Page 3 of When Fashion Turns Deadly

Cole opened the door and sprinted down the hall. He reached the cipher lock and held a code override device to the scanner at the top. Seconds ticked by, the display on the device flashing numbers with ridiculous speed. Thirty seconds left. Maybe less. His heartbeat quickened. Stay and hope the six-digit code cleared in time, or run back to the closet and try again after the next guard pass?

The fifth number clicked into place. One more.

Cole remained in the hall. Fifteen seconds left. Ten. Five.

The last number illuminated his screen, and Cole quickly typed it onto the keypad with his gloved hand. The lock clicked back. He opened the door and quickly slipped inside, closing the door silently behind him.

A sigh of relief escaped him. First obstacle down.

Cole pulled out his night-vision scope and looked through it to verify that Peeters didn’t have any laser sensors in his office. Once satisfied, Cole crossed to the desk. No laptop. He opened the top desk drawer easily, finding notepads and pens neatly arranged inside. He pulled on the second one, but it was locked.

The metal key lock took only a few seconds to pick, but when Cole opened the drawer, he discovered a new challenge. The entire inside of the drawer had been fitted with a custom safe, only this time Cole had to work through an old-fashioned tumbler system rather than a digital keypad.

“Great,” he muttered under his breath.

Too bad his girlfriend wasn’t here. With her years of working undercover at a bank in Austria, Isabelle was a pro at this. He knew he could get the job done, but he would have preferred facing this type of lock with a bit more time to spare or with Isabelle at his side.

He pulled his listening device from his coat pocket and attached the three receivers to the left side. Then he slipped the earbuds into his ears.

Slowly, he turned the dial one number at a time. Nine minutes later, he reached the first: twenty-two. He started back in the other direction. Another ten minutes. Eighty-seven.

His palms sweating inside his gloves, he slowly turned the dial to the right again. Twelve minutes left. He clicked past the final number: sixteen. Frustrated that he had gone too far, he spun the dial several times and went through the combination again before turning the dial back to zero. He pulled on the handle and opened the safe.

Relieved to finally be in, he peered at the contents: a laptop, three rolled documents secured with rubber bands, a pistol, several stacks of hundred-euro bills, and a manila file folder at the bottom. Cole took everything but the pistol and the money. Once it was all secured in his backpack, he started to close the safe, then reconsidered. No thief would leave the money, and Cole needed this to look like a robbery.

He grabbed the stacks of cash and stuffed them into his backpack. Then he secured the safe, locked the top drawer, and checked the time. Two minutes left.

Ensuring he left the desk as he found it, sans the contents of the safe, Cole rushed to the door.

He counted off the seconds. Then with a silent prayer, he opened the door, did a quick scan to ensure the lasers were turned off, and sprinted back to the closet. He shut the door behind him as the elevator doors chimed. Cole grabbed the connection to the security override and pulled it free.

His breath rushed out of him. That was close.

He leaned against the wall and willed his heart to settle. Another four hours until the offices would open for the day and the guards would change. Until then, he had nothing to do but remain invisible and silent.

***

After twelve straight hours of casting calls, Marit was more than ready to be off her feet. If every designer let her cut through red tape the way Ralph had yesterday, the week leading up to Paris’s fashion shows wouldn’t be half so exhausting. Rolling her shoulders, she unlocked the door to the agency flat she shared with Nadia and walked in.

Moments later, her phone rang. A quick glance at the name on the screen put a smile on her face. “Hi, Lars!”

“Hey, am I catching you at a good time?”

“Yes. I just arrived back at the flat.” She set her bag on the counter. “How’s the inventory going?” Lars was still in Amsterdam, preparing the Coster jewelry for transportation to Paris.

“I just finished,” he said. “And now that I have a better idea of how much the contents of these cases are worth, I’m doubly glad I’m in charge of recording images of each piece, not safeguarding them once they leave here.”

“I think you’ll get some great shots of the jewelry on the models at the shows.”

“I’m sure I will,” he said. “I only wish I were heading to Paris today.”

“Me too.” Three more days. It shouldn’t seem like a long time, but it did.

Lars must have been feeling the same way, because he sighed. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” A knock sounded at the door. Puzzled, Marit glanced at it. “Hey, Lars, someone’s at the door, and Nadia isn’t here right now. I’d better go see who it is. Can I call you later?”

“Sure,” he said. “I’ll be working late tonight. If I don’t answer right away, I’ll call you back.”

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