the Rumpelstiltskin?”
“No good.” Uncle Felix threw his hands in the air. “My hypnotist moved to Phoenix. Emphysema.”
They all shook their heads and muttered, “Poor Madame Zelda.”
“Have a seat, sweetie.” Uncle Ezra seemed to be the only one who noticed Kat’s presence. He pulled out a chair and gestured for her to take it. “We’re trying to solve your problem. Any word on the kid?”
Kat rested her hands on the table, felt the smooth wood beneath her palms. “Angus and Hamish and Gabrielle are out looking for him. I thought he might come here, so…”
“He’ll be okay, sweetheart.” Ezra patted her hand. “Where’s your pop?”
“Gone,” Kat said.
“Already?” Felix seemed shocked, but then shrugged as if to say that he wasn’t one to judge.
“They’re on to us,” Kat said. She felt embarrassed, ashamed. “We’re made. They’ve known what Hale’s been up to for months. Years, maybe. And now they know we’re casing the bank, so…we can’t hit the bank.”
“We heard already,” Uncle Felix said, with a shake of his head. “Tough break, sweetheart, but don’t worry. We’re on it.”
“They’re going to tip the FBI to watch the bank. We can’t hit the bank.” Kat was repeating herself but she didn’t know how to stop. She couldn’t have run this con if her life depended on it. And in a way, Kat knew, it did.
Uncle Eddie stood by his stove. He said nothing and heard everything, and not for the first time in Kat’s life, she would have given anything to know what he was thinking. But he just ladled soup into a bowl and pulled off a chunk of fresh bread and placed the meal before her.
She felt six years old again, safe and warm, sitting at the grown-ups’ table with the men who had raised her. Family. Kat was among her family, and Hale was out in the cold. When Felix reached to butter her bread, Kat felt her eyes go moist, and she couldn’t take it anymore. She pushed out of her chair and stepped toward the door.
“Hey, kiddo,” Uncle Sal said. “Where ya going?”
Kat had to stop and look at them all. They were older, wiser. Crankier. At some point in the past dozen or so years, the hairlines had become a little thinner and the middles a little thicker. Her whole life, the men at that table had been teaching, guiding, protecting her at every step along the way. They were there to do it again, no matter what the consequences. It was time, Kat felt, to return the favor.
“I’m going to end it.”
No one asked what she was doing. Not a soul told her not to go. It was her job, her con, her call. So the next step, they all knew, was hers.
“Katarina.” Uncle Eddie’s voice stopped her at the door. “I’ll be here when you get back.”
When Kat walked out of the subway station, it was just starting to rain. The cold wind stung her skin. Fat drops clung to her lashes, water running down her cheeks with every blink until she had no idea whether or not she might be crying. She walked on, instinct and intuition guiding her steps until she found the building and went inside, as if there were never any doubt that she belonged.
The lock was easy enough to handle. The security code she already knew. So the hard part, as always, was the waiting. She sat silently in the dark, the Manhattan shadows looming all around her. And when the door began to open, she wasn’t even a little bit afraid. After all, she was perfectly accustomed to being inside a man’s world and in way over her head.
Kat flipped on the light and watched the man throw his hands up to shield his eyes as she said, “Did I scare you? Oh, I hope I didn’t scare you.…”
Garrett didn’t say anything, but the rise and fall of his chest was more than answer enough.
“Mr. Garrett!” A burly man appeared in the doorway behind him, and in a flash was moving in Kat’s direction. “Hands up,” he told her.
“Easy, big guy,” Kat said. “Mr. Garrett and I are old friends, isn’t that right?”
“Do you know her?” the goon asked, and Kat watched Garrett consider the question. Did he know her? Did anyone, really?
Then he waved the goon away and said, “She’s okay. I think. But you might want to…check her or something.”
“Hands up,” the goon told her again.
“Really, you’re going to need to buy me dinner first,” Kat said, but she went ahead and raised her hands and let the goon pat her down.
“She’s clean,” the man told his boss, then stepped back and stood at attention.
Garrett nodded, comfortable with the power that comes from hired muscle and an underage target. Kat knew just how powerless she was supposed to be in that moment. She felt it in every one of her underaged, undersized bones. But she couldn’t bring herself to tremble. She knew too well what she had to do.
“You hired a bodyguard, Mr. Garrett.” She threw her hands to her chest and sounded especially girlie when she told him, “All for little ol’ me. I’m flattered.”
“Come, Kat. Surely you know that a man in my position requires some additional…insurance,” he said, then studied her. “Why are you smiling?”
“No reason.” Kat shrugged. “Your type of bad never really understands how to protect yourself against my type of bad. That’s all.”
“You are a talented girl,” he said.
“You’re not the first man to tell me that.” She looked the attorney up and down. “The other guy was scarier. But at least he didn’t pretend he wasn’t a killer.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, I think you do. You didn’t pull a trigger, but Hazel is dead because of you, and I know it. And I’m not the only one.”
“So…” Garrett walked into the small kitchen, opened a bottle, and poured himself a drink. “You’re here
to…what? Warn me? Make a deal? Ask for a cut?”
“No, thank you.”
“I have no problem with you or your family, Miss Bishop. This was never about your family.”
“Hale is my family.”
Garrett gave a sickly sweet smile and put the cap back on the bottle. “That’s nice. But as I was saying, it’s not about you. Your father and your uncle and…whoever those other people are…they aren’t a part of this. I have nothing against you and yours. The good people at Interpol, however—I can’t speak for them.”
He took an intimidating step closer to Kat, looming over her as he said, “But if you continue to stand between me and my affairs, I will make a phone call, and you won’t like the results.”
He shifted, waiting for the threat to land, and when it didn’t, he narrowed his eyes and snapped, “What?”
“You’re missing the point,” Kat told him. “You know who I am. Good job, by the way. But I also know who you are. And I know what you did.”
“Are you going to say that makes us even?”
Kat glared. “Not even close.”
She couldn’t stand the sight of him, so she turned to the windows. “As we speak, copies of Hazel Hale’s DNR are circulating to the best handwriting experts in the world—one of whom happens to be my uncle Charlie. That part is already in motion—there’s nothing you can do about it now.” She looked back at him, leveled him with her stare. “There are just two options for what happens next.”
“And they are…” he asked, humoring her.
“Maybe those reports make their way to any number of people who can make your life difficult.”
“I will soon be a very wealthy man. I don’t care about difficult.”
“You will if it means you can’t sell the prototype. You see, Mr. Garrett, I can call the authorities, too.”
“You have no proof.”
“Oh, Garrett”—Kat made a tsk tsk tsk sound—“I can make proof. Or I can steal it. In any case, you don’t want me as an enemy.”
“And the second option?”
“You give me ten million dollars and this all goes away.”
He couldn’t stop himself from chuckling. “Ten million? That’s all? That won’t support your boyfriend’s lifestyle for a year.”
