Saint Heist

by W H Lock

  Quinn gave him a questioning look that Oscar ignored.

  "How are we doing?" he asked Karen.

  "I have no idea," she said. "His glasses should have been able to record everything he saw while he was in there. Hopefully, it uploaded to the shared drive. If not, I should be able to get it from the memory."

  "Hey, Oscar," Quinn said. "What do you know about fixing horse races?"

  "Not much, but I bet we can put something together. What did you have in mind?"

  "A pig in a poke in France," Quinn said. “But with horses.”

  "Okay, nothing uploaded,” Karen said, interrupting the two men. “That's okay. We expected that. It will save to the onboard memory." She sat down at the table, tapped a bit more on the laptop and pulled out her flask. She made a face when she discovered it was empty.

  "A pig in a poke? Isn't that a little old school for you?"

  "Ah, but we add in a minor noble that has fallen on hard times, but she's got this amazing horse," Quinn said.

  Oscar nodded and said, "Okay, keep going. I can see the sexy on this already."

  Quinn nodded. "Karen said that in France they train the horses in secret. Completely secluded on estates so no one can see them."

  "Really?"

  "Apparently, yeah," Quinn said.

  They all turned when the door to the warehouse slammed open. Hands flew up, ready to cast defensive magics. Quinn, Oscar, and Karen relaxed when they saw it was Eno and Rube. The two men looked like they had wallowed through knee-deep mud. That impression lasted until the stench hit the group. Then it was clear they had not been wading through mud at all. Both men were pale with looks of horror on their faces, as if they had to crawl through a mile of World War I's no man's land.

  "It," Rube stopped, stared off into space. After a moment he continued "It was fountaining out of the sinks. The toilets. It...it...it was a river of shit."

  "Yeah," was all that Eno had to offer.

  Rube swallowed out of reflex and said, "What did y'all do? It weren't right, whatever it was."

  "Oh god," Karen said as she gagged at the smell. She stopped herself from vomiting and pointed at the table. "Just leave the glasses there. I'll get...I'll get them..." she made more retching sounds and ran from the room with her hands over her mouth.

  Quinn took a few steps back and said, "Anyone know something to do a quick clean." He waved his hands in the air as if to suggest a spell or trick.

  "Oh, you think it stinks?" Eno said.

  "I found a hose out back," Freddy said. "Come on, guys.”

  “Leave the glasses on the table," Oscar said trying to lean away from the other two men.

  Oscar nodded at the two other men as they carefully took off the safety glasses and set them on the table. Freddy led Eno and Rube out of the room.

  It took some time before Karen came back into the room. She was slightly doubled over, her arms crossed across her stomach as she walked across the warehouse floor. She had to stop a few times for a moment and focus. She held down a rebellious stomach.

  She pointed at the glasses and said, "Someone plug those into the laptop there for me. This.” She stopped and held her hand out. “This is close enough."

  Quinn nodded and pulled the two safety glasses over to the laptop. Both of them had wide lenses that had covered about a third of the two men's faces. The sidebars were thick black plastic. On the inside, Quinn found a micro-USB port. He quickly plugged one of the pairs of glasses into the computer. He followed the onscreen prompts to download the videos from the safety glasses. He did the same for the second pair.

  "I should probably learn an air freshener charm," he said as the video downloaded from the second pair of glasses.

  “Okay, hold on.” She groaned again. Karen pulled her shirt up over her mouth. She clapped her hands once, sharply, and waved them quickly through the air, sketching out a square that replicated itself several times. Once it had re-created itself so that it was a diagram that pointed in every direction, Karen swept her hands out, as if she were casting something to the wind. The burning lines blew out, sparks flying through the air as if a wind had blown through the room. Once the pattern had faded, the room smelled of honeysuckle and springtime.

  "Wow," Quinn said taking a deep breath. "Your brain kind of filters it out so you think you don't smell it anymore but now it's like really gone. That's amazing. Why didn’t you do that before?"

  "I was too busy vomiting, okay? It's Porteo's Potent Potable. He developed it to deal with his wife's cats. I added the honeysuckle," Karen said, taking her shirt off her nose. She clicked on a few files and started forwarding through the videos that were recorded from the glasses.

  She nodded and said, "Okay, I should have a pretty good idea of the layout of the place here in a few. I'll map it out. And then pinpoint what I see forwards and so on. This thing is probably buried deep inside his compound. I bet he's got a vault about three feet thick made from solid iron and lined with enchantments layered in over the decades. We'll have to..." she stopped.

  Quinn turned back to her and said "What? That sounds bad."

  "Or it could be just sitting in a display case on his patio."

  "What?" Quinn shook his head as if he were trying to rattle the idea out of his ears.

  She spun the laptop around. She pointed to the image frozen in the video player. The viewer was being led through the house by a man in a suit and still wearing sunglasses. They were being walked through a large covered patio area. Along the wall to their left, facing the outside world, was a built-in display case. It was filled with various items, but the centerpiece of the collection was a very familiar looking skull.

  "You're kidding me," Quinn said, not really believing what he was seeing.

  She shrugged and said, "I will take a look through the whole thing, but from what I can tell right now, he's got it right there on his patio." Karen shook her head as if she didn't understand how people in southern California could live like this. "I'll run it through my filters to see what he's got running on the display case and whatever, but yeah, that's it."

  Quinn snapped his fingers and the Circle of Cerddoriaeth sprang into existence and immediately played a fanfare to match its master's mood. "I think we'll be done and cashed out by Friday!"

  "What?" Oscar said as Freddy came back into the warehouse with the two other men. Rube and Eno were mostly naked, each wearing only a pair of very damp boxer shorts.

  "He keeps it on the patio!" Quinn shouted as he spun around. The Circle pulsed and changed from a muted fanfare to Michael Jackson's Bad.

  Oscar looked at Quinn, unable to believe what his friend had just told him. Quinn danced away from Karen and the table as he pointed at the screen.

  "I am going to go have dinner with the boss and deliver the good news. Tomorrow we finalize the last steps, and then we carry it out. I'm thinking the plumbers again, but this time we all go." With that, Quinn went through the full dance routine for the Bad music video, crotch grabs included. Quinn sang along, revealing that while he was a talented sorcerer, gifted con artist, and graceful dancer he couldn't sing. The magical circle increased its volume to cover its master's contribution. Quinn danced his way out of the warehouse while the rest of the team gathered around the laptop to see what Karen had discovered.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Quinn watched the staff of the pop-up restaurant place white chairs and tables in a remote corner of the city park. He'd found the listing online and asked Gwen to meet him here. Other couples, all dressed in white, walked up to the host standing by an all-white podium. Only those dressed in all white were quietly seated at a table that was made ready just for them. Anyone not in pure white was turned away. The last touch was a white umbrella filled the inside with soft white holiday lights. Another set of staff strung up lights between poles, creating a dance floor from emptiness with space and light.

  Quinn tugged at the sleeve of his white dinner jacket that he'd picked up in Vegas. It had taken a bi
t to find white slacks and shoes to go with it, but the tailor in Vegas had been right. The jacket really did fit him better.

  "Well, here I am," Gwen said.

  Quinn turned to find her standing behind him in a perfect white cocktail dress. Her blond hair had been parted on the right side and swept over and down the left side of her head. She'd weaved in crystals and small white flowers. The soft golden light from the tables cast her in a halo of light. Somewhere nearby and just out of sight a string quartet started playing.

  "Do you have a direct line to God," Quinn asked with a smile.

  Gwen froze and narrowed her eyes at Quinn. After a moment she said, "Why would you ask that?"

  "Because I wanted to call him and let him know that one more angel had come to Earth."

  Gwen snorted and rolled her eyes. "So is this all your doing?" She gestured at the small restaurant being built as people arrived.

  "Hardly," Quinn said. "I just keep an eye out of this sort of thing." He caught the attention of the host and signaled that they were ready.

  The host nodded back and gestured for Quinn and Gwen to follow him. The host took the pair to an empty spot. Two waiters appeared with a small table and matching chairs. A third flung a white tablecloth over the table. Before tablecloth had settled the fourth waiter set the table with plates, flatware, and glasses. The first pair that had dropped off the table returned with the lighting umbrella.

  Gwen opened the menu and looked around. "So what exactly is this sort of thing?"

  "It's a pop-up restaurant. You have to wear all white to get in."

  "What's the point though?"

  "That life is temporary? That sudden and unexpected wonders can appear from nowhere and a few hours later disappear? Or maybe it's just for fun? Does there have to be a point?"

  She nodded, accepting all the explanations equally. "You said that you had something else you wanted to talk about?"

  Quinn nodded and waited while the waiter poured each of them a glass of white wine. After the waiter had moved on to the next table, Quinn said, "Well, we've had to make some changes to the plan."

  Gwen stopped mid-sip and raised an eyebrow at Quinn.

  "It's nothing to worry about," Quinn said. "We just learned a few things and had to make some adjustments."

  "Like what?"

  "The less you know, the better things are for you," Quinn said. "It's just going to be better now. We should be done and have the item by the end of the week."

  "Okay. Why did you have to make changes? Why the accelerated timeline?"

  The waiter appeared and quietly placed a chicken in a mushroom cream sauce in front of the both of them. Another waiter followed along behind the first and refilled their wine glasses.

  "Oh," Quinn said and then took a drink of wine. "Like I said. It's better if you don't know."

  "Have you had any trouble? Does he know you're here? It's imperative we operate in secret."

  "Oh, it's nothing. Don't worry about it. I've made contact with the local scene. Asbiel didn't exactly sign off on it, but she didn't really say no either. I was careful with my wording, so--"

  “Who is Asbiel? Why does that name sound familiar?”

  Quinn looked at Gwen for a long hard moment and carefully asked, “Are you sure you want to know who that is?”

  Without hesitation, Gwen said, “Yes!”

  “Did you ever see the movie The Godfather?”

  Gwen shook her head in confusion but said, “No, but I read the book. What does that have to do what we’re doing?”

  Quinn cut a small piece of the chicken and mopped up some of the mushroom cream sauce. He took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. “Wow, you should try this. It’s amazing.”

  Gwen closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She opened them, finished the rest of her wine and then said, “Who is Asbiel?”

  “Asbiel is a prominent movie producer known for developing thoughtful dramas about the human condition. She’s got several Oscar-nominated movies in her catalog. I don’t think she’s won though,” Quinn said with a shrug.

  “Why are you meeting with movie producers about our business?”

  “Well, because if we were in The Godfather, she’s Marlon Brando’s character.”

  Gwen looked around for the bottle or another glass of wine. When she didn’t find one, she grabbed Quinn’s and finished it in one fast swallow. Once she’d downed that, she set the glass down forcefully and said, “Why didn’t you just wipe her memory or make her think it was something else?”

  Quinn tore a piece of bread apart and mopped up some of the cream sauce with it. “Really, you should try this. The sauce is just amazing.”

  Gwen just raised an eyebrow at him and left the plate of food in front of her untouched.

  “Well, I guess you could say I didn’t do any of those things because she’s an angel and I don’t have that kind of juice.”

  “Wait, what? You said she’s an angel? What kind of angel would be a…you spoke with one of the Fallen?!?” Gwen looked around the pop-up as if the ground might crack open and deliver a spawn of Hell at that moment."Well, I think Asbiel prefers the feminine pronoun, and it's not a big deal," Quinn said with a shrug. "She runs LA. If you want to operate in this town, you have to talk to Asbiel."

  "Stop saying its name!" she hissed as she cut into the chicken breast savagely. "Not a big deal? Not a big deal? Not A Big Deal?!" Gwen's voice went up in volume with each repetition. When some of the other tables turned to look at the pair, she ducked down and loudly whispered, "Not a big deal?!? The Fallen are some of the most treacherous and unGodly beings in creation! They turned their backs on God and fell from Grace. They are deceivers by their very nature. Their word is not to be trusted!"

  "Well, from what I understand Asbiel didn't participate in the War, so I don't know if that means she's one of the Fallen? I heard she still has her wings too, so I'm not sure? I heard she’s one of the Grigori but that didn’t mean anything to me." Quinn pursed his lips and looked up at the palm trees overhead as he tried to remember. "Wasn't part of the punishment was to have their wings ripped off or did I see that in a movie?"

  "Quinn," Gwen said with urgency, "these beings are not to be trusted. The Grigori abandoned Heaven to fornicate with humans! They exist to please only themselves. They will twist your words around until they are meaningless--"

  Quinn interrupted her with a harsh laugh. He said, "If you think they twist your words around, you clearly have never met my mother. She's the champ at that!"

  "Quinn, you don't--"

  He held up his hand to interrupt her again. "Gwen, this isn't my first time off the farm. I've done this a few times before. It's going to be okay."

  “This is no big deal.” Said Quinn with a shrug."No big deal," he said repeated with a grin. “When you pull a job like this, sometimes you have to smooth things out with the locals. It’s just a part of doing the job.”

  "Oh, yeah, what are you going to do? How are you going to deal with this?"

  "Gwen, I'm serious. It's better if you don't know. So, like I said, Angels? They ain't got shit on my mom. Hey, you want to dance?" He looked around at the pinks and blues of the darkening sky, the soft glow of the lights, and the space cleared in the middle of the pop-up dinner.

  "What is it with you and dancing all the time?"

  Quinn stood up and held out a hand. "Come dance with me, and I'll tell you," he said.

  Gwen looked at Quinn hard, as if she were trying to decide what ulterior motives he might have.

  He grinned and said, "Hey, it's just a dance. I promise that you won't get any Fallen Angel cooties."

  She stared at him a moment longer and took his hand. They walked through the tables and out to the dance area. She placed her other hand on his hip and stepped in close. For a moment she looked up from his shoulders and looked him in the eyes.

  "Fresh!" Quinn said with a laugh and moved her opposite hand to his shoulder. He waggled his eyebrows at her. "Are...Are you tryi
ng to seduce me?"

  She flushed red at the neck and dropped her hands.

  "Hey!" Quinn said quickly. "I was just trying to be funny. I'm sorry. Let's just do a simple Foxtrot." He took her hands, placing her left on his shoulder and holding her right. Quinn took the first slow forward step of the Foxtrot.

  Gwen stumbled as she tried to move her feet out of the way. She nearly lost her balance and had to make several quick steps to keep from falling.

  "Are you okay?"

  "I'm fine!" She said fiercely. The red ran up from her neck to the top of her scalp. Sweat beaded at her hairline immediately. "This is ridiculous, we have a lot of work we should be doing instead of this nonsense!"

  "You've never done a Foxtrot before, have you?"

  "No, Quinn. To say the Sisters would have frowned on dancing of any sort would be an understatement. Now that you know more about me, can we get to work?"

  "Look, it's easy. I can show you, and if you don't like we can go. But I did promise to tell you why I like dancing so much." Quinn held his arms out and invited her back by gesturing towards himself with his fingers.

  Gwen sighed and relented. She cleared her throat, stood up straight, and stepped up to take Quinn's hands.

  "Okay, so this all starts with your right foot. You're going to take a more than a half step back but not a full step and again with your left foot," Quinn said as he stepped along with her. "Then we're going to slide over to your right and slide again. Then two steps back. And that's it. You Foxtrotted!"

  "That's it?" Gwen said with some surprise.

  "Well, there are some finer points like the box step, the promenade, and the turn, but that's all stuff we can work on," Quinn said.

  He guided her through the steps of the dance in time to the string quartet. Time moved away from them as the world shrank down to the two of them, the sound of the music, and the soft lights surrounding them. At some point, they had abandoned the Foxtrot and pulled each other close. They swayed and stepped in time with each other and the music.

  "You were going to tell me why you like to dance so much," Gwen whispered in his ear. The night air had turned chilly, but being close to Quinn she didn't mind the chill so much.