Unearthed Treasure (9 page)

He nodded, knowing the truth in her words but still unable to squash the desire to take her over and over. She was more addictive than any drug to him.

“I’m done here. Let me go grab our clothes and I’ll be dressed and decent when you’re finished.”

The laughter in her eyes drew him in, promising untold pleasure.

“You might be dressed, but I hope you’re never decent around me.”

Chuckling, they kissed, a hot, quick press of lips that promised much more.

They swapped positions. David reached for the towel, wondering how the hell he was supposed to focus with this vixen by his side and in his blood. The thought that if he couldn’t remain on task they might be separated as working partners acted like a wash of cold water. They were a brilliant team, bloody made for each other. After such a long time undercover they could read nuances in the other’s body language better than some twins, and more importantly they understood how each other thought. They were made for work like this, perfectly matched in every way. David refused to let his lack of control threaten that.

He dried himself and returned to the front room to collect their gear. While making his way back to the bedroom he checked out of the windows, one of many security habits he had no intention of repressing. In the bedroom he slowly dressed. As he pulled each item of clothing on, he mentally prepared himself, getting back into the work frame of mind. If he didn’t concentrate, pick up every signal, catch every hint of the tableau before them, it could result in their death—or, worse, capture.

David was responsible not just for his safety, but for Chelsea’s. That thought acted better than the strongest pep-talk or shackles of responsibility. Nothing would hurt her. Nothing.

A minute later Chelsea stalked out of the bathroom, freshly washed and dried, and clearly with her head back in the game. Warm feelings emanated from her, a caring and love that neither could deny, but her features were set again, her gaze laser sharp and her posture that no longer of a languid lover, but of a working professional.

Chelsea nodded at him, and he tilted his head in acknowledgement.

She crossed to the tall boy, opened drawers and dressed promptly. Black lacy knickers, a matching bra and thin socks. Tight, fitted black jeans and a long-sleeved shirt that clung to her luscious curves. Chelsea opened her wardrobe and pulled out a jacket and laid it on the rumpled bed. She ran a brush through her silky curls, then lifted her hands and started to plait her hair with a speed and efficiency that showed she’d done this a million times.

“Send the signal to McIlroy,” she said. “We need him to know this is going down. He’ll at least be ready for our call later on. We’re still supposed to meet with Phillipe’s boss after we steal the Cézanne, aren’t we?”

“I believe so, but you know Kent, he’s a twitchy bugger after a heist. Still, McIlroy will know we’ll contact him as soon as we have data on who Phillipe answers to. Hard to believe we’re on the home stretch with this,” David mused as he pulled his sleeve up to expose his watch.

A classic man’s watch, it had a few buttons and three dials in the face. He pressed a button three times in quick succession. Nothing appeared to happen, though both he and Chelsea knew it had emitted a beacon back to the Dublin office, on a wavelength dedicated to David, Chelsea and this particular mission. There’d be no doubt who’d sent the signal, and would soon follow with a communication.

David took a deep breath, pulled his shirt sleeve back down and looked at his partner. They shared a silent gaze for a few heartbeats, neither needing to wish the other luck or even say a word. It had become their routine to not wish good luck, or any form of verbal assurance before they set out at times like this. They both felt it tempted fate, something neither was keen to do.

Holding out his hand, David waited while Chelsea smiled and took it. They twined their fingers intimately together, a thrill searing his senses as proof he’d not imagined their earlier chemistry, the deep, pleasant ache in his muscles reminding him of their previous shenanigans. They shared a final kiss and were ready to move.

“Almost ready,” she murmured huskily as she collected her kit—a small satchel with a large strap that wrapped around her chest. The satchel was of a size to fit two or three hardback books, enough to fit their gear in it, anything they might need to carry, but small enough to rest along the length of her body and not be particularly noticeable.

He wore an identical one, with his gun, spare ammunition, a set of lock picks, a thin coil of rope and a number of other items he considered essential for any job. With their work one could never be quite certain what would be useful and what would not. David had learnt long ago to err on the side of caution. With a handful of tools and items, he could pretty much make do in nearly any situation.

Tucked into an outside pocket of his bag was a thumb-sized electronic device that looked a bit like a portable MP3 player. It was actually a very powerful voice-activated recorder, which they planned to use along with some discreetly taken pictures to identify the final link in the smuggling chain.

But first they had to steal the Cézanne.

They spent a precious few minutes checking their gear, then they were ready.

“Let’s go,” Chelsea said. With a nod he followed her back out onto the street.

It was time.

* * * *

“So as best I can figure they’ve reacted pretty much how we expected,” Luke said.

The five of them pored over a single sheet of paper laid out on the table in the booth they occupied. The small pub had three flat-screen TVs on various walls showing three different footy matches. The patrons either watched while they sipped their beers, or a few couples enjoyed a cosy meal together. No one paid the group the least mind.

“I’ve scouted and timed the rounds and this is what we’re facing. The patrols have been tripled—so now instead of one pair there are three. Don’t be fooled, though. The extra pairs have been carefully briefed. Whenever a call or alert goes out, one pair remains where they are. The other two pairs split up and go in separate directions to answer and survey the surrounding areas. That’s something we hadn’t expected,” Luke spoke.

“We’d assumed they’d remain together in a giant clump.” Thaddeus nodded. “That’s smart, whoever instructed the patrols to act like that. So we can’t divert attention from the areas we want by setting up a flare, like we’d hoped.”

“No, we’ve had to ditch that idea,” Kent agreed. “Instead, what we’ll need to do is divide and conquer ourselves. I still think we need a diversion—dealing with a six-man team is too much for us, especially when everyone out there will be trigger happy. We continue with parts of the plan and adapt as the situation calls for it. That’s why we always planned to have this meeting to get everything straight.”

“Have they increased the frequency of patrols?” Chelsea asked as she bent over the schematic. “This whole section should still be far less active. The amateur award winners from the local Art College, while interesting, have no real monetary value as yet. And this corridor where they’re being shown leads directly to the smaller ‘Where did they come from?’ gallery that we’re interested in.”

“That’s the bad news,” Luke added.

Chelsea’s heart sank, her spirits with it. Bad news so close to a dangerous run like this never boded well. David sat beside her and moved his hand slightly, his fingers brushing the outer edge of her thigh. The caress was brief and so subtle it could easily have been nothing, but it sent warmth flowing through her.

He must have felt that same twisting sensation in his stomach and wanted to offer her comfort. She let the corner of her mouth twitch in a tiny smile of thanks. She didn’t trust herself to glance at him and hoped he saw her small gesture.

“In part we were right. They’ve focused their attention on the big guns—the rare artefacts and special exhibitions. The patrols have also been given explicit instructions to focus their time walking those areas and monitoring them. The bad news is they’re still doing a quick pass through the corridors and section we need to infiltrate and they’ve doubled the rotations. Instead of having one pair of guards walk the halls every half hour, now there’s the three pairs of guards doing the rounds every quarter hour.”

“Surely spreading themselves that thin would mean they’d hurry through the dead zones—the sections we’ve mapped for—and be more alert in the so-called higher risk areas?” David suggested.

Kent made a ’so-so’ face.

“We can’t rely on that,” he insisted. “Luke and I watched four rotations before coming here. It did appear they hurried through our sections—it’s a lot of ground to cover in only fifteen minutes. And the guards are talking amongst themselves, sharing stories and bragging about who was where when the attempt went down earlier today. So they’re distracted as we’d hoped. But our window is small. Worryingly small.”

“Actually it might work in our favour,” Chelsea suggested. She leant forward onto the table, resting on her elbows so her words weren’t loud enough to carry far. “We’d already decided Thaddeus would remain outside to use a frontal attack as distraction—I saw first-hand how impressive that was this morning. Then when Kent and Luke are inside and give the signal I can jam the security cameras, which will add another level of distraction and disorientation.”

“If our window is about fifteen minutes,” David picked up, seeming to understand where she wanted to head, “then we can meet in the middle, at the painting. That way we’ve both got back-up should we run into a patrol team—four against six is much more even odds. Better yet, we can split up to escape, which will heighten our odds of success.”

Kent seemed to think about this for a moment.

“The plan was always for you two to remain out of sight, monitoring the cameras and security system. That really is a job in and of itself.”

“That’s busy work to keep us occupied,” Chelsea pointed out. “And you know it. We need a man on the outside, particularly Thaddeus, since he can cover our escapes and draw attention from the fact that we’re already inside and successfully taking what we want. His role is crucial.”

“Having someone monitor the level of our penetration and success, making certain they’re not aware we’ve been inside until we’re long gone, is also crucial.” Luke weighed into the discussion.

Chelsea looked at the man and nodded.

“I agree, but I can do that while David and I give support to you and Kent.”

She reached her hand into her bag and withdrew a small, thin laptop. The width of the computer was only a little bigger than the span of her palm. She held it so they could all see the device.

“This isn’t exactly a brick, you know. The current book I’m reading is bigger and nearly twice as heavy. Everything I need to jam the cameras, monitor the alarm systems and watch our arses is on here. I don’t need to be stationary to do my job.”

Kent seemed intrigued. He cast a look at Thaddeus and Luke, finally looking between her and David.

“Look, if you really don’t trust us by now, what are we doing here?” Chelsea asked with exasperation. This was a gamble, but her instinct told her it was the right time to play it. After all the tests, the subtle barbs and the time they’d spent getting this far she felt a spurt of impatience was long overdue.

“David and I can be helpful here, as decoys if nothing else. You’ll still have the art folder and take the canvas itself. No one here is disputing that. But if we come across a glitch or a problem—and, despite all our plans, the probability of that is high—then being able to split the team up and force security to scramble after us is an edge we should use.”

“Okay,” Kent relented with a nod. He moved the paper with the outline of the Gallery into the middle of the table and indicated a spot with his index finger. “This is how it will be. Thad, you will be in the same position, shooting distance with a clear range of the front of house. They’ve set up barricades here, here and across here. The street will be down to a crawl, bottlenecked to make things manageable for the police and made worse by the rubber-necking. As long as you stay in contact with us and make a lot of noise the rest is up to you.”

Thaddeus smiled, a scary look in his eyes. Chelsea felt the man was having far too much fun, and not in a pleasant way. She hoped no one would get killed when he was finally let loose.

“Chelsea and David will neutralise the alarms at this point,” Kent continued as he pointed to another section of the diagram. “Luke and I will be over here, waiting for your signal that we’re clear to go. Chelsea will kill the cameras, and only then switch off the alarm as the security patrols panic. With luck, the loss of the visual surveillance and the noise of Thad’s attack out front will take a minute or two for them to realise the system is fully down and not merely under attack. The four of us enter, and make our way directly to the Cézanne. That reminds me.”

Kent unzipped a small outer pocket on his back pack and removed five small buds. When he handed them to each of them in turn Chelsea saw it was a small earpiece.

“They’re all linked and we’re on channel nine, the usual wavelength. Put them in but don’t turn them on until we split up outside. Any last questions?”

“Yeah,” Thaddeus drawled. “When do I get my cut?”

“We’re meeting the Boss down by the docks at three a.m.,” Kent replied. “Chelsea and David want to offer him a proposition of setting up their own crew, to start working independently but in line with the rest of us. If you want to come along you can, otherwise I’ll wire the funds tomorrow morning once the banks open. It’s up to you.”

“There’s nothing new with the exchange.” Thaddeus sniffed. “I’d rather bang my girl. I’ll expect the money before lunchtime.”

Kent nodded, seeming satisfied with the large man’s bored response.

“Anything else?” He glanced at them all, then stood when no one said anything and collected the paper from the table, folding it and putting it in his pocket. “Then let’s move.”

Chelsea stood, David right beside her. Nerves and excitement vied for attention as adrenaline surged through her body. It was crunch time. They were committed and really about to break into the London Gallery, steal a Cézanne and with luck later this evening finally discover the remaining member of this group and close it all down.