by Joel Goldman
After donning the coveralls and boots, she opened the shaft, slung the bag over her shoulder and clamped a flashlight between her teeth as she began climbing down the rungs bolted to the shaft wall. After a few steps, she reached up and pulled the trapdoor over the opening. She could hear rats scurrying below, waiting to welcome her back to the sewer. An hour later, she surfaced at the abandoned York station and did the only thing she could do. Wait.
And worry about Jake. And Gabriel. But, if she was being honest, more about Jake than Gabriel. Whatever they’d once had was gone.
Her thoughts turned to Prometheus. Sitting alone in the empty, cavernous station, she realized that she could never forgive him. That part was easy. The hard part was deciding what to do about it.
Soon, she’d return to the Library to commit a crime that could send her to prison for years. It was a risk she was willing to take. She had promises to keep and scores to settle.
SIXTY
CASSIC CLIMBED OUT OF THE SEWER SHAFT and into the utility closet at 11:45 p.m. She’d timed her return to coincide with the midnight shift change for the guards knowing that people would be tired and distracted whether they were coming or going and less likely to notice an unfamiliar face. Her plan was to get to the lower level entrance to the Centre for Conservation before the new crew was in place and had begun making their rounds.
She changed into the guard’s uniform, leaving the coveralls and boots on a shelf. Its owner was heavier and shorter than her. The hem of the pants hit just above her ankles. She cinched the belt as tight as it would go to keep the pants around her waist. The blouse ballooned around her middle. She slid the strap for the canvas bag over her shoulder, feeling the weight of the tools against her side. The jacket hung loose, tent-like, across her frame, hiding the bag.
The poor fit was fine with Cassie. Whoever was monitoring the feeds from the video cameras would see a guard and that’s all that mattered. She made it to the Centre without incident, acknowledging the only guard she passed with a quick nod.
There were two doors at the entrance to the Centre. One was tall and wide enough to accommodate a fork lift truck making a delivery from the loading bay. The other was for foot traffic. Cassie held her breath when she swiped Sarah’s keycard across the lock on the smaller door. The indicator light flashed green. She turned the handle. No alarms sounded when she entered. The lights were off and, best she could tell, no one else was there.
Cameras were mounted opposite the doors watching who came and went but there were no cameras aimed down the dozen rows of shelves, each twelve feet high and fifty feet long, that filled the room. They were lined with unopened crates, sealed containers and other protective cases. Cassie walked out of camera range and into the nearest aisle, breathing easier knowing that she was now invisible and began searching for the Codex.
“Please be in a wooden crate,” she said.
After walking down several aisles and shining her flashlight on different tracking numbers, she got the hang of the inventory system. Thirty minutes later, she found the crate containing the Codex Leicester. The Gods were smiling on her, she thought. Her plan, however hastily conceived, had gone off without a hitch. This was the hard part and it was done.
To that moment, she’d remained calm but when she took the crate off the shelf and laid it on the floor, her heart began to race. It was the same thrill she felt every time she laid hands on whatever she was after. The sensation was so visceral, so unlike any other high she’d ever known, that she knew she couldn’t give it up. Where that left her with Prometheus and with Jake were questions she’d answer another day.
The case was held together by long screws too deeply anchored to yield to a screwdriver. The wood screeched as she levered the pry bar into the joints and forced the screws to surrender. Every few minutes, she stopped and listened for footsteps, continuing after confirming she was still alone. With a final thrust of the pry bar, the top of the crate came loose. She set it aside. A rectangular case lay in the center surrounded by dark gray foam. There was a latch on one side. She released it and opened the case. The eighteen pages of the Codex were stacked one on top of another, each sealed in a rigid acrylic pouch.
She set the case on the floor and wedged the wooden crate between two other crates to keep it from falling open and scattered the tools across several aisles. Except for the rasp which she slid inside her belt on her left side like a short sword, tightening the belt as much as she could to keep it in place. She walked out of the Centre. The door hadn’t closed behind her when she stopped in her tracks.
“Put the case down and raise your hands,” Ian Thorpe said, aiming a gun at her.
He was flanked by two beefy guards, arms loose at their sides. They locked eyes with her, giving her tight-lipped grins that said they were going to enjoy this. The scar tissue around their eyes and their flattened noses told Cassie they’d taken and thrown their share of punches. They were more brawlers than boxers, dangerous all the same.
Cassie shook her head. The Gods were laughing, not smiling at her.
“Isn’t it past your bedtime, Ian?” Cassie said, keeping a firm grip on the case.
“The case,” Thorpe said, “Put it down.”
She ignored his instruction. “Where’d you find this pair? On the street with their hands out and their zippers down?”
One of the men started toward her but Thorpe raised his hand, holding him back.
“You’re not half as clever as you think. I never bought that rubbish about a security audit. I figured all along it was a cover for a heist and I was right. You’re just a common thief. And, a murderer according to the police.”
“Top marks on that one, Ian. My bad luck you decided to work late.”
“Luck had nothing to do with it. I’ve been waiting for you to make your move ever since I gave you those login credentials. Set them up to give me an alert whenever you got online so I could see what it was you were looking at. When you used Wiley’s computer to find where we were keeping the Codex, all I had to do was wait for you to come after it. I already called Inspector Murdoch and told him to come pick up his dangerous fugitive. He’ll be here any minute. We’ll be front page news, you and I.” He tipped his head toward one of the guards. “Now, put down that case before I let Derrick take it from you. He’s not known for being gentle.”
Cassie knew Thorpe was right. She’d relied on luck instead of the careful preparation a job like this required. She could blame that on Tresch for not giving her enough time but underestimating Thorpe was a bigger mistake.
“I’m not going to give you this case, Ian. I’ve worked too hard for it. If Derrick thinks he can take it from me, he can try.”
“You’re forgetting about this,” he said, waving the gun.
“I don’t think you want to explain to Inspector Murdoch why you killed an unarmed woman, especially when you had two strong men who could easily handle a girl like me.”
“All right, lads,” Thorpe said. “She’s all yours.”
The men advanced toward her. She did the one thing they didn’t expect. Attack. She spun around, wielding the case like a shield, slamming it into Derrick’s solar plexus and leaving him doubled over and gasping.
The second man grabbed her from behind, wrapped his arms around her, lifted her off the ground and squeezed the breath out of her. She dropped the case, drew the rasp from her belt and stabbed him in the arm. He howled and let her loose. She turned and kicked him in the side of the head, knocking him flat, then pressed the point of the rasp against his jugular vein. Thorpe took a step toward her, then stopped, his eyes wide, his mouth open.
“Not the same as sitting behind your desk, is it, Ian? Drop the gun or he dies.”
“I’ll shoot.”
“Ever kill anyone, Ian?”
Thorpe said, “Always has to be a first time.”
“You can’t stop your gun hand from shaking. That’s because of all the adrenaline. Means you’ll probably miss. Even if you d
on’t, I’ll still kill him. And you don’t see my hand shaking. Now put the gun down.”
Thorpe hesitated, not taking his eyes off Cassie, then slowly lowered the gun to the floor.
“Now kick it over to me and lay face down.”
With Thorpe on the ground, Cassie scooped up his gun, slid the rasp back alongside her leg, picked up the case and ran.
“Get her,” Thorpe screamed.
Cassie looked over her shoulder. The guards were running toward her. She fired a shot in their direction, making sure it went high and wide. The two men dove for cover and stayed where they were.
She heard sirens wailing, drawing closer, as she turned a corner and banged through a door leading to an internal stairway. There were heavy footsteps overhead. She leaned over the rail, looking up to see who was coming. Murdoch stared back at her, both frozen for a moment.
Cassie took off again, Murdoch racing after her. She reached the utility closet on Basement Level Five ahead of him.
“It’s over, Cassie,” Murdoch called out. “You’re boxed in. You’ve no way out. It’s time to give up.”
Cassie knew he was close by but couldn’t see him and hoped that meant he couldn’t see her. She stepped into the closet and closed the door. After stuffing the coveralls and boots in the canvas bag, she pulled the trapdoor away from the shaft and, holding the case under one arm, lowered herself several rungs down the ladder, then pulled the lid over the shaft.
“It’s not over until I say it’s over,” she said, not caring that Murdoch couldn’t hear her.
SIXTY-ONE
“UP YOU GO,” JAKE SAID.
Knees bent, Jake ducked under Gabriel’s arm, supporting him as he helped Gabriel to his feet.
“Let’s give this a try,” Gabriel said, taking a tentative step with his wounded leg. “Fils de pute!”
“What did you say?” Jake asked.
“That’s French for motherfucker. My leg hurts like a fucking motherfucker.”
“Oh, it sounded like something you’d order for dinner.”
Gabriel stared at him, openmouthed, and shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t know what Cassie sees in you.”
“Lucky for me, you don’t have to. Come on.”
They hobbled to the door. The keyhole for the lock was chest high. Gabriel ran his finger across the surface and stuck his pinkie into the opening.
“It’s a skeleton key lock. Pretty typical for a building this old. Uses a lever to open and close the bolt. Find me a coat hanger and I’ll get us out of here.”
“Don’t go away,” Jake said.
Crawling along the walls in the dark, Jake searched the floor with his hands for the scraps of wire he’d seen before Dekker turned out the lights. He returned to the door with a handful of varying lengths and handed the pieces to Gabriel.
“Best I could do.”
Gabriel studied the wires, selecting four that were six to eight inches long and letting the others fall to the floor. “I like these. They’re made of baling wire. Soft enough to bend and rigid enough to do the job.”
He twisted two lengths together, making a stronger, single piece, then did the same with the other two. He bent the ends of each new piece into an L shape and inserted the short end of the first piece into the keyhole until it snagged the lever. He gave it a slight tug to lift the lever, then inserted the second piece, again by the short end, until it grabbed the bolt. He pulled on the bolt and it gave way, slipping out of the strike plate and unlocking the door.
“Voila,” Gabriel said. He lifted the handle and pulled the door back a few inches. A shaft of light brightened their cell. Jake peered thru the opening. “What do you see?”
“No sign of Dekker or Tresch. We’re at the end of a hallway, maybe twenty-five feet long, then it goes left.”
The hallway, like their cell, was concrete, the walls rough and pock-marked. Single-bulb ceiling lights were spaced ten-feet apart. The air was damp and stale.
Jake took his time getting to the end of the hall, then stopped and listened. He looked back at Gabriel and shook his head, then peeked around the corner. The next corridor ran twice the distance as the first and was empty. There were no doors on either side but there was one at the end of the hall. Jake trotted to the door. It was a solid slab of thick-hewn wood and it was locked. He pressed his ear against the door but couldn’t hear anything on the other side. He ran back to their cell.
“There’s a door at the end of the next hallway. It’s got one of those skeleton locks.”
Gabriel threw his arm across Jake’s shoulder. Jake wrapped his arm around his waist and they left their cell doing a three-legged walk. When they reached the second door, Gabriel was breathing hard. Dark blood was seeping through his bandage and his face was pale. Jake studied his leg, then looked at Gabriel who shrugged.
Jake patted him on the arm. “You’ve got this.”
Gabriel gave him a weak smile. “Part de gateau. Or as you Americans say, piece of cake.”
He picked the lock and Jake pulled back the door. It opened into a dimly lit, brick-walled, domed tunnel. Scraps of paper, empty food cartons, discarded beverage cans and other trash were scattered across the floor.
Jake said, “Looks like an Airbnb for the homeless.” Behind them, the tunnel was dark. Ahead of them, they could see a faint glow. “That way.”
The tunnel led them into a massive underground expanse of vaulted chambers, all made of brick. Powerful lights hanging from the nearest arches flooded the surrounding area while obscuring whatever lay in the darkness behind them.
Gabriel said. “I know this place. It’s a catacombs.”
“Where are the dead bodies?”
“It’s not that kind of catacombs. It was for stabling horses used to build the underground railway back in the 19th century.”
“And you know this because?” Jake asked.
“Because this is where we rehearsed stealing the Magna Cartas. Over there, past that next arch there should be a mockup of the display cases we built.”
Jake crossed the chamber. A replica of the display case stood in the shadows just beyond the reach of the lights. He turned toward Gabriel, giving him a thumbs-up until he saw Dekker with his arm locked around Gabriel’s throat and a gun pressed against his temple.
“Out for a stroll, are you, lads?”
SIXTY-TWO
CASSIE LEFT THE YORK ROAD STATION dressed in the clothes Tresch had given her. Carrying the Codex case, she stuck to the sidewalk along York Way, opened the burner phone and pressed 1. Tresch answered.
“Do you have it?”
“Yes.”
“Take the Regents Canal towpath to the Camden Lock Market. Dekker will meet you there in thirty minutes. Don’t try anything heroic or your friends will die.”
Tresch ended the call. Taking the towpath meant she had to walk. Cassie studied the burner phone. It had to have built-in GPS. That was the only way Tresch could have known how long it would take her to get to the market on foot. He’d been tracking her ever since she left his plane.
Afraid that Tresch could also monitor her calls on the burner phone, Cassie opened the phone she’d stolen from Sarah and called Gunnar.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
“If you have what I need.”
“I do,” she said and gave it to him.
“How much time do I have?” Gunnar asked.
“Half an hour.”
“That may not be enough.”
“It has to be,” she said and hung up.
Cassie pulled Ian Thorpe’s gun from her jacket pocket. It was a Glock 17. The magazine was full - seventeen rounds. She put one in the chamber and tucked the gun behind her waist.
Her options were limited. Tresch would know if she ditched the burner phone, took another route or raced to get there early so she could set up an ambush. As much as she hated playing by his rules, she checked the route on Google Maps and started walking.
The winding towpath ran alongside
the canal. The slowly moving water was the color of midnight ink. A succession of walls, fences, overgrown shrubs and trees on the other side blotted out light from the streets above. With the cloudy, moonless night, the towpath was enveloped in darkness.
Cassie came around a bend and saw soft lights encircling a sign painted on the side of a building – Camden Lock Market. A flight of stairs led from the towpath up to the market. Dekker was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. Cassie stopped in front of him, staying out of his reach. He had a gun in his right hand.
“That it?” he asked, pointing to the case she was carrying.
Cassie nodded. “As promised.”
“Open it.”
“No.”
He took a step toward her. “I said open it.”
Cassie held her ground. “It’s for Lord Tresch, not you. I’ll open it for him.”
He stuck out his hand, reaching for the case. “I’m to make sure you really have the Codex.”
“And if I don’t?”
“I’ll kill you and throw your body in the canal.”
Cassie sighed, dropped the case to the pavement, then shoved it with her foot.