A Magnificent Crime (23 page)

Ethan felt like the wait would never end. If they came back here—if someone checked the back of the truck—what would he do? He glanced at Montgomery, felt her tension as she huddled there beside him. She was nervous, obviously, but he could also tell she was ready to go. Ready to deal with whatever came through the back of the truck next.

She'd been battling fear since he'd found her in Paris, but Ethan could see she still had all the tools, all the tenacity she needed. The way she'd handled herself during their escape had shown him. If only she could grasp that.

Still, Ethan felt an overpowering urge to protect her. And right now he did not like his chances of being able to do that. He was blind, had no idea how many guards were outside, if they were armed, and if they had sniffed out the two fugitives making their escape in the truck.

The wait dragged on.

And then, after what felt like an eternity, the brakes released with a hiss. The truck started moving again with a shudder and a bump. Ethan breathed as the truck continued rolling forward.

The vehicle trundled along the road for a few minutes, and then the driver stopped for gas. Ethan could hear other vehicles at the station, smell the gasoline.

When the gas tank door on the truck snapped shut and the driver went in to pay, that was when Ethan and Cat snuck out the back.

It was over. They were out.

They hailed a cab back to the train station. It was time to return to Paris.

 

Less than an hour later, Ethan helped Cat climb onto the train at Gare de Cornavin in Geneva. Not that she needed it; the girl was more than capable. Somehow, she just stirred his chivalrous side.

They made their way through the lounge car with its rows of red fabric-covered seats. Ethan pulled hard on the heavy suctioned door, and they entered a first-class car. They squeezed through a narrow corridor, looking for an unoccupied compartment.

Ethan checked the time on the cheap flip phone he'd bought in the train station, the replacement for the phone he'd been forced to leave behind in Monsieur Gurtmann's office. They'd be back in Paris by early evening.

After what they'd just been through, Ethan was looking forward to this train ride back to Paris. A little quality time with his favorite crook was just what his soul needed. The chemistry between them was undeniable. Montgomery had to know it, too.

They found an empty berth and flopped down on the smooth bench seats, opposite each other. He looked at her, thinking about the details of their escape.

“You were amazing, by the way,” Ethan said to Cat. “Back there.”

She shrugged and rolled her eyes. “Hardly.” Ethan enjoyed the way she blushed a little as she said that.

“I'm serious,” he said. “The way you picked that lock in the Freeport corridor . . . You're like lightning. You know that, right?”

At that point, the food cart arrived with sandwiches and coffee. They ate and drank and chatted companionably.

They were a good team. He knew it. She had to feel it, too, right?

If only there wasn't that damn FBI agent in the picture. Ethan knew Cat was still emotionally attached to Jack and on paper they were still a couple. But it didn't make sense. A thief and a cop? It couldn't work. She'd see that soon enough.

But why was he even thinking along these lines? The last thing Ethan wanted was a serious relationship that was going to give him a hassle and tie him down. Wasn't it?

Ethan stared out the window at the passing countryside, the rolling vineyards of the Burgundy region, leafy and pastoral under a late afternoon sun.

Cat pulled out a tablet from the backpack they'd stashed at the train station upon first arriving in Geneva. She'd downloaded photos from her micro-camera and was reviewing the images. Her small notepad, with the notes she'd gathered in the freeport, rested on the table beside her.

“Breaking into that vault is going to be tricky,” Ethan said. “Do you see a way?”

Cat was frowning as she pored over their data. “They've got pretty much every security measure imaginable. I need a loophole somewhere. . . .” She flipped through more photos. “Here,” she said. “These are the photographs of the vault itself. Take a look.”

She moved across the seats and slid in beside him so they could both look at the tablet screen. Her hair smelled great. How was that even possible after all they'd been through?

Ethan tried hard to focus on the photographs. And then he saw something interesting. “There. Can you zoom in on that?” he said.

“What? Here?” Cat zoomed in on a part of the vault door.

As she pulled her fingers across the screen and the photo zoomed in some more, they both froze. The magnification had revealed an inscribed name on the vault door. The name of the manufacturer: Stratford & Black.

“Oh, shit. That's not good,” Ethan said.

“No, it's definitely not,” Cat said.

The problem with Stratford & Black was that their combination locks were among the most challenging to manipulate. They had an incredibly annoying tendency to use serrated wheels with false tumbler notches.

Cracking that safe would be an absolute bitch.

Cat flopped back in her seat. “I think I need a new approach. I don't know if I can get to it that way,” she said. “And then there's that flooding thing Lafayette mentioned. . . .”

Ethan looked at her sharply. “Do you believe that?”

Cat shrugged. “I don't know. But if it
is
true?” She frowned.

“Right. You know what we need?” Ethan said, standing up. “A distraction. And a real drink. Something a little stiffer than coffee.”

They made their way to the lounge car, and for a few minutes, Cat seemed to be enjoying herself. She laughed as Ethan relayed some of his adventures in Rome. They had a heated discussion about the various ways to overcome infrared security systems.

“But the thing is, Montgomery, all that high-tech security stuff . . . that's not really what being a thief is about,” Ethan said, taking a sip of his frosty Heineken. “I mean, you have to take care of that stuff. Like eating your veggies. But it's just about making a level playing field. Then, once you've canceled out the high-tech stuff, the rest is down to finesse. The rest is up to you and your skills. That's what being a thief is really about. It's an art. Way more than a science.”

She was looking at him with a strange expression. “I couldn't put it better myself. That's exactly what I think, too.”

He smiled. “Like I've said before, babe, we're the same.”

The train sped through a town, and Cat turned her face to the window. Tile-roofed stone houses, embroidered with vines, clustered together beside the tracks. Cat frowned, lost in thought again.

Ethan put his hand on hers. “You okay? Are you thinking about the job again? Never mind, Montgomery. We'll figure it out.” He flagged down the waiter. “Here, have another drink with me.”

Ethan could see the struggle on her face. “I—I think I just need to get some rest,” she said. “I'm going to go back to the compartment and lie down. You don't mind, do you?”

Ethan looked at her carefully. Was this a proposition? Did she want company?

Ethan had spent a lot of time in his life analyzing the actions and language of women. This could go one of two ways. On paper, this could easily be a proposition. He was meant to follow. Or it could be the opposite.

But everything about her body language, her tone of voice suggested that there was nothing to read between the lines here. She wasn't interested in having company in that private car. She genuinely just wanted a nap.

“Of course I don't mind,” Ethan said, covering his disappointment. “You need rest. Go ahead. I'll wake you before we get there, okay?”

She looked at him with unmistakable gratitude for not making things difficult. She'd experienced her fair share of come-ons, Ethan was willing to bet.

After Cat left, Ethan sat back in his chair and drank another Heineken. He stared out the window. The scenery was spectacular, but Ethan hardly noticed it. He was too much in his head. Maybe he should just give up. Cat was clearly committed to Jack. Why was he even bothering?

After five minutes of brooding, Ethan sensed someone by his table. He looked up to see a stranger standing there. A beautiful female stranger, a blonde with crystal-blue eyes and arched brows.

“Do you have a mobile phone I can use?” she asked with a faint German accent. “My battery just died, and I need to make a call.”

Ethan reached into his pocket. “Sure. Here you go. Please, have a seat,” he said graciously, indicating the empty seat across from him.

She sat down, explaining with an apology that she needed to ring the friend who was picking her up in Paris. She made her call, speaking in quick, passionate German, while Ethan watched her with great interest.

She hung up, eyes flashing with annoyance, and handed his phone back to him.

Ethan raised an eyebrow. “You look like you could use a drink,” he said, then called the waiter over. “This woman needs a martini. Three olives. And the good gin, please. None of that Gordon's stuff. Hendrick's, if you have it.”

The woman smiled, charmed.

It was just so damn easy.

As they chatted, Ethan sipped his beer and she, her martini. She laughed with abandon as he told a story about encountering a band of gypsies outside Bucharest, Romania. She started looking at him under coy eyelashes, and her face grew a little more flushed.

After the gypsy story, she mentioned in passing that she could read palms. He held out his upturned hand to her, accepting the challenge. She took it in her cool hands and started tracing the lines with her fingertip.

Ethan knew exactly where this could go if he wanted it to.

But did he want it to? It would be fun. And diverting. But could he get Cat out of his head long enough to enjoy himself?

Damn that little thief for working her way under his skin.

He had vaguely heard the woman make some reference to her private car and was about to politely give her a story about being in a serious relationship when, just at that moment, Cat arrived at the table. She looked vaguely rumpled, like she'd been tossing and turning. It was an unbelievably cute look for her.

Ethan pulled his hand away from the woman's and quickly erased the look of guilt on his face. Because it was ridiculous. He didn't owe Cat anything.

Cat stared at Ethan, at the table with their empty rounds of drinks, at the woman with her bare feet curled up under her. . . .

“Oh,” Cat said. “Um, my apologies for interrupting. I just thought of something I was going to say, Ethan, but it can wait—”

“No, it's fine,” Ethan said quickly. “We were just talking. Montgomery, this is—” And at that moment, something happened that had never happened to Ethan before. He forgot the woman's name. He stumbled and stuttered for a minute. Cat rolled her eyes. Worse was the look growing on the woman's face.

“It's
Galiena,
” she said, angrily packing up her things. “Thank you for the drinks,
Ethan,
” she said through her teeth. So now he was the asshole. Why did it always revert to that?

Ethan watched her go and didn't try to stop her. It was pointless. He looked at Cat's face. Her arms were crossed, and she looked vaguely disgusted.

Shit.
Two women pissed off at him during one short train ride across the Swiss-French border. It had to be a record for him.

“Well, that didn't take long,” Cat said.

“What? Me, offending a woman?”

She stared at him frostily. “No, you meeting someone. Chatting them up. Sorry I messed things up for you.”

“No. Believe me, it doesn't matter.” Ethan drained the last of his beer. “So? What was it? The thing you wanted to say?”

Cat glanced at him uncertainly. “Well, I had an idea.” She seemed to be struggling over whether to stay annoyed with him or just dive into her story. Judging from the gleam in her eye, whatever her idea was, it was a big one.

“Okay, let's hear it. Have a seat,” he said.

She did and leaned forward. “Well, I was thinking. We need to come up with a new plan. Because cracking that vault is going to be impossible. And I thought, what is the only other option available to us?” She paused, giving him a chance to come up with it on his own, barely able to contain her excitement now.

He waited. “I don't know, Montgomery. You're killing me. Just tell me.”

She took a breath. “We steal it directly from the display case.”

“What? While it's out on the floor? While everyone is looking?”

“I know it sounds crazy. But there's one time it's going to come out of the display case.”

Ethan raised an eyebrow. “I'm listening.”

“During the gala. On the last night of the exhibit, before the Hope goes back to Washington. Three people are going to win the privilege of wearing the Hope. They're going to take it out then and put it around the neck of each contest winner. Just for a few minutes.”

Ethan got chills. “Now,
that's
interesting.”

Cat's face grew even more animated. “I know. And I was thinking if
I
were one of those people . . . well, maybe that could be my chance.”

Ethan narrowed his eyes. “Okay, but let's just say for a sec that you could actually finagle things to be one of the winners. How are you going to take it in front of everyone like that?”

She frowned slightly. “I'm not sure, exactly, but if there was some kind of distraction . . . I have pretty good sleight of hand. I could step it up with practice.... You know, stage magicians do this kind of thing all the time.”

Cat went on to tell him that she'd done it before. In the Harlequin job, she had stolen the jewel from a display case during a party. But it was a much lesser gem and hadn't had as much security.