The Diamond Thief

by Sharon Gosling

  Quickly, she hitched up the outer layer of her dress, and pulled her lock-picks from the pocket Claudette had added to her petticoat. Gustave had taught her how to pick a lock when she was six years old, and Rémy still had the pick set he’d given her then. It was old and worn, but it still worked. She crouched down, peering at the lock. The trick when lock-picking, Gustave had told her, was not in the pushing of the pins, but the amount of pressure you applied to the plug. Too much, and the plates inside wouldn’t align, even if you managed to push all the pins up. But just enough, and…

  Rémy felt the plug turn, a suddenly smooth motion of polished metal against polished metal. The plates aligned with a tiny “click”, and the door swung open, revealing darkness beyond.

  There was a sudden burst of laughter from further down the corridor, and the sound of loud voices and louder footsteps. Someone was coming! Rémy scrambled to her feet, the heels of her boots snagging on the skirts of her dress. She wrenched the picks from the lock and slipped through the door, pushing it shut behind her and standing as still as she could, holding her breath. The voices passed, their owners too intent on their merry conversation to notice anything amiss.

  Sighing in relief, Rémy turned. She was in a dull, narrow passageway, one that no noble man or woman would ever see – it was built only for the servants. And there, around another corner, was a flight of steps leading up.

  Rémy emerged onto the Tower’s roof and into heavy darkness. She made her way towards the faint glow of the skylights, picking up her skirts to move more easily.

  From above, the distance to the floor of the hall looked further, although it couldn’t have been more than thirty feet – less than she flew every night on the trapeze. Leaning over the skylight, Rémy examined its locks. They were firm, but did not close with a key, which wasn’t surprising. Who would try to break in from up here? Who would even get this far? Rémy looked around. If she were going to do this – and it would be the only way – she’d need to be able get out again. She’d have to secure a rope…

  The sound of metal clanging against metal startled her into fear. Voices broke into the cold night air and Rémy spun in the direction of her escape route – someone had followed her up the stairs!

  Rémy ducked into the shadows, her heart pounding. At least she had the night on her side. Up here, the only light came from the weak moon and the meagre shine rising through the glass of the skylights. She held her breath, hoping that whoever it was had just needed a breath of fresh air and would soon go away.

  “What a worrier,” grunted a man’s gruff voice. “I’m telling you, there’s no one up here.”

  “I saw a shadow,” said another, firmly. Rémy recognised this voice somehow, though she wasn’t sure where from. “I’m sure I saw someone peering through the open skylight.”

  “You’re losing it, Rec,” said the other man. There came the sound of someone rubbing their hands together. “It’s freezing up here!”

  “Would you rather the diamonds were stolen on our watch?” asked the familiar voice.

  There was an impatient sigh. “No one’s going to steal anything from here, boy. This place is a fortress. Come on then, Thaddeus,” the voice added. “You’ve been going on about these glasses of yours for weeks, so you might as well get ‘em out. What’s they all about, anyway?”

  Rémy strained to see out of her hiding place. The two men were slowly moving closer, but it was too dark for them to be clear.

  “You’ll see,” came the soft voice, again. “This is going to revolutionise detective work, Collins. These will let me see in the dark, just as if it were day.”

  Detective work? They were policemen!

  There was a pause. Despite her fear, Rémy craned her neck, trying to see what was happening. There was a sudden guffaw of laughter.

  “Well,” chortled Collins. “It’ll give us a laugh, at any rate. You’ll look like a clown if you put those on, Rec. You should go and join that circus of yours. They’d have you like a shot!”

  The circus? Rémy thought, startled. Why would they mention the circus? Then the moon cleared a patch of cloud and the two men passed into light, just for a moment. She clamped a hand over her mouth to cut off a gasp as she recognised one of them.

  It was the man from last night! The one who had tried to save her!

  “You can laugh,” she heard him say, “but just you wait. You’ll see. There was someone up here, I swear. And with these, I’ll be able to see them, even in the dark. The shadow passed right overhead – over there, by that skylight.”

  The footsteps became louder, nearer. Rémy peered from her hiding place, and her heart stopped altogether. The boy with the mismatched eyes had put on the strangest pair of glasses she had ever seen.

  And he was looking straight at her.

  Three

  Sleight of Hand

  The moon passed once more into shadow, casting the corner where Rémy crouched into an even deeper darkness. She dared not move. Had he seen her? The boy with the odd eyes – Thaddeus, his companion had called him, Thaddeus Rec – had seemed to be staring right at her. But how could he have seen anything in this gloom?

  Seconds seemed to stretch into hours. Rémy thought the two policemen were about to move towards her. But then, suddenly, the silence of the night was split by a loud crash, followed by the piercing sound of an alarm bell. It came from below, exploding through the open skylight from the Long Hall.

  “What the bleedin’ ‘eck is that?” shouted Collins, over the noise.

  “It’s the alarm on the jewel case,” Rémy heard Thaddeus reply. He sounded panicked. “Quick – let’s get back down there!”

  Rémy peered after them as they rushed back to the steps, her heart pounding. Surely someone hadn’t beaten her to it and stolen one of the diamonds already? The moment she heard the door leading inside clang shut, she scrambled out of her hiding place and ran to the skylight, taking care not to lean far enough over to be seen from below.

  The alarm fell abruptly silent, but below she could see a scene of total chaos. The plinth bearing the Darya-ye Noor had been knocked over and lay in pieces on the floor, the glass case housing the diamond smashed to smithereens. Guests were gathered around it in a wide circle, pushing forward and chattering loudly as guards and policemen in plain clothes tried to hold them back. In the middle, spread out on the floor, his head touching the fallen plinth as if he had collided with it, lay the old man who had unwittingly helped Rémy get into the Tower – Lord Abernathy. Of the Ocean of Light, though, there was no sign.

  “Let me help him!” shouted a voice from the crowd. “He’s an old man, and he’s clearly ill. I’m a doctor, let me through!”

  “Let him through, you brutes!” called a lady dressed in a beautiful, rich-looking dress. “The old man needs help, can’t you see?” A murmur of angry agreement passed through the crowd, and the doctor was duly let through. He knelt beside Abernathy, holding two fingers to his pulse and nodding to himself.

  Rémy watched as Thaddeus and Collins entered the fray, pushing through the crowd until they reached one of the other policemen – a large, portly man in a tailcoat, who seemed to be in charge and who was standing directly below Rémy.

  “Ah, Rec, there you are,” Rémy heard him say, over the noise of the crowd. “It’s all right, nothing to panic about. It’s not a burglary, just an accident. Lord Abernathy has been taken ill. He fell against the exhibit, breaking the glass.”

  “And the Shah of Persia’s diamond, Chief Inspector?” Thaddeus asked urgently. “Is it safe?”

  “Quite safe,” the other man answered. He stepped closer to Thaddeus, leaning in as he muttered something in the younger policeman’s ear. There was a flurry of activity between them as the Chief Inspector quickly pushed something into Thaddeus’ hand. It would have been hidden from sight to anyone clo
ser, but from her vantage point directly above, Rémy caught sight of a sliver of gleaming jewel through the policeman’s fingers. The diamond! Rémy watched as Rec slid it into the inside pocket of his coat, glancing around to make sure no one had seen. He nodded briefly at the Chief Inspector, who stepped back and turned to the crowd.

  “Now, now, ladies and gentlemen, please let Lord Abernathy have some air.”

  Rémy sat back on her heels, relieved. The diamond was safe – she would have another chance to steal it. There was no point staying in the Tower now, though. Better to slip out while the chaos was still at its height – no one would take any notice of one person leaving. They were all too busy tending to Lord Abernathy, or chattering about his fall and the fright it had given them.

  Unseen, Rémy slipped back down the servants’ stairs and out into the corridor. Everyone was still inside the Long Hall, their excited babble echoing eerily through the stone passageways of the great Tower.

  She was heading for the steps that led to the exit when a voice rose above the confusion in the exhibition room.

  “Rémy,” it called. “Rémy Brunel?”

  Rémy stopped, her heart somersaulting in her chest. She paused, wondering what to do. Her instinct told her to run, but Gustave’s lessons held her still. Running makes you look guilty, he used to say. Walk, don’t run. No one looks twice at someone walking.

  She forced herself to stay calm and move on at a steady pace, despite the fear that prickled along her spine.

  “Rémy Brunel?” the voice called again. “Is there one called Rémy Brunel among us? Lord Abernathy asks for you.”

  Rémy stopped again, cursing under her breath. The old man! She should have known. But… if she didn’t come to his aid when called, wouldn’t they start looking for her, wondering where she was and why she hadn’t stepped forward to help?

  Taking a deep breath, Rémy turned back towards the Long Hall. Part of her wanted to help the old man, anyway. He’d been kind to her earlier, and he was alone. She could at least help him to his carriage – and on his arm, no one would think to question her as she left.

  Squaring her shoulders, Rémy raised her chin. She headed into the crowded gallery and began to make her way through the throng of people. “I am Rémy Brunel,” she said. “Did you ask for me?”

  The crowd parted, murmuring her name as they ushered her to the front. The doctor was still kneeling beside Lord Abernathy, though Rémy could see that the old man’s eyes were now open. He looked pale and ashen, his eyes watery. The doctor looked up and then motioned her forward.

  “Lord Abernathy wishes for your help, miss. He says he needs no one else.”

  “Of course,” she said. “I am happy to help. But should Lord Abernathy be moved so soon? Surely he should rest a while?”

  “I’m fine,” rasped the old man, struggling to sit up. “Just a little embarrassed and sore. All I need is an arm to guide me to my carriage, if you would, my dear.”

  Rémy nodded and knelt beside the doctor. “Can you stand, sir?” she asked.

  “Hmph. I may need a little help in that department. That’s more manhandling than a young maiden like yourself should have to deal with. Doctor?”

  “Of course, of course.” The doctor lifted one of Lord Abernathy’s arms around his shoulders.

  Rémy risked a quick glance at the circle of people around them. Her eyes fell on Thaddeus Rec, standing a short distance away. He looked preoccupied. His brow was creased in a frown above his double-coloured eyes, his attention elsewhere – probably on the valuable burden within his pocket. An idea flew into Rémy’s brain. Another of Gustave’s interminable lessons…

  Never waste an opportunity.

  She knew where the Ocean of Light was, right now. Not on an alarmed plinth, under a guarded glass shield, in an impenetrable tower. It was there, in that policeman’s pocket, not six feet from where she stood.

  She stood up, quick as a flash. “Sir?” she said, directing her words at Thaddeus Rec. “Would you be so kind?” She indicated the doctor, who was struggling to lift Lord Abernathy.

  Rec hesitated for a split second, staring at her before his frown turned into a flush of embarrassment. “Oh, of course. Forgive me…” He stepped forward, brushing past Rémy as he stooped to help Lord Abernathy to his feet.

  Rémy wasn’t as skilled a pickpocket as Claudette, but she knew the basics. The first rule was to make sure that the target’s attention was elsewhere. The second was not to hesitate. The third was to be quick as lightning.

  Rémy leaned in as the policeman passed her, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his body beneath his long, heavy coat. His skin smelled of soap, the clean, sharp scent filling her lungs along with something else – something deeper, something beautiful, like the earth after rain.

  Rémy’s fingers slipped into Thaddeus’ inner pocket, her fingers brushing against the smooth, faceted surface of the stone. A split second more and the Ocean was hers. She crouched beside Lord Abernathy’s helpers, slipping the diamond beneath her ruffled skirts and into one of Claudette’s handy pockets before they had even begun to lift the old man.

  “Careful,” she said, pretending to fuss. “Are you sure you are quite well enough, Lord Abernathy?”

  “I am quite, quite well,” murmured the old man, as he found himself on his feet. “Now, if you will just lend me your arm, my dear.” He waved the young policeman aside, reaching a feeble hand for Rémy.

  “Wait…”

  It was Rec’s voice. He was standing just behind her but Rémy pretended not to have heard.

  “Don’t I – don’t I know you from somewhere, miss?”

  It was no good. She couldn’t ignore him entirely. Rémy turned her head to see Thaddeus looking at her intently. Those eyes, she thought. It’s as if he can see right through me… As if he knows…

  “I am sorry – do you mean me?” She asked calmly, though her throat was dry with fear.

  He looked at her a moment more and then frowned, shaking his head. “Sorry, no. I must be mistaken. Forgive me.”

  Rémy bowed her head, accepting his apology the way a lady would. Lord Abernathy squeezed her arm and they left as swiftly as the old man could muster. It was nowhere near fast enough for Rémy’s liking.

  * * *

  Thaddeus watched as Lord Abernathy and his pretty helper left the Long Hall. The girl – Rémy – he could not shake the feeling that he had seen her face before. He’d thought it was the face of the girl he had tried to save, though she had not needed saving – the devious “Little Bird” of Le Cirque de la Lune.

  It would be hard to forget her, he had thought at the time, despite the fact that her face had been mostly hidden by elaborate greasepaint. Even so, her eyes had been so bright, like this girl’s, and shone from beneath such rich black hair. But what would a circus nymph be doing here, now, on the arm of a British lord? Clearly this elegant young woman could not be part of that shabby outfit. No, he must have been mistaken – confused by their similar accents, perhaps. After all, he’d only seen the girl on the wire from a distance, and then in a flurry of embarrassment as he’d picked himself up from the floor. The idea of her was just lingering in his thoughts, that was all, though he wasn’t sure why.

  Even so, Thaddeus touched his hand against his outer pocket, instinctively feeling for the diamond that Chief Inspector Glove had handed him. He felt its weight there, and the knowledge of it being there pressed against his chest as heavily as the stone itself. The sooner he could pass it back to the Tower Guards and a secure resting place, the better. For the moment, though, they were all occupied with slowly ushering the guests out of the gallery. And at least no one knew where the stone had been secreted – the perfect hiding place, the Chief Inspector had said. Even the other policemen would never suspect that he would entrust the diamond to the younge
st detective in the room.

  Rec looked up at the skylight, where he had fancied he’d seen someone’s shadow earlier. But there seemed to be no one on the roof – unless his night-glasses had not been working, which was, if he were honest, a distinct possibility.

  Thaddeus froze. A cold, awful wave of fear washed over him. His night-glasses. He usually tucked them into his top pocket as they fitted better there, the multiple lenses didn’t rattle together so much. He felt for them there now – but in his rush to get down from the roof, he must have thrust them somewhere else… somewhere easier to get at…

  He patted his coat pocket again, the one he had just checked and the one he thought he had put the diamond into. With trembling fingers, Thaddeus slipped his hand inside, hoping to feel the stone’s cold hardness under his fingers. But instead, his hand touched something that rattled. His glasses! There they were. The weight he had felt when he checked for the jewel wasn’t the stone at all. It was his night-glasses! Of course he wouldn’t put such a valuable jewel in his outer pocket. He had put it in the pocket inside. His heart in his mouth, Thaddeus reached into his inner pocket…

  There was nothing there.

  Frantically, Thaddeus felt about, desperately hoping that the diamond was somehow hiding in a corner. He turned around on the spot, searching the floor with his eyes, as if the gem might have fallen out and was lying somewhere among the many pairs of feet now trooping homeward. But no, the Ocean of Light was nowhere to be seen – or felt.

  He almost stumbled to his knees, feeling the blood rush from his face. He had lost the Shah of Persia’s diamond! He had lost the Darya-ye Noor!

  “Rec?” He heard a voice ask. It was Collins at his elbow, a frown on his face. “What the devil is the matter, boy? You looks as if you’ve seen a ghost.”