by Jude Watson
They shut the flaps on her smile.
Darius hefted the box. He walked across the road to the white house and rang the bell. Then someone answered, a middle-aged woman in dark pants and a white shirt. She asked him a few questions.
March and Jules watched anxiously. “Alfie always said you can get away with anything if you’re carrying a clipboard and a smile,” March muttered. A second later he let out a breath. “She just laughed! We’re in.”
They waited while the clock ticked. March couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d overlooked something. Apprehension skittered along his skin.
He was relieved when Darius hurried out the door a few minutes later.
“Everything’s okay,” he said as he ran up. “The housekeeper is getting ready to go; she had her keys in her hand when I left. Izzy’s okay. I sprayed the outdoor cameras with hair spray, so if Shannon looks back at a tape, he won’t be able to positively ID us.”
A few minutes later the housekeeper appeared. She got into the car and drove off.
March texted Izzy.
ALL CLEAR GO
A moment later her face appeared on Jules’s phone. “Okay,” she whispered. “I’m going upstairs. I disabled the camera in the first security quad, but by the time he checks, I’ll be in the office.”
Darius paced back and forth between the trees. “I don’t like this. She was shaking when she got out of that box. And now she’s alone.”
Just then Izzy popped up again. “I’m in the office. Reset temp in the living room. Booting up computer. Going to put the phone down now.”
Long, agonizing minutes passed. Then Izzy’s face popped up again. “Okay. Shannon saw the alert, checked out the temp, saw the cameras functioning, so he adjusted the temp and got a green light. I installed the mirroring spyware, so I got the code. I just disabled the rear door and reset the cameras. They’re on a loop of empty rooms. Go.”
March and Jules ran across the lawn and to the back of the house. Darius would keep watch on the road just in case. Izzy waited for them by the back door. “I’ll look in the study,” she said.
“We’ll take the master bedroom,” March said.
They ran across the open-plan living room, with its gargantuan leather sofas, and took the stairs two at a time. The master bedroom was in the turret, a gigantic room with curved walls. Two gray sofas sat by a fireplace. An enormous bed was in the center of the room, piled with layers of pillows. Cascading gray silk draperies rippled at the floor-to-ceiling windows. A gigantic gold-leaf mirror reflected it all. There were three separate closets, all full of meticulously stacked cashmere sweaters, jackets, suits, and transparent towers of shoes.
Jules stopped still. “Speechless!”
On the dresser, a heavy gold watch was tossed onto a tray, along with cuff links. There was a mahogany box on the top of the dresser, and March pawed through it. More cuff links. A hideous pinky ring.
“Keep looking,” he told Jules. “I’m going to try the study next door.”
The sun must have set, because the hallway was dark. March didn’t want to risk a light. He pushed open the study door.
For just a moment he was blinded by the last rays of the setting sun. A blue flash exploded onto the white wall.
A man sat in a leather swivel chair, his back to March, holding up something between thumb and index finger.
It was Mike Shannon, and he was holding a moonstone.
He swiveled the chair slightly, just enough to see March. He smiled. “Surprised?”
March hovered in the doorway.
“Did you really think I’d fall for the broken water-heater ploy? I was a New York City cop, kid.” He swiveled again so that his back was to March.
March said nothing. He tried to quiet his thundering heart. He kept his eye on the moonstone, which Shannon was holding to catch the light. The blue sheen that seemed to hover over the stone was hypnotic.
“Though I have to admire whoever had the hacking skills to take over my system. I’ll be looking into that.”
March finally found his voice. “What do you want?”
Shannon swiveled back and forth in his chair. “What does anybody want, kid? A deal.”
March thought of Jules in the next room, searching. Soon she’d be looking for him. He walked forward to stand in front of Shannon. This way he was facing the door.
“What kind of a deal?”
“I was waiting to see who would show up, you or Oscar. I was betting on Oscar. He’s got that ruthless streak.”
“Maybe I have it, too.”
Shannon laughed. “Sure, half-pint.”
“This half-pint has got the moonstones. Not Oscar.”
“Good for you. And you’re going to cut me in on the deal. Fifty-fifty.” Shannon looked at the stone. “Because I’ve got this.”
“I thought you wanted your name cleared. Not money.”
“I don’t care about my good name. Nobody remembers me as a real cop. See all this?” He waved a hand. “Leveraged. I was fired last week. They’re running old shows this week. Next week I’m off cable.”
“You can find something else.”
He laughed. “Kids. You never see dead ends. How am I going to get another deal when this house gets foreclosed? Failure stinks, kid. You never get the smell off.”
“Maybe you can sell that tacky pinky ring,” March said.
“Such a comedian. What I need is quick money. What you need is a moonstone. Here’s the deal. When you set up the meeting with Grimstone, I go along and negotiate. You can’t do this by yourselves. Who are you kidding? You’re kids.”
“We did all the work. Fifty-fifty isn’t fair,” March said, stalling. Their only leverage with Grimstone was the stones. She would have to tell them how to reverse the curse before they handed them over.
Not to mention that he didn’t like being pushed around.
“Fair? Grow up. This is nonnegotiable.”
“My dad always said, ‘If someone offers you a deal you can’t change, you’re the sucker at the table,’ ” March said. “No deal.”
“I’m not asking,” Shannon said with a flare of hard anger. For the first time, March saw the viciousness beneath his weary tough-guy persona.
He pulled out his phone and held it up. “There are surveillance tapes of you in New York, San Francisco, and now here … the gang of kids who steal from old ladies, dogs, and ex-cops. What a field day the media will have!”
March shrugged. “So I’ll be famous.”
“Not to mention how much the local cops love me. If I hit 911, they’re here in under five. And you and your friends are walking out in handcuffs.”
“If I walk out of here with the police, so will the moonstones,” March said.
“Oh really? Don’t think so. Who are they going to believe? A former cop who says you stole gems from him or some street kid? I’m guessing you have the stones on you right now.”
March willed himself not to touch his pocket. Shannon smiled and hit a button on the phone.
“Nine,” he said.
Jules entered the room. March reached up and smoothed his eyebrow. Go. Better if just he got caught. Jules didn’t move.
“Your time is running out. And your sister’s, too. Yeah, I know she’s behind me. You kids are so dumb.” March heard a beep. “One …”
Bright lights and noise suddenly erupted in a carnival cacophony of sound. Downstairs a symphony crashed. The flat-screen TV blazed to life. Gunfire from an action movie startled Shannon. The phone shot out of his hand. The dishwasher on the bar started with a whoosh. The lights strobed on and off rapidly.
The house had come alive.
Jules did a running handstand, then flipped over to come at Shannon, feetfirst, aimed right at his hand. He crashed backward, the moonstone flying in the air.
It seemed to hover, flashing not quite blue, not quite white, not quite silver….
March dived for it. Just as everything went black.
The moons
tone dropped into his hands as if it belonged there. He could barely make out the gray outline of the door and the gleam of Jules’s pale skin.
Shannon was on the floor, desperately trying to work the phone with his left hand. The other was curled in his lap.
“ONE!” Shannon roared.
Jules was already pressing Izzy on speed dial.
“WE’VE GOT IT. GET OUT!”
As they raced down the hall, they heard the front door slam. Izzy was out. They ran toward the stairs.
A loud, rattling noise suddenly began around them, filling their ears with clatter.
Jules grabbed March. “What is it?”
March whipped around. “The hurricane shutters! He must have programmed it!”
They clutched each other as the metal shutters accordioned down. Locks snapped. The house was completely sealed.
It was now so dark that they could make out no outline, no form. The air pressed against their ears.
In the absolute blackness, March felt disoriented. Was the doorway to the study directly behind him, or had they moved closer to the stairs? Which way was the hall to the turret? He could hear Jules breathing next to him in quick pants. He squeezed her hand, alerting her to the fact that they had to move. Shannon knew his house better than they did.
He was coming for them. The police were, too. Shannon would do as he’d promised — he’d tell the police that March had stolen the moonstones from him. He’d be searched. Their chance to get the money, reverse the curse … gone.
He’d be back in a group home. Or juvenile hall.
Or dead.
March tried to think past his pounding pulse. Which way to go?
March heard a small noise off to his right. Shannon. But hadn’t the study been to his left?
Suddenly Shannon’s voice boomed out from behind them.
“This is a home invasion,” he shouted. They could hear the rasp of his angry breathing. “No jury would convict me. I had no idea who I was fighting. It was pitch-dark. And I have a perfect right to bash your skulls in!”
Dead cold fear dropped over March, as annihilating as the darkness. Shannon wasn’t lying. He could get away with murder.
He couldn’t think. He wanted to run, but he didn’t know where he was or where to go. Any movement might tip Shannon off to their location. He was standing behind them. Waiting.
Jules put her lips to his ear. “Move left. Hold on to my shirt.”
He grabbed the hem of her jersey. She moved like a cat, a silent, gliding motion. His eyes had adjusted somewhat but he still couldn’t see. He had to trust Jules completely. Her hands were slightly in front of her, feeling her way.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Shannon crooned.
He was to their right. Jules moved accordingly, speeding up her pace a bit while he was speaking. She was heading to the stairs, March guessed.
It was an excruciatingly slow journey down the hall. Any moment, March was afraid Shannon would come at them from behind. With a chair or one of those bronze bookends he’d spied in the study — something crashing down on their skulls.
He felt the air change, become a bit cooler — the bedroom. They had gone the wrong way. They could be trapped here.
They heard the wail of police sirens.
“They’re coming!” Shannon called. “And I’ll find you before they get here. There’s no place to hide….”
Jules hunched her body over her phone to block out the emitted light.
TURRET BEDROOM
In seconds the reply came.
WINDOW OVERLOOKING BACK MEADOW
“Last chance!” Shannon yelled. He sounded raspy and in pain. Desperate. Now he was moving faster, charging through the upstairs rooms. March heard the slam of a closet door.
March whispered close to her ear. “We’re four stories up. Even if Izzy can get the shutter up, how can we get down?”
Jules tugged at the expensive drapes that pooled on the floor. “Looks like they’re about twenty feet long,” she whispered. “That will get us halfway.”
March looked at her, incredulous. “Can they hold our weight?”
A thump came from next door, something hitting a wall. “I think you broke my wrist, little girl!” Shannon roared. “Want to see how that feels?”
Come on, Izzy, come on, come on.
Suddenly the shutter on the casement window rattled up. Izzy had come through! In less than a second March had grabbed the handles of the casement windows and pushed them out. Jules was ready. Snatching fistfuls of the curtains, she tossed them out.
March looked down. The curtains came to a stop halfway to the lawn. There was still a good twenty feet left.
“I heard that!” March heard the sound of running. Shannon bumped into something. He was probably trying to program the shutters and run at the same time.
“Quick, before Shannon closes the shutters again. Go!”
March grabbed fistfuls of the curtain. He climbed over the side. He swung against the house, and terror gripped him. He looked up at Jules.
How did this happen again?
It was like the moonstones were taunting them.
“We’re supposed to stay on the ground,” he said.
“No choice.” She swung a leg over the sill. “Go.”
The sirens screamed in his ears. He saw Darius and Izzy far below, each of them running with one bike on either side, awkwardly but quickly, bumping over the meadow toward the turret. From up here he could see the police cars turning into the lane.
That gave March the incentive he needed. He scrambled down the curtain and swung above the lawn. He ran out of curtain. It was too far to jump.
Jules climbed out, the material from the other curtain in her hand. She scrambled down, then as March hung on the end of his curtain, she held on with one hand as she wrapped the material of the other curtain around her ankles, tied it, and held out her hands. “C grip!”
March felt the material ripping. He reached out to her.
“I’m going to let go, and you’re going to lower yourself down once I’m hanging by my ankles. Then you’re going to have to jump the rest of the way. Don’t worry; you won’t break anything. You’ll have about a seven-foot drop. This is all going to happen very fast.”
The material ripped again.
“Um, now?” Jules said.
March kept his legs around the curtain but hung on to Jules’s wrists. She let herself go, hanging just by her ankles, and he slid down as far as he could until he was hanging free. He felt the amazing strength of her arms as she lowered him down. She was hanging upside down, her ankles secured in the cloth.
The rip sounded like a crack of thunder as he let go and jumped the rest of the way. As the curtain tore, Jules flipped up, grabbed the tattered end like it was a vine, and jumped. She landed on her feet. March had fallen backward, his face to the sky.
She grinned and put out a hand. The sound of sirens screamed in his ears, and his pulse pounded with the near escape. “C’mon. They’re playing our song.”
The police went in the front of the house, so the gang took off on their bikes across the back lawn, bumping down the grassy incline. They hauled their bikes over the stone wall, hopped back on, and streaked down the road.
A four-wheel-drive SUV shot out of a driveway, with Shannon at the wheel. The car was like a tank, and, wheels screeching, it headed directly for them. Behind them a police car turned down the road, speeding toward them.
“He’s trying to head us off!” March shouted.
“Woods!” Jules cut her bicycle over to the opposite side of the road.
With the screech of Shannon’s brakes and the sound of a police car slamming into a stone wall crashing in their ears, they dropped their bikes and took off on foot through the woods. Keeping parallel to the road, they raced through people’s backyards. They leaped over stone fences, dodged behind trees. They saw two cop cars streak by, lights revolving.
As they approached the village, t
hey heard the train whistle.
“We’re going to have to make a run for it,” March said.
Now they ran flat out, along the side of the road, lungs screaming with pain. They reached the village and swung down the last street as the train pulled into the station. Feet pounding, they made the platform and then jumped on just as the doors were closing.
* * *
It took them five stops on the train to stop hyperventilating.
“I thought it was over,” Darius said. “So Izzy texts me, says, ‘Shannon’s in the house.’ ”
“And Darius texts me back,” Izzy said. “He tells me to turn everything on max. Make the house go crazy. Brilliant!”
“That was way too close,” March said. “We’ve probably got a million cops looking for us now.”
“Six moonstones gets us nothing,” Jules said. “What about FX?”
March glanced at his phone. He must have checked it a hundred times today. Finally there was a message from FX. March inhaled sharply.
“FX says he’s tracked down the last moonstone. A heist in Barcelona — before the Amsterdam heist. FX says the method has Alfie all over it. He must have hid it somewhere.”
“How about in the apartment?” Izzy asked. “We didn’t get a chance to really search it.”
“It’s the only place. We’ve got to get back in,” March agreed. “We still have a key. That is if Oscar didn’t change the locks. We can do it and still be in time to meet Grimstone tonight! Let’s just hope we can engineer an easier exit.”
“I remembered something about Oscar,” Jules said. “When we practiced for the first heist … he already knew circus grips. I wonder why.”
“Well, that makes sense,” Izzy said. “I went through all his emails, and there was this solicitation from some circus camp in Canada. He went there when he was a teenager.”
March felt Jules suddenly go still.
He saw the conductor approaching. They’d already given their tickets. Was he just walking through? It seemed to March that he was checking them out but trying to look like a man going through a routine. He went all the way to the end of the car. March twisted to watch him. The conductor spoke into a phone.