The Tomorrow Heist

by Jack Soren

  The men looked at each other for a long time. They both knew what the other had to lose. Finally, Lew puffed air between his lips and took his gun out, sliding a bullet into the chamber. “Fuck it. Let’s go.”

  “Keep that down,” Jonathan said. “Remember the conditions.”

  “Roger that,” Lew said, slipping the gun into the pocket of his long duster coat. He got out, walked around the car, and waited on the sidewalk. Jonathan joined him. They took a moment to look up and down the block again. Nothing. No ­people, no movement. The only cars were wrecks abandoned long ago. It was like the rest of London had forgotten this street was even here.

  Ding-­ding.

  The bell over the door clanged as they entered. The inside of the gallery added little to their calm. A single row of chairs sat against one dirty wall. A few makeshift paintings were hung here and there, but Jonathan was sure Natalie could have painted better ones in her sleep. And most of them hung askew.

  And that was the entire gallery. There were no other doors, no way in or out besides the door they’d just come through. It didn’t make any sense.

  “Right corner,” Lew said quietly, keeping his hand in his pocket, but Jonathan had already spotted the security camera when they first came in. No light glowed on it and, from the angle, it didn’t appear to even be functioning, but you never knew. Jonathan was just noticing the speaker on the opposite wall when it crackled to life.

  “Gentlemen. Please take a seat.”

  “Like fuck,” Lew said. Jonathan could tell the whole situation was creeping Lew out, and he knew they’d be lucky to get a few minutes before he pulled his gun.

  “Where’s my daughter? Where’s Emily?” Jonathan demanded, not sure if he should look at the speaker or the camera. If there even was a microphone.

  “Your daughter?” the voice said sounding genuinely confused. “I would assume she’s right—­” The voice was replaced by muffled voices, like he was talking to someone. “Oh, I’m sorry. Just a miscommunication, I’m afraid. The block should be off her phone now. But we really don’t have time.”

  Jonathan ignored him and quickly dialed. The call got through, rang once and a frantic Natalie picked up. “Daddy?”

  “Baby, are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, what happened to you? The phone just went dead last night. I’ve been trying to call you guys all night. Is Uncle Lew okay?” Jonathan knew this wasn’t the place or time, but he needed to say something. With the vibe he was getting from their current situation, he didn’t want to risk something’s happening before he had a chance to let Natalie know something he should have said a long time ago.

  “He’s fine, baby. Listen, I—­I screwed up. I was just trying to keep you safe, but I never should have cut you out like that.” There was a silence, and Jonathan wondered if he’d been blocked again, but then a squeak and a sniffle told him what was happening. She was crying.

  “I . . . I understand. But I was starting to think you just didn’t want me around. Like I was—­”

  “No, baby, never. Don’t ever say that,” Jonathan said. He looked up at Lew, who was smiling. “We need to talk. A lot. But I’m still taking care of things here. With Emily. I need to go, but I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

  “All right,” Natalie said. She sounded disappointed, but he knew she understood.

  When he was off the phone, he felt like a thousand pounds had been lifted from his shoulders. But he knew Lew only felt mildly better knowing that Natalie was all right.

  “Now, as I was saying, please take a seat, gentlemen. We have a lot to do and not much time.”

  “Time for what? Where the fuck is Emily!” Lew shouted. His fuse was going to go, and if that happened, Jonathan knew from past experience that even he wouldn’t be able to stop him.

  Again there was muffled sounds on the speaker.

  “Lew. Lew, I’m all right,” Emily’s voice said. “I’m here with them. I’m fine. Well, relatively fine. They patched me up. They saved my life, really. They’re proper heroes.”

  “Them?” Jonathan and Lew said at the same time.

  “Just take a seat, and we’ll get started,” the voice said again. Jonathan could tell by his strain that the voice’s owner was starting to get perturbed at all these interruptions.

  Lew took a few steps toward the speaker. “Look, pal, I ain’t sitting nowhere. Let’s just—­”

  “Christ! Fine, have it your way,” the voice said angrily. The speaker clicked like it had been turned off.

  “Have it our way? What is he, Burger Ki—­”

  Metal shades slammed down over the windows and the door. A red light snapped on, making everything look like the inside of a submarine. Then a hum started, and the floor began to shake. Jonathan and Lew put their arms out for balance.

  “Ah, crap,” Lew said just before their stomachs dropped, and the gallery walls began to get very, very tall. Jonathan grabbed onto Lew’s shoulder for extra balance, knowing it would take a lot to knock his bulk down.

  “An elevator,” Jonathan said.

  “Ya think!” Lew managed. The noise was getting louder and louder, and the floor was falling faster and faster.

  Jonathan looked over at the chairs, which were sitting stationary and calm in all the turmoil around them. They were obviously bolted to the floor, and right now, Jonathan was wishing he was sitting in one of them.

  “Brace yourself!” Jonathan shouted.

  “For what?”

  “At this speed, when the brakes catch, we’re going to—­”

  As if they’d heard him, the brakes caught, and both men were hurled to the floor. Thankfully, the noise was gone. Unthankfully, Lew had fallen on top of him. Jonathan was pretty sure one of his balls was up around his throat.

  “Jesus, how much do you weigh?” Jonathan said, panting and wincing as he waited for the pain in his stomach to subside.

  “As much as a man is supposed to, lightweight,” Lew said, fumbling his way back to his feet. He helped Jonathan up.

  The wall under the speaker clicked and rose, spilling harsh light into the gallery. Both Jonathan and Lew squinted against the sudden brightness. As it subsided, a man flanked by four armed guards entered. The red light clicked over to white again and showed his smiling face. He had a small build and caramel skin—­and Jonathan had just sat across from him a day ago in the café along the Thames.

  “Fahd?”

  As the lights came up, they showed that while Lew had been scrambling around on the floor, the gun had fallen out of his pocket and was lying on the ground before them.

  “GUN!” Someone appeared from behind Fahd, grabbed him, and hurried him away.

  The four guards came to life, pointing their P90s at Jonathan and Lew, red dots from their laser sights dancing on their chests. Jonathan and Lew raised their hands.

  “Oops,” Lew said.

  “ARE YOU SURE, sir?” a guard asked Fahd a half an hour later, when Fahd instructed him to remove Jonathan’s and Lew’s cuffs.

  They’d been rushed into an interrogation-­style room deep in the mysterious maze a ­couple of stories under the streets of London. Jonathan figured it was some kind of shelter built back during the war, but that was about all he could surmise from their current situation.

  “Yes, it was just a misunderstanding.”

  “Funny, I was thinking it was called kidnapping,” Lew said, holding his wrists up for the guard to unlock. Jonathan knew being handcuffed always made Lew grumpy. And he wasn’t in such a great mood, himself, despite knowing that Natalie was safe. The guard released them and left.

  “Well, maybe I can make up for that,” Fahd said, as Emily limped into the room.

  “Jesus,” Jonathan said. She was a mess. Her eyes were blackened, her arm was in a sling, and when she smiled, he could see that she was missing some teeth. />
  “Babe,” Lew said, his voice cracking when he saw her condition.

  “I’m okay, Lew. Really. I should probably be dead. If it weren’t for Fahd.”

  “I’m just sorry we didn’t get there sooner. She should be fine in a few weeks, though. I’m taking her to our dentist tomorrow.”

  Jonathan could tell Lew hadn’t heard half of that. He’d slowly gotten up and was gently holding Emily. It was the softest Jonathan had ever seen him.

  “Sorry I’m not much to look at right now,” Emily said to Lew.

  “Are you kidding? You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he said as he gently kissed her.

  “Yes, well, if you’ll take a seat, we can get started.”

  “Who are you ­people?” Jonathan asked.

  “I’m afraid the Cliff Notes version will have to do for now; we don’t have much time.”

  “Time for what?” Lew asked, sitting after he helped Emily into a chair.

  “Introductions first, Mr. Katchbrow.”

  “Lew,” Lew said.

  “Thank you. Lew,” Fahd said. “In a way, we’re kindred spirits. My name is Fahd Qureshi. As you’ve no doubt guessed, I’m not a museum security guard. I like to meet new members undercover, as it were, before I indoctrinate them. It gives me a better picture, sometimes, than all the background checks in the world.”

  “Members of what?” Jonathan asked.

  “The Custodians,” Fahd said, reverently. He seemed to be waiting for a reaction that didn’t come.

  “Am I supposed to know what that means?” Jonathan asked.

  “No, not really,” Fahd said. “We’ve gone to great lengths to ensure that the public doesn’t know we exist. Even though the public is the reason we exist.”

  “Who came up with that name? You?” Lew said.

  Fahd smiled. “No, far from it. I wasn’t a founder, by any means. In fact, ten years ago I was just a thief in Riyadh. My companions at the time and I broke into the National Museum. Successes had filled us with hubris. It was a disaster. Most of us were killed. But as I sat in custody, waiting for the police, someone very different showed up and took me away.”

  “Someone like you, now,” Jonathan said.

  “Yes. They asked if I’d be interested in using my skills in a very different way. Well, I knew my choices were to say yes or end up with my hands in a bag, so I went along with this stranger, determined to escape at my first opportunity. He indoctrinated me, took me into a world—­a global subculture—­that I didn’t even know existed. It wasn’t long before saving my hands was the least of the reasons I stayed.”

  “Fascinating,” Lew said dryly. “But how exactly are we ‘kindred spirits’? We’ve never robbed a museum in our lives.”

  “No, that’s true,” Fahd said. “I was referring more to the reason I became a thief in the first place, but again I didn’t really understand what you were all about back then. The Custodians helped me understand, though.”

  “And what are we all about?” Lew said. Jonathan wished Lew would shut up. For all they knew, he was confirming things Fahd didn’t know yet. But just like Fahd’s choice years ago, they didn’t really have an option now. It was either sit and listen to Fahd’s story or face the automatic weapons in the hallway.

  “It’s all in her books,” Fahd said, nodding toward Emily. Jonathan closed his eyes and sighed, knowing they were blown. Jonathan and Lew had first met Emily because of the book she had written, The Monarch’s Reign, which documented and theorized about who The Monarch actually was. Once they’d met—­and Emily had helped to rescue Natalie from her kidnappers—­Emily wrote another book aimed at protecting The Monarch, as opposed to outing Jonathan and Lew. At the time, it had seemed to work, but Jonathan knew there was always a chance of someone’s seeing through the subterfuge.

  “You didn’t rob museums, Lew,” Fahd said, as he got up, picked up a remote control, and pointed it at the screen on the wall. “But you did work for museums. You and Jonathan, both. As The Monarch.” Fahd pressed a button, and the screen snapped to life, a single image displayed—­two symmetrical curlicues on either side of a flattened vertical oval, looking for all intents and purposes like an insect.

  Like a butterfly.

  Even though he’d sensed it was coming, the image shot electricity through Jonathan’s nervous system, his legs twitching slightly. They still didn’t know how much The Custodians knew, but his hopes of keeping some secrets were quickly fading.

  “But I’m getting ahead of myself,” Fahd said. “The Custodians were—­and are—­about more than protecting Art. Much more. They protect entire cultures, science, languages—­the list is almost endless.”

  “Well, aren’t y’all special—­” Lew started to say.

  “Shut up, Lew,” Jonathan said without looking at him, then to Fahd, “Why us?”

  “As I said, you inspired me, even if I didn’t get it at first. But I wasn’t the only one. The Custodians were well aware of you even before I joined them. Apparently, it’s gone back and forth over the years whether to approach you for membership, or to eliminate you.”

  Jonathan and Lew exchanged a look.

  “Do The Custodians make a habit of eliminating ­people?” Jonathan asked.

  “Of course not,” Fahd said. “I probably shouldn’t have mentioned it.” Jonathan doubted anything that Fahd was saying was by accident.

  “But you did mention it,” Lew said.

  “Please, don’t read too much into it,” Fahd said. “The Custodians have a council who decide everything. That motion was tabled a few times but never got anywhere near the majority vote it would have needed to be passed and put into action. Let’s stay on point.”

  Jonathan exchanged another look with Lew, and he decided to let it go, for now. Lew appeared to agree. He could feel Emily staring at him, but he didn’t have the bandwidth to deal with her, right now.

  “Proceed,” Jonathan said.

  Fahd pressed another button, and newspaper clippings appeared on the screen, then faded one after another:

  “Monet’s Charing Cross Mysteriously Resurrected”

  “British Museum Finds Raphael Amongst Forgotten Inventory”

  “Degas Daughters Returned Under Shroud of Secrecy”

  And on and on, all reports covering various jobs The Monarch had been associated with over the years.

  “And just when we agreed unanimously to approach you, you disappeared,” Fahd continued. He used the remote again, and the screen displayed a blackened, still-­smoking island. Jonathan, Emily, and Lew all leaned forward. The last time they’d seen Tartaruga Island, they’d been flying away from it as fast they could on a stolen helicopter.

  “Shit,” Lew said quietly.

  “You hit the radar again two years ago, and once more the decision of what to do about you has set off a difficult debate.”

  “I’m assuming you ended up on the side to keep us alive, seeing as we’re still breathing,” Jonathan said.

  “It gets better,” Emily said, her speech a little mumbly because of her missing teeth. “Can I tell them?” she asked Fahd. He seemed genuinely disappointed, but nodded.

  “They want you to be The Monarch again!”

  AFTER FAHD SAID he’d leave them alone to talk it over, and Jonathan had closed the door behind him, he spun around so fast he almost fell over.

  “Are you crazy?” Jonathan said to Emily, denying the rush he’d momentarily felt at the idea.

  “Tell me you were joking,” Lew said. But Jonathan knew from yesterday that Lew was feeling the same rush of adrenaline at the idea of being The Monarch again.

  Emily looked like someone had just told her Santa Claus wasn’t real. “But I don’t get it. You’re already pulling jobs again. What’s the—­”

  “We haven’t used the symbol
in two years,” Jonathan said. “And if they want us to be . . . him again, you know that’s what they’re going to want.”

  “I still don’t get it. What’s the difference if you use the symbol or not?”

  “Look in a mirror, baby,” Lew said.

  “And think about what I’ve gone through with Natalie. The symbol makes ­people nuts, and it puts everyone we love in danger. What do you think George will do if he hears about the symbol’s being used somewhere?”

  “Wait, you love me?” Emily said to Jonathan. Lew laughed.

  “What? No, I mean . . . well, yes, but not like—­” Emily walked over and put her uninjured arm around Jonathan. Lew just sat, smiling like his cheeks were trying to get into his eye sockets. “Would you please say something?” Jonathan said to him.

  “Oh, I love you too, big guy. How’s about a kiss?”

  “If you take one more step, I’ll suffocate you with your stupid coat.”

  Emily stepped back from her assault and looked Jonathan in the eye, putting her hand on his cheek.

  “Jonathan, I love you too. And we all love Natalie. Don’t you know I’d never do anything to put any of you in danger? But if you’re going to continue, you need help. And protection. Fahd and The Custodians can do that. They can find the jobs, and more importantly, they can fund the jobs.”

  “I hate to say it, but she’s making sense, Jonny,” Lew said. Jonathan knew this is what Lew had been wanting for a long time.

  Could The Custodians really keep Natalie safe? Was this the answer they’d been looking for all along? While he disliked The Monarch label, mostly because everyone seemed to only see the butterfly symbol, not what it was meant to represent, he missed the impact their work used to have—­for culture, for history, and for him. And maybe it was time to stop overthinking everything and go with his gut. Look at what trying to use his head had done to his relationship with Natalie. He let himself think about becoming The Monarch again—­really think about—­and the flutter in his stomach told him what he should do.

  “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m in,” Jonathan said. Emily jumped and squealed. Lew shook his head, but smiled. “On two conditions: We take care of George first and get Natalie safe before we do anything else.”