A Beautiful Heist (30 page)

“Brooke, can you help me carry Ethan? We’re going to have to run.” She sized him up and nodded. She was able to put a little weight on her leg, enough to get us out of here. “Okay. Follow me,” I said.

Brooke grunted as we lifted Ethan into a two-person carry. We hobbled down a spiral staircase and then stumbled through corridors as fast as we could, heading south. We bolted through darkened libraries and dressing rooms, pushing on. Intruder alarms rang and clanged and wailed as we raced through but we ignored it all. The city lights filtered in through endless rows of windows, flashing like strobe lights as we raced past. I was operating on pure adrenaline now, in that space between exhaustion and nervous breakdown.

Along the way, Ethan slowly regained consciousness. We carried him a little further as he struggled to come to. At this point, however, Brooke was limping badly. Her leg wound had started bleeding again. We put Ethan down and the three of us toiled onward.

At last we reached a vast room at the very end of the south wing: an office of some sort, with a single desk, two club chairs, and massive oil paintings on the walls. Tall windows overlooked the foggy Thames. On this far corner of Westminster there was no terrace below. It was just a straight drop, seven stories down, into the river.

“We’re going out that way,” I said, clawing for breath.

“
What
way?” Brooke said.

I pointed to the river. “There.”

Ethan nodded, and immediately began looking around for places to attach the rappel anchors.

I shook my head vigorously. “No time for rapelling,” I said. They stared at me with bewilderment. “We just have to go.”

“Do you mean . . . jump?” Brooke said.

“Yes.”

She stared down at the Thames far below. The fog was thinner now. We could make out what was below: dark, choppy, charcoal water.

Ethan raked his hand through his hair and exhaled. He knew as well as I did this was our only viable option. He glanced down at Brooke’s leg; she was unable to put any weight on it at this point. Ethan, on the other hand, was beginning to rally. He was unable to use his left arm but was otherwise functional. “Okay. I’ll take Brooke,” he said. “We’ll meet at Blackfriars Bridge. But not right away. We’ll separate, then rendezvous in two hours. I know where to go, to get these injuries seen to.”

We worked quickly to wrench the window open. Then, without belaboring the task, Ethan went over the window ledge foot first, carrying Brooke down with him. They dropped down, Ethan silently slicing through the night sky like Batman. It was a long drop down. I watched the icy water splash as they submerged. I held my breath. After several seconds two heads bobbed to the surface. I closed my eyes and exhaled.
They made it.

But now it was my turn. My head swam and my stomach flip-flopped.

And then, there was a great clattering of boot steps and the door smashed open and a swarm of armed men burst into the room. Whether they were security guards or Sandor’s people I didn’t know, but it didn’t matter at this point. I spun and saw firearms pointed directly at me. “Stop right there!”

My trepidation about jumping vanished and I lunged for the window, leaping into the open night air. I was sailing, flying, then falling....

The pavement over Blackfriars Bridge glistened beneath street lanterns, slick with moisture. The mist was clearing now. I stood at the old carved railing and stared at lantern reflections in the slow-moving water of the Thames. Everything felt black and white and silver, like some kind of 1930s noir film.

“Are you going to be okay?” Ethan asked me.

I nodded soberly. “Actually, yeah. For the first time, I really think I am.”

I had hidden for a long time—huddled along the bank of the Thames—after jumping from Westminster. When it was safe I’d clambered out and gone to Charing Cross train station, where I had stashed a change of clothes.

My muscles were starting the slow burn that came from a long night of strenuous activity. Brooke was quiet, standing beside me on the bridge.

I looked at her. “You okay?”

“Never better.” She winced a little as she readjusted herself on her crutches. After climbing out of the river, Ethan had taken Brooke to the back door of a very exclusive, very private clinic. It had been a place he’d used on a job in London years ago. An exceptionally capable—and discreet—physician treated both of their gunshot wounds, and confirmed that Ethan’s head injury was not as serious as it seemed.

“You know, Ethan, someday you’re going to have to tell me how you got those combat skills of yours,” I said teasingly.

“Someday, Montgomery,” he said, shrugging. He grinned. “So anyway, what are you going to do now?”

I thought about this for a moment, gazing at the trees lining the south bank. Hundreds of tiny blue lights illuminated their branches. “Probably stay low for a little while. Then head back to Seattle.”

“To continue working for the Agency?”

I nodded. “With a little luck, everything will be fine with AB&T” It seemed to be the only thing that hadn’t become totally screwed up, against the odds. I would slip back into my life in Seattle.

I saw a flicker of approval in his eyes. “That’s my girl,” he said. Had he wondered if I would give it all up? That was the last thing I would consider now.

A warm glow of calm suffused my being. Because I knew who I was now. And, more importantly, I knew
why
I was this way. I had always thought my drive to be a thief came from trying to correct the wrong I’d done Penny, long ago. But that was not what it was.

In that moment when I thought I’d atoned for Penny, in the Westminster vault, I realized I didn’t want to give up my life as a thief.
This
was who I was. And that’s because—right or wrong—being a thief was my own way of being special, of living a life less ordinary. And it was the one thing I could do in the world at which I could be ... the best. So how could I walk away from that?

No. This was what I was meant to do.

A small shadowy doubt tiptoed into the edge of my brain. But—did that mean I’d
always
be driven to be a thief? Until it killed me?

I pushed that shadow down. That was something I’d have to deal with at another time.

I glanced at Ethan again, taking in his injuries, his battered self. His wounds were my fault. But they were sustained because he came here to help me. No personal gain involved. “You know,” I said to him, “you’re not as much of a villain as you make yourself out to be.” He looked surprised, then grunted noncommittally. “There’s a hero inside you, Ethan Jones. You just have to let him out.”

He looked at me earnestly for a moment. Then his face took on a wicked expression and he moved closer. “Maybe if I had a good influence in my life—someone who was always rushing around trying to do the right thing—that person might rub off on me. Hmm?”

My stomach fluttered and my pulse sped up. “Well, I don’t know . . . but it might be worth a try....”

I bit my lip as Ethan moved even closer.

Brooke cleared her throat. “Um. Do you two mind continuing this conversation elsewhere? The police have combed the water once already, but they’re probably going to return. Also, being a third wheel is not familiar territory for me and I am quite disinterested in trying it out—”

Ethan and I stepped apart and laughed, awkwardly, at that. But she was right. We did need to make ourselves disappear again. I pulled my coat tightly around myself and turned.

And then, everything changed.

Three figures appeared in silhouette walking along the bridge, toward us. Three men in trench coats, striding purposefully. Panic seized my brain and I looked for a clear path of escape. In that moment, though, I recognized Templeton’s face among the men.

He was flanked by two other men: the Chairman of AB&T and a thin, wiry man I didn’t recognize.

The floor dropped out beneath me. And just like that, my one constant was gone. I stood, staring, saying nothing. What could I say? They were obviously there because they knew what I had attempted to do.

Templeton looked at us grimly. “Catherine,” he said, nodding at me. “Jones. Brooke,” he said, addressing them in turn. He carried a black umbrella. His eyebrows were low and his mouth was a hard line.

“Templeton ... I can explain—”

“Cat,” he said, interrupting my stammering. “Stop. It’s over.”

I closed my eyes.
How did they find out?
My gaze was drawn slowly, inexorably, to Brooke.

She stared back. “Don’t look at me, Cat,” she said flatly. “It wasn’t me.”

Templeton nodded. “This time, it wasn’t.”

“But then—”

“Catherine Montgomery,” the Chairman interrupted, addressing me directly in the manner of a sentence hearing. He was a short, round man with a fleshy face. “You directly disobeyed an order from AB&T. You disregarded our rules. You have compromised our entire corporation.”

I nodded, slowly. My chest constricted. This couldn’t be happening. I was about to hear my dishonorable dismissal. No more glorious climb to success, no Elite status, no international assignments. This was the end of my career with AB&T. Quite possibly the end of my career as a jewel thief.

No. Just at the moment I finally understood that being a thief was my one true thing. I tasted bitter irony on my tongue.

I stared into the river, at the bridge lights reflecting in the water. A double-decker bus lumbered over the bridge, swishing along the wet pavement. I waited for the guillotine.

And then I heard the Chairman say, “
However
. . .” I raised my eyes. “There’s something you need to know.”

I glanced at Templeton. Under the surface of his grim expression I saw a flicker of something else. His eyes darted to the Chairman and then back at me. Like he was eager to see my reaction to what was going to come next.
What was it?
My pulse rocketed.

“It’s something not many of us, within the Agency, are aware of. Only a small faction. Even Templeton didn’t know about it until tonight.”

I couldn’t speak. What was he going to say? The Chairman looked at the wiry man I didn’t recognize. “Wesley, why don’t you take it from here?”

The man called Wesley spoke. “Cat, you’re aware that AB&T has a very long history. Yes?” He smiled, and I noticed he had an awful lot of teeth. But there was something trustworthy about his demeanor.

“Yes.”

“In fact it stretches many centuries back. And when we formed, our charter included a very specific quest.” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know the legends mention two groups descended from the original thieves, right? One wanted to regain the Gifts for malevolent purposes—”

“The Caliga Rapio.”

“Right,” he said, nodding. “Well, Cat, the other group—that’s us.”

I blinked. And then it clicked.
Of course.

“So all along,” I said, thinking it through, “when I thought I was working behind your backs, I was actually working for you? The Agency is the other side?”

“Well, truthfully, we’re just a part of it. A hundred generations later, it’s a very big network. We do know that the tradition has given rise to some of the great thieves of history.”

I had a mental image of all the legendary thieves throughout time. Robin Hood, Bonnie and Clyde . . . was I, too, part of that pedigree?

I looked at Wesley. “So that’s the whole reason AB&T exists—to find the Gifts?”

He nodded. “We perfected the art of thievery, waiting for our chance. Over the years we expanded beyond that original goal, but we never fully lost sight of it. We’ve always had a team assigned to it.”

“Okay,” I said slowly, thinking. “So where’s that team now?”

The Chairman smiled. “Well, that’s why Wesley is here. Wesley Smith has been handling that side of things.”

“Our team, it seems, was one step behind you,” Wesley said. “We were duped, fed bad information, and led away to the other side of the city. Nicole Johnson’s handiwork, as a matter of fact. We didn’t know the true location was Westminster, until a core member of our team in Seattle figured it out and notified us right away, through Templeton. I believe you know him:
Jack Barlow.
”

My mouth dropped open. “You can’t be serious.”

And suddenly, it all made sense. Jack, so secretive. At the masquerade ball. His warnings. And in the restaurant, he had known the Aurora Egg had been stolen. He’d wanted to know if I’d had anything to do with it.

“Are you telling me Jack has been working for AB&T all this time?” I asked. How could this be?

“No, not exactly,” Wesley said. “He’s more of a ... consultant. We’ve approached him many times to come and work for us, but he’s always refused. But his father was a part of the team seeking the Gifts. Jack Barlow always respected that. Otherwise, he’s been trying as hard as he can to stay clear of our way of life.”

“Goodness knows
why,
” Templeton quipped, grinning.

“So ...” I could hardly even ask. “Is Jack here?” My stomach was cartwheeling.

“No. He couldn’t make it in time.”

I nodded, but I couldn’t help feeling a pinch of disappointment.

“And what about Nicole?” I asked, trying to stay focused on the other issues at hand. “You mentioned her. Did she get away?”

Wesley’s face stiffened and his lip curled with distaste. “Unfortunately, she did get away. Nicole was Caliga, had been all along. She’d been under deep cover within the FBI for a few years. You can be sure the FBI will be hunting her down now, though.”

It wasn’t a lot of comfort. I didn’t like the idea of her out there, at large.

The dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral loomed, floodlit, beyond the bridge. The Chairman smiled at me. “The good news, here, Cat, is that we’re not going to be firing you. How could we fire the one person who helped us achieve our two-thousand-year-old goal?”

And here, I cringed. “But, I didn’t, actually.” With a wave of nausea I envisioned the Fabergé plummeting, disappearing into the fog. I could barely bring myself to tell them. “It’s gone. It’s destroyed.” I described how I let it fall from the height of Big Ben.

The three men exchanged a peculiar look. “In fact,” said Templeton, “it’s not quite so simple. Because nothing has yet been found. Despite having a team do an exhaustive search of the area.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

Brooke laughed. “What, it just disappeared into the mist?”

“Well,” Wesley said, “we’re not sure. But, it’s something like that. We’ll find it. Eventually. This has . . . happened before.”

This was too much to think about just now. They seemed fully prepared, however, to handle whatever came next. I was fully prepared to let them.

I turned and looked over the water, half listening as the others discussed an exit strategy and a plan to return home. At that moment a riverboat glided out from under the bridge, on the far side of the river. A figure in a hooded slicker stood on the back of the boat, gazing in our direction. I narrowed my eyes. There was something familiar about the man’s face....

Wait a second. Was that
Professor Atworthy?
My French lit professor at UW?

I squinted to get a better look in the gloomy darkness. Another boat passed by, obscuring my view for a moment. By the time I could see him again, the man had turned away and his hood was up. I couldn’t make out his face anymore. I frowned and shook my head—was I seeing things now? Why on earth would Atworthy be here? No. I must have been imagining it.

I glanced back at the group, wondering if anyone else had noticed the riverboat, when a big black London cab pulled up beside us. The passenger door opened and out stepped Jack Barlow.

The instant his foot touched the wet pavement his gaze went immediately to me, face full of concern. My heart gave a lurch of excitement.
He’s come for me....

Which was ridiculous. Of course, he was just here to help AB&T. “You’re too late, Jack,” I said, all business. “Your team has already told me everything.”

My eyes slid to Ethan. He had stepped back and was watching Jack carefully. His jaw was clenched and his mouth was set in a grim line.

Jack nodded. “I know.” He walked directly to me, barely casting a glance at anyone else. His eyes raked me over, presumably looking for injuries. He looked relieved when he found none. “I came here because I needed to find someone.”

And then, as if it were on the the Cyclone at Coney Island, my heart surged again. Just briefly. But I quickly scolded myself. He’d come to London for Nicole, of course.
Stupid,
Cat. He must have been worried sick once he learned her life was in danger. Nicole, I now know, was only with Jack to monitor Caliga enemies. But Jack had no such calculating motives.

And just like that, my heart was breaking all over again. I wanted to scream. But what I said was: “I don’t know how to tell you this, Jack, but Nicole is not who you think she is—”

“I know,” he interrupted. “I didn’t come here for Nicole.” I stared at him, like an idiotic deer in headlights.