A/N: Hey y'all! How're you doing? Well, I'm better because, as of the time I'm writing this, Of Law and Angels has received OVER 1,000 VIEWS! I am AMAZED! Thank you all sooo much for all the love! As always, thanks to my lovely editor ccluvshorses101!
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Chapter 5: Another Day, Another Dalí
It's a good thing I'm wearing a jacket, mused the black-clad thief who just happened to be walking along the rooftop of a high-end apartment complex. The wind was bitter and cold-this was New York after all- and, even properly dressed, the shadowy figure wished to be inside as soon as possible. I'm wishing for laser grids and security cameras, The Gentleman sighed inwardly. Maybe I really am going crazy.
Tugging at the harness one last time-be nothing if not careful-the robber made a running start for the edge and jumped, becoming invisible against the inky night sky almost instantly.
The wind whistled past, rippling the dark dress suit fervently. Landing upon the correct balcony, the housebreaker proceeded to don the signature black top hat and began to pick the lock on the sliding door. It was ridiculous; the man had a state-of-the-art security system on his front door, thousand-dollar motion sensors on his walls, and high end cameras sprinkled all throughout the apartment, but only a simple dead bolt on the balcony door. Building security itself was a joke-a couple of guards and some cheap security cameras-so getting here hadn't been a problem.
After exactly six seconds of poking and prodding, the deadbolt clicked and the door was easily opened, but only a crack. Running gloved hands along the edges of the door, the thief was pleased to find a lack of alarms rigged to it and promptly entered.
Near silent footsteps were the only sound to be heard as the bandit approached the private gallery. Stopping at the threshold, The Gentleman took out the handy can of aerosol that was never left at home. After being released into the air, the aerosol revealed a spiderweb of lasers covering the marble floor. Sighing, the black-clad bandit slipped the silk hat back into its custom pocket and took a step back.
The following feats of flexibility would have put several gold-medalists to shame, had they been there to see them. Cartwheels, handstands, and backbends pervaded, with a handspring or two for good measure.
In mere moments, the crafty cat-burglar was standing in front of what could only be described as paradise. For a thief, that is. Making sure to bow for the cameras-The Gentleman did have a reputation to uphold, after all- the thief proceeded to examine the pieces. There were two Monet's, a Rembrandt, and, of course, the Dalí. That was what the assignment had been: get the Dalí. Oh, well; who said a thief can't get a cut on the side? Too bad I only brought one rose, smirked the crook silently.
Loot in tow, the still-smirking housebreaker exited the apartment through the balcony door. Proceeding to reattach the harness, the shadow-clad thief jumped off a building for the second time that night.
Landing with a light thump, the victorious burglar donned the black silken hat once again. Hat securely in place, the thief pressed a button on the harness, reaching out a hand to catch the other end that came falling down, having been on the roof seconds previously. The Gentleman didn't exactly understand how it worked-Alice could get really boring when she explained things like that- but Alice had designed it, and that's all that the robber needed to know.
Returning the harness to the duffel bag that had been stashed in the bushes, The Gentleman slung the bag over the shoulder of the midnight dress suit and departed. There is more to be done tonight, mused the thief, and only so much night remaining.
"What took you so long?" Alice was irritated; the shadowy figure was twenty minutes late, and she had been worried. Not that she would admit it; her thieving friend would accuse her of lack of faith. She did have faith in her friend's abilities, but she cared for her crew. This made the others think of her as the "mother hen" of the bunch.
"I had to make a stop along the way," said the crafty housebreaker, a glow of victory shining through the darkness. "Here is the Dalí, along a little extra for insurance in case the warden wants to up the price."
"You never cease to amaze." Riley's voice came slyly out of the shadows. "Not that the warden should need any more motivation; we're giving him enough to retire quite happily on an island somewhere." Riley made the third member of their crew. Her ability to convince anyone of anything still amazed Alice, and made her the perfect con artist for the crew.
"Hell, with that much, he should be able to buy an island somewhere," retorted Alice. She knew herself to be the technical smarts for the team: hacking, building gadgets, etc.
As for The Gentleman-she still thought the name just too funny-stealing was the main game. Altogether, they were wanted basically everywhere-there were still a few countries of South America they hadn't hit yet- and had yet to be jailed. All except…well, they were fixing that.
"I don't care how much of it he takes," said their thieving friend tiredly, "as long as he keeps up his end of the bargain."
"Thank goodness for bribable officials," said Alice.
"I still think that I could have gotten him out without the bribes," pouted Riley.
"Of course you could," Alice soothed, "but this way is faster. And we all know how he hates to be kept waiting."
Both of the others nodded quickly at that. There was no doubt that patience was not one of his more-practiced virtues. At least the warden seems to be patient enough, Alice thought.
Riley laughed suddenly. "Remember Montreal? I remember thinking he was going to blow a gasket when Alice came back five minutes late with the…what was it again?"
"A Van-Gough, I think." Replied Alice. "Or was it a Rembrandt? I can't remember."
"Alice," asked the well-dressed thief, "any updates from the FBI? I want to keep a couple steps ahead."
Alice checked her smartphone. The little thing was hooked up to her main computer and encrypted six ways from Sunday. "Nope," she replied, "looks to me like you have a comfortable lead on them. What did you think, Riley?"
"The lead one was pretty frustrated, but the other one was calm. Think you've still got room for error."
"Still, best to make none. Being a thief is hard enough without the prison time." The Gentleman was pensive. "I think I'll head on home now; I've had a long night."
"Goodnight," replied Alice and Riley in unison. It was around 3 in the morning; they'd best be headed to bed as well.
On returning, the team had tracked down each Bachelor and interrogated them for hours apiece. Only two were without alibi for the time of the theft. The rest had been "bonding" with the women who had bought their company for the night. The first had a credit card statement placing him elsewhere just before the theft, but they still measured him and the second for video comparison. Diana was in charge of overseeing it.
Jones had been asked to look for any similar cases in the last few years, something to base off of. Neal was to write a step-by-step log of how the heist went down, including approximate planning and exit times.
Diana entered Peter's office with what had to be at least her fifth cup of coffee tonight. She handed him his sixth and braced herself to give him the bad news. She took a deep breath and began.
"Boss, the results from the video comparison came back." She looked at him for a moment; he looked exhausted; it was 2:30 in the morning after all. She was sure she didn't look much better.
"Well? Which of them is it?" Peter knew he sounded as exhausted as he looked; he just wanted to go home for the night.
Diana looked sympathetic. With a sigh, she finally told him the news he'd been dreading to hear since she walked in. "Neither, Boss. It was another dead end. The first guy was way too tall, and the second guy was too overweight."
Peter was already half expecting this. With a sigh, he told her: "Go tell the team to go on home; we'll make a fresh start of it in the morning. Maybe we'll see something new then." He stood up while he spoke and was grabbing his coat when Neal entered, holding a seven page transcript.
"I finally finished, but there are parts even I'm unable to explain. It would be easier if I could ask Mozzie, you know."
Before Peter could reiterate about the fact Mozzie should not be involved in any more FBI investigations than he must be, Jones came bursting into Peter's office.
"What the-" Peter's surprised oath was cut short by Jones's out of breath statement.
"You've got mail," he panted, waving a small card through the air.
"It can wait until tomorrow, Jones, we're all headed home." Peter just wanted to get home and get some sleep.
"I don't think so, Boss; you're going to want to read this right now." Jones looked excited.
"I'm sure it can wait, Jones, we're all tired and-" Peter was cut off once again, but didn't mind once he heard what Jones had to say.
"It can't, Boss. It's from The Gentleman."
A/N: Oooh, the suspense! Whew, what a long chapter! With a lot of Gentleman-insight! What did y'all think; do you like more of The Gentleman and co., or should our slippery antagonist stick to only a paragraph or two? Tell me your thoughts!