Lewis Security

by Glenna Sinclair

  “Meanwhile, they were breaking into homes?”

  She shrugged. “They never told me who they stole from, if that’s what you’re asking. But they did tell me they would never break in anywhere they’d visited socially within a month, just to make it less likely for anybody to remember they were recently there. It took a lot of planning, discipline and patience—and they had to be very smart about the items their clients asked them to liberate.”

  I snorted at her use of the word “liberate”, and her eyes narrowed. “That’s what they called it.”

  “I’m sure it is.” Thieves had a way of making themselves sound more honorable than they were. “And they used that word when they stole from people who trusted them.”

  She leaned in. “For one thing, nobody with half a brain keeps a priceless antique, piece of art or jewels in their home without having insurance on them. So, sure, my parents took those pieces when clients asked them to and yes, they collected money in return. But the people who lost these pieces didn’t really lose anything. I’m sure they used that money for some other worthless nonsense to display and show off whenever they had guests.”

  “Worthless nonsense?” I asked with a smirk.

  She visibly bristled at my attitude. “What’s the point of having nice things you can’t do anything but look at?”

  “Is that another thing your parents taught you?”

  She nodded. “I don’t attach much importance to possessions.”

  That explained her apartment. “Because they might go away?”

  “Wow. I didn’t know this was going to feel like a visit to the therapist.” But she was smiling when she said it. “I guess that’s why. I’d rather have the money in the bank, or working for me somehow. I want to have the freedom to pick up and go whenever I feel like it. How could I do that if I had a big, flashy apartment with a ton of heavy junk lying around?”

  I could see the sense in that. “What else did they teach you? Your parents, I mean.”

  “Everything—literally. How to disable security systems. How to tell whether a security system is in place, and where. How to get through windows and doors. Lock picking. The enrolled me in gymnastics.”

  “Gymnastics?” I was wrong about the dancing, but not far off.

  “Sure, I have to be agile. I took lessons for years.”

  “Can you do, like, flips and stuff?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course.”

  “Do one for me. I wanna see.”

  “I’m not your trained monkey.” She stood, brushing invisible dust from herself. “I’ve already performed enough or for you today.”

  “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

  “Yeah, I know.” She turned and walked down the hall.

  “No, wait a minute.” I jumped up from the couch to follow her. “You don’t get to pout and act like the wounded party here.”

  “Who’s pouting?” She tried to shut the bedroom door in my face, but I caught it. She might have been a gymnast, but I had the upper body strength.

  “You are. You jumped up and walked away because you thought it would get me to feel sorry for asking questions.”

  She flopped down on the bed, and even then she managed to look graceful. “You’re treating me like a circus animal. I don’t need to explain myself to you, and I don’t need to tell you my life story. You don’t really want to know, anyway. You want to know because I’m interesting. I’m different from you. But you don’t care about me as a person.”

  “Why should I?” I didn’t mean to blurt it out that way. Something in her expression changed when I said it—a hardening in her eyes. They turned steely.

  “You’re right. You shouldn’t. So please, leave me alone.”

  “You know I can’t do that.”

  “So, what? I’m not allowed to sleep alone?” She lifted her chin. “I mean, if I knew it was going to be like this, I would’ve waited in jail for my trial.”

  “I’m sure that can be arranged.” I folded my arms and glared down at her from my spot in the doorway. “There are a lot of other things I could be doing right now. This isn’t my idea of fun.”

  “What a shame, because this is totally the sort of place I’d want to stay on vacation.”

  I rolled my eyes. “A vacation from being a thief? I can see why you’d need to unwind after something like that.”

  She winced a little. “Please. Just leave me alone.” Instead of trying again to close the door, she went to the adjoining bathroom and closed that door instead. The click of the lock was the period at the end of a sentence. At least if she was locked in the bathroom with cameras just outside the windows, she couldn’t sneak away.

  I couldn’t keep from feeling like kind of an asshole for digging into her like that, since it obviously bothered her when I did. I reminded myself it was better for us not to get close, anyway—if that meant holding her at arm’s length, that was how it would have to be.

  Chapter Seven – Vienna

  The bathroom floor was cold, white tile. Bright white. Everything in the house was the same--immaculate. I wondered idly who came in to clean the place. Somebody connected to the agency, I guessed, since it wasn’t the typical house.

  He wasn’t going to make it as easy on me as I first thought he would. Sure, he had looked at me with interest, maybe even hunger, but that didn’t mean anything. He was one of the rare few who put duty over desire. He was too busy being full of himself and his goodness to consider bending the rules. I could just tell from the way he looked at me that he thought he was better. It would take more than a few lingering looks and a peak down my blouse to get through something like that.

  I made a decision that first night, sitting on the bathroom floor with my knees to my chest and my back to the tub. I had to go along to get along. I needed to make the most of the situation for as long as I could. At least in the safe house, my client wouldn’t be able to track me down again. How had they done it in the first place? I was always so careful.

  Whoever they were, they had the money to pay me for the jewels I had stolen. They probably had money enough to find out who I was and where I lived, too. It was an occupational hazard of working with people wealthy enough to afford me.

  I wished for the tenth time, at least, that I had turned down the job. I still remembered the sound of Erich’s voice when he called with the offer. I remembered the excitement on his face when we met up at our usual sushi place to discuss the specifics—it was a quiet place, tiny, and everybody minded their business there. I could only imagine how many dirty deals went on in those booths.

  His eyes were been wide, practically sparkling with excitement. “It’s Joseph Florsheim’s house,” he muttered after we ordered our food. “You know what that means.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “But you do know the name.Everybody who moves in your circles knows the name.”

  “Sure. Rich old man. Big old house.” I shrugged, but I was more than interested inside. I never wanted to let Erich know how interested I was in the jobs he presented to me.

  “And plenty of shit up for grabs.”

  “I’m sure there is. What in particular will I be looking for?”

  He passed me a list scribbled down on a sticky note, and after looking over my shoulder to be sure nobody was watching, I unfolded it. “Tiara, earrings, two necklaces.”

  “He’s got a huge jewel collection,” Erich murmured. “His late wife was a total jewel junkie.”

  “Cute,” I smirked. “And now that she’s gone, all that beauty is just sitting under glass.”

  “Something like that.”

  I shook my head. “I’ve never understood that. What’s he do? Go to his special room and jerk off to the sight of his collection?”

  “I think he’s too old to jerk off anymore,” Erich snorted. “Anyway, the guy who approached me wants these pieces.”

  “Who is he to the old man?”

  “I don’t know, and you know I don’t ask.”
>
  That didn’t keep me from wondering. The guy was specific with what he’d asked for. That meant he was familiar with the collection. An ex-security guard or some other employee who wanted revenge for being mistreated? Maybe they’d gotten fired for some reason and wanted what they felt they had coming to them. That was the sort of emotion that led people to do stupid things like stealing. But that was none of my business. I was just the middleman—or, rather, middle woman.

  “Timeline?”

  “As soon as possible. That’s about it.”

  “Good.” I preferred when clients minded their own business and let me get down to mine. I didn’t need someone thinking they knew more than I did about my work. “And the drop-off?”

  “They’ll get in contact with me.”

  I scowled. “I don’t like holding onto these things longer than I have to.”

  “I know. I’ll press him for a date and time. Let me know when you decide you’re going in and we’ll work out the rest from there.”

  I looked at my little list one more time, with its detailed descriptions of the pieces I was to look for, then I slid it into my purse.

  “So? What are you thinking about charging? I have to get back to him tonight.” Erich tapped his fingers on the table, and I could hear his leg bouncing up and down under the table. I wondered, not for the first time, if he was an addict. He was jonesing for something—it wasn’t just nerves. He always told me he was clean, that I could trust him, but I wasn’t so sure. How did he manage to make the connections he had? How did people know to go to him for the sort of work I did, not to mention the other members of his illegal network?

  “A hundred grand.” The server slid two bowls of miso soup in front of us and made a hasty retreat.

  “That much?” He looked and sounded incredulous.

  “Yeah, that much.” I looked him straight in the eye. “Either they’re going to sell the pieces because they’re poor, fitting the ex-employee angle, or they’re rich as hell and can afford to pay without selling the pieces. Either way, the money’s there.”

  “Your brain works so much faster than mine does.” He shook his head with a smirk as he started in on his soup.

  “Yeah, well, that’s why you’re you and I’m me.”

  He took the figure to the client and the client had agreed—in fact, Erich told me, they agreed fast enough to make me wonder if I shouldn’t have charged twice that much. After Erich’s cut, I would end up with ninety thousand dollars. Not bad for a night’s work.

  Well, not just one night. I did at least a week’s worth of work before ever stepping foot into a target’s home. In the case of Mr. Florsheim, I had staked out his Park Avenue home on three separate nights to get a feel for his security guards’ schedule. I had used my connections inside the city’s offices to locate the home’s blueprints—it had been restored to its original glory back in the eighties, when Florsheim and his wife had purchased it, after having been remodeled in the middle part of the century to make the home seem more “modern”. Now that was the real crime, I’d decided after looking at before-and-after photos. I decided I liked Joseph Florsheim. We both believed in leaving beautiful things intact.

  I also did my share of research into the jewels his wife had worn—the two of them had sat at the top of Manhattan society for decades, and their photos had regularly appeared in newspapers when they attended charity benefits and opening nights. Old Jessica really had an eye for shiny things. I was surprised she could move under the weight of the necklaces, bracelets, rings and more she regularly wore.

  I walked into the job feeling positive, secure in my abilities. The old man would never miss what I was going to take—it was just the tip of the iceberg, really. That was how I always justified a job. The target had money and insurance. They’d be fine.

  Then, I’d gotten a look at what I was hired to steal. And everything changed—the scope of the job, my opinion of the Florsheims, everything.

  I leaned my forehead on my crossed arms and sighed. I remembered how everything had shifted in that moment, when I knew I was looking at the piece I was supposed to take. It was the only emerald-and-diamond necklace in the collection—I checked twice to be sure. So that’s where it went, I’d thought to myself.

  My memory went back even further, to when that famous necklace had been stolen from a museum. A museum! My parents had poured over the newspaper articles detailing the theft, marveling at the skill of the person or persons who’d broken into a museum and left without a trace. It had to be a team, they’d decided, since a half-dozen security cameras were disabled. Too many for one or two people to handle at one time. The most famous of all the pieces stolen, and a lot of pretty pricey items had disappeared, was a diamond-and-emerald necklace owned by a Russian Empress back in the nineteenth century. The thieves had never been caught, though a few of the pieces had shown up on the black market in the years since. Only not the necklace.

  When I saw it sitting under glass in Joseph Florsheim’s home, I knew why.

  No way could she have worn it out in public, so what was the point of buying it from the seller? Just for the purpose of owning it, I guessed. There was no way their friends could ever have known, either. They must have kept it a secret, somehow. But somebody had seen it and knew its value—either that, or they were just as clueless as most people would be after twenty years passed since its theft. It could’ve just been coincidence.

  I had to get a hold of Erich. I had to let him know I hadn’t skipped town. The client would be after him, too, once enough time passed without word of where their jewels were.

  My phone was in my bag, next to the things I pulled out of my hiding spot. Seeing them in the suitcase made me wonder where I could hide them. Could I trust Dylan not to look through my clothes? I thought I could. Still, I had to be careful. I slid the little bag into the top dresser drawer, behind my underwear. It was as good a place as any for the time being.

  Then, I grabbed my phone and texted Erich. Need to meet with you. Very important.As soon as possible.

  The knock at the door startled me so much, I almost dropped my phone. It took a second for me to compose myself. “Yes?” I made sure to keep the coldness out of my voice. I had to rebuild things between us.

  “I wanted to make sure you have everything you need.” He even managed not to sound like a total jerk.

  I looked around. “I think I’m all right. Thank you.”

  My phone buzzed. Tomorrow, one pm. You know where.

  So he was in a hurry. That told me a lot. What were the odds that I could get out to the restaurant on my own? Slim to none, especially since I didn’t have a car to get back to the city. I opened the bedroom door to find Dylan standing just outside with his hands in his pockets, leaning against the wall.

  I flashed him a coy smile. “Do you like sushi?”

  Chapter Eight – Dylan

  I looked around the dingy little joint. “You actually eat here?” I muttered.

  “It’s actually really good food. I’ve never thrown up after.” She grinned as she slid into a booth near the back of the restaurant.

  “That should be an online review. I know I’d visit after reading that.” I sat next to her and told myself not to look too closely at, well, anything. I had eaten some of the shittiest grub in the world but couldn’t shake the feeling that the Board of Health was a minute or two away from shutting the place down. I wouldn’t have been surprised if they walked in and threw us out before Vienna’s friend ever showed up.

  “Relax. Nobody comes here for the food, even if it’s not half bad.”

  “Well, something good better come out of this meeting. Pax is already pissed that we’re using all these resources.” I glanced out the window and confirmed that one of our cars was sitting across the street.

  She followed the direction I looked in. “How’d they manage to get such a sweet parking spot with all the traffic out there?”

  “They’ve probably been staking the place out ev
er since I cleared this outing with Pax.” And he was pissed as hell that we were using resources left and right. Yeah, he’d get reimbursed…eventually. The government wasn’t well-known for being quick when it came time to pay a bill—collecting on one, yeah, they were on top of that.

  “Oh.” She turned to me. “I’m sorry. I know I’m costing you guys a lot of money.”

  She sounded sincere. I wondered if I could believe her. “Don’t worry about it. You didn’t make up the terms of your bail.”

  She snorted. “Uh, no. I definitely did not.”

  “You don’t have to sound like it’s breaking your balls. I could be a lot worse.”

  “Oh, you’re not the problem. And I’m sorry if I make it sound like you are.”

  “Because I could be an asshole, which I’m not.”

  “You are definitely not. You are very nice. Should I pat you on the head, too?” She giggled, and I had to smile.

  “No, but a decent lunch after this wouldn’t be a bad idea.”

  “You’re not ordering?” She laughed when she saw the look on my face. “Okay. I’ll treat you to something else, as long as it’s okay for us to go somewhere else.” She nodded toward the parked SUV. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

  “It’ll be fine.” I wasn’t sure if it would be, but there was no way I would eat anything that came out of that kitchen. Pax was being a little over-cautious, too. The girl wasn’t getting away from me.

  A skinny, strung-out looking guy walked past the window on his way to the front door. “That’s him,” she murmured. She didn’t need to tell me. He looked just like the sort of guy who would be the middle man between a greedy person and a person who was willing to steal for them.

  And the second he walked in and saw me sitting with Vienna, he bolted.

  “Shit!” I jumped up. “You stay here!”

  “What?” She sounded shocked, but I didn’t wait to explain. If he ran, he had a reason to run—probably because he thought I was the cops.

  I waved off the driver of the SUV—I didn’t know who it was—and took off down the street. The son of a bitch was fast, I had to give him that. But I was faster. He made it to the end of the block and darted between two groups of people before making a right. I was right on his heels. When he turned down the first alley he came to, I caught him easily and slammed him against a brick wall.