7. The Caper
Max and Alec were dressed in cat burglar chic, complete with harnesses. They were flat on their bellies, noses pressed against the skylight. Stupidly, the skylight wasn't wired, which Alec considered tantamount to an engraved invitation. "Once we're in, move quick," he said. "Don't stop to smell the roses."
"Take care of your end. And don't mess up, because I will kick your ass," Max replied. "I had a rotten day."
"It was a no go with the grad student?" he asked.
"We're about to commit a robbery here," Max said. "We'll visit later."
"Sheesh," said Alec. "Just asking. Trying to take an interest. I understood that was the polite thing to do."
"Do you care?" asked Max.
"Not really." He checked Max's harness for a second time. Alec always double-checked his gear. Some habits die hard.
"How did you hear about this gig?" she asked suddenly.
"Why?" said Alec. "What difference does it make?"
"I just don't want any more surprises," said Max grimly.
"I heard about it through my fence," said Alec. Wait, that wasn't right. Hadn't he brought the job in and proposed it himself? There was a piece missing. He couldn't put his finger on it. What the hell, what Max didn't know wouldn't hurt her.
A gentle breeze rearranged her hair, and in the light of the faraway moon, Alec found himself quite taken with her, those black eyes, the line of her cheek, the curve of her breast in the tight jumpsuit. He wondered what it would be like to plunge his hands into all that hair, to lie down in the dark, enveloped in her scent. He was a displaced person, stateless. Would she feel like home? Manticore had paired them off. Was that the way things were supposed to be? With a wrench, he shook off the thought.
Max gave him a long, searching look. "Are you one hundred percent, or do we bail right now?"
"I'm golden," he said. "Time to fly."
"All right," she said. "Since we happen to be in the neighborhood."
He said: "It's time to cut the chatter." No one was home, but they'd maintain silence as a matter of course. What was the point of knowing cool hand signals if you didn't get to use them?
"She's dead." said Max. "Our student."
Alec winced. "Sorry. That sucks."
"It's our fault," said Max.
"Do you know that for sure?" he asked.
"No," said Max. "But it always is."
They rappelled in silence. The main hall was grand, three stories tall. There was a huge circular staircase. They arrived at the mezzanine, and Max produced a double-sided dagger. Alec started to swing back and forth. When he got up the momentum, he simply booted Max in the ass. Careful of the blade, she folded her arms across her chest, and made a tricksy somersault that ended with her flying lightly over the banister. She deftly cut her rope, allowing herself to fall. She landed on her feet, in a crouch. She made a hand signal for "okay." Then she rubbed her ass, and made the hand signal for "fuck you."
Alec laughed, silently. He pointed to his wrist. Tick-tock. Max had touched the floor. They were committed.
Max ran down the hall to the bedroom, and found the alarm. She got out her tiny tool kit and performed some radical surgery. She had seen this model before; it was cute. She put it on a loop that fooled it into thinking it was functional. They could poke around forever and it would never know.
She jogged back to the stairwell, and gave Alec the thumbs-up. Without breaking stride she vaulted the banister. He caught her, and they swung crazily. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, so he could have his hands free. She looked down, watching the black and white floor approach, as he lowered them the rest of the way. She liked the floor. It was like a great big checkerboard.
In a moment they were down. There was a strange little second where Alec actually seemed to be smelling her hair. They separated awkwardly, exchanging an uneasy glance. He made a gesture: Go! She raced down the hall, her hair whipping behind. She couldn't see, so Alec indulged himself in one of the perks of having a genetically engineered partner in crime. He checked out her ass. Nice.
She found the dark library. The shelves were stocked with heavy volumes that looked like they had been purchased by the meter. With her enhanced night vision, she could have read the titles. There were antique tribal masks, and even animal heads on the wall. Big game. Sick. The alarm was right where it was supposed to be. She cracked open the plastic case and set to work on the bypass, nimble fingers flying. She only had a couple of seconds, and then she had to be in the rhythm, or the alarm would trigger, silently. They'd have to forget the prize, and head for the hills. Alec had laid out the specs for her, and he'd been right, she could hear the tiny electronic sound. She wouldn't have been able to describe it, it was so small.
She was exhilarated. It was fun to have somebody to play with, someone who could keep up. Someone who was cheerfully, happily, amoral. She found that she didn't care whose house this was, what they did, and to whom. This was her hobby. Forget that soul-searching crap. If only there was more good stuff to steal in Seattle.
Alec stood in the front hall, still like a statue. Nice place he thought. You'd have to be loaded just to pay for the upkeep. He looked around, admiring the artwork, not knowing if it was good or not. To tell the truth, he liked Joshua's stuff better. On an ornate little table, he noticed a black and white photograph of a woman, next to a huge vase of cut flowers. He looked away, then looked back sharply. It was the girl from the other night.
This is not good, he thought. How did that happen? He had set this job up through his fence, who had a Japanese collector on the line for the shoes.
He heard a noise and his heart stopped. What the fuck! There wasn't supposed to be anyone home! He looked up. Plodding along, with his hand on the banister, was a fat guy in a blue silk dressing gown.
There was a guy in the house, and the alarm was armed. Inwardly, Alec groaned. Had the fat guy tripped it already? The security company could be rolling even now. How much time did they have? From the other room he heard a noise, as sudden and brief as a twig snapping in the forest.
Max smiled, pleased with herself. Piece of cake. She snapped her fingers, giving Alec the go ahead.
Alec was in agony. He didn't know whether to cut and run or bluster through. He could take out the fat guy, no question. But he didn't want to, not if he didn't have to. Every time you pull a job, there's a chance you'll take a fall. You have to decide, before you go in, how far you're willing to fall. He had promised Max no rough stuff, and he wanted to keep that promise.
He had to wait for the guy to see him, which was inevitable at this point. How could he not have heard him coming? Everything would be decided in the first two seconds. It all depended on how the fat guy reacted. Alec waited in a semi-crouch, silent, loose. Ready for anything.
Then the fat guy looked right at him. He looked right at Alec, and then looked away. He was perspiring freely, and his eyes were glazed. Alec was somewhat taken aback. Was that it?
The fat guy lumbered away, down the hall. Alec shrugged. Max had given him the high sign, time to boogie. He saw the display case on a pedestal. The red shoes were lit from underneath. He traipsed over, playing out the rope behind him. He didn't want to unhook now. They were going to have to make a speedy getaway. He was sure of it. He jimmied the lock. He put one hand on either side of the glass. With a practiced motion, he pulled off the cover. There was a whooshing sound.
Back in the library, Max heard a crash, and then a heavy thud.
"That's just great," she said aloud. She knew the sound of a body hitting the floor. She'd heard it before.