by Jude Watson
Blue leaned on the horn again, longer and harder.
“Not so fast, Auntie,” Jules said. “We want to show you something first.”
“The Top Cats aren’t the only ones with an interest in that cash,” March said. “The FBI is pretty interested, too.”
For the first time, worry creased Blue’s face. Her gaze flicked past them.
“Don’t worry, they’re not here. Yet. They think the deal is going down up over that hill. We still have a little time to chat.”
“Before you head back to Dimmy, you might want to check this out.” Jules held up her phone. She hit the Play button.
Jules and Dukey sat on a bench in the shot. From that distance, she looked exactly like Blue. She was half-turned, dressed in a frock coat and leggings, her hair streaked with blue dye.
“That’s not me,” Blue said. “That’s you.”
“You know that, and I know that …” Jules said. She turned up the volume.
“So we have a deal?” Dukey asked. “You’ll hand over the money?”
“Deal,” Jules said. “As long as you protect me from the Top Cats.”
“Saul Dukey, FBI,” March said in answer to the question Blue wasn’t asking.
“But it’s not me!” Blue said. “He may have thought it was me, but what difference does it make?”
“Oh, Dukey knew it was me,” Jules said. “That’s not your problem.”
“Dmitri thinks it’s you,” March said. “Izzy just sent him the video.”
Blue’s face became a mask, but he saw the fear behind it.
“He already doesn’t trust you,” Jules said. “Zef got to him. Imagine how they feel right now.”
Darius spoke up. “And Dukey knows that you bribed Chernoff. So you can’t skate away from the feds, either. If you deliver that money to the Top Cats, the FBI is going to come charging down that hill.”
“You’re kinda stuck,” Izzy said. “But you deserve it.”
Blue swallowed.
“You have a choice,” Jules said. “Walk up the hill to the feds, or down the hill to the Top Cats. I’d go with the FBI if I were you. Their methods aren’t quite so … extreme.”
“And let you take off with the cash? You’re crazy!”
March shrugged. “‘If you don’t have a choice, take it.’ ”
“Look around, Blue,” Jules said. “You lost your backup. You always seem to operate with it. But now you’re really alone.”
Blue pushed Jules aside and got in the car. “Then I’m alone with fifty million dollars.”
Agent Dukey appeared through the trees. Several agents stood next to him.
“THIS IS THE FBI!” The voice came through a bullhorn.
“Oops!” Joey called. “Got to be going, folks!”
The people clamoring for strollers began to melt away. One man took off running, leaving his pregnant wife, who screamed “SPIKE!” after him. Some of them grabbed strollers as they ran. Joey dropped the last strollers on the grass and ran back toward the cab of the truck.
Blue gunned the motor. The car accelerated, smashing an empty stroller, then wailed down the road.
“She’s taking off with the cash!” Darius yelled.
A dark sedan suddenly tore out of the underbrush and sped after Blue, blocking her escape. FBI agents began running down the hill. A trio of agents split off and headed for March and the gang. Hampered by pregnant women and men pushing strollers, they had to bob and weave their way toward them.
“DON’T MOVE!” Dukey yelled at them.
“Looks like Dukey doesn’t trust us after all,” March said. “Come on!”
The Top Cat SUVs took off, rocketing down the park lane. A police car started after them, siren wailing.
In the driver’s seat of the truck, Joey hit the gas. The truck pulled out, revealing another yellow Mini, engine running.
“Where did that come from?” Darius asked.
“Joey had a spare Mini in his truck,” March said.
“But —”
“Misdirection,” March said as they raced toward the car. “The first rule of a con. Blue wanted the money. Ransome wanted the gems. Nobody was looking at Joey. D, you’re our wheelman.”
Darius slid into the driver’s seat, and March, Izzy, and Jules tumbled inside. As they squealed out of the parking lot, two more yellow Mini Coopers jumped forward from behind the trees. All the cars took off in a group, heading for the park exit.
Two dark sedans suddenly made U-turns on the park road and came after them.
“FBI,” March said. “Dukey’s in the front car.”
“Who’s in the other Minis?” Darius asked.
“Hamish is driving one, your mom’s got the other,” March said.
“Oh, man. Hamish is a terrible driver.”
“It’s okay,” March said as another Mini squealed around a corner, practically on two wheels. “We’ve got Joey’s Heather, too. She used to be a NASCAR driver.”
Darius blew through a yellow light to exit the park. They plunged into Brooklyn traffic. Behind him the two other yellow cars peeled off. The sedan stayed with them.
“Not good,” March said.
“Mama’s got it covered,” Darius chortled as Mikki returned and cut in back of them.
Izzy studied her phone. She’d gone over and over the route, investigated traffic patterns, planned for obstacles. They’d timed it out early that morning. “Make a right at the light!” she cried, and Darius spun the wheel.
March hung on to the seat as Darius weaved through traffic. He reached across the seat and grabbed Jules’s hand. They hung on.
The car careened around corners as the other yellow Minis appeared and disappeared. Now they were in a warehouse district. The other FBI cars had disappeared, but that one black sedan was still one block behind them.
“Dukey,” March said. “Such a stubborn guy.”
“LEFT!” Izzy shouted.
“Here?” Darius yelled. “It’s illegal!”
“Are you serious?” Izzy thumped him hard on the arm. “GO!”
Tires screaming, Darius made a sharp and highly illegal left turn across traffic. He zoomed down a cobblestone street. A white panel truck was parked near the end of the block. The side panel read FAST XPRESS: YOU DREAM, WE DELIVER.
The back door rolled open, and two metal planks shimmied down.
“That’s Joey’s truck. Go!” March shouted.
Darius shifted into second and drove up the planks. He hit the brakes hard, right in front of a magnetic sign reading BABYSMART BABYSAFE.
Joey bounded past them and pulled up the planks. The rear door rang down again. A minute later they heard the sound of a car zooming by, rattling on the uneven cobblestones.
“All clear,” Joey said softly.
Darius rested his head against the wheel. He let out a shuddering breath. “I know one thing. I’m not born to be a wheelman.”
“Mikki and Heather can handle the rest,” March told him. “They’re probably in Pennsylvania by now. The feds and the police will follow every yellow Mini they see. They don’t want to lose the money.”
“And Blue is going to sing all about the Top Cats to Dukey,” Jules said. “In handcuffs.”
Izzy leaned toward Darius. “You done good, smart baby safe baby,” she said.
“We all done good,” Jules said.
“Too bad we missed out on the cash,” Darius said.
March grinned. “You sure about that?”
“Just came to say good-bye,” Hamish said. “This time, I’m really retired.”
March opened the door wider, and he walked in, his arms full of packages. “Bagels, cream cheese, smoked salmon, and a big chocolate babka for you.”
“Wow,” March said, taking the packages from him. “You shouldn’t have done all that shopping.”
“I didn’t! I cleaned out my refrigerator! My flight leaves at two. I’ve got a cab waiting downstairs. I can run the meter! I’m a millionaire!” Hamish looked
around the place. “I like the new apartment. Not as grand, but nice.”
“Thanks.” There was no climbing wall, no garden, no yacht, and no pool. The apartment was just big enough for them. Very low profile. They liked it that way.
“Love the decorating scheme,” Hamish said.
“Yeah, Joey gave us a deal on beanbag chairs,” March said.
“Sorry I ever called that boy an idiot. The way he switched out those Minis so Blue got the fake cash and you got the fortune! Slid that car right out of the truck. Like butter! And Heather missed her calling as a wheelman. Ack. Did I tell you? The two of them used their cut to put Heather through culinary school. They moved upstate,” Hamish said. “I always thought Joey would end up upstate, but I thought it would be behind bars. How’s Mikki?”
“Still in Florida buying lottery tickets,” March said.
“And you’ve gone straight. Terrible loss of a cunning criminal brain.” Hamish sighed. “Best gang I’ve ever worked with.”
“I’m not Alfie,” March said.
Hamish put his hand on March’s shoulder. “No. You’re not. Still, you can’t get too comfortable. Dukey could decide to come after you.”
“He could. He didn’t recover Ransome’s money. But he broke the Top Cat case wide open,” March said. “Blue is in prison. I think we’re square if we stay out of trouble. He didn’t look too hard.”
“Stealing is such a bad habit. Worse than gluten. But just in case Dukey comes around … two exits?”
March nodded. “And it’s only fifteen minutes to the George Washington Bridge.”
“Excellent. Newark Airport, twenty minutes, you can hop a flight to Mexico and find me.”
“So Keiko took you back?” Jules fished around in the bagel bag.
“She is the yin to my yang, the butter to my scotch, the kale to my smoothie,” Hamish said. “Yes, she took me back. All I have to do is move to Mazatlán. Why not retire? I cleared my debt with Jimmy the Knife. He gave me his guacamole recipe. For my whole new life!”
“A reboot,” Izzy said.
“Exactly! Come visit, young yogis. I’m going to give classes — hatha and restorative. Keiko is perfecting her enchiladas. The beach is lovely, the seafood is fresh, and if you change your mind, there’s plenty of rich tourists! Heh. Joke!” Hamish glanced at his watch. “Well, I might be a millionaire, but I don’t want to pay a fortune for that cab. Farewell, my magnificent friends.”
Hamish hugged March, then Darius, then Jules, then Izzy. “So many adventures. How glad I am they’re over.” He put his hands together and bowed. “Namaste.”
As the door closed behind them, Jules started to slice bagels. Izzy scooped the cream cheese into a bowl.
“Do we have any pepperoni?” Darius asked by the refrigerator.
“With bagels? That’s gross,” Jules said, and the familiar argument began.
March looked out at the river. Things were different. They had hammered out a plan. They’d invested a chunk of the money — safely, this time — after splitting it with Hamish, Mikki, and Joey and Heather. They’d agreed on some homeschooling, “so we all know who Winston Churchill is,” Izzy said. Darius was still interested in investing, and he was studying finance at night. Izzy had befriended a student at Columbia and was learning even more about coding.
They were thinking about getting a dog. Just not a stinky one.
People get broken, FX had said. Sometimes they take that and make themselves strong.
They’d make themselves strong. Strong like a family should be.
No more heists. No more lies. They weren’t their parents. Blue’s monstrous selfishness had taught them everything they needed to know about what not to be.
They could have done it without the fortune. But as Alfie used to say, Everything goes better with cash.
Living on twenty million might not be easy. But they were willing to try.
Jude Watson is the New York Times bestselling author of Loot: How to Steal a Fortune, which received starred reviews from Kirkus Reviews and Publishers Weekly. Rick Riordan called it “the perfect summer read.” She has also written five books in The 39 Clues series, including Doublecross Book 1: Mission Titanic. Under the alias Judy Blundell, she won the 2008 National Book Award for Young People’s Literature for What I Saw and How I Lied. The Watson crime family lives on Long Island, in New York.
Copyright © 2016 by Jude Watson
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First edition, September 2016
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Cover design and art by Nina Goffi
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e-ISBN 978-0-545-86348-3
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