Author's notes:
Hi :) I hope everyone is doing well. Thank you so much for your encouraging comments. I'm very grateful that I can share this journey with you. ❤
I'm planning to post the next chapter in two weeks (Sunday 14.03).
The illustration for this chapter you can either find on my DoodleAddicts account (…/vincentthecat) or on the story Rooftops of New York that I post on Archive Of Our Own (VincentTheCat).
Chapter 15 "The Heist"
"My days are swifter than a runner,
they flee away; they see no happiness;
They shoot by like skiffs of reed,
like an eagle swooping upon its prey."
Job 9:25-26 (NABRE)
After removing the grate, Neal takes a peek inside. A repulsive amount of dust is waiting for him. He can also see the sharp edges of the sheet metal.
He zips his jacket up to his neck and puts on thick leather gloves. Then he hauls up into the duct.
Basically, there are four things to keep in mind when trying to crawl through the vent.
First: the noise.
The echo from the vent system travels anywhere the vent has access to - it is fairly easy to make a racket here. It took Neal weeks of practice to understand that the only way to go was to be slow and patient.
Second: every vent has an end. Or rather ends. Plural.
It probably does not even take him three minutes before he encounters the first wire screen.
Wire screens are designed to keep away small animals such as raccoons, usually with the right tools at hand, it is fairly easy to get through them. Unfortunately, it also takes time.
Neal spends the next five minutes cutting a hole wide enough for him to slip through. While doing this, he tears up his jacket sleeve. Duct tape comes very handy in such situations. He immediately fixes the torn material with it.
Then he takes a flashlight out of his pocket. Its bulb is dimmed – just in case someone is watching. Looking ahead, Neal sees the ducting bend. Nothing unusual.
Because third: it is certain that the ducting will bend or narrow at some point. Whether you notice it in time to stop and not fall to death is… Entirely up to you.
And finally fourth: most vents are not designed to carry the weight of a person.
If you do not want to see the sheet metal sections separate, you just need to work hard on spreading your weight out. Growing up, Neal found that particular task more and more challenging. The heavier he got, the more work it took for him to crawl through the vents.
Like right now for example. If it had been two years ago, he would have gotten up without hesitation. But two years ago, being a head shorter, he also weighed less. Such as things are now, he will just have to try to put some of his weight on the sides of the ducting.
After some adjustments in his position, he finally succeeds. He leans his back against one wall while pressing his knees and elbows against the opposite one. Now it is time to go up.
According to Mister Keller's plans of the mansion, the security room is located on the second floor. This means he will have to crawl about thirty feet along this vertical way.
Once he reaches the second floor, Neal can finally breathe a sigh of relief. Shivering slightly with the physical exertion, he rests his forehead against the cool metal. There is nothing more he wishes right now than a breath of fresh air.
Unfortunately, he knows that if he tried to take off the anti-dust mask now, the only outcome would be a terrible cough. The LCD display on his watch blinks, it is 0:19:20 AM. This means there are still ten minutes left to the deadline set by Mister Keller. Continuing to crawl, this time horizontally not vertically, Neal grins.
In his opinion, so far the plan is going pretty well.
The sound of muffled voices makes him come to an abrupt stop. He immediately turns off his flashlight. Trying to hear the conversation, he pushes his ear closer to the grate.
"…to move in only after my signal. Understand?" Someone says and Neal frowns.
Move in? What is going on?
He tries to see the people in the corridor, but it is almost as dark there as it is in here, in the duct.
"Yeah," sounds the answer and Neal realizes there is only one person down there. He is just talking on the radio.
"Good. Carry on, Kyler." The digitized voice says, and Neal frowns. The stranger, identified as Kyler, passes underneath him. For a long moment after the adult has left, Neal can only stare blankly down the dark corridor beneath him. Despite the sweat, a cold shiver passes through him.
Something is not right.
He fishes out his phone to text Mister Keller when he realizes… No. If he does not want his mentor to get angry with him, he cannot do it just yet. He has to get into the security room first.
He starts crawling again.
Within the next eight minutes he finds it.
As always, he is relieved when he can finally leave the small space behind and stand tall. He looks at his wristwatch. Seconds to 00:30 AM.
He takes off the anti-dust mask and takes a few deep breaths. His heart pounds in his chest. Trying to get rid of the sweat, he runs a hand over his face. Then he fishes out his phone and starts typing.
[Me:…to move in only after my signal; Yeah; Good. Carry on, Kyler]
After sending the message, he pockets the phone and strongly decides to forget about the whole ordeal. He knows he would not be able to call anything off even if he wanted to, so… What does it matter what he thinks anyway?
After taking off the thick gloves, but still leaving the thin ones on, Neal first carefully looks around the small room.
On his right there is a guard post. All five monitors are turned off. On his left…
Neal smiles broadly, then still with a smile, he crosses the way to the fusion box. Standing up on tip toe, he reaches for it and opens it. He is greeted by a tangle of cables.
"Let the show begin," he whispers cheerfully under his breath as he fishes a screw and a cutter out of his pocket.
/\_/\
='x'=
Casually, Peter looked at his wristwatch.
It was 00:34 AM.
That made the boy four minutes behind the schedule.
He glanced straight at where Keller was standing. The man's face was unreadable. Peter would have given anything to know what exactly was in that text message the criminal got about four minutes ago.
Whatever it said made the man furrow his forehead and pace in place for a moment before texting back.
Peter, for the sake of the team listening to them, decided to ask if anything was wrong. Keller just said No. And that was all. Miller, even though he could clearly hear the exchange, did not even bother to look up from the crossword he was filling out. The subject was closed.
Peter was just about to check the hour again, when the clear communicate through the radio interrupted his train of thought.
"Your move!" The childish voice announced and Keller smiled.
"Copy that… Carry on with the plan, kid," the crook said, stomping a cigarette with his foot. Then he turned to face Peter and Miller. "Gentlemen?" he inquired, cocking his eyebrow at them and Peter felt a sudden nausea in the pit of his stomach.
Suddenly, he realized that after Neal made it outside, he still was not going to be in the clear. Waiting for him would be Travis who attempted to end his life at least once already.
Silently, Peter followed the criminals.
/\_/\
='x'=
"Carry on with the plan, kid," Mister Keller orders, and Neal sighs. The text message his mentor had sent him two minutes earlier said almost the same thing, only shorter: Carry on.
He really hoped to hear something different. But Mister Keller knows what he is doing, right? He has to know. He is the smartest adult Neal knows, after all.
Neal pockets his phone.
He opens the door and peers into the corridor.
Thankfully, as far as he can see, it is empty.
For now. He knows there are adults out there. Waiting for someone's go-ahead signal.
Neal quietly closes the door behind him. In order to get to Mister Neumann's office, he must first find the appropriate grate.
Trying not to think too much, as silent as a cat, Neal runs.
Following Mister Keller's schematics he has learnt by heart, he slinks past several rooms before finally finding the grate he wants. He kneels next to it, then using his knife and screwdriver, he pries it open.
Almost there, he thinks as he slides into the vent. Almost there.
/\_/\
='x'=
It felt barbaric to cut the canvas in that way. Knowing it was a forgery did not help much. Whoever painted it had talent. On the other hand, whoever painted it probably should not have painted it in the first place. Or rather, agreed to sell it as a real piece. But regardless of the painting's origin, Peter was fairly certain he could predict its future.
First an analysis in the FBI lab, then a brief spell of fame when shown to the jury, only to end up being classified as evidence, sealed and sent to the evidence warehouse for long-term storage. It might be dusted off in a couple of years, when it's time to review the evidence.
"Besides yours, we sensed the second radio traffic boss. It's encrypted," Diana's warning in his earpiece interrupted his thoughts. She did not add anything else, so there was little he could do about it right then. The team was probably trying to listen in to that traffic.
After rolling the last canvas, Peter turned to Miller and saw he was done as well. After nodding to each other, they both turned to head for the room where Keller had been working.
/\_/\
='x'=
As the loosened grate slips from his hands, Neal cringes inside. He waits for the loud noise… But nothing like that happens. Thankfully, the grate hits the soft carpet instead of the hard floor. Neal breathes a sigh of relief, then, after crawling out of the duct, he takes out his flashlight to have a good look around.
Relatively speaking, the office is not spacious. Its walls are half way down covered with wooden panels. Looks like oak. There is a painting in a golden frame that catches his attention for a moment. He wants to come closer, but then, remembering he is not on a sightseeing tour here, he keeps looking around. And this is when he sees it.
The big, case-hardened steel safe.
It must be where the music box is locked.
Nodding to himself, Neal walks over to it, then stops maybe two feet away. On his right there is a wooden table and on top of it…
A familiar looking sculpture.
It really completes the space, Neal thinks, admiring one of his finest works. Vulcan definitely looks like he made a home in here. Looking at it, Neal thinks for a moment of that first plan Mister Keller prepared for their break-in. It seems that was so long ago. So many things have happened since then. The plans have changed.
"At least one of us will survive it," he tells the sculpture as he passes by. "Lucky bastard." His smile is fleeting.
After all, he was initially supposed to break into this office in a couple of days from now, during Mister Neumann's party. In that plan, the sculpture made by Neal would have played a major role. Not the Vulcan himself, but rather the drill-driver hidden inside the sculpture. Since there are no metal-detector gates for him to pass through, Neal could bring his own drill-driver. And so he did.
He stops in front of the safe and, after finding all his break-in necessities, drops the backpack to the floor. To see the safe clearly, he adjusts the flashlight's position. He is relieved to see there is no surprise waiting for him there. It is indeed a 1943 mckinzie. Just like Mister Keller said it would be. Neal wishes himself good luck.
He turns on the drill driver. After drilling the hole, Neal inserts a borescope inside. It is time for the tricky part. After the scope is in the position, Neal starts to rotate the dial.
He looks for the landmarks on the combination lock's wheel pack and after five minutes he finds them all. He selects the combination and takes out the scope.
He takes a deep breath. This is the moment of truth.
/\_/\
='x'=
They found Keller in the other room. It looked like he had just finished his part of the job disabling the motion detectors and heat sensors.
"All done?" the criminal asked, looking up at them from his work.
Miller nodded and Keller got up.
They helped him fit the two pieces, spared from the knife-treatment, into the case.
When they finished, Keller grunted in satisfaction. "Good job." The criminal clapped Peter's shoulder, then nodded to Miller. "Carry on with the plan, I'll follow shortly."
Wait. What?
"G's in trouble?" Miller immediately asked and Keller snorted.
"He should be waiting for you outside," he said, then making no further comment, turned on his heel and headed for the door.
Peter thinned his lips. That was not part of the plan.
That was the last-moment alteration that was not beneficial to Keller taking into account the tension between him and Neumann. The job was supposed to regain some of that lost trust, not completely destroy it.
In his mind he weighed his options.
He figured the sooner he and Miller got out, the quicker the SWAT team could move in. Turning away from the door, Peter met Miller's eyes. He nodded at him, then bent to pick up the case. Together, they headed back. Then, suddenly, Diana's voice sounded in his earpiece.
"Boss, it might be nothing, but we lost sight of Neumann," she said. "We don't think he is in the suburbs anymore."
Peter quickened his pace.
/\_/\
='x'=
Neal, with his heart pounding, pulls the handles of the safe. It opens without any difficulty. The combination has been correct and inside… Inside Neal can see it for the first time. Mister Keller's obsession, his white whale, their highest score.
The Music Box.
When Neal takes it in his hands, it is heavy. Definitely the baroque era. The light reflects off its amber surface. The golden cherubs meet Neal's eyes. Who knows how long has Mister Neumann kept them locked in the dark. But now…
At last they are free.
Smiling widely, Neal gently wraps the bubble wrap around the music box. Then he puts the treasure inside his backpack. It turns out to be the perfect fit.
He will have to leave the duct tape, the drill and the scope behind.
Neal kicks the tools under the table and rolls his shoulders.
He guesses it is a good thing Mister Keller has not demanded he steal anything more than just this beautiful music box.
After waving good-bye to the Vulcan, he turns on his heel and goes back to the duct opening.
It is about time for him to find his mentor and get the hell out of here.
/\_/\
='x'=
Peter and Miller ran outside. The street was empty. Travis's car was parked where they had left it.
Seeing them, the criminal clicked the trunk open. Peter was about to approach the back of the car with the stolen pieces when he realized he could not see Neal anywhere.
He dropped the packages and turned to Travis to demand an explanation. Miller was quicker.
"I'm going to kill him," he heard the criminal grit out.
A heartbeat later, the man dragged Travis out of the car by his collar.
"Where the hell is G?" he hissed in a low voice.
"How should I know!" Travis growled, trying in vain to shake off Miller. He still looked the worse for wear after the beating he received from his pals the day before. "Where the heck is Keller?" the criminal asked after a moment.
Wishing he knew the answer to that question, Peter closed the trunk.
"You mean he never came out?" Miller asked, finally letting the other go.
"Keller? Of course he―"
"The kid, you imbecile!" Miller snarled, baring his teeth. Peter's hand rested on his gun.
"The brat again? How the hell should I know where that rat―" In the blink of an eye, Miller aimed his gun at his associate's head. Travis broke off, looking incredulous.
Peter watched as the two criminals glared at each other in strained silence.
Suddenly Travis snorted. "What Mil, you're going to kill me now? Because of some brat?"
"Try me."
Peter took a step closer. "Miller," he said evenly. "Let's keep calm."
The man glanced at him sidelong. "You're on his side?"
Peter shook his head. "No," he said, locking his eyes with the man. "Come on. Pocket that gun. There is no need for it." Miller did not answer, and Peter forced himself to look even more relaxed.
He turned away from the two men and opened the car door.
"Just text George and wait for Keller," he said calmly. "I'm sure there is an explanation."
It was only when Peter slipped into the car that the criminal obeyed.
Out of the corner of his eye he watched Miller lower his gun and reach for his phone.
"If the kid does not respond in the next five minutes, you'll regret it," he grumbled.
/\_/\
='x'=
Checking the time on his wristwatch once again, Neal feels in his stomach something spinning uncomfortably. Four minutes… Mister Keller is four minutes late already. Another minute and he will have to proceed without his mentor.
Come on… Neal grits his teeth. When a text message comes in, he has great hope, but then recognizes the number belongs to Mil.
[Unknown number: You alive?]
Reading the message over and over again, Neal bites his lip. Just great. The rest of the crew has already started to take notice of his absence. He thinks about the answer for a moment, then decides on the easiest one. It is not like it is his first time to make his own getaway after a heist. Miller usually has been forgiving.
[Me: Yeah. But don't wait up.]
He sends the message and then, with a heavy sigh, pockets his phone.
He cannot wait for Mister Keller any longer.
It is time to go.
/\_/\
='x'=
Hearing Miller's curse, both Peter and Travis looked up.
"What?" Peter asked.
"I'm gonna kick his ass," the man gritted out, and Travis, almost right on cue, laughed.
"Let me guess, Irish goodbye?" He asked and Miller glared at him. Travis turned to Peter. "See? That's why you should never trust kids. If you think it's the first time you've been wrong. The kid's been ditching Keller as long as I can remember."
Peter clenched his jaw. "Where is he going to meet us?" he asked.
Miller narrowed his eyes. "Why the hell do you want to meet him?"
Peter found himself at a loss on how to answer. Technically, with the security system disabled, George should not really matter to Keller's employer anymore. All five paintings that Neumann wanted them to steal were in the trunk of the car. It should not matter…
Peter's phone buzzed. There were two messages.
[Douglas Neumann: Do not wait for K. Tell them to move.]
[Matthew Keller: Move.]
"What is―" Miller started to ask, only to pause in mid-sentence. Looking over his shoulder, Peter could see exactly the same text message from Keller he had just received. "Keller says to move," the criminal announced.
"Then let's go," was the only thing that was left for Peter to say.
Let's go was the signal for his team to step in and arrest all three of them.
As he waited for his team's ambush, Peter clenched his fists. He really hoped that Keller's change of plans had nothing to do with Neal's disappearance.
/\_/\
='x'=
Neal is on the rooftop of a building across the street from Mister Neumann's mansion when he hears the first police siren.
"What the…" creeping to the edge of the roof, he glances down and… "Wow," he whispers. Beneath him, he can see a cavalry of cop cars.
With horror and disbelief, he immediately withdraws from the edge. He takes a running start and lands in a roll on the rooftop of the next building. They will not catch him.
…
It is only when Neal is a considerable distance away from the mansion that he is finally struck by the full significance of the cops' presence. Someone must have betrayed them. Someone must have sold them out!
"Travis," Neal spits in disgust, and the name is like a curse on his tongue.
Oh, he has warned Mister Keller it's going to end this way if he keeps Travis around. But has his mentor listened? No! He never does that!
Next(14.03): In Great Distress