Iron Cage Read online

  "You want to know what I would do?"

  "Yes, I'm in my storage just drawing a blank. I need what he took."

  "Then take it," Wires says. "We both know you could use your gifts to do it." I always suspected he knew there was something different about me, but I've never been sure.

  I consider this. I had felt afraid of him because he had what I needed. Did I really think he would hurt me? Wires was right, I had my ability, maybe I should try to use it.

  "I really can't help you," he says, "I'm out of the game. Good luck, Peyton. I mean that."

  With those words, he hangs up. I leave my storage unit since I'm getting nowhere. By the time I've made it back to the sidewalk, I've talked myself out of trying to take it back.

  What am I going to do, kill him? I can't do that. It's just going to have to be a big job to pay him for my amulet.

  I return to my apartment feeling defeated. I’ll have to find a job to make up the rest of the money. For the last year, I’ve done everything he’s asked and this is what I get in return. A complete betrayal of my trust.

  Standing in the doorway with my laptop bag slung over my shoulder, anger boils up inside me. I let him in my house last night, concerned for what he might think of me, eager to please him, and all I’m left with is a gaping hole where my security used to be.

  My powers flow through me as I slam the door shut. I feel out of control and with no amulet to help, I’m in severe danger of losing myself.

  I need a release.

  I grab a glass with my mind and toss it into the sink. The sound of it shattering urging me on for more. I pick up my lamp and hurl it at the wall. A rain of ceramic shards lands on the carpet as I step further into the room.

  I scream in frustration. This hasn’t happened to me since I was a little kid, before my grandmother gave me the amulet. She was the one who taught me how to use it. How to hone my powers through it.

  I don't have a choice; I need my amulet back or I can never use my powers again. I will have to find a huge score to get the money I need. Part of me thinks he may not give it back to me, even if I got him the money.

  The thought causes ice-cold chills to run all over me. I'd known how much it helped me, but it feels like a part of my spirit is missing. I close my eyes and lift all the glass off the floor with my mind, sending it to the trashcan and dropping it piece by piece. The tinkling sound of glass hitting glass soothes me for a minute. It is time to get to work.

  The dark web is a place to find items, jobs, or to list things that are needed. I figure I’ll search to see what is out there and hope for something good. The buyers in the chat rooms we use are tested and tested again. When we worked for other people, we made sure they weren't going to run off with the loot and not pay us or kill us. It was always risky, but there was a point when you had to go on blind faith.

  I see a few small jobs, things I could accomplish in a weekend, but they would take forever to get the money I needed. Catching cheating spouses for the mega-rich isn’t something I’m accustomed to doing, but if there isn’t anything else, I’ll take it.

  The money is not all I need, but it would be a good start. There is another job for transporting. It is paying five hundred thousand, so the risks must be high. Possibly for a drug cartel or the mafia. Something I really don’t want to get into unless it is the last resort.

  I scan down the list for something else. One stands out. Steal the Arm of the Gods. The amount on the job is for ten million. It seems a little too good to be true, the exact amount that I need. My need for money outweighs my suspicion. I can’t pass this up regardless of how it feels.

  The painting is being auctioned at Sotheby's. A billionaire from Cyprus put an advanced bid on it and is more than likely going to win. I can’t imagine why anyone would want something that looks like half an elbow. He is staying at the Carlyle Hotel with minimal security. There are specks given with the posting and even a few photos of what he looks like. It is all pretty neatly wrapped, which sends off some more red flags.

  I have about two weeks to get all my recon done. It isn’t a lot of time, but I can make it happen. I’ve worked with less than that before. Training my mind will be the worst of it. I’m so dependent on my powers during these jobs that I can’t imagine not using them.

  It will take practice and a steady amount of control for me to pull this off. I reach for a glass on the counter and float it over to the sink. The tap turns on with a squeaky groan and water pours in a slow drip. I increase the pressure on the knob and the faucet head flies off. I rush over to shut off the valve under the sink. This is going to be a long two weeks.

  Chapter Three

  Today I'm at my wit’s end. I've tried very hard to do the research without Carlo. I don't even want to tell him the job I am considering, but if I want my amulet back, I have to get his help.

  Reluctantly and full of some hardly suppressed anger, I dial his number and ask him to meet. As I'm leaving to go to the coffee shop, I decide to get my knives. I don't trust him anymore.

  A few minutes later, I struggle to contain my disgust as we sit across from each other at a small table.

  “It's called, The Arm of the Gods," I tell him as I hold my cell phone up with a picture on it. The barista brings us our coffees and I inhale deeply over my hazelnut latte.

  I wanted to meet him in a coffee shop because it's the right amount of private and public and he can't hurt me here. It feels wrong to be alone with him anymore.

  "It’s acceptable. Not much to look at, but if it gets you ten million, I have no complaints," he says, taking the phone from me. He isn't drunk anymore and acting more like the man I know. However, the damage has been done and I’m not going to trust him again. I have to tolerate him until the amulet is back in my possession, and then I’ll be gone. Away from him forever.

  He pats his coat pocket, pretending he has my amulet, but he doesn't have it with him. I can feel it when it is close to me, like a warm buzz rushing through my body, and I’m not feeling anything.

  "Can you provide the intel on the mark? I’ve done some recon on the outer buildings and around the hotel, but I’m not sure the smartest place to take it. I need a flight manifest, shipping orders, and the information from the auction house."

  "I will get you what you need. Remember, I want this buy as much as you do. The ten million dollars will go a long way to setting up a new life for me.”

  I roll my eyes and get up from the table. I’m starting to feel unclean sitting so near him. My heart broke when he stole from me, and I want to be done with him.

  “We have a deal then? The money for the amulet? Your word.”

  "Yes, if you pull it off and sell it," he says, "you'll get your amulet." His smile is a little too wide and his teeth show too much. I know there's a big “if” in the middle of that sentence, but I’m too caught up to dive into the underlying meaning. I just have to hope somehow, it will work out.

  I leave the coffee shop knowing I'll at least have more information than I went into it with. It feels a little dirty coming from Carlo, but without Wires, I have no one else who can help me. I find myself being sad that I didn't make any more connections during my time in this exciting and rewarding career of being a damn good thief.

  Pulling out my cell phone, I start setting up a plan based on the timeline of Costos' arrival to the city and all the nuances of the auction, airport, and his stay at the hotel. I have to determine the best time to take the painting. It might not necessarily be when it's in the hotel, so I need to look at every angle.

  This is what I know so far.

  Gunsel Costos has a private jet bring him to the airport five days before the auction. The auction will happen on Saturday night after a huge dinner. The best bet for me is to be at the airport when he lands.

  I’m at the airport when he arrives to see what I am dealing with. He looks like a billionaire from a remote island should. His skin is tanned to perfection and he has exotic good looks. My jaw drop
s as he walks down the ramp from his plane. He wears a white suit, that makes his skin look amazing, and a fedora.

  As I watch Costos leave his jet, he has security guards meeting him at the airport and one man who deplaned with him. I assume it is his financial advisor. The man is short and stocky. He has on a tweed suit with a light-colored fedora. I can see the brown of his shoes from my perch. He is well dressed and looks like he fits in with Costos’ clan.

  There is a great deal of luggage, carted off by a driver. His companion has a briefcase that he won’t part with even when the attendant asks if he wanted it brought with the other bags to the hotel. Must be the money. Paying cash for a painting is risky. I wonder if I can just take the money? It would make it easier instead of selling the painting.

  Costos and his team walk to a limo parked near the gate and climb in. I watch as they leave and wait a few seconds before pulling out to follow. I had to rent a car for this little trip, but it is worth it to see how my mark travels. No security means he is hiring some when he gets to the city, which is a downfall for me. This trip also tells me that he needs a babysitter, otherwise, he would have taken the money himself.

  The next week I follow the billionaire everywhere I can. He mostly shops and parties, like any heiress to a fortune. It is quite boring. He brings back a different girl every night and then kicks her out in the early morning. The staff at the Carlyle is surprisingly inattentive to who comes and goes from the hotel, so I have enough access to the floor where he is staying. I consider spending some of my money on a room, but the way his security is, I don’t even have to sneak around much. Plus, I'd have to sell something to make up the difference. I need all the assets I can keep at this point.

  Costos’ guards are sloppy. The security company he hired from has spectacular reviews online, but a few minutes spent on the dark web gives me access to all their weaknesses. They hire retired police and military, but also civilians. The average Joe, who doesn’t care much for doing a good job, has been assigned to Costos's detail. He really should have bought the better package.

  Costos and his team come down the hallway towards me, and none are paying attention to the small white girl dressed as a tennis player. I look down and pretend to put a key in my pocket, watching them under my lashes. I keep my hand on the door so it looks like I've just shut it and wait for them to pass.

  "Sir, you know it isn't safe to take the painting with you to dinner," one of his security guards is saying. Costos is only half paying attention to the guard and the other concentrating on his phone.

  As soon as they are a good distance away, I follow closely behind, noticing one of the guards carrying a black satchel. Is the painting in there? The auction hasn't happened yet. Could he have bought it in a private auction? My heart rate kicks up with the thought of being so close to it, and I pull my phone out so I can look busy. I listen as we all walk towards the elevator.

  "I want to show it off to my friends. Look at how cute it is," he opens the satchel and I start to choke on the air I suck in unexpectedly. A couple of his camp looks my way and I wave my hands at them as my eyes water.

  He pulls out a portrait of a cat pushing around an orange. My mouth falls open. The cat is a bright green and the orange is covered in polka dots.

  "It's just so strange," he says, "I love it. Plus, it's a good conversation piece."

  "My apologies, sir," the guard says. "I thought you brought the other painting with you."

  This is not the Arm of the Gods. My heart sinks a little. Why can’t anything be easy? This mission is starting to have an uncomfortable feeling attached to it. I follow them into the elevator and continue to look at my phone. I adjust my earplugs like I am listening to music and they need to be pushed in further.

  "Sir," one of the security guards says, "no one knows you already purchased the painting. There will still be a picture in the gallery of it like it is still available.”

  Oh, you beautiful guard, I think. Tell me everything.

  "What? That seems excessive," he complains. “I wanted people to know that I am the proud owner of the Arm of the Gods."

  "It's important that it remains in the safe. No one wants to risk it being there in case thieves are sniffing around. It’ll be safe in your room. Mr. Colston assures me all will be well."

  My mind reels with the new information. Instead of taking out the transportation, I’ll snatch the painting from his room. It’s a stroke of luck to have this fall into my lap. I smile to myself as I listen to the rest of their conversation. He bought it ahead of the auction. That makes my job so much easier.

  When we reach the ground floor, I duck down a side hallway. The housekeepers are cleaning the rooms on the first floor, but I need to get my eyes on the bedroom windows. This side of the Carlye is obscured by the side of an additional building. If I need another escape route, I’ll have to use these windows. It's most likely going to be my way into his room.

  My plan comes together nicely, almost a little too neat, but I’m desperate. Another day without my amulet is another day without control.

  Getting the painting will be easy if everything goes according to plan. However, if Costos ends up putting the painting in the safe, I’ll have a problem. I’m not a safecracker, my abilities are more suited to stealth.

  I sneak into an empty suite when a maid isn’t looking. I grab her key card off the cart and let myself in. It won’t be the exact layout of Costos’ suite, but learning this side of the building matters more than anything. After all, I’m going to be suspending myself down from the roof. I’m way past the point of crazy.

  Chapter Four

  The day of the robbery arrives and I'm filled with anxiety as I make my final preparations. I've gone through every possible scenario, but as past jobs have taught me, anything can happen.

  Surprisingly, the Carlyle isn’t hard to break into. Built in the 1930s, the art déco design makes for perfect climbing. Ledges and nooks provide easy access from the roof for me.

  Grappling down I know is going to be harder than going up, but when time is of the essence, you work with what you have. This is what I have. The trip down the side of the building goes so smoothly I feel like it was too easy.

  The bedroom window is locked and tiny, but I’ve planned for this. I dismantle the antique lock and use suction cups to pry the old window open so I can get into the suite. A little maneuvering and I am able to land silently on the plush carpet next to the bed. Moving from the bedroom and into the living area, I proceed cautiously.

  I move through the suite to find and obtain the package that was delivered this afternoon. Simple reasoning after hearing their conversation tells me Sotheby's sent it over via private courier. That's their process for private auctions. I locate it laying on its side near the entryway. Costos hadn’t even opened it all the way.

  My original plan was to steal it as it was being delivered from Sotheby’s. But after casing the auction house, I am grateful this turned out to be the path. The auction house has state-of-the-art security, and since I’m working alone, it would be too impossible with that many moving parts.

  Taking a deep breath, I prepare to grab the painting and get out.

  I saw the men downstairs preparing to go to dinner so I know the room will be empty. I hear him coming back towards the room, and my breath catches. I should be grateful he's stomping, letting everyone know his arrival, fortuitous for me. He fumbles with his key card in the lock, giving me seconds to react. I stuff myself into a tiny closet next to the bedroom where I barely get the door shut before he opens the front door to the room.

  As soon as he’s in the room, I smell his cologne. My nose wrinkles up in disgust. He clearly bathed in it.

  Stealing something the size of a composition notebook shouldn't be this hard. Being trapped inside a hotel closet with an ironing board and some towels make me question the choices I’ve made up until this point. The stuffy air and the smell of hotel fragrance choke me as I peer through the slats in t
he door. All this to steal something that looks like a half-finished painting of a body part.

  I impatiently shift from foot to foot, waiting for this ass to find what he’s looking for. It’s in my grasp, and the anticipation is killing me. Costos is supposed to be at dinner with some celebrity. What the hell is he doing up here? The millionaire walks in and hotfoots it to the bathroom and closes the door. That answers my question.

  Looking from my hiding place, I see one of the security guards, in a way too expensive suit, as he walks into the living area. He walks towards the bedroom, and I realize I've made a fatal mistake. The tool I used to dismantle the locks on the bedroom window isn’t in my belt. It must have slipped out of my utility belt while I was maneuvering through the window.

  “Sir,” the security guy says, shifting his feet back and forth. “The dinner starts in ten minutes and Mason says the crowd is already starting to gather." I hear the distinct clicking of a com on the guard. The man in the bathroom doesn’t respond.

  I see the tool in all its shiny gold glory sitting in the middle of the carpet right underneath the window. It’s a miracle he doesn’t see it. Cracking the closet, a tiny amount and praying the guard doesn’t come in the room, I close my eyes. Concentrating on the tool I picture it lifting into the air and shooting into the closet. Nerves make it a lot harder for me to perform my magic. I open one eye and see it wobbling on the carpet. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and try again.

  The tool flies into my hand and I shut the closet almost all the way just as Costos stumbles into the room. I catch a glimpse of his eyes as I peer through the tiny crack. He looks high as a kite; I guess I know what he came up here for. It wasn't to drain the main vein as I thought.

  The guard allows him to pass and then follows him to the door. He’s wearing a suit coat that opens to expose the gun in his waistband. I bet that won’t be the only one; I imagine he has one on his ankle and another under his arm.