CHAPTER 4

String stood by the computer hardware, leaning against it with the nonchalance only he could pull off so well, waiting for Michael to return from some unexpected meeting. Lauren had brought him some coffee that he hadn't even touched. Right now he didn't need anything else to make him jittery. Reality and realization of the break in at the cabin two days ago was only now truly setting in. It could have turned out a lot worse, for his collection and his family, but he had to admit thankfully it hadn't. There was the vague possibility of the thief coming back, but it wasn't likely - especially not this soon after the initial attempt, but the possibility was still there and that was what bothered him. What was there that he could do about it though?

"Sorry for the delay," Michael apologized, "there was an unplanned meeting about the painting theft in Zurich three months ago and the one in Williamstown."

Hawke raised an inquisitive eyebrow. He'd heard of them both but not given either of them much thought until now. Neither thief had been caught, and there was some supposition it could be the same person…

"I might have seen him, or at least a cohort in crime."

Archangel looked up suddenly, caught totally unaware by the statement.

"Had a visitor at the cabin two days ago," Hawke explained.

"He didn't…"

"No, he didn't get anything. But he did get away before I had a chance to do anything about it," he added sourly.

"How'd he get away this time?"

"About the only way there is - by helicopter."

"Damn," the spy muttered. "If it is the same person, then we have a very talented thief on our hands."

"You got that right, but if he comes back up to the cabin, you're going to have a very dead thief."

\A/

"String, you yourself said you didn't want to be involved in this kind of thing anymore."

"I said I couldn't be for the sake of the family, but this is different."

"You can make up excuses for everything about how it's different or this'll definitely be the last one, but that doesn't change the situation."

"The excuse isn't the changing factor; it changed when it became personal."

String left the hangar, climbed into the jeep and slammed the gear into reverse. He had things to get done before this evening, and he wasn't about to leave anybody alone at the cabin tonight.

\A/

"What're you doing?" Caitlin queried of her husband who was unsuccessfully trying to get some rest in the Santini Air office.

"Sleeping," he answered.

"If you're that tired why don't you go back to the cabin, or at least get the cot."

He shook his head even if he got up from the chair. "I'm fine, not even actually tired yet, but I don't expect to be getting much sleep tonight."

"Why? Is something going on that I'm not aware of?"

"Don't know yet. But I want to be on the look out in case we get another visit from that art 'collector.'"

"What makes you think he would come back tonight?"

"Because tonight will be three days since the first attempt, and I think our friend like threes an awful lot. Three months ago at three pm, the E.G. Burhle Collection in Zurich Switzerland was robbed, then three weeks ago, the Clark Art Institute in Williamstown, Massachusetts, three paintings were stolen at three in the morning. Three days ago, there was an attempted burglary at the cabin, but with the perfectionist this guy seems to be, I'll bet he's coming back; what better time than three days later at three in the morning?"

Cait raised an eyebrow at him. It sounded crazy, and yet...with Hawke perfectly plausible. "Sounds like you've got everything all figured out; what do you want me to do?"

"You really want me to tell you?"

"Yes, I do," Caitlin replied seriously.

"Play it out like any other night and let me sleep for now."

"Fine, be that way." She caught the faint smile he gave her. "But remember, be careful and if you need me for anything I'll be there."

\A/

It was totally silent other than the soft crackling coming from the fireplace, but somehow it wasn't right, almost too quiet. Caitlin remembered what String had said about the art thief coming back, but three days would be pretty daring; tonight wouldn't be ideal anyway, but she couldn't totally dismiss the idea either. What could it hurt to check on him and make sure everything was alright? she decided as she silently slipped out of the bed and started down the wood stairs.

As her bare feet came into contact with the rough wood of the living room floor, she looked around the room in search of her husband. "String?" She didn't see him. Panic threatened to take over, but quickly subsided as caught sight of him dozing peacefully by the window. If the thief had been going to come back tonight he probably already would have, she thought as she climbed the stairs back up to the loft and went back to bed.

\A/

Slowly at first, consciousness came back to him, but his sense were already acutely tuned in to the intruder mere feet in front of him. Carefully, String slipped his hand under a pillow and pulled out the Colt .45 he had temporarily hidden there, gripping it firmly and clicking off the safety in case it was needed.

One thing was for sure - this intruder wasn't going to be leaving with anything less than a prison sentence if he had any say in the matter, maybe more.