Page 21 of Stolen By the Rogue
George Hawkins headed for the Ottoman embassy and his fate.
* * *
George knew the layout of the exhibition space well enough. There were two slightly disinterested embassy guards usually loitering about the place. Every so often one or both would disappear outside to smoke some tobacco, leaving the main public area largely unprotected.
Their lack of care in their job was his way in.
Tonight, he avoided Jane. He told himself it was purely for strategic reasons, but a little voice inside his head whisperedcoward.
She was somewhere in the next room showing the last of the visitors the gold crown when George slipped in the front door. He passed the guards on his way through the entrance. They had their backs turned to him and were chortling over a magazine that one of them was holding.
He stifled a snort. Sketches of naked women had universal appeal for all men.
There was little over half an hour remaining in the opening hours of the exhibition, and George wasted no time in making his way to the hiding place he had carefully selected. On any other night, he would soon be arriving and making his presence known to Jane. Tonight, however, he couldn’t risk her coming out to the entrance and looking for him.
He had feigned the beginnings of a cold at the end of the previous evening, and hopefully she would think he had taken to his bed rather than pass it onto her.
To one side of the first room there was a doorway, and after checking that he wasn’t being observed, George made his way through it and into a narrow hallway. He quickly looked left and right.
Good. No one is here. It’s all coming together. Just hold your nerve.
Three days earlier he had identified the place where he would hide and come out once everyone had gone. His trusty skeleton key made short work of the door to the broom closet.
He closed the door and moved to the back where he soon settled on the floor in the far corner. Under a convenient, holland cover he was hidden entirely from view. Anyone who chanced to come into the cramped room in the next hour would only see brooms, buckets, and a pile of cloths.
In the dark, George sat and waited. Not long now and he would be able to make his move. He talked to himself as he often did during the long waiting periods before undertaking jobs. Tonight, he made a vow.
After this is done, I will go straight. No more stealing. No more lying.
The promise did little to appease his soul, because with the golden crown of Emperor Baldwin in his possession, there would be no more Jane.
He would have his new life, but it would come at a high price.
Chapter Thirteen
Under the heavy cover, George was cramped and hot. Someone had used it to wipe up something foul and rotten. He sniffed at the sleeve of his coat.
I don’t know what that awful stuff is, but I will never be able to get it out of this fabric. My coat, my shirt—everything is tainted with it.
He consoled himself with the knowledge that if he did manage to pull the job off, he would have enough money to treat himself to several new coats and suits. Once he got home, he would indulge in a long, hot bath and scrub the smell out of his pores.
No. A bathhouse might be a better option. Dump the crown somewhere safe and then go and have a wash.
The last thing he needed was for the Hawkins household staff to make comments about the stench of his clothes and for his parents to enquire as to where he had been.
Settling in for a long wait, George did his best to endure the odoriferous pong.
I knew I should have packed a hipflask for this.
An hour after the last of the visitors were scheduled to have left the building, George finally opened the door of the closet and stepped out. The hallway was dark, but at least the full moon was shining through an upper window.
Studying the phases of the moon was something all good thieves did as a matter of good business practice. A full moon often allowed for dirty work without the need of a lantern or candle.
With slow, soft footsteps, he crept through the main entrance and into the first display room. He stopped and listened. Silence was his reward.
He moved on, and into the second space where Baldwin’s crown was usually displayed. His heart was beating like a drum in his chest as his gaze took in the ornate storage box, which had been placed on the top of the dais.
Bloody fools. You think too highly of the English. I would have thought after Elgin took all those beautiful marbles from Athens that you would have learned we are not above petty theft.
