BIRDS OF PREY

Years ago, they knew each other well – now, she is an elusive thief and he is the agent assigned to capture her. It's a deadly game of hide and seek that spells disaster for them both. In a world of lies, deceit and ulterior motives, who can you trust? "I will make you sing like a bird, Nightingale." "You'll have to catch me first, Li."

-x-

The phone rang shrilly, jerking a tired Syaoran Li out of his trance. It was very, very late and the bureau was quiet, the office nearly empty, and when he picked up the phone he tried and failed to keep his voice free from bored and listening ears.

"FBI headquarters, this is Li."

"Hello, Mr. Li."

A soft soprano voice buzzed from the other line. Something about the way she spoke – eerie, calm, yet as if waiting to pounce – raised hairs and red-hot alarm on the back of Syaoran's neck.

"Can I help you?"

"Oh, yes, thank you for asking."

"With what, may I ask?"

"Something that deeply concerns you."

"Such as?"

The caller was clipped, cordial, answered in a way that forced him to ask all the questions. This person – something about her was making his instincts scream dangerous.

"Well, you see, Mr. Li, a truly rare spectacle has recently come to our city."

"Who?"

A silvery laugh bloomed from the other end of the line. "Oh, not a person. I mean to call your attention to the museum's temporary exhibit."

"How did you get this number?"

With the abruptness of being dropped into an ice bath, protocol switched on. He turned on his computer to trace the call – why hadn't he done it earlier? His first reaction should have been diagnostics.

"That's none of your concern, Mr. Li. In fact, I would say that this museum should be your only concern – especially for today."

"Miss, is this a bomb threat?"

Another laugh. "Oh no. Nothing as mundane as that would make me call you. I don't know about you, but I'm not one for bang-ups and fireworks. No, this will be far more entertaining."

"You think bombs are mundane?"

A third laugh, but softer this time – less scornful. "I like the look of you. I have high hopes; you're nothing like the last one."

"What is this all about?"

"Find out for yourself, Mr. Li."

The other end disconnected with a soft click. But all those questions had just been for stall – time to allow the call to be traced. It had shown up on the map as a payphone a few streets from the bureau.

He opened his computer browser and typed "washington museum new exhibit" into the search engine, his fingers forcibly steady.

Renowned Diamond Exhibit comes to Washington, the screen spat back at him. He clicked and skimmed the article, and then with forced calm, picked up his phone and dialed.

"Hello?"

"Hiiragizawa. I know where Nightingale is going to be."

-x-

It was nearly midnight. The opening day of the exhibit had gone well. All day, people had gawked at the gems, children with their faces pressed against the glass, women with longing eyes. Now, under a veil of darkness, a lithe blonde woman walked alone in the building. No red light blinked beside any of the security cameras.

She walked with light footsteps that were barely audible. The museum was empty and darkened. As she strode down a long hallway, diamonds glittering from the far end of the room that the hallway led into, piercing green eyes roamed her surroundings from beneath sunglasses. Everything was silent, still – poised for success. As with her previous heists, everything had been meticulously studied, planned, and carried out: all would go perfectly. This was her norm.

She reached the end of the corridor and stepped into a room with high ceilings, carpeted in black with glass cases against three walls. A large window faced the hallway, the dim light streaming in from outside bouncing off the reflective surfaces. Standalone cases littered the room in a clearly laid out path for the viewer. In the centre of the room, a fist-sized diamond glittered inside a thick glass case, sectioned off with heavy black velvet rope on polished metal posts. The pear-cut gem was coloured a smoky brown, a small metal plaque beneath it explaining its origins and history. She kept her eyes trained on this prize as she stepped over the rope and pulled a variety of metal instruments from a bag tied to her hip, setting them down on top of the glass.

The woman worked for a quarter hour, thin fingers gripping the metal picks deftly. Eventually, she managed to pry the case open and slip a gloved hand inside. She lifted the diamond from its case and slid it into a black cloth pouch.

Suddenly, a siren pierced the relative silence outside. The woman looked up in alarm, heartbeat racing – but after a moment, her breathing steadied. This was a city, no doubt full of crime; that siren was not for her. She'd never yet been spotted at or around a crimes scene as of yet, so how could she be caught red-handed? Nevertheless, she worked with slight unease and prickled caution to restore the glass case to its former state.

Minutes later, as she was finishing, there came faint noises from the end of the corridor. As it was, she had only noticed them due to the lack of noise from the window – they were faint, but… were they coming from inside the museum?

A loud bang from the end of the hallway made her jump and drop the diamond in her left hand. With a stifled gasp she caught the bag by its corner, the diamond tumbling out onto the carpet. Hurriedly, she picked it up and stuffed it back in.

Impossible!

Her heart beat against her chest like a marathon runner's. There was no mistaking the sound: someone else was inside the building. But how many, and who? She glanced towards the window; if she smashed it, alarms she hadn't bothered to disable would likely go off. She had planned to leave this heist the same way she had left every other: out the front door. On the other hand, would she have enough time to bypass the alarm?

She made her decision in a half-second and strode to the window, pulling one of the odd metal instruments from her hip and sliding it along the inside of the windowframe. She had to try. Footsteps echoed from the hallway and she knew they were near the entrance to the corridor.

But how could they have known…?!

She had to fight to keep her fingers steady as she pulled another metal instrument from her bag. There was still a chance they did not know she was in the room, there was still a chance she would not get caught, there was still time…

"It's this room!"

A faraway voice, powerful and masculine, echoed from the end of the corridor. Her finger slipped and the thin metal wire she had been holding fell into a crevice between the glass of the window and the metal of the frame.

She cursed out loud and, increasingly aware of the echoing footsteps, pulled the safety pin she wore as an earring out of her ear and used it to pull the wire back out, slipping it into her hip pouch and putting her earring back in. Quickly, she scanned the room before her.

Leave no traces…

She turned and glanced at the window.

Well, that can't be helped, she thought, grimacing.

She swung from her back the small black pack she carried, unzipping it and pulling out a sturdy-looking black rope and a small pistol. She attached one end of the rope securely to the windowframe, giving several sharp tugs, and then took a deep breath. Pressing the barrel of the pistol against the glass, she fired a single shot that resounded loudly and sent several jagged cracks along the glass. A sharp, high-pitched screech of an alarm immediately went off, echoing from outside the hallway, mingling with voices that increased with volume as they drew closer. Using the outside of her left forearm, she swung and the pieces of glass flew out the window and shattered on the pavement below.

From the opposite end of the room, a clatter of footsteps grew suddenly quiet as they became muffled by the carpet.

"Stop where you are!"

A man had run into the room, one with a gruff voice and a tall, wiry build. As he pulled his gun from its holster and aimed it at the woman, time seemed to slow down: in the next few seconds, several things happened.

The woman turned to the window with her pistol pointed straight out. She was standing on the frame, rope attached to a harness around her waist, ready to jump. But as she looked up, recognition snapped across her face with such abruptness that one might think she had been slapped.

"Syaoran?"

The hand that held the pistol faltered as her lips parted, and then flew back up with resolve as her face hardened into a snarl. She glanced up at the ceiling and aimed her pistol, firing a shot at the sprinkler above the window. Water burst from the ceiling, spattering down unrelentingly.

From across the room, five others ran in from the corridor just as the first man fired his own gun. The bullets went sailing over the woman's shoulder as she bent her knees and kicked back, sailing out the window on the rope. He swore loudly and the six men raced across the room to the window. It was, however, clearly too late. As they leaned out the window and gazed at the ground below, all that remained was the black rope and a mess of broken glass.

The man to the immediate right of Syaoran Li pulled him forcefully from the window by the shoulder, and Li shouted in protest. The second man, with close-cropped black hair and a fierce glare, addressed him roughly.

"She said your name, Li."

Li's mouth tightened and a muscle jumped in his jaw.

"Yes," he spat back, teeth gritted.

"Who the hell was she?"

Syaoran took a deep breath and slid his gun back into his holster before he spoke.

"That was Sakura Kinomoto."

Several faces jerked with shock. The tallest man – Hiiragizawa, from that previous encounter – was the first to regain composure and speak.

"Surely not the one I'm thinking of?"

Li turned back to the window and stared out at the night sky as he replied.

"Yes, it's her. Seems she's decided to come back."

Behind him, the five men glanced at each other with shock in their eyes.

-x-

A/N: review, please.