A Thief Revealed, page 11
She spoke so quietly only I could hear. “The man with the scarf wants me to walk out of the champagne bar and turn left toward the exit. If I don’t, he’ll kill the woman he’s having champagne with.” She stood and tossed payment for the champagne on the counter. “You’d better fucking follow me closely, Dimitri,” she muttered.
“I’ve got your back. Nothing will happen to you,” I said. Kate couldn’t hear me, but she knew I wouldn’t leave her unprotected.
She headed toward the exit. Mr. Scarf stayed where he was and continued to have champagne with the woman. As Kate left, I couldn’t watch both her and Mr. Scarf, so I kept my eye on her, walking along the terminal. When she got far enough ahead, I followed her at a distance.
“Are you seeing this?” she asked.
I let my eyes dart to the left and right of her, then straight ahead. A large group of Chinese tourists were headed in her direction, and they weren’t making room for her to walk through them. She would either run directly into one of the men, or they’d have to split and allow her to walk through them. They split, and she disappeared into the middle of them.
A person in a black hoodie and leggings—female if I had to guess—ran past me, and she, too, ran into the mix of tourists, knocking one of them to the side. He yelled something in Chinese.
Next thing I knew, I couldn’t see Kate. I ran full speed toward the group.
“You have information for me?” a female voice asked.
I strained my neck to see the person speaking. Or Kate.
“Information?” Kate asked. I heard her but still couldn’t see her.
“Don’t play me. You said you had information about Kristina Schaeffler. Who is she? Where can I find her?”
“I’ll take you to her,” Kate said, just as we’d rehearsed.
“Take me to her? No! That wasn’t the deal. Tell me where I can find her.”
I scanned the crowd. Where were they?
“Why are you dragging me outside?” Kate asked. “Stop for just a minute.”
“No time. Tell me who Kristina Schaeffler is, where I can find her, and I’ll try to make sure you’re not hurt.”
I finally spotted them walking out of the terminal and into the rain. They were headed for a line of double-decker buses. I picked up my pace, but stopped again when I spotted Reynard. He was standing just beyond another group of tourists. I thought for a split second about going after him, but Kate was my first responsibility.
I darted around people as I ran full speed toward Kate. The woman in the black hoodie had Kate’s arm pinned behind her back.
“You don’t know anything, do you?” the woman said. “Who are you?”
“I was just hired to meet you. The person you really want to talk to is right behind us.”
The woman lifted an arm and was about to elbow Kate in the back of the head, but I reached them just in time. I grabbed the woman’s hand over her head, spun her around, and stared down into familiar eyes. Where had I seen those eyes before? I wasn’t sure, and she had a scarf up around her face.
As I reached up to tear the scarf away, Kate grabbed her arms from behind. The woman leaned back into Kate and, using Kate for leverage, lifted her legs and kicked me in the stomach with both feet, knocking Kate off balance and setting herself free.
I stumbled backwards. She had knocked the breath out of me. By the time I’d recovered, she had disappeared in the direction of the buses.
Kate had a hand on my arm. “You okay?”
“Fine,” I choked. “Did you get a good look at her?”
“No. She was young. Her hair was covered up. She had no makeup on, but her eyelashes were light, so maybe she was a blonde. But I can’t be sure.”
I spun around to look for Reynard, but he, too, was gone.
I got back to my house to find Lola gone. For the second time that day, her stuff was neatly stacked in a corner of my bedroom. I could tell she had showered; I could smell the scent of shampoo that most certainly wasn’t mine. Strawberries, if I had to guess.
Her laptop was still sitting in my office; she hadn’t tried to hide it even after I’d made her fully aware of my computer hacking abilities. Maybe I’d already found all that there was to find. Maybe she didn’t care.
What was missing was the backpack she had brought back to the house this morning. What had been inside that backpack? I’d never had the chance to look. And she hadn’t offered.
I tried calling her. No answer.
“What are you up to, Lola?” I wondered aloud.
And why was Reynard at King’s Cross Station? Had Lola told him I was going there? And who was the woman Kate met with? Her eyes had looked familiar…
I went back over the messages in the chat room, looking for anything I might have missed. Maybe Reynard was behind the messages, acting like the killer and covering Lola’s tracks. Maybe he was like me: searching for people out there who had information about Lola or who were interested in finding information on her. Maybe he was protecting his asset.
But then who was the girl? Another asset? Another thief? Was she working with Reynard? Did Lola know her?
I tried Lola again. When she didn’t answer, I grabbed her computer. Of course there was nothing new: it was the same information about the auction house and the hospital. But there was something new in her search history: she’d been looking up news about Sarah’s death and the subsequent police investigation.
I clicked on a couple of the articles. One was a simple obituary, stating that all funeral and memorial services would be held at their home near Bath, and that a private memorial would be held in London at a future date. Another article was about the search for the murderer. A picture of Kristina from the birthday party was at the top, and the caption read: “Have you seen this woman? Call the Metropolitan Police if you have any information on her whereabouts.”
I hoped that meant Lola would retire the Kristina Schaeffler persona for good. Then again, she had returned to the very scene where she had stolen the Gaft Diamond and Sarah’s finger had been cut off. Why did she do that? She was too smart to take such a risk. She must have had a very good reason to return to Viscount’s.
A bad feeling rushed over me. Lola had gone upstairs ahead of the other party guests. She’d peered into the art gallery. What would be the point, other than to check out Viscount’s art… or his security system?
She was planning to steal the art directly from Viscount’s gallery. Despite all the new security he’d implemented recently, despite the police looking for her. Despite the risk.
I picked up my phone and dialed Lord Somerset.
“Have you discovered my daughter’s killer?” he asked without so much as a hello.
“No, sir, but I’m in contact with the police, and I think they’re narrowing in on some credible leads.” I wasn’t telling the complete truth, but I said what I had to in order to get the job done. I was already putting Lola at risk by calling him, especially with the questions I was about to ask. “Tell me, sir. Is your son with you in Bath?”
“Yes. Why?”
“I’m wondering about the security of his home in London. Mainly concerning the paintings.”
“He assures me that his security is perfect. Airtight. No one is getting inside the gallery.”
“There’s no way to steal those paintings without triggering the alarm?”
“Not unless they learn to fly. My son has paid for the best system in the world.”
“That’s a relief,” I said. “Sir, let me know if I can do anything for your family. I am truly sorry for your loss, and I will continue to help the police.”
When I hung up, Lord Somerset’s words played over and over in my head. Not unless they learn to fly.
I had only been in Viscount’s gallery once, and only for a moment. Paintings lined the walls, three on three walls, and two on the wall where the only doorway into the room was. There were no windows, but there had been some natural light. Skylights, I thought. There were two skylights in the ceiling. I could picture them now.
I remembered Lola’s backpack. “Oh, Lola. What are you planning?”
Chapter Nineteen
Lola
I exited the tube station a couple of blocks from Viscount’s. I kept with the same disguise I’d been using since I ditched Kristina Schaeffler—the straight, black-haired wig, thick makeup, dressed head-to-toe in easy-to-move-in black. My only splash of color was a blue-and-green silk scarf; other than that I blended right into the night. The scarf had been my mother’s. I hadn’t spoken to her in far too long, and I missed her.
I was careful not to make eye contact with anyone I passed. I would have rather waited until later in the night or the early-morning hours when fewer people were around to see or hear suspicious activity. But I didn’t plan on doing anything that would look suspicious. At least not in plain sight. And on the plus side, if anything did go wrong, I would have the cover of other people in the tube stations and along the busier streets at this time of the evening. If I for some reason needed to make a run for it, I could escape by blending into the crowd.
Also, meeting Arias now allowed me to return to Dimitri’s, grab my stuff, and get out of London tonight. Dimitri wouldn’t know anything had happened until he read about it in the news tomorrow—or, more likely, when he received a phone call in the middle of the night or early tomorrow. Still, by then, I would be gone.
I walked past Viscount’s home. One light shone from a window, but I knew for a fact that Viscount was with his family in Bath. I continued down the row of houses until I reached a black wrought-iron gate that led to an alleyway behind the row of houses. It was unusual access for London homes, but I was happy to take advantage.
The house on one side of Viscount’s was dark and quiet, but on the other side, the owners were obviously home and entertaining—the place was lit up top to bottom. I kept to the shadows, staying close to the finely manicured shrubbery. Thankfully, it had stopped raining hours ago, or I would have had to call off tonight’s job and send Arias back to Paris. It would have been too risky to climb up on the roof if the surfaces were wet.
I kept an eye out for any sign of police doing drive-bys. Reynard claimed Viscount hadn’t asked for additional security while he was away for his sister’s funeral, but I wasn’t taking anything for granted.
At Viscount’s garden entrance, I retrieved my lockpick kit from my backpack. His gate was secured with two separate locks, but I knew his alarm system didn’t cover the back patio and garden area. He really needed to take a hard look at his exterior security system—and he probably would after tonight.
I had picked one of the locks and was about to start on the second when an arm came around my stomach and a hand covered my mouth. My heart leapt into my throat.
“Imagine running into you here,” a male voice said.
I turned and rammed my fist into the man’s gut, already committed to the blow before realizing it was Arias. He doubled over, trying to suppress his coughing.
“You totally deserved that. There are people next door. Let’s not draw them outside.”
“Then don’t hit me,” he choked out.
I resumed my work on the second lock. “You’re lucky I didn’t aim six inches lower. You have the rest of what we need? Can you do this?”
“I’ll do my part. Are you ready to do yours?”
“Yes.” The plan was for him to lower me through the skylight to the Van Gogh, where I would cut the electric system to the main alarms. The alarm under the floor was impossible to disengage without the code, so this was the only way. By my estimate, we should be able to grab the art and be out of there in under thirty-five minutes.
“You need help there?” Arias asked, having recovered from his punch to the gut.
The lock clicked in answer, and I pushed the gate open. I picked up my backpack and pushed through the opening into the courtyard.
“Nicely done,” Arias said under his breath. He followed me through. “You have any idea how hot that is? You picking a couple of locks?”
I was not attracted to Arias at all. Not that he wasn’t good-looking; he was model-worthy hot. But I refused to date another thief. You can’t trust a thief. I was only trusting him tonight because I needed his expertise and his strength to make sure I got out okay.
And I was paying him handsomely for it.
As we were laying out the ropes and pulley system, some people stepped out onto a second-story balcony on the house next to Viscount’s. Arias and I straightened and locked eyes, frozen in place.
It was a couple, arguing. “You were encouraging him,” the man snapped.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” The woman spoke in a condescending voice.
I watched her sip red wine from a glass. All they had to do was look down into Viscount’s courtyard, and they would see us. Arias pulled me with him into the shadows of the tall shrubbery separating the two courtyards. With our black outfits, we blended into the darkness.
The couple argued for five minutes before finally reentering the house. I let out a breath and turned to Arias. “You can back off of me now.”
Without moving, he lifted his hands to push my hood off of my head. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he said.
“Do what? Take the paintings?”
“Of course. What else would I be talking about?”
I placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back a couple of steps. “Yes. Let’s get this done so we can get out of here.” I lifted the hood back over my head.
We went back to setting up the equipment. Arias worked on the rope grappling hook gun, while I readied the ropes to use on the inside. Both of us glanced next door at the balcony from time to time, making sure we were still alone. If they came out while we were scaling Viscount’s house to reach the roof, we were finished.
“You ready?” Arias asked. He was completely serious for the first time since we’d arrived.
I nodded.
“Let’s do this then.”
I was on edge, and my empty stomach growled. I could never eat before a job.
Arias aimed the rope grappling hook gun at the roof and shot. The hook flew upward, cleared the top of the roof, and landed on the other side of one of Viscount’s chimneys. Perfect shot.
He tugged on the rope, verifying it would hold, then gestured with his hand. “Beauty first.”
I slid the backpack over my shoulders. With gloved hands, I gripped the rope and began the climb. It took me less than thirty seconds to scale the two stories. Arias followed close behind. When he joined me, I was already crouched above the skylight, looking down into the dark gallery.
I placed my goggles over my eyes and examined the laser lighting on the floor. It was clear no one was breaking into the gallery through the door. Even if we had the code to disable the door alarm, we would trigger the second alarm the moment we stepped onto the floor. By going in through the skylights, we bypassed two of the three alarms.
Which left only one. If any of those paintings moved, even a quarter of an inch, the third alarm would go off.
I pulled a glass-cutting tool from my backpack and set the measurements to cut a large enough circle for me to fit through. I set the machine on the glass, locked it into place, and made the cut.
“Impressive,” Arias said behind me.
“You didn’t think I would know how to use it?”
“Oh, I figured you knew how to use it. You wouldn’t have asked for it otherwise.”
I carefully lifted the piece of glass from the window and handed it to Arias, who placed the glass down on the roof and the tool inside his backpack.
“Okay, let’s get you strapped up.” He held out the harness and helped me step into it, then he adjusted the straps and hooked the rope to the carabineers. Finally he gave the ropes a tug to make sure it was all going to hold when he lowered me into the room.
Arias looked at his watch. “In case you trip an alarm, I’m setting a timer. You need to be down and back up in under four minutes. If we hear no sirens at that point, we’ll reset and go for the other.”
“Let the fun begin,” I said.
I braced myself on the window and lifted my body so that my feet were straddling it. I reached a hand to my goggles and turned on a small headlamp so that I could see what I was doing inside the room.
“You ready?” I whispered.
“Ready.”
After three deep breaths, I slid through the opening and began the slow descent into the room.
Arias had the ropes running through a pulley system anchored to the roof. The roof would need repairs once we were done with it, but that would be the least of Viscount’s worries. As Arias lowered me slowly into the gallery, I said a silent prayer that he wouldn’t drop me. If even a bead of sweat fell from me to the floor, the alarm would trigger, and I wasn’t sure Arias could pull me back out quickly enough for us to escape before police arrived.
But I couldn’t think like that. I’d accomplished more difficult jobs than this one by myself.
When Arias gave the signal that I was anchored securely to the roof, I used my legs to propel myself toward the Van Gogh. I swung through the room like a performer in Cirque du Soleil, growing closer to the painting with each forward motion. As long as I only touched the wall above the painting or the accent lamp, and not the painting itself or the area below, I wouldn’t set off the alarm.
When I swung far enough, I grabbed hold of the brass lamp anchored above the painting and let my feet slide along the wall into a straddled split. Using a clip on my harness, I attached myself to the accent lamp, then waited there until I was perfectly still with complete control and balance
“Good girl,” Arias said from above. “Now hurry up.”
I rolled my eyes. Then in a perfect gymnast move, I rotated my legs away from the wall to run parallel with the floor, while still holding onto the lamp and letting the rope tethered around my waist hold me steady in the middle.
Slowly, with my right hand, I pulled out the wire cutters that were fastened to a strap inside my left breast pocket. I slid the wire cutters behind the painting. There was barely enough of a gap between the frame and the wall to cut the wire that would disable the alarm, and I had to move very slowly so as not to accidentally bump against the painting in the process.
