A Heist Story Page 30

  Marcey fell back onto the pillow. “Hello?”

  “Where the hell are you?” Kim demanded.

  “Uh…I’m not sure… Where are we?” She hadn’t really been paying attention when Kat came to fetch her or on the train over to Kat’s new hotel.

  “Williamsburg,” Kat grunted, rolling over.

  “Oh Jesus, you fucked her again.” Kim groaned. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Marcey?”

  The sting of setting up for the final act bit into Marcey like a slap to the face. This was going to be harder than she thought.

  Kat made an annoyed sound, a low growl at the back of her throat. “’Zat Kim?”

  “Yeah,” Marcey said.

  “Bugger.” Kat sat up, rubbing at her neck. A bruise was forming there, obvious and stupid for anyone who cared to see it. She looked at the clock on the bedside table. “We need to be at that meeting.”

  “Tell Kat she’s a moron and get your ass over here. I’m not covering for you again if Topeté shows up demanding to know where you are.”

  “She what?” Marcey hissed. “She’s there?”

  “She didn’t, but she could. You’re holding a live grenade. You have to fucking stop doing this. She’ll only play nice for so long before she’s gonna gun for your throat.” Kim hung up before Marcey could respond, and Marcey pulled the phone away from her ear.

  “We should go.”

  “Yes.” Marcey bent to pick her shirt up off the floor at the foot of the bed. She looked over her shoulder. Kat’s hair hung limply over her face, the blonde curls lifeless. The bones of her spine stood out against the contours of her back, and Marcey’s breath caught. There was black ink there, merged with the scars. A vine laced down the skin of her back. “Do you love her, Kat, truly?”

  There was an anchor, roots at the small of Kat’s back. They splayed out, wrapping around the base of her spine, a warm brown inking into the cream of her skin. That was Topeté, Marcey realized with a shock. They were intertwined in a way Marcey had never realized before. They were connected. The question seemed stupid then. Marcey busied herself with her pants.

  “With all my being.”

  Marcey picked up the fake book from the desk. Her jacket was on the floor by the door, discarded with the brutality of Kat’s assault on her being. Marcey picked it up and tugged it on, not looking at Kat.

  It was time for the final coup. “We can’t keep doing this, then. It isn’t fair.”

  Kat heaved a shuddering sigh, hiding her defeat behind the blank mask of impassivity. “I know.”

  CHAPTER 32

  A Transaction, Completed

  They ended up meeting the next morning. Marcey went back to Shelly’s and passed out on the couch without a word. Shelly didn’t seem to mind, either. She just shook her head and went back to her preparations. There was an entire dossier spread out across Shelly’s kitchen table. Marcey glanced it over before she left to the appointed meeting place: a Starbucks off 42nd near the train station. It was central for everyone. Marcey went alone, as Shelly had to go into work for a few minutes to pick up some documents she’d left behind. She was dressed to the nines, in one of those killer dresses her library salary could scarcely afford, applying fake eyelashes when Marcey slipped out of the apartment and walked up the block to catch the 7 train into Manhattan.

  Gwen was the first to arrive, blinking blearily into a coffee and perching on a stool across from Marcey. “I don’t know if I can be involved with this part,” she confessed, shrugging off her oversized scarf. “Because of Will. Because of how integral a role he’s playing in the end game.” Gwen’s eyes fluttered shut. “I know that it’ll rattle him to see me, but it could also tip him off. Or make him think more critically about what we’re doing in a way that I think maybe…we don’t want.”

  “Well,” Marcey said thoughtfully. This move was expected. After what had happened in New Hampshire, Marcey wanted it to go this way. Gwen’s ability to be objective was something that Marcey worried about, and her taking herself out of the equation saved Marcey having to find a reason to ask her to leave. “It’s your call in the end.”

  The silence surrounded Marcey. Gwen sipped her coffee. “I would have married him, you know.”

  “Really?” Marcey asked. “Even though he’s a LEO?”

  “Despite that.” There was a fond smile at Gwen’s lips. Her beanie, crimson red against her dark hair and skin, stood out in the low light of the coffee shop. It was overcast and raining outside; everything was in shadows despite their window seat. “Will was, well, you know how Kat is with Topeté, right? It was like that, only more intoxicating. Like this drug I couldn’t quit.” She glanced sideways at Marcey. “Kat’s always been able to quit Topeté when she needs to or wants to. It’s part of what keeps Topeté coming back to her.”

  “I think they really love each other.” The truth of the matter was that Marcey was the one who couldn’t stop saying no. She was letting Kat destroy the beautiful, perfect thing they shared. All because what? Marcey wanted to save her? Did she? Could she?

  “I’d believe that if she bowed out of the game and went legit.” Gwen scoffed and went back to her coffee. “With Will, at least, I knew when Kat told me it was no good, down in Rio, that I had to get out. He was going to turn us all in, you know. That train job of Charlie’s went all sideways and we were stuck down there, trapped like rats on a sinking ship. Topeté tipped her off, God only knows why, but she probably saved my ass from jail.”

  “Do you think he would have arrested you, just like that?”

  “Honey,” Gwen said, almost sarcastically. “That man doesn’t give a damn about anything but himself and his career. If it’ll move him forward, he’s all over it. He wants to get into the FBI.”

  “So why’s he still working with Johnson? He can just go apply to the academy.”

  “Can’t pass the psych eval. Part of the reason he’s so good under pressure is because he doesn’t emotionally engage. But his impulse control is really poor. He’s like a dog with a bone and I honestly think that it hurts his ability to be objective. He gets fixated…on one thing. It’s why he and I had such an intense affair, but it’s also why I never went to prison after what happened in Rio. He was so focused on Charlie that he didn’t see what anyone else was doing. It was Topeté’s saving grace too, with that whole mess, because one word from him, had he noticed, and I don’t think he did, and he could have ended her career.” Gwen sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if he’s got something on her and that’s why she keeps working with him. Or if Johnson’s pulling that string.”

  Marcey hummed thoughtfully. “Johnson and Charlie had that in common. She collects names and dates like he did. I wouldn’t put it past him.”

  “Now you’re getting it. We loved Charlie, sure, but the reason he worked so well for us all was because of the safety and anonymity he guaranteed all of us. Johnson isn’t like that. I don’t know what she wants the book for, but it sure as hell isn’t to coordinate jobs.”

  “To send us all to jail, probably.” Kim slid into the seat beside Marcey and dropped a tangle of wires and her tablet into the space between Marcey’s crumpled napkin and the balled-up Starbucks bag that had held Gwen’s breakfast sandwich. “I looked into that Super PAC for you, Mar, and you’re right. Once I got past the security it was pretty easy to see the e-mails about you and Darius between Johnson and the head of the PAC.” From her bag, Kim produced a sheaf of papers and a flash drive. “This is the documentation we need. A lot of it is pretty damning. The legality of the use of your likeness is pretty dubious and you probably do have grounds to sue for defamation. But you’d never get Johnson on it without this. This is her consenting to what they’ve done in a way that she can’t deny the illegality of. Leak that to anyone and you’ll have Johnson ruined.”

  “She can weather a press storm.” Gwen frowned. “God knows she did after the first time she almost had Charlie.”

  “Which is why”—Marcey flashed Kim a grin—“
we’re going to make it really obvious she’s corrupt.”

  Gwen followed the logic quickly, her eyes growing wide. She sat back, her smile broadening. “Oh, that’s wicked. No one will be able to dispute it then.”

  “Especially when it turns out to be a fake.” Kim shook her head. “Kat may be all kinds of problems, but she’s got that stellar reputation for spotting fakes.”

  “Mostly because I made them.”

  They turned to see Kat, coffee clutched in one hand, standing a few feet away from their table. Marcey’s breath caught in her chest. There was something about a windswept Kat Barber that made her want more than was allowable, more than was okay for anyone who knew that there was someone else who was far, far more important. She looked away. They couldn’t, she couldn’t, fall in love.

  She wondered if Kat realized that this was all it was. If she was pulling herself into the situation thinking it was something that it wasn’t.

  “Well, true.” Gwen held out her hand. Kat took it, shaking and grinning warmly, before leaning in to kiss Gwen on both cheeks. Marcey looked away, deliberate and scowling. “Is Shelly with you?”

  “At the counter.” Kat indicated with her chin. She slid into place next to Marcey, leaning over to peck her on the cheek hello. Marcey’s cheeks burned. Kat couldn’t keep doing this, not if she wanted this not to end in tears. “So, I heard that you’re going to go along, Gwen?”

  “That was the idea,” Gwen answered. “Shelly thinks it might rattle Will to know that we’re there, especially when he can’t put together why. It’ll keep Marcey out of his crosshairs, as well as yourself and Kim.”

  “But you and Shelly have had the most time with him out of anyone.” Kim reached for the knot of wires and started to untangle them. “You were going to fucking marry him.”

  Marcey sighed. “That’s the idea, Kim. We want him emotionally off-balance. Knowing that Gwen’s somewhere… Well, men are awful with emotions. Gwen says he’s particularly stunted. It’ll give them a chance to…talk…while the rest of us do our parts.”

  “Ah.” Kim nodded. She passed Gwen a successfully untangled wire. “Wrap that around your cell phone charger cord and keep it in your pocket.”

  “What is it?” Gwen took it and pulled her charger cord from her pocket.

  “Transmitter.” Kim explained. “With the city being how it is, signals can get a little wonky, this will ensure a good connection while looking like just another charger cord.” She held up the other one to Shelly when she approached. “Do you have the account and routing numbers?”

  Shelly rattled off a collection of numbers and Marcey’s eyes went just a little wide. Kat nudged Marcey with her elbow. Marcey’s gaze slid from Shelly and her warm smile to Kat, Kat with her quiet, almost sad smile, and the warmth of their legs pressing against each other as they huddled together over the small table.

  “Are you ready for this?” Kat asked.

  “No,” Marcey said truthfully. “It feels too much like an ending.”

  “That’s because it is, darling.”

  Marcey tilted her head. “Maybe I don’t want it to end…just yet.”

  Kat leaned forward, and it was an almost kiss. Kat’s breath was hot on Marcey’s lips.

  Kim cleared her throat loudly and waved the mess of wires in their faces. “If you are done mooning at each other, we’ve got work to do.”

  In the wake of everything happening, Marcey went home. Back to her mother’s apartment, despite walking out of there what felt like weeks ago. Marcey was a vagabond, surfing from couch to couch to Kat Barber’s hotel bed. She needed a few things from home, and she needed to see her mother one last time before the pieces fell into place. It was late enough in the day that her mother answered when Marcey knocked and stepped aside to allow her entry without a word.

  Marcey stepped into the apartment, a wash of nostalgia and the uncomfortable feeling of an ill-fitting life hitting with waves of disquiet.

  “Why are you here?” her mother demanded. Her mother, who’d started this whole thing without so much as a thought to what it would mean for Marcey’s future. Her mother, who’d let herself fall in love with the wrong man and had, despite his failings, never mentioned to that man’s child that her entire life was a lie. “I thought we were done.”

  Sticking her chin out, petulant and defiant, Marcey jammed her hands into her pockets. “I came to get some things.” She paused. “And to say I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry for what, Marcey?”

  Her mother’s tone was gentle, but it was the implication of it that bit into Marcey’s consciousness. In an instant, Marcey went from feeling like an adult about to do a great and terrible thing to a child once more. She bit her lip and looked down at her feet, at her two-day-old dirty socks hidden by scuffed boots. “I was caught up in being angry at you, for Charlie Mock. For not telling me about him. I lashed out.”

  The warmth of her mother’s embrace was enough to make Marcey recoil. She drew back, thinking of other hugs she’d received: Shelly’s warmth and the way Kat smelled. This wasn’t like that, but rather a Band-Aid on a wound still bleeding. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have said all those things about your friend.” Her mother exhaled hot breath onto the crown of Marcey’s head. “You’re right to be angry at me. I never told you that story because I saw how seductive his life would be to you. I didn’t want that for you.”

  Marcey fisted her fingers in the back of her mother’s shirt. “Promise me something,” she said.

  “Anything, honey.”

  “When I leave here, promise me you won’t talk to the police. They’re going to come looking for something—a book of Charlie’s. I have it with me. After I get what I need I’m going down to ADA Johnson’s office and I’m going to give it to her.” Marcey stepped back from her mother, looking up to meet her gaze evenly. “I don’t want them coming in and trashing the apartment looking for something they won’t find.”

  “What is the book?”

  “Something that ADA Johnson wants very badly.” Marcey reached into her bag and pulled out the book, flipping it open to the photograph of Kat, Charlie, and Shelly. Her mother reached out to take it with shaking fingers.

  “Chuck…” she whispered. “Christ, I never thought I’d see him again.” She flipped the picture over. “Rio, huh?”

  “Yeah.” Marcey shook her head. “Things went south for him in a hurry there, far as I can tell. ADA Johnson worked with Interpol and the Brazilian authorities to bring him in. I think giving her this will be the sort of a peace offering she’ll want to drop her resistance to Darius’s parole hearing, but also maybe to get that Super PAC to back off.” She took the photograph from her mother and tucked it away.

  She was getting better at lying.

  “That seems like a good idea, a peace offering.” Her mother squeezed her shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” Marcey ducked away, down the hallway to her closed bedroom door. Kat’s work on the book was flawless, she knew that, but there were two touches she had to add in order to make it convincing. From her desk drawer, she pulled out the original packaging that the courier had left the book in, as well as Charlie’s letter. There would be questions about why she was in New Hampshire, but as far as the cops were concerned, the painting was still there. What would come later, the threading of the pieces to knit into the fabric of this plot, all of it would hinge on how convincing this lie was.

  She buried the original book deep under a stack of her journals; each worn black leather book was just like Charlie’s journal. She didn’t think it would come to that, with Kat’s fake, but it had to be kept safe, hidden.

  “Will you be coming back?” Her mother leaned against the doorframe as Marcey slipped the book into the packaging and made sure the letter from Devon Austin Jackson was fully enclosed in the envelope. “Or is this another good-bye? Where have you been staying?”

  “With friends. And I’ll be back, but it won’t be for a while, Mom.
I think it’s time I got myself a place. I’m twenty-five.”

  “You quit your job.”

  Marcey shoved the package into her bag and checked her pocket for the flash drive. It was quarter to three. The auction started in fifteen minutes. She had to get downtown. “I’ll figure it out, okay? I needed a change of scenery after work started making the connection between those pictures and me. It was only a matter of time before I got fired.”

  Her mother reached out, pulled her hand back. Marcey tugged her jacket up her shoulders. There wasn’t much more that could be said. “Just trust me, okay?” Marcey exhaled. “I’ll be all right.”

  CHAPTER 33

  Wei, Baffled

  At twenty after three, Marcey Daniels walked into Linda Johnson’s office. She paused, just for a moment, beside Wei’s borrowed desk. Wei stared at her, confused, as Marcey pulled a package from her bag and set it neatly on top of Wei’s copy of the Times. She smiled at Wei before her expression turned almost sad. Wei opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Marcey stood there a moment longer before she walked straight to Johnson’s office and waited to be admitted.

  Wei took the package and pulled out the contents. The letter she set aside; it was covered with recognizable handwriting—Charlie Mock’s handwriting—but it was the larger object that drew Wei in. The book. A peace offering if ever Wei saw one. Wei’s fingers trailed over the names and dates on the pages. She flipped back, looking for her own entry, and then to Kat’s. Everything was exactly the same, except for one small, glaring omission. Wei searched back across the span of her memory and drew a shuddering breath.