A Heist Story

by Ellen Simpson

  When Nev let her into his apartment, Wei shivered and glanced around. “Where’s your router?”

  “Over by the window.” Nev answered. His hands were in his pockets, rummaging for something. “Shite. Forgot I’m out of cigarettes.”

  Wei stuck her hand in her pocket. “I’ve got—”

  “Something bloody awful and continental, or worse, American, I’m sure. I’ll go and get some of my own, thanks.” He paused. “There’s no password on the computer, so feel free to boot it up. Network pass is on the router.” He bent to tie his shoe.

  “Did you ever wonder if maybe that’s how Kat got it?”

  Nev looked sheepish. “Would, but I don’t think she’s ever been up here.”

  A short huff of laughter escaped Wei’s lips. She walked to the window. It was a wide bay that she’d always been envious of. The windows in Kat’s flat were tall, but they weren’t the wide, narrow-paned things that lead to slanting light in the midafternoons. They gave Kat fits, making it hard for her to paint in natural light. Wei never minded the windows until she was up in Nev’s flat, staring out his wide, repurposed-industrial window and hating that Kat had picked the wrong building when she’d decided to take advantage of her trust fund and get into the real estate business.

  At least that’s where Wei pretended the money came from.

  Nev was a friend of Kat’s more than Wei’s anyway. He was some sort of math genius who worked in the financial sector. Wei had never bothered to have him checked out, but now that she thought about it, it might not be a bad idea. Kat’s and his friendship seemed to be born of being neighbors and frequenting the same pubs on the weekend.

  Wei couldn’t believe Kat had never been up to Nev’s apartment. “Really?” Wei turned, raising an eyebrow at her friend.

  He grunted. “Not for lack of tryin’ either. She’s just private, your Kat.”

  “I’m aware.” Wei shook her head. “I’ll still be here when you get back, go.”

  He gave a mock salute and tipped an imaginary cap. “Cheers.” Wei waved at his retreating back and set about inspecting his router. She couldn’t bring herself to draw up the blinds and stare across the street into Kat’s flat. It didn’t take long for Wei to find the wireless repeater tucked behind a flower pot on the window sill. She sighed and logged on to Nev’s computer to change his Wi-Fi password, hunting for a pen before sending the new password to him in a text along with a note to buy some pens.

  It was then that Wei reached for the cord and drew up the blinds. And there, though the misty haze and half-open windows, she saw them. The flat’s floorplan was open, but Wei knew the layout well. She stared, her hand pressing to the glass. Two silhouettes moved in an age-old dance. Bodies touching, pushing against each other.

  Wei’s hand shook. Kat, pressed against the window, her face a blur and her head tilted back. Her eyes opened then, and even across the impossible divide, they bore a hole straight into Wei’s heart. There was no way Kat could see her, was there? Wei’s stomach clenched. Kat threw her head back, lips parted and eyes fluttering closed and fingers curling around her companion’s neck, drawing her closer.

  This was a show. It was meant to send a message: they would always hurt each other most of all.

  The girl, a little waif of a girl, was blinded and dwarfed by the presence of Kat in the room. She moved slowly, deliberately, walking Kat back to the bed and pushing her down. Kissing her and touching what did not belong to her in ways that made Wei’s blood boil in her veins.

  This was not the agreement.

  Heartbreak was never part of the bargain. They loved each other. Love was a hard concept in their line of work; it meant the destruction of a long-held belief system. It meant that moments like this weren’t meant to happen. Wei should not be forced into the role of the voyeur, watching, waiting, anger coiling, hot and acidic in her stomach.

  She would destroy this child. William had accused her of playing games with the life of her lover, but this girl’s life had been forfeit the moment Wei saw her in Devon Austin Jackson’s office. Wei would skewer her, take away her freedom in exchange for Kat’s, and she wouldn’t think twice. This girl knew what she was doing, and she did it anyway. This girl was a fool.

  It was only later, when Wei was able to wrench her gaze away, that she realized that she’d slowly, steadily, shredded half of her paperwork describing Marcey Daniels’s flight details, her fingers trembling with the effort to keep from screaming out the betrayal.

  If that was the way this would be played… Wei swallowed. Made a few calls. The line crackled into life. “You were right,” she said.

  “I was?” William sounded surprised, and just a little smug. Brittle, a breath of wind could shatter Wei and William was threatening to push her over the edge. She couldn’t stand him as it was. He was not allowed to be smug about this. Never about this.

  “You were. I want you to strengthen the flag on Marcey Daniels’s passport. I don’t want her stopped at customs, but I want to know as soon as it’s scanned, no matter what. She’s got the book, I’m certain now.”

  “Johnson’s not going to like this. You know she’ll try and get Mock posthumously if she can.” Wei wondered if Johnson knew their connection, or if that detail hadn’t been brought to her attention just yet. She wondered if maybe that was something that would come later, when it would hurt the most.

  “That’s ridiculous. His heir is wandering around London fucking…” Wei choked on the word. She couldn’t go on.

  William, for once, was silent, allowing Wei’s near-silent tears turn into a growing rage without comment.

  “The plan was so simple. We would get Kat to give up the book, she’d turn evidence, get her to give up the rest of Charlie’s cronies. Now it’s fucked and I can’t fix it without taking this girl and skewering her.” Wei ran a hand through her hair. “I want her fucking obliterated.”

  “We don’t kill people, Wei. Just lock ’em up for crimes they actually committed.” William exhaled. “She hasn’t done anything illegal, yet.”

  “We watch her. We get that damn book and we go back to the plan. I want Johnson happy and Kat safe. As soon as Daniels is back in the States, she has a tail. Twenty-four seven.”

  If William had anything to say about Wei’s tactics, he did not voice his opinion. “I’ll get back to you when I know more.” Wei was grateful he did not ask why she was crying when he hung up.

  The final call Wei made was to a little village in upstate New York. She flagged one visitor, and then another. She stripped the young man, still locked away, of all his privileges, using the authority of the office Linda Johnson aspired to possess. Maybe it was petty, something she should not have been capable of doing. He’d never done anything to warrant the treatment he was about to be subjected to upon waking in the morning—by all accounts he was a model prisoner.

  But Kat had made promises she couldn’t keep, and Linda Johnson’s bitterness over losing the Mock trial was easily manipulated into Wei’s endgame. The other pain, the pain over her daughter, that was something Wei wasn’t supposed to be aware of, but a truth that burned into her like icy resolution. Johnson wouldn’t know what hit her. She’d be too busy being blinded by her hatred of the girl who had corrupted her daughter.

  She pulled a cigarette from her pocket and hesitated. Nev wouldn’t want her to smoke in his apartment without cracking a window. There was an ashtray on the sill for just that reason. Wei’s hands were shaking. She didn’t think she could open the window without Nev’s help, not with them shaking like this. She needed the cigarette. She glanced around. He was long gone. Wei cupped the lighter in her hand and lit the cigarette, staring out at the low-lit illumination of Kat’s betrayal, nude and dozing, in her bed. She told herself she didn’t care, but the wound in her heart festered all the same. Blackness threatened to overtake her love, corrupt it into hatred. She pushed at it, but it slipped past her fingers, like she was trying to hold back the sea. Anger, that was understandable,
but what was she going to do about it?

  Kat had picked her side. It was time for Wei to do the same.

  Smoke billowed from her nostrils, curling around her head.

  This was the moment when everything changed.

  CHAPTER 14

  Marcey, Upon Return

  Amid the mess of bookbinding supplies and paint-splattered canvases, Kat came undone for Marcey. What was offered was freely taken, with no thought to the consequences. That came later. The morning after their first encounter, Marcey woke to find Kat on the telephone, speaking in a placating voice. The conversation went in and out. Dozing and sated, Marcey tried to focus. Kat wanted the caller to be reasonable, to know that the ends justified the means. The black void of sleep gripped Marcey not long after. She fell into a world of dreams, twisted and fraying, stories where beautiful women became deadly beasts.

  She was suspicious when Kat woke her, returning to bed with two mugs of strong black tea and a distant expression.

  “Who was that?” Marcey asked, her voice still thick with sleep. “On the phone, earlier?”

  “No one,” Kat lied. Marcey didn’t press. Instead, she told Kat of Charlie’s plan, and Kat told her of her role in all of it. A simple switch and sell. Nothing too fancy. The only problem was that Kat wanted to run the show, and Marcey wanted no part of that.

  The compromise came in the form of a proposal. “Why not work together?” Kat asked. “I know some of what Charlie was intending and you certainly can’t pull this job by yourself, green as you are.”

  So they would work together. Marcey had no problem with that. Kat could help her find a way to get Linda Johnson off Marcey’s back. Maybe even expose her. Kat perked up at that suggestion. It was an even exchange, and a satisfaction of both of their desires. From the way her body moved, humming with a sort of manic energy that set Marcey to jitters, Kat seemed taken with the idea of revenge.

  “For a job like that, I know just who you should call,” she added as Marcey flipped through Charlie’s book looking for potential crew members. Kat paid rapt attention, making sure Marcey paused on certain pages. She studied her own entry—one of the longest in the book—and then Topeté’s like a scientist examines a fresh specimen. “There’s a woman, Gwen Lane-Wright. She was involved with William before the whole messy business of his chosen career path came to light.”

  “Messy business?” Marcey asked. This was what Shelly warned her about—the lie that would go into the job in Rio. Kat’s justification for what she did. Marcey closed her eyes, and braced for it, knowing what was about to be said would be categorically untrue.

  Kat nodded. “When we found out, we were knee deep in a job in Rio, one we couldn’t untangle ourselves from very easily. Charlie got caught because of it. Gwen lost her engagement. I wonder if she’d be interested in some comeuppance. She’s ace at jobs like this. Good at getting into places she shouldn’t be allowed into.”

  What went unsaid was that Kat manipulated the whole situation from start to finish and Marcey was pretty sure that Kat was aware Marcey knew the truth. She was like Marcey—she knew her role and that she had to play it. Without that clear boundary, there was no chance of this enterprise ever coming to fruition.

  They didn’t speak of it. It was a known thing. Marcey didn’t want to have to tell Kat, and Kat certainly had no interest in telling Marcey. Silence suited both of their purposes just fine. Betrayal could come later.

  Marcey returned to New York three days later pleasantly sore and utterly exhausted. Kat had seen her off with kiss on each cheek and a promise that they’d meet again soon. It was all very poetic, if a bit dramatic. Marcey caught herself in the moment before the unclean feeling set in and the fleeting desperation of the weekend faded away into nothingness. She felt dirty, walking away from Kat. They were a volatile combination, Kat’s needling quickly sparking into something Marcey never wanted to let go of, should she only manage to catch it in her hand. Kat was electricity. She was the wind. She was something intangible. Something powerful.

  Something terrifying.

  So Marcey went back home with a list of names and the beginnings of a plan, in Kat’s eyes. Kat’s recommendations aligned pretty closely with what Charlie had wanted already, but Marcey was still hesitant to deviate from his plan at all without a lot of contemplation. She’d spent the flight across the Atlantic running through the list of names and comparing their previous work with Charlie and with each other. Rio. It all came back to Rio, with the exception of the question mark next to tech support Charlie’d left behind. Kat had thoughts about that as well, but she’d left it up to Marcey to figure it out.

  Marcey had a short list. She wanted to run them by Shelly before she made her selection.

  And there was one name…

  “Next!” Pulled from her thoughts, Marcey hurried up to the customs agent and handed over her passport. He looked it over, looked her over, asked what was going on in England, and stamped her back into the country. It was a relief to step through customs and realize that nothing bad was going to happen. Marcey had spent the entirety of the flight over dreading the moment when her passport was scanned and the customs officer made her take her hair out of its ponytail because her hair “wasn’t like her picture.”

  But there was nothing like that at all. The man didn’t even bat an eye before glancing at his computer screen and giving a small grunt that could have been interest or approval. Marcey swallowed nervously but kept her expression neutral.

  “Welcome home,” the agent eventually said. He held out Marcey’s passport.

  “Thanks,” Marcey answered.

  Just beyond the door, Shelly was waiting for her, leaning against the wall by baggage claim. Her arms were folded over her chest, a scowl etched across her lips. She took one look at Marcey and the consternation on her face turned into a huff of annoyance. She moved to Marcey, her hand streaking out faster than Marcey could see it coming, and smacked her at the back of the head. “Are you stupid?”

  Marcey rubbed at the back of her head, wincing. “What was that for?”

  Glaring, Shelly gestured to the fading bruise on Marcey’s neck where Kat had kissed too hard for too long. “You slept with her. You stupid girl, you walked right into her web and let her have you. Oh, I could just—” Shelly let out an annoyed little grunt and threw her hands up in the air.

  “Just what?”

  Shelly said nothing, her nostrils flaring and her eyes concerned.

  Marcey shrugged, wanting the conversation to end. Maybe she didn’t care that it was a bad idea. She didn’t like talking about things like this with other people. Especially not in the middle of a busy airport.

  “God, Marcey. Kat has a very complicated relationship with law enforcement. Agent Topeté isn’t exactly the type to share. You’re an idiot.” Shelly stepped away from Marcey. She was already a good foot taller than Marcey, and the height difference, aided by heels, was enough to look comical—especially when Shelly was glaring down at her like Marcey was a misbehaving child. “I don’t know how you got through customs.”

  If Marcey was being truly honest, she didn’t know either. “I didn’t do anything illegal,” she pointed out. “They have no reason to stop me, and if they did they’d have a lawsuit on their hands.”

  “But they’d have an excuse to search your person. And Charlie’s book, I’m sure, is on your person.” Shelly shook her head.

  “Trust me,” Marcey said, eager to talk about anything other than what she and Kat had done. “I’m surprised I got through as well, but I’m not stupid. The book is safe, Shelly. I brought it with me, yes, but I know how to keep it safe.”

  “Do you though?” Shelly scratched at her forearm. “Well, you’re here at least. And Kat didn’t utterly destroy you. That’s something. Why the hell did you let her fuck you?”

  Marcey bit her lip, hesitating only for a second. “I did it because I wanted to, not because she…I don’t know…forced me into it, or tricked me. She pushed
and I pushed back. Somehow the combination worked.”

  “You want to know the reason why Charlie worked so well with all of these people? Because he didn’t get fucking attached.”

  “He got attached to you,” Marcey pointed out.

  “That’s different,” Shelly snapped. “What we shared, what we went through? Most straight men don’t stick around once they find out. Most straight men walk away. Some would attack. Some would commit violence against me.”

  Marcey had no idea—how could she? Sure, Shelly was taller than your average woman, and her shoulders were great, but it wasn’t the sort of thing that Marcey thought of as unusual. Women came in all shapes and sizes. Everyone’s journey to owning their womanhood was different. She wasn’t one to judge. There was nothing in Shelly’s face or language that hinted to Marcey of that struggle. Now, confronted with it, the bitterness of the grim truth of that experience crept into Shelly’s voice. Was Marcey naïve to not even think of such a thing? Was it ignorant of her to just take all of Charlie’s compatriots for what they appeared to be? In truth, Marcey had no idea. It did make her see a few things differently.

  “Shelly—”

  “What that was… I don’t know if he ever anticipated it. And sure, people like Kat, they got attached to him, but he didn’t give a damn about us. Objectivity, Marcey. With her, you no longer have it. I hope it was worth it.” Shelly exhaled. “That girl does whatever the hell she wants. She’ll leave you to die and won’t think twice about it. She has her own agenda.”

  “I know,” Marcey said dejectedly. “She doesn’t seem too keen on you,” she added.

  Shelly sucked her teeth. “She wouldn’t, I don’t think. She knew me too early in my transition for that. She didn’t like how Charlie loved me, thinks I stick out like a sore thumb and that it puts any operation I get involved with at risk. Never mind that I’m far better on the grift than she’s ever been.”

  Marcey smiled weakly up at Shelly. “She’s agreed to come on, and she wants to gather a crew.”