Diplomatic Corps (Complete story - How Steele Met Wallace)
The man currently known as Jim Carmody, the latest in a long line of names, sat high above the streets of Paris. He'd always loved Gothic architecture. There were so many hand and foot-holds. As he swung up to the roof with help from a cheery looking gargoyle he found himself next to a window that had seemed so inaccessible that, as he had hoped, no-one had bothered to alarm it.
He took a moment to enjoy the view over Paris. In a few hours, he would be down there on the ground, charming an enchanting brunette alibi called Sidonie.
He heard a noise and froze. He heard it again, the soft scrape of shoe on stone. He had known others might be tempted by the prize, but hadn't anticipated another using the same approach. A roof-top was hardly the best place for two criminals to debate their rights.
He moved as silently as possible to the window. It not only gave him precedence over the Johnny-come-lately on the roof, but also offered a safe place if things got brutal. The movements stopped, and he realised his own activity had been heard. He thought he heard someone draw in a breath, but it might have been just the breeze.
He decided caution was now unnecessary and tried to open the window. It wasn't as easy as he had hoped. It seemed to be painted shut. He tried levering it with the chisel he had brought. It made a lot of noise, but still resisted. Moving his angle slightly and using more force, he lost his balance and fell. He ended up hanging over a lower gable, gradually losing his grip and reflecting that, whilst gargoyles were a burglar's friend, moss certainly wasn't.
As he struggled, he felt someone grab the shoulder of his leather jacket. "Vous parles Anglais?" asked a voice.
"Considerably better than you speak French." he said.
"Thank God! You're English!" said the voice, who was clearly more American.
"Yes, I often feel the need to thank somebody." he said, "I seem to be in need of your assistance. I hope professional rivalry isn't going to rear its ugly head."
"Try to get a hold of something." said the American.
He managed to swing out and grab a piece of stone that jutted out. His new acquaintance pulled him carefully back up to where he had been. "Are you hurt?"
"A slight bruise to the ego, but otherwise unharmed." he said. He offered his hand, "Jim Carmody."
His companion shook it. "Wallace." he said, "I'm with the CIA."
"I'm with British Intelligence."
"So we both have a good reason for breaking into the embassy." said Wallace.
"Or we could be a couple of burglars, after a certain set of diamonds."
"I guess we could. Are you a greedy man, Jim?"
"Not in the least."
"Fifty-fifty split?"
"Sixty-forty, in your favour, since you just stopped me having a long drop and a painful stop."
Wallace grinned, "Nice."
"Help me with this window."
Wallace took out a glass cutter. "Easier this way. Less noisy, too."
Jim gestured for Wallace to do it. He lifted out the glass with care and wedged it behind some raised tiles. "Who first?" asked Jim.
"You. You got here first. Anyway, you got an honest face."
"An honest face is a useful thing to have." said Jim.
Wallace nodded, "I'll bet."
The little attic room was choked with dust. Jim looked at his clothes and frowned at a long streak of dust on his trousers. He went to the door and listened. No sound came to trouble him. Cautiously, he opened the door.
"Do we know where they are?" asked Wallace.
"The Ambassador's wife is in the room nearest the top of the stairs on the second ... sorry, forgot you're a colonial, third floor."
"You know where her room is, huh, Jim?" said Wallace.
"I risked life, limb and reputation to find out. I danced with her. She has at least four left feet, all of them iron-shod. It was like being trampled by a herd of horses."
They slipped out of the room and along the attic corridors. Eventually, they found some stairs. Wallace went a few steps down. "Clear." he said.
They went on. Security was lax on the upper floors. "If anyone grabs you, yell, 'Diplomatic immunity!'" said Jim.
"I don't think it applies to us." said Wallace.
"No, but, with any luck, it'll confuse 'em."
"Jim, you're crazy."
"English, remember? We need the floor below this. It's likely to be well guarded."
Wallace nodded. "Is the lady out?"
"I hope so. It's going to be awfully embarassing if she isn't."
"Well, you could always use your charms."
"Frankly, I'd prefer prison."
At the top of the next staircase, a security man was standing. Jim went over to him. "Why aren't you in the ballroom? You were supposed to be there an hour ago."
"I wasn't told!" said the man.
"It's that idiot Croucher! He should have told you. Go now, and tell them it was Croucher's fault, not yours."
The man ran down the stairs. Wallace joined Jim, "Nice work!"
"It's a gift." said Jim.
They went down and then looked for a staircase down. Before they found it, another security man appeared. "Who are you?" he said.
"I beg your pardon!" said Jim, "Who are you to ask me who I am? As it happens, I am the Ambassador's wife's brother. This is my man, Wallace."
"Can you prove what you say?"
"Can I what? Are you seriously saying I have to prove who I am?"
"It is customary, sir."
"Where is my sister? She'll sort this out quick smart."
"I'm afraid she isn't here, sir."
"Well, what about the idiot she married?"
"His excellency is also away tonight. They are at a reception."
"Oh, of course they are! Well, all my documents are in my room."
"Which is, sir?"
"The blue room." said Jim, "I'm not going back there now."
"With your permission, I'll go and find them for myself."
"Please do, if it gives you any pleasure."
"Please wait here. I'll send Lyle to wait with you."
"How did you know there was a blue room?" asked Wallace, when the man had gone.
"There almost always is." said Jim, "Let's get out of here, before Lyle appears." They went on, finally finding the stairs. Jim opened the door at the top of the stairs and both went in.
Wallace turned on the light and started searching for a wall safe. Jim tried searching in and around the furniture, pocketing some small items as he went.
"Over here." said Wallace, showing him a safe under a wall-hanging.
"Excellent! Yours or mine?"
"It's yours, if you're any good with safes."
"Good? I'm amazing."
Wallace stepped aside. Jim went to the safe and opened it at once. "You knew the combination?" asked Wallace.
"Absent minded women will often disguise a combination as a telephone number." he said, "So, when giving them your own number, always make a note of any that seem possible." He took out the jewels. "Now, your fence or mine?"
"Mine has offered me sixty thousand." said Wallace.
"Good, let's take yours then!"
"You trust me?"
"You have an honest face." He looked at the diamond necklace in his hands. "International diplomacy is such an exciting area!"
"We'd better go." said Wallace, or it'll be a more exciting area than we can handle. Back to the roof?"
"My thoughts precisely. We'll meet on Saturday night at Maxim's. Dress well."
"You eat at Maxim's?"
"Wallace, please! Nobody eats at Maxim's. One dines."
"Well, we can afford to now."
"Indeed."
They returned the way they had come, dodging a man, presumably Lyle, who was checking bedrooms, running up the flights of stairs and then squeezing out through the window in the roof. Wallace looked at the way Jim had come up. "Better use my side, less dangerous." he said.
"Less dangerous would be good."
"We can escape by river. I have a boat moored down there. Watch out for the rats, though. Big as Volkswagens."
"Wallace, I suspect that's an exaggeration."
"Well, don't dangle anything over the side that you don't want to lose."
"I hope your boat's fast. I have a date and I want to get to her before she realises I've altered the time on her watch."
The End.