by Bronwen John
“And there are others?”
“One is Terrell Custer-Parry. A self-made Welshman who loves the stories behind the stones… the mysticism and all that bull. He’s not above trading in blood diamonds, however. The last one I’m very fond of: James Conklin-Pope. He’s a specialist in rare gems who accused my grandmother of stealing the ruby. I made him pay an extra £100,000.” She gestured for Ash to join her. “Memorise those faces and names. They’ll be handy in the future if anyone asks you any questions. Use them as your layer of security.”
“Something’s got under your skin, though?” Ash asked, sitting next to her and looking at the printed photographs of the men.
“Aye, they’re old bastards, and they want to see it in the bank. They insist on paying by cheque into a bank account. I’m setting it up in your proper name,” Esther said casually. “Holmes will go ballistic when he sees that.”
“So you’re pulling a tiger by the tail?” Ash asked, smiling at Esther’s eager nod. “That’s one hell of a chance, though.”
“It gets the ball in my court. He’ll be that irritated, he’s bound to want me all the more, and if you don’t take chances,” said the woman in the striped pyjamas, “you might as well not be alive.”
This is one hell of a chance.
Anton stepped out of the shadows and took in the view of everything within the seemingly empty and silent house. There was constant surveillance here from one of those ‘three-letter agencies’, as Esther had less than kindly referred to them.
But they weren’t interested in him, and, who knew, it might play to Esther’s advantage at some point in the future, he mused. In any case, there was no question that the job had to be done tonight. Tomorrow would definitely be too late, and that would require the redrafting of an entirely new plan and wasted outlay in preparation for this one.
Reservations aside, and he always had them, he knew that even in the worst-case scenario, he could escape without any difficulty.
The risks were worth the challenge and the challenge was even more priceless. Esther, in her infinite wisdom, had always remarked that that was why they got along so well. They had the same daredevil nature when it came to their working alliances.
God, how he loved that woman.
Shaking his head before he began to wax nostalgic, the Russian stepped onto the ledge of the building. He was dressed head to toe in black, and his head and hair were covered in some mixture that Caelan had cooked up to hide his body temperature… damn modern technology. He glanced at the watch on his wrist, reassuringly analogue, and pressed the timer on the side. He had exactly twenty-five minutes to get in and out of the building. Anything more would be just plain sloppy. Making sure he was adjusted, he slid his full body length down the window and dropped the five feet onto the thin ledge, landing like a cat. He glanced down at the extra sixty foot. Weirdly built property, he thought to himself.
He quietly shuffled to the window and broke into a grim grin. The windows were locked by a fancy mechanism, and, as expected, the night provided the anonymity he required to break into it. This client – no, victim, he corrected himself – was not averse to spending good money on security. He chuckled. The best art galleries used these mechanisms. In fact, he’d first come across one at the Louvre three months ago when he’d been doing his ‘honest’ job as a penetration tester. He’d not revealed all the faults for fear that the lock might become too specialised against the criminally minded and reveal some family secrets.
Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew his small computer and decoder, hand-built for such an occasion, and a screwdriver to unscrew several screws to the right of the machine. Soon enough, the system yielded and the windows clicked. Anton grinned quick and feral, rapidly putting away his items and clambering indoors. He hovered precariously on the windowsill, checking for any observer, though he had no doubt that there was no one available. This building was on the same security detail as the rest of the street, meaning that a private security patrolman searched the house, or rather the downstairs, in thirty minutes… hence Anton’s plan to be finished in twenty-five. It kept things interesting.
“Now, where are we?” He pulled out a copy of the blueprints that he had collected from the county clerk’s office in LA the previous day, marvelling at how easy it had been with a small amount of flirting, and how he had devised a way around all the gallery’s security measures.
Anton studied the plans, tapping the floor with his foot briefly before nodding with satisfaction at what was to come next. Kneeling to put the map back, he withdrew a set of night-vision goggles which would be useful both for any nasty little added features the place had acquired in the two years since the blueprints had been drawn, and so that he didn’t need to fumble around in the darkness. Immediately, the lenses turned everything before him a shade of green and allowed him full perception of every obstacle. He chuckled as he jogged lightly down the stairs, scolding himself when he added a cocky little bounce to his step. It didn’t pay to be cocky. He would have to teach Ash that at a later date, he decided.
He was barely breaking a sweat by the time he reached the room in question. Now it got interesting. This room, despite being open and easy to enter, was complete with motion-tracking devices, infrared and sonic detectors. People relied on technology far too often these days, Anton thought to himself as he paused in the corridor. It made them cocky. It made them vulnerable.
His surname, Volkov, meant ‘wolf’, and Anton wondered if it was something to do with his kin being like wolves in sheep’s clothing. All brain, using brawn only when needed and resourceful as hell. He grinned wolfishly as he pulled out the sonic emitter from his other pocket. He had brought it here in his official capacity as a penetration tester, but nobody had paid much mind to him keeping it with him.
Flicking a switch on the device, the emission was silent. At least to his human ears. Anything canine would be going crazy, and in the distance he could hear one dog yapping. He’d sling a few dollars to a pet charity later. However, despite its cruelty to mutts, the emitter would disable the sonic detectors surrounding the room and allow him to pass through that particular safeguard without setting off its alarms.
He stepped confidently into the room, grinning wolfishly once more. The work hung there, illuminated by an expensive light that showed up each and every natural flaw. It sat almost arrogantly against the wall, convinced that nothing could be stolen. He grinned and checked the three tubes in his backpack. Perfect for carrying items he needed, and then he glanced at his watch.
Fifteen minutes.
Yes, plenty of time.
Seventeen
“Listen, I can only speak to you for a brief time,” whispered Ash into the phone as she looked in at where the three others were sleeping.
There had been an unspoken air of tension today. Once they’d all returned from their respective jaunts, nobody had spoken much, other than to put in requests for coffee and tea.
Innocent was equally quiet as he spoke back. “Yes?”
“You wanted to know their routines?”
“Damn it, girl, just tell me.”
“Esther has chronic insomnia; she either plays cards or watches old films to try and get herself to sleep so she doesn’t fall asleep while talking to Anton, her partner. She takes a walk in Hyde Park every Monday. But she doesn’t keep to a set path,” Ash said, feeling bile rise within her as she made her observations known. “She likes to eat in Covent Garden.”
“Good a place as any for a public ambush. What about the boy?”
“Caelan works a proper job at night but hasn’t said what; just that it’s short term and he’s glad of it. In the day he goes to Nunn’s and offers himself as a stunt double.”
“And this Eleanor character?”
“No idea. She doesn’t trust me enough.”
That was true now. Time wouldn’t heal everything, especia
lly not broken trust, and Eleanor looked at Ash with suspicion. While Esther and Caelan had seemingly accepted her escape, Eleanor didn’t share their optimism.
“Fine, what about the Spanish Prisoner?”
“From the sounds of it, Esther’s going to pretend that the person inlaying the jewel is going to be either raided or accused, and the cop on duty recognises it and wants a lump sum, especially given that Esther’s in the wrong circles with the gambling community to be stealing from them.” Ash took a deep breath. “She’s really annoyed about the three other marks.”
“Why?”
Ash smirked as she remembered Esther’s rant when Eleanor had come back. “They’ve all asked to put cheques into a bank account; Esther expected as much because they’re all older people. One infuriated her grandmother or something.” She took a deep breath. “Do you think you’d let me get the money?”
“How much are you going to take from Holmes?” Innocent asked tiredly.
“Esther seems to reckon that we tell him £1 million for the con that he thinks we’re setting up. After all, the jewel is insured for fifteen times that. It seems reasonable that a jewel setter would want it for only slightly less, so approximately £750,000.”
“A fair price… do you have a timescale for this?”
Ash shook her head, but then realised that the motion couldn’t be seen. “Esther has another insurance policy she’s been waiting on, and she’s waiting for Caelan to get out of the spotlight.”
“She’s a good sister,” Innocent said, fleeting admiration clear in his voice. “Let us hope she provides us both with the gift of time to ourselves.”
“Mr Innocent… promise me you’ll not kill her,” Ash pleaded. “She lost her mother too in that stunt.”
“She lost more than that. Fine. I promise that, if Holmes breaks any deal we have made together, I’ll release both you and her from her bonds.”
“You swear? On all that you hold dear?”
“I swear on the grave of my wife and the life of my daughter… I will have no part in her killing,” Innocent said.
And Ash knew, there and then, that, as Esther had promised, Ezra Innocent was a man of his word.
Done, and with time to spare.
Anton stepped back to look at his work, nodding with satisfaction. He worked his way over to the object of his desire, taking photographs with the infrared camera and smiling to himself before he walked off and picked up the sonic emitter. He sighed as he walked to the top of the stairs and glanced at his watch, heading into another room.
No security. There was no need for a dingy office with a safe blatantly on the wall, looking old-fashioned. Practically invited hijacks… but then, the fact that it was in plain sight probably meant there were more valuable things inside. Oh, how Anton loved the human condition. So vulnerable to being read – hide the valuables in plain sight.
Pulling out a stethoscope – what could he say; he was a technophobe – he began the easy process of breaking the safe. Nine… back four… six… forward… two… one…
There was a satisfying click, at which point Anton tore open the safe door and grinned as he saw the boring brown pieces of paper. Quickly, he withdrew them and placed them on the table, studying them as reverently as a vicar studies his Bible. Nevertheless, he’d met a few churchgoers in his time and none had been particularly holier-than-thou.
“Aha!” he said aloud, smiling happily as he jabbed one piece of paper, taking off his backpack and pulling out the matching papers. “Just as I thought; exactly the same. Let’s see what we have here… aha! We have the proof that aliens exist! Ah, for you American fans out there, we have where Hoffa’s head is buried… who shot JFK… who really shot JR? Where the rest of Hoffa’s buried…”
The silence answered him as he began to study the items intently, nodding as he photographed each item with the infrared and then tucked the one set of papers back into his bag and the others into the safe. He reached into his backpack, added one last item and withdrew another, tucking this into his trouser pocket. He quickly shut the safe and locked it again, leaving behind a practically useless little gadget he’d picked up in Russia when he’d been visiting Uncle Fyodor.
He glanced at his watch and smirked as he looked outside, seeing a Keystone Cop. Correction – these were bargain basement cops who relied mostly on technology to do their work rather than actual mental and physical competence. He could make out the shape. Poorly trained. Probably spotty as anything. Really, for their security, the people in this neck of the woods were rather lacking.
“Must add a bit of spice to his day,” he said to himself resolutely.
Anton walked to the door and turned on the light, grinning as he saw the car that had just started down the driveway in the distance stall. Poor boy. Poor girl. He chuckled and broke into a run, heading towards his entrance point. Poor kid wouldn’t find—
“Freeze!”
Instantly, he skidded to a halt and then laughed as he realised the kid had entered the entrance hall. Good diversion tactic to get a bit of a lead on where the intruder was. His expectation of poorly paid security guards went up. Damn, their response time was fast!
Running by a vase that looked decidedly Ming Dynasty (but his years of training with his family told him was categorically fake), Anton grinned as he grabbed the item and flung it behind him.
The noise brought footsteps up the stairs and Anton beamed in delight as he stepped into his forgotten escape route, hidden behind a doorway. Feet soon thundered by him and he ran in the same direction they’d come from, straight outside to the still-running car with the keys in.
Arrogance didn’t pay, but seizing golden opportunities did. He laughed as he heard frantic yelling from well behind him as he sped down the drive and through the still-open gates.
Once safely three miles away, he pulled into an alley in a less-than-savoury neighbourhood. He dug into his pocket and withdrew both the book and his burner phone. He held up the book, admiring it as he made a call. “Got it, for the right price, of course. You have it? Good. I can’t wait to tell Esther about this. And don’t you worry… no evidence of it being me or her. Does this mean I can start calling you Dad now?” He smirked with satisfaction as he terminated the call to a verse of expletives worthy of a sailor.
Such a family business, he thought as he got out of the car, tucking his leather gloves in the pocket before walking away. He’d wiped down the car thoroughly, and quietly withdrew Caelan’s bottle of ‘magic goop’ from his backpack.
“Stinking habit,” he muttered, lighting a cigarette that somebody had lit for him when he’d faked struggling to light up outside the City Office today. They’d soon receive a knock at the door from the LAPD. He threw the goop in with particular viciousness and tossed the lighter and cigarette in together, before stepping back as he put the phone once more to his ear. He watched for a brief moment as the magic goop took light, consuming the car in flames. As the handler buzzed a greeting in his ear, he answered in his best Bostonian accent. “Yes, 911? Oh, fire and police, please. I just saw somebody set fire to a car. Yes, I’m on 91st Johnston Street… oh yes, as soon as possible. I think it’s been stolen… yes, I can wait. Oh, wait, you want a witness? I think you misunderstand… I’m the person that stole it and burned it up.”
Anton broke into a grin before throwing the phone into the flaming car. All evidence destroyed bar his backpack and himself. He smiled as he strode away, the flames highlighting his shape as he walked into the shiftless morning sun.
And Esther thought that con artists had all the fun.
Eighteen
“Nancy, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: you’re a goddamned gem.”
Nancy laughed as Esther held up the jewel to the light, studying it intently with a grin on her face that could’ve swallowed a watermelon “You should’ve seen their faces when they seen it, Est
. It’s gorgeous.”
“It’s a beautiful setting.”
“I had LeRoy ask his brother to design it. It’s an eighteen-carat rose gold with that bloody ruby centre.”
“Didn’t know Greg LeRoy had such a talent,” Esther said, fishing in her pocket for the payment. “How much do I owe?”
“Oh, you didn’t know? Greg’s working for Asprey of London now. Honest boy, unlike us,” Nancy said, shaking her head in amusement. “And on the tick, says the father, if you can get Caelan to consider that stunt.”
“Caelan would sooner chop his left hand off than do that stunt; he told me that last night,” Esther laughed. “Seriously, how much?”
“Just do it on tick, for me this time,” Nancy said, smiling. Sadness overwhelmed her eyes for a few seconds. “Luke Gaines was good to us when times were hard.” She saw Ash and patted her shoulder, then held out her hand to Esther. “It’s been an honour working with you officially for the first time.”
“Well, we’ll meet again soon enough.” Esther shook hands with the young woman. “I’ll make sure to invite you to the wedding.”
“The first wedding in the cells of Monte Carlo,” joked Nancy, before looking at Ash. “Good luck, kid. You’ve been trained by the best short-con man and long-con woman… you shouldn’t need it.”
Eleanor jogged in lightly and smiled.
“Eleanor, Dad got you tickets. You’ll get into Denver nice and early. You need to get out of here.”
Eleanor nodded and handed over an iPad to Esther, before sharing a hug with her. “As Ash can see, the payment is all in the account, and as far as they are all concerned, we have walked away into the sunset like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.”
“You do realise they get shot at the end of that movie?” Esther teased.