Page 20 of The Diamond Thief
9
Jacob
The Den is busy tonight, filled with people anxious to identify potential marks and collaborate on a heist. The room fairly buzzes with excitement.
I sip a drink and watch from one of the far corners.
I’m aware I’ve been discussed. Occasional furtive glances tell me that my leadership has been called into question. No one knows about the woman, at least. Just the swords, since the buyers placed inquiries. I regret telling anyone that I had my eye on the hilts. It had been a solo job. No one had needed to know until I had them.
Vanity, pure and simple. I thought myself above failure.
Elliott, another leader of the Den and one I consider a friend, answers questions about three potential jobs. The first one has most everyone excited. It involves a shipment of prototype full-body virtual reality suits, something that has the technology hunters practically pissing themselves. Apparently, there is a huge market for stolen future tech. Every company wants to see what every other one is doing and will pay top dollar for it.
I find it inelegant, but numerous young bucks and a fair number of the women are climbing over themselves to be involved.
“Jared will be leading that one,” Elliott says, pointing to one of our comrades. “You can speak with him after the presentation.” He glances over at me as if to share in our mutual annoyance. I swear the Den is infested with these low-level, short-term gain-seekers. Elliott and I favor things that last, items treasured for centuries that will continue to be sought long after our careers have ended.
He speaks about an art exhibit at a private home where all new security is being installed, leaving many opportunities to both infiltrate the company providing it and defeat it, since its parameters will not be well known. He reveals several items from the collection projected onto multiple screens around the room, paintings and sculptures and a few ornate vases. There’s a murmuring among the art lovers, all discussing the pieces and who might be in the market for them.
“Who’s the lead on that one?” someone asks.
“Robert,” Elliott says, gesturing toward the man. “You may speak to him about it.”
He moves on to the jewelry exhibit. Multiple images project throughout the room, showing the items that will be traveling by armored car from New York to Seattle. He moves through them quickly, downplaying their value to avoid generating too much interest. There is only one person we really want to come.
I watch faces. Jade isn’t here. I didn’t figure she would be. Antony confirmed that she has been notably absent from the Den since she stole my swords last week. What I’m looking for is someone here who knows her, one of the other minor female thieves. All I want is someone to tell Jade about the most important element of this collection, one she will not be able to resist.
Elliott talks on. “Of particular interest to some of you would be the tiara collection.” He changes all the slides to show the same tiara.
“The Fife tiara was locked away for over one hundred years,” he says. “It was last worn by Princess Louise of Wales when she married the Earl of Fife in 1889. A few years ago, it was used to settle an estate, refurbished and placed on display at Kensington Palace. Its inclusion in this traveling exhibit has caused quite a stir among the historic tiara and crown community.”
He scans the room, as do I. He is in on the ruse, and his performance tonight is far more important than anything I could do. He must interest someone who can get to Jade without creating competition for the job.
And I can’t appear to be involved. Jade knows me. But Elliott, having stature and experience, is the perfect person to lead this heist and draw her in.
A girl with hair so vividly red it makes her head look like a cherry raises her hand. For a moment my heart squeezes, but then I recognize her as one of the lesser women in the Den. Not the one I lost so many years ago. She was a natural redhead anyway.
“Is this the one with the armored vehicle as the mark?” she asks.
I watch her carefully. She is certainly not Jade. I will know her when I see her no matter what she does to her hair. But the timing of her question is of interest. Just after the Fife tiara.
“What is your name, honey?” Elliott asks.
Her face betrays her annoyance. None of the girls in the ring enjoys being called by endearments. But it is one of many ways that the Den deals with the women in our ranks. It keeps them in their place.
As well we should, given the behavior of one of our own. Jade has ensured none of the men of stature will trust a single one of the young playthings in our midst.
My anger threatens to take over my expression, and I must clamp down and think of something other than that thieving woman.
“Elena,” she says.
“We do not recommend infiltrating the museum itself,” Elliott says smoothly. Everything he is saying is a lie. “The owner comes from a military background and believes in firepower over alarm systems.” He gives her wink. “We wouldn’t want your pretty face to be marred with bullets.”
His condescension makes the girl frown again, but she persists. “How many people would be needed to take on the armored car?”
I have to control my annoyance. These are basic tenets, all part of Antony’s training. This is why these girls will never move up in ranks in the Den. They don’t even know how to put together a team without someone holding their hand.
But Elliott is far more patronizing than I am.
