This is a fic I wrote three or four years ago for my own entertainment. I had seen random clips of the musical and read sketchy summaries of it, and I found the notion of the story intriguing, so I started scribbling. Long after finishing my version, I saw the entire musical and actually prefer my version - it was a bit fluffy, even if it had some sweet, cute, and hysterically funny scenes. Mine is darker. I still love the theme song, "Eres Mi Amor." If you want to hear it, try YouTube with that title and Aran Kei as the singer. She played Dag, the protagonist, and her voice is amazing.
Disclaimers: "Secret Hunter" the musical was written by Kodama Akiko and performed by Takarazuka Revue, so they obviously hold the copyrights. I'm just having fun here.
The museum was closing up. They had done brisk business all day, for there was a special exhibit on display. The Crown Jewels. Not the crown jewels of England, or of one of the great monarchies, but rather those of a small, independent, charming country in southern Europe that has since been swallowed up by the whims and wiles of politics.
Pallas Athena was located close enough to Italy to be blessed with lovely weather and fine architecture, yet small enough to be rarely troubled with wars and other great events that shook the foundations of the neighboring great powers. It was still a monarchy, only slightly limited in power by a small group of landed advisors to the king. The King at this time was a very good king, and he was very old in this year of Our Lord 1948. His name was Guillame Georges VI, and he looked like no one so much as Santa Claus. He had a granddaughter named Jennifer who was next in line to the throne, and the people loved her very much because she was very pretty and charming.
Part of the reason that the crown jewels were on display in the museum was that Princess Jennifer, accompanied by her grandfather the king, was visiting the island that the museum was built on for the first time. It was a fairly small island, as islands go, and it was sticking up out of the water in a pleasant corner of the Caribbean where even the biggest hurricanes rarely venture. Some great power, for some reason or other, had given it to the kingdom of Pallas Athena in return for a favor of some kind, and it had been a favorite vacation spot for King Guillame Georges and his late wife, Queen Maria Augusta Theresa.
But now the museum was closing up for the night. Security was tight, of course, because it wouldn't do to have the crown jewels stolen. The guards locked everything up carefully and set the numerous burglar alarms. Then they went away to a clambake hosted by the head guardsman and enjoyed the fresh seafood and the music that some local musicians played on their many-toned steel drums.
Inside the museum, all was quiet.
A cricket, who had strayed into the museum during the heat of the day, squeaked his hind legs together. The stone floor was cold, and he didn't like it. He cocked his antennae and listened. What was that slight scuffing sound? Was there a snake loose in the dark museum? He scuttled away and hid in a corner, just in case.
A long, slender rope with knots tied at even intervals along its length slipped slowly down from the ceiling in a spot where there were no burglar alarms. The end hit the floor with a soft thump and coiled a few times. The rope stopped moving, and there came a little more soft scuffing from up near the ceiling. The rope jerked, and swung slightly from side to side. There was a little louder scuffing, like a ceiling panel being slid back into place, then just the faint creaking of the rope and the soft sounds of controlled breathing as a dark figure climbed nimbly down the rope and crouched on the floor at the bottom, listening for any watchmen that still might be in the museum. Satisfied that no one had observed his entrance, the dark figure stood up, and as he did, the soft glow given off by one of the burglar alarms passed over his face.
He was a young man, with brownish blond hair that had been bleached on the top by the Caribbean sunshine and big dark eyes that suggested that somewhere in his ancestry there was a lovely Spanish señorita. He must have gotten his smile from her too, because it was a nice smile, with a hint of naughtiness in it and a way of quirking up one corner of his mouth. His body was tough and wiry, but not particularly tall, rather more on the short side. He surveyed the pulsing burglar alarms and adjusted his black gloves, which were missing the ends of the fingers.
"So – the crown jewels," he mused. His eyes twinkled, and he shook his head. "Gonna be interesting."
He stretched, leaning over one way, then the other, griping softly under his breath. He rolled his head from side to side, loosening up his neck. "Okay," he told himself, limbering up his wrists and bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. He put his arms over his head and tried to touch his toes. He couldn't.
"Yikes." He stood up again and adjusted his black leather jacket, humming a catchy little tune under his breath, and faced the burglar alarms.
"Careful now," he muttered. "There may be nothing in the world you can't steal, but these fellows are a different kettle of fish." He bent backwards, trying to ease himself under the mesh of alarms, and had to give up. "Gotta be an easier way."
He knelt down and peered under. "Here we go." He slipped under on his stomach and stood up inside the cage of sensitive wires, chuckling softly to himself. He bowed grandly to the crown jewels on their red velvet pillow inside yet another burglar alarm.
"Mucho gusto, how do you do?"
His slender, sensitive fingers felt quickly along the sides of the pedestal where the jewels rested and found what they were looking for – a small maintenance opening. He popped it open, spilling out a tangle of colored wires. "Ah-ha!" He scooped up a handful and stood up, holding them close to the light that displayed the crown jewels. From his back pocket he produced a wire cutter with insulated handles and quickly snipped all the wires. The alarms winked out.
"Here we go." He put his hand on the ornate golden crown, and instantly sirens and alarms wailed. "Hey, what the…?"
Island policemen in dungarees and caps, brandishing their sticks, came running in, blowing their whistles. The thief turned his back on the crown jewels, waving his hands at the policemen.
"Hey, it's all right, I missed the regular hours and…"
"What are you doing here?" The policemen looked stern - and uncertain.
The thief flashed them a cheeky grin through the defunct burglar alarms. "Dusting." He put his hands in his pockets. "These lovely jewels were sitting here all alone, and they were afraid of the dark, so…"
"Dagobert!"
The thief rolled his eyes at a woman in a yellow floral pantsuit who had just come in. She had red sunglasses pushed up on the top of her head, holding back her straight blond hair, and was swinging a pair of handcuffs.
"Anna Maria," he complained, "you never let me have any fun and…"
"The crown jewels are not for you," she retorted.
Dagobert pulled a sweetly innocent face at her. "What makes you think I was trying to steal them? They're still sitting right there in the case behind me, and…"
"Enough talking," Anna Maria cried. "Arrest him!"
The thief snatched the jewels and ducked under the burglar alarms, waving the crown over his head.
"See, here they are!" he laughed. The policemen had to come up on the platform to get at him, and he swung his foot, kicking them down, and darted for the exit.
"Ignacio!" Anna Maria yelled. "Stop him!" Her assistant brought up his gun and started shooting blindly. The policemen and the thief dove for cover, and when the woman detective finally got her assistant under control, the thief jumped up and loped off into the darkness.
"Adios, Anna Maria!" he called back mockingly. He did so enjoy teasing her. He heard the woman detective and the policemen go running off in the wrong direction, and he laughed quietly from his hiding place. He tucked the jewels under his black jacket and sauntered calmly out of the museum, picking an old lock on a window to let himself out. It was a good night's work.
In the cozy seacoast town of La Prada, an island away, a tall young man with jet black hair and a swarthy complexion sauntered along the quay. There was an almost feline grace to his movements, suggesting an accomplished dancer, and he wore a crisp cream linen suit and a matching hat at a jaunty angle to set off a cheerful orange shirt. He took a table with a blue and white umbrella at an outdoor café and picked up the morning newspaper.
"Ah, the crown jewels have been stolen – such a calamity!" he chuckled. He refolded the paper with a smug grin and reached for his coffee.
"Sergio!" The unattended paper was snatched neatly out of his hand. "Don't shout like that."
Sergio laughed. "Dag! I see it went well." He thrust out his hand in congratulation. "You're all over the headlines."
Dagobert, known as Dag to his friends and contacts, glanced at the paper.
"Yeah, so what?" He lightly smacked Sergio's lean stomach with the paper. "Cut it out." Sergio's hands closed over the paper.
"Cut it out? Why? No need to be touchy."
The young thief sat down. He was wearing a white suit and hat, with a pale green shirt. "Look, I don't need to do jobs for you." He set a dark briefcase beside his chair, and as he bent over a silver medal flashed at his throat.
Sergio sat back down across from him and smirked. Dag knew the smirk. Sergio was probably his best friend, but sometimes he reminded Dag of a big friendly brown and black cat. "But I do have another one lined up – a good one."
"Eh?"
"This time it should be interesting – the thing you have to make away with is a woman."
Dag nearly fell out of his chair. "A woman?" he squawked. He made a face at his friend. "No!"
Sergio crossed his leg over his knee. "What's the matter? I don't see why a woman is so different than anything else. If you're the greatest thief in the Caribbean…"
Dag stood up and walked away from the table, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Women are nothing but trouble."
Sergio followed him and draped his arm around his shoulders persuasively. "Think of it this way – a woman is like a jewel; another pretty thing to steal because someone wants it who it doesn't belong to." He shrugged his shoulders. "There's no difference, really. And the job is expensive…" he hinted, looking his friend sideways under the brim of his hat. Big friendly cat thinking about a fat mouse.
Dag reluctantly sat back down at the table, then sat up straighter and handed him the briefcase, glad to have a new topic.
"Here they are - the crown jewels," he announced grandly. He leaned back and coolly crossed his leg over his knee. It had been a slick job, after all.
Sergio peeked inside the briefcase.
"Fantastico!" he beamed. He delved into the inner breast pocket of his suit and produced a thick wad of bills with a flourish. "Here you are, Señor Dagoberto!"
Dag took them and tucked them into the same pocket on his own suit. He took off his hat and turned it in his hands.
"So you'll take the job?"
Dag scowled at him over the hat. Back to it already.
"I guess."
Sergio threw back his head and laughed. "I knew you would. Why so hesitant? You afraid of women?"
Dag squirmed. "I don't want to get involved with them."
"I knew it!" Sergio crowed. "The great Dagoberto is afraid of women!" He reached over and patted the thief patronizingly on the head, ruffling his light hair. "You still haven't grown up, is that it? You're afraid of falling in love," he cooed.
Dag shoved him away and stood up. "Stop it." Sergio was only a few years older than he was, but he was the type who always seemed to have at least one girl hanging around, and he never seemed to lack sweet nothings to say to them.
"Well anyway," Sergio went on cheerfully, following him, "the woman will be at the party tonight, for the Princess of Pallas Athena. It's on the big royal yacht, so you'll have to get out there somehow. And they're all bigwigs, so you'll have to be dressed to the nines. So dashing!"
Dag turned around and made a face at him. "Do you have a picture of her, at least?"
"Of course not! She'll be wearing a red dress, so she should be easy to spot."
"And if there are thirteen women wearing red dresses?"
"Then it's bad luck!" Sergio laughed. "But my source says she should be the only one. They make some kind of fuss about all looking different. Silly people."
Dag put his hat back on. "Where do I have to take her?"
"You know that café on the water in San Dominique, the Villa Cristallo?"
"Yeah."
"I'll be waiting there. It's fairly close to the royal palace. All you have to do is get her to the restaurant, and I'll take care of her from there. That's all."
Dag rolled his eyes. "Right."