A Brilliant Deception (10 page)

W
e both looked up the broad staircase.
Up there now.

This, right here, was one of the main reasons I hated non-anonymous inns. This would never happen in a big hotel. Mrs. Weatherby stood beside the desk, expectantly, idly dusting a lamp shade. I turned to her. “Mrs. Weatherby, do you think you could do us a favor? I haven’t been able to get my mind off those delicious currant scones you served earlier, at breakfast. I wonder if there’s any chance you have more? I’d love some with a nice cup of tea.”

“Why, certainly!” She beamed at the compliment and bustled off to the kitchen.

Which left us free to strategize unobserved.

“Do you think it’s Hendrickx?” Ethan asked.

“Who else knows I’m here?”

“If he’s hunted you down, and he’s up there, you’re going to have to confront him. You can’t just run.”

“What if he’s here to arrest me?”

“Arrest you for what? You haven’t done anything,” he said. “Yet.”

I chewed a fingernail. “And what if it isn’t Hendrickx? What if it’s somebody robbing us?” We had a lot of valuable gear up there. We were strangers in this tiny village, and many people knew it. Our arrival must have been noted.

I knew that newcomers were often the best marks. Out-of-towners who didn’t understand local rhythms or customs. And, apparently, it was acceptable local custom to let any old person who said they knew you go walking up to your room and paw through your suitcase.

Although, from what Mrs. Weatherby had said, it sounded like this was someone who did know me. He’d used my real name. My stomach tightened.

“I’ll go up another way,” Ethan said. “Give me a five-minute head start.”

Ethan slipped away outside. I knew by “another way” he meant scaling the building on the outside. I waited five, then crept up the staircase, muscles coiled. I was ready to attack, or bolt, or whatever.

I unlocked the door to my suite and walked in. The room was empty. Where was the mystery man? I spotted Ethan just outside the open window.

The en suite door opened and a man walked out, whistling and rubbing his hands on a towel, looking perfectly at home. He looked up and saw me.

My face must have registered shock, because in that instant, Ethan burst through the window and attacked the other man.

I yelled “No!” but it was too late. It was all a blur, and at the end of it, Ethan had the man pinned to the ground, ready to start the interrogation.

I leapt over and grabbed Ethan by the shoulder. “Ethan, let him go! It’s okay, I know him.”

“What?” demanded Ethan. “You do?”

From the ground, trapped on his back, Felix Tucker stared up at us with terrified eyes.

Ethan released him immediately and stood back.

“His name is Felix and I’ve been training him at AB&T.” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “He’s one of us.”

Felix sat up. “Well, that was a nice welcome. Is this how they do it in Yorkshire?”

Ethan shrugged. “You break into the room of a pro, this is what you’re going to get.”

“I didn’t break in,” Felix said, scowling. “I was let in. By a very nice lady who offered me tea. And currant scones.”

Right on cue, I heard Mrs. Weatherby’s voice outside the bedroom door. “Helloo? Is everything all right? I heard some rather loud thumps.”

I opened the door to see her holding the tray of currant scones and craning her neck to see inside the room. I silently cursed. Now we would need to come up with a suitable alias for Felix.

“Oh, hello, Mrs. Weatherby. Yes, everything is fine. I believe you met Felix, our cousin?”

Her eyes twinkled. “Oh, I had no idea you were cousins! You should have said . . .”

“Yes, well, it’s been a long time, and we’ve got a lot of catching up to do. Thank you very kindly for the scones, Mrs. Weatherby.”

After she left, we locked and latched the door, and I turned on Felix with my hands on my hips. “You have to go home, Felix. You realize that, right?” I glared at him. “What on earth are you doing here, anyway?”

“I came to help with this job.”

“What? I don’t need any help. I’ve got Ethan, and we’re doing fine. Wait—did Templeton send you?”

“Not exactly. I mean, he mentioned it. Thought it might be a good learning experience . . .”

I scowled. Templeton was worried Ethan and I wouldn’t be able to get along professionally. Did he think Felix would act as a buffer?

“Maybe I could tag along?” Felix suggested. “You could show me the ropes?”

“Totally out of the question. Felix, I’m sorry you came all this way, but I really need you to go home now,” I said.

“Come on, can’t you use me? You know I’ve got skills. Maybe you need to get in someplace really fast?”

“What’s he talking about?” Ethan asked.

I crossed my arms and glared. “Lock picking. He’s . . . approximately the best lock picker I’ve ever seen,” I said. “Like lightning.”

Ethan looked at him again, this time appraisingly. “You don’t say.”

“Stop, Ethan. Don’t even think it.”

Ethan pulled me to the side and lowered his voice. Felix was making quick work of the currant scones. “Montgomery, you know we could use another pair of hands. And if he’s as fast as you say—”

“He’s a trainee! He’s not fully ready.” Although my arguments were emerging less forcefully now, because of what I’d noticed. Ethan had just called me Montgomery. Like usual. A warm little spark ignited in my chest.

We debated a little longer, but I eventually gave in. I didn’t have the strength to argue with them both. And besides, I could see the positive side of having an extra assistant.

“Fine. You can stay,” I said to Felix at last. “But your role is going to be limited. And you have to do exactly as we say.”

E
than sat back in a plush armchair in Cat’s suite and popped a piping hot sausage roll in his mouth. It was a dramatic change from the field camp in Kenya with Global Life. The room was warm and comfortable, if a bit flowery, and smelled of the delicious tray of food Mrs. Weatherby had brought up—the sausage rolls, plus pork pie, Yorkshire pudding, and lamb stew. They had requested supper in their rooms, explaining they had much to catch up on.

In truth, they were plotting the finer details of the heist.

Felix was bent over a deep bowl of lamb stew, while Cat spread out all their materials on the coffee table. “So, Montgomery, what’s the plan?” Ethan asked. “How are we going to pull this off?”

In spite of everything, Ethan was starting to enjoy himself. The entire journey here he’d psyched himself to play it cool, hold back. But once he’d seen Cat again, once they’d started spending time in such close proximity . . . well, it wasn’t going to be quite so easy.

But the sting of Paris was still fresh. He turned his attention to the blueprints and paged through a stack of security detail.

“Masquerading as academics—with lab coats and ID badges and everything—will help us gain entry,” Cat said. “But I’m not sure it’s going to be enough. I think we need to create entire academic identities.”

“How?”

She leaned back in her armchair, thinking, and stretched her legs out. Her leg brushed against Ethan’s. His pulse kicked. Cat quickly sat up again and crossed her legs, avoiding eye contact with Ethan. “We could be visiting professors from another university. Which means we’d need to plant an introductory e-mail.” She tapped a pencil against her lips, thinking. “And maybe we could get Gladys to upload our photos and academic bios on some university site or something . . . in case someone decides to get smart and check up on our credentials.”

“Montgomery, you really do have a devilish little mind inside that head, don’t you?” He sat back and gazed at her with admiration. “And I mean that as a compliment.”

A grin tugged at the corner of her mouth.

He was about to say something even more charming about her angelic looks . . . but stopped himself in time.
Shit
. Was it impossible for him to not flirt? Keep things professional, Jones.

It was helpful having Felix there, Ethan decided. Felix could be the third wheel, the cushion between them. Ethan stood and moved away from Cat, around to the other corner of the table, keeping Felix in the middle.

They turned their attention to plotting out contingency exits, should the job go sour. Every good thief needed backup exit plans.

“This spot here. This looks the most vulnerable. We could get out there,” Cat said, putting her fingertip on the blueprint. Ethan nodded. She was right. As usual, her instincts were dead-on.

Was it wrong of him to be turned on by a thief being really good at her job? He nodded again. “But what about here?” he said. “There’s a weak spot right here—the CCTV can’t properly cover that zone, there are blind spots.”

Cat paused, looking at the area he was indicating. “You’re right. We have to take that into consideration.” She smiled at Ethan. The room brightened significantly.

The next task was poring over academic texts, briefing themselves on the basic lexicon of archaeology, should they be cornered into a conversation.

Ethan exhaled loudly. This was going to be the trickiest part of the plan.

An hour later, after all the food was gone, Cat flopped back with a sigh. “Shit, how the hell am I going to memorize all this stuff before we go in? There’s a reason I study French lit at school, not science or archaeology. How does carbon dating even work? Am I going to need to know that?”

Cat leaned across Ethan to reach for a file on the other side of the coffee table. Her hair left a clean, springtime smell in the air when she leaned back in her chair. Ethan felt momentarily intoxicated by the familiarity of the scent, and from Cat being close enough to . . .

No. Do not get drawn in
, he scolded himself.

Felix looked at the empty food tray with dismay and cleared his throat. “Anyone hungry? I think I’m going to go down to Mrs. Weatherby’s kitchen and see what I can find.”

“Good idea,” Cat said.

After Felix headed downstairs, Cat and Ethan stood at the breakfast bar, where they had spread the blueprint out to get a complete look at all the factors. Cat moved around to Ethan’s side of the bar, and her side touched his. It instantly kindled a memory of being physically connected to her entire body, with decidedly less clothing than they had on now.

Stop it.
He tried to scrub that memory from his brain. And failed.

“Are you okay, Ethan?”

He clicked back to reality. She was looking at him with mild concern. “You seem a million miles away,” she said.

“No, I’m here. I’m definitely right here.”

She must have sensed the electric spark between them, too, or maybe it was the heat coming off his body, because she suddenly began fidgeting with her sleeve. An awkward silence followed. She looked up into his eyes.

Then, Felix returned through the door. “Okay, I’ve got biscuits and cheese, and some kind of pickle thing. The English really do like their pickles, don’t they?” he said, strolling into the room.

He placed the platter on the table, and then looked first at Cat, then at Ethan.

“What? What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

Ethan knew they looked guilty, like a pair of amorous teens being walked in on by a parent. Except they weren’t doing anything half as interesting. But then Ethan was flooded with another visual.

Get it together, man.
Professional.
Keep it professional.

This was clearly a mistake, flying here for this job. He tried to remember the reason he was here: to help Global Life. They needed him. He had to keep that in mind.

There was a sound outside in the hallway, like some kind of motor starting. Both Cat and Ethan’s heads snapped up. “What’s that?”

Felix looked back toward the door that he hadn’t entirely shut, as his arms were laden with food. “Oh, that’s just the housekeeping doing the vacuuming. I passed her on the way up, although I hardly noticed her at first. Almost tripped over her, actually. You know how cleaning staff manage to make themselves virtually invisible . . .
what?
”

Ethan exchanged a glance with Cat.

It was a great disguise. Scientists would need to do science-y things, and would get too much attention. But custodial staff... well, the people who were sweeping the floors were typically overlooked.

They would need to figure out a few logistics, like obtaining uniforms, and a truck. And preventing the regular staff from turning up at the same time. But all that would be the work of a single day. They had a plan.

And tomorrow night, they’d do the job.

I
walked into the Harrow Hall pub where Ethan and Felix each sat in front of a frosty pint, and tried to plaster a smile on my face. We had spent the better part of the day gathering supplies and taking care of bits and pieces for the job. Then, after they had gone down to the pub, I had made a quick call to my mother.

The conversation had left me with a tangled coil in my stomach.

“We’re ready to go,” Ethan said as I slid into the booth. “Tonight’s the night.” He paused, taking in my fake smile and body language. “You feeling good, Montgomery?”

“I don’t know.” I fidgeted with my hands under the table. “There’s something that doesn’t feel right about tonight. Is it supposed to rain? Not good for climbing buildings—that’s one of our getaway contingencies.”

Ethan craned his neck to look out the window. The sky was perfectly clear with no clouds in sight. “It looks pretty good to me,” he said.

“Yes, but this is England. That can change,” I said.

“That will be true no matter what night we choose. We’re going to have to do it independent of the weather.”

I shook my head. “It’s no good. Not tonight. I need a little more time to feel ready.”

I could still hear my mother’s voice in my ear. She was doing better. Physically, anyway, I knew she was making a good recovery. Emotionally, I wasn’t so sure. She sounded different. She didn’t utter one single reminder or “helpful” suggestion—to bring an umbrella, or a jacket, or a clean pair of underwear. Nothing.

When she asked me where I was, I lied. I said I was studying, doing field research overseas for my degree. I hadn’t even told her I’d been kicked out of the program yet.

She liked the idea I was doing academic work, I could tell. Her voice brightened. “That’s good, Cat. That makes me happy. That’s your future, sweetie. But you know that, I’m sure.”

Guilt twisted inside me.

“Montgomery, we need to do it tonight,” Ethan said, pulling my focus back to the pub. He looked at me closely. “Is there a problem?”

I pressed my lips together. “Give me an hour. I need . . . a little time. To get my head straight.”

He lowered his voice and turned his back to Felix. “What’s going on?” he asked. His eyes had softened with concern. His all-business approach was crumbling. “Is there something I can do to help you?”

“I think I need some air. I’ll be okay.” I stood and pulled my coat around me.

He placed a hand on my arm. “Do you want company?”

I shook my head. “Thanks, Ethan. I just need to clear my head.”

Ethan nodded. “Don’t take too long. Not to pressure you, Montgomery, but every minute matters.”

I stepped out and walked briskly into the countryside, scanning the horizon. Surely there had to be some moors around here somewhere. There was a long tradition of people walking for miles in this region to think deep thoughts—sundry Brontë sisters, for example. Between the woods and the hills there had to be enough legend and magic and atmosphere to get me in the right mood, surely.

But after an hour of freshening breezes and heather-scented fields, I felt no better.

There was no good answer. If I backed away from the job, I’d be shirking my commitments. If I went ahead with it . . . would I be able to live with myself?

What was going on—was this just last-minute jitters? Or were my instincts telling me something? I ran a hand through my hair and tried to make peace between my head and my heart, but it was impossible. And now I was out of time. I turned my feet back in the direction of Harrow Hall.

“Okay, I’m ready,” I said. It was partially true, anyway.

Ethan looked at me carefully and nodded. “Let’s get moving.”

Back in our rooms we gathered our gear. “You’re sure you’ll be able to open those locks?” I asked Felix, watching him tuck his lock picks into his pack. I hoped it wasn’t a mistake, bringing a trainee along.

“Positive,” he said. “But I think the question you should be asking is: are
you
going to be able to focus on your job with him around?” Felix asked, jerking his head in Ethan’s direction.

I glanced at Ethan, who was busy checking our equipment and oblivious to Felix’s words. “What do you mean?”

He rolled his eyes. “Come on, Cat. There’s obviously stuff going on between you two. The tension is so thick I could cut it into big old slices and serve it with ice cream.”

“Let’s stick to the job, okay?”

 

An hour later, everything was going according to plan. Felix’s voice came over our earpieces, “Okay, I’m in hallway B. I just picked the locks for the entry doors. They’re open.”

Excellent. Our way was clear. If anyone glanced at the CCTV they would merely see two custodians making their way through the corridors.

Felix would be making his way to the control room next. He’d lock pick his way in there, and turn off the internal security systems.

In hallway B, Ethan shot the security camera with a small pellet gun, tucked under his arm. A direct hit popped the glass on the lens. Perfect. He moved carefully, staying in the blind spots of the remaining cameras, and repeated his shooting twice more.

Then Ethan stood guard, pretending to mop a floor, while I disabled the intruder alarm, quickly and efficiently. We opened the door to enter the secure zone. The ring was located on the third floor, in a safe within a climate-controlled vault, behind bulletproof-tempered glass.

We slipped along the corridor, then walked into the central office where the safe was located. Unexpectedly, the sliding glass doors to the inner stronghold were wide open.

The hairs on my arms lifted. But after a quick survey nothing else appeared amiss, and we had no time to hesitate. I had to get going and crack this safe.

Ethan watched my back, guarding the room, as I moved to the safe. I managed to block all my other warring emotions and cracked the safe quickly, and smoothly. I let the door swing open, and . . .

Ethan and I stared at the open safe in disbelief. “It’s gone,” I said into my earpiece to Felix, staring at the barren space. “No ring. No nothing.”

“What?” came Felix’s incredulous voice from his station in the control room.

I turned, and looked again at the open glass doors. I then saw what I had missed the first time: a tiny metal card, wedging the doors open.

“Somebody broke in here right before us,” I said.

Ethan’s head turned sharply to where I was looking. “When?”

And then, over the earpiece, I heard Felix urgently whisper, “Holy shit, they’re still here! On the CCTV—two men. Heading to the atrium.”

“Okay, stand down, Felix. Do
not
go there. Leave it to us.” I was quickly trying to figure out what the hell to do next.

“Too late—I’m going,” Felix said. “I’m close. I can get there. A security guard and one of the scientists are just ahead of me.”

“Shit,” Ethan said.

“Felix, stop,” I said. “Go to the exit, like we planned.” Ethan and I moved quickly but silently through the lab. We had to get out of there. My heart pounded with a shot of adrenaline.

And then, a gunshot. And another.

The sounds ripped through me. Ethan and I immediately, wordlessly, changed direction and raced to the atrium.

“Felix, are you there? Are you okay?” I hissed. There was no response.

In the atrium, one scientist was dead on the ground, blood pooling under him. The security guard was three feet away, also shot, unseeing eyes staring at the ceiling.

But there was no sign of Felix. Where was he? My head spun. We raced to the empty control room, down the hall from the atrium. “Look!” Ethan shouted. “I see them.”

On the CCTV screens, two figures were hustling Felix at gunpoint into a van. One of the men I didn’t recognize. The other, I most definitely did.

Sean Reilly. Rival thief, cold-blooded murderer, all around son of a bitch.