Iron Cage Read online

  “Sir,” the guard says. “Mason is insistent you need to come downstairs now.” His accent is American, so he must be hired to run security and not his regular security man. I had been right about him hiring muscle here. Score one for the girl in the closet!

  His accent is also curt, probably because watching a drug addict billionaire isn’t on his list of favorite things to do.

  “Okay,” Costos says, in a heavily accented voice. He adjusts his suit and tie as he’s walking to the front door. The painting catches his eye. “Perhaps I should put it in the safe,” he says to the guard.

  This is not what I need right now. If it goes in the safe, I’ll be screwed. This is one of those times I wish I could control minds as well as physical objects.

  “We really don’t have time, I can station one of my men outside your door if you need,” the guard insists. He’s persistent to get Costos back downstairs.

  “It will just take a second,” Costos says, and I watch in complete horror as he opens up the safe. His movements are slow and jumbled, but he manages to put the painting in. I need to think fast, there is only one thing I can try to do.

  Picturing the inside of the safe from a drawing I had used to see if I could crack it if it came to that, I push out my powers and concentrate on the part that spins the bar into the strike plate. If I can jam the rack and pinion inside, it will still make it feel like he's spun it closed. Once he's left, if I do it right, I will be able to pull it open.

  I watch as he spins the dial. The safe is old-fashioned, nothing electronic. The hotel must not think the upgrade is worth it. This hotel is regarded as the Palace of Secrets. Known for its discretion and safety. It’s why so many rich people stay here, even when they can be in a room at one of the newer hotels. He slowly pushes the door to shut it, turning away to face the guard as he does. I see my only opportunity.

  Before I committed to breaking in, I studied everything about The Carlyle, including the safe in each room. I knew I couldn’t crack it. There was always a good possibility it was in the safe, but after overhearing a conversation between the concierge and Costos, I jumped at the chance. Now, he’d thrown one more big obstacle in my way.

  “You can still station someone outside,” he tells the security guy, “for my peace of mind.” His face red and words slurred.

  Once the two men are out of the room, I take a few deep breaths and concentrate on the safe door. After a second it swings open, banging loudly against the wall. I feel my heart drop into my boots as I wait to see if anyone hears.

  Inching the door open slowly, I step out into the sitting room. Moving quickly on silent feet, I walk over to the safe, remove the painting and fix the gear so I can close it. It shuts with a click as I catch my breath.

  Placing the painting inside my pack, I swing it on my shoulder and make my way back to the bathroom. The rush of getting caught has always been my favorite part of being a thief, and the money.

  The bedroom window is still slightly open against the window frame. Luckily the heavy curtains hid it when Costos ran through and the guard looked around. Grabbing the suction cups, I put them on the glass to secure it. Using my powers, I pick up the window with my mind and climb out of the window. My feet hit the ledge outside and I steady myself. To move while holding something with my powers is usually easy, but without my amulet, I feel the pressure in my skull. I won’t be able to hold it for long.

  Floating the glass pane to me, the suction cups reach my hand and I line up the hinges. Popping the screws out of my bag, I reattach them back where they belong. It seems like forever, but the whole process takes about one minute.

  I give the rope I used to climb down to the window a good tug and find that it is still steady enough to support my weight. I attach my harness and start climbing my way back up.

  Pulling myself up on the ledge, I sit there for a moment and think about how easy this job was compared to most. Sure, there were some tough spots, but overall I was in and out within twenty minutes. I smile to myself and jump up, making my way over to the opposite side of the building.

  Under the cover of darkness, I am able to move swiftly over the rooftops of the buildings.

  Below me is a parking structure that will lead to an alley and my getaway. However, to get to the garage, I have to jump to the opposite building so I can grapple down safely. If I do it from my current position, there will be too many windows and chances for people to see what I’m doing.

  Pulling up my rope and all my tools, I nestle them back into my bag. Everything is ready to go, I just have to psych myself up to make this jump. With my amulet it would be no problem, without it I’m not a hundred percent sure I can make it, but I have to try.

  Throwing caution to the wind, I begin to run. My adrenaline kicks in, and at the last possible moment, I leap. My stomach drops, my brain panics, and for a moment I feel like I’m flying. The ground rushes up to meet me and right at the tip of the building my foot lands. I go with it and tuck my body doing a somersault on the tar roof. I lay there for a moment, trying to catch my breath. A laugh bubbles up with relief that I made it; that was such a rush.

  Taking out my climbing gear once again, I secure my rope to one of the large exhaust pipes. I clip the carabiner to my harness and make sure it’s secure. Reaching into one of the pockets in my pack, I dust my gloves with chalk.

  Leaning over the ledge, I push myself off, leaping down in little hops until my feet plant on the roof of the garage. I’ll have to leave this rope here, but they are inexpensive and can be bought anywhere. I made sure to never touch them without gloves on, so there are no worries of fingerprints being found.

  I repeat the process over again with the alleyway side of the parking structure. Smirking to myself about how awesome I am, I can’t help but spill the words out loud. “Good job you clever bia….. ahhhhh.” My foot slips and I fall back, catching myself on the line as I dangle above the ground upside down. With the blood rushing to my head, it takes me a minute to pull myself back upright and place my feet on the ground. A few more inches and I would have smacked my head on the concrete. Chastising myself, that’s what I get for congratulating myself before I’m on the ground, I breathe deeply.

  Shaking it off, I take off my black jacket and reverse it to the red parka underneath. I pull my beanie off and shake my blond hair free as it falls in loose waves on my shoulders. The beanie goes into my pack along with my harness. Shrugging my pack back on my shoulders, I head out. Just a regular college kid walking around the streets of Manhattan. Even at night, there are a ton of people that I can easily blend in with.

  Sucking down the rest of my celebratory latte, I debate hailing a cab. The walk to meet the buyer isn’t far, but sometimes I like to ride and take a beat. The adrenaline and my powers mixed together make me anxious, and it’s a relief when it wears off.

  The guy I’m selling the painting to is waiting for me at a storage lot on 78th. I feel a little nervous because I let Carlo set up the buyer, but truthfully I don't know that many people. I have to use the resources available to me. Carlo's buyers have never fallen through, but with our recent circumstances, I'm wary.

  I text him before leaving the coffee shop to confirm our meeting. He replies with an emoji which strikes me as odd, but the sooner I get rid of this thing and get the money, the better.

  Part of me is angry I have to give the money right to Carlo, but without my amulet, I feel completely out of control. It’s the only thing left I have from my grandmother. The only woman who’s ever loved me.

  As I approach the building, I decide to go in the back way. It means I’ll have to take the stairs, but I’ll also get through the hallway before anyone sees me. The alley is home to at least three homeless people living back there. One of the guys, Mike, is an okay guy. He’s always here keeping an eye out when I bring him sandwiches and water most days. I use this place as a cover for all my stolen goods. I’m a bit of a hoarder, and it’s necessary to not have all my treasures in on
e place. It’s a risk having the buyer meet me here, but as I said, I’m desperate.

  “Hey Mike,” I say when I come up to the back door. I take my key out of my pocket and struggle to fit it in the hole. It always gets stuck.

  “Hiya, Peyton. Whatcha doing here so late?” he asks, the tone in his voice curious but also a bit nonchalant. Feels like something’s up.

  “Have to pick up something for work tomorrow. Is something wrong?” My question has him swallowing and darting his eyes back and forth. I scan the alley, but there isn’t anything here.

  “Nope, it’s just your never here this late, and I didn’t want you to get into any trouble.” He tries to cover his uneasiness, but it’s pulsing from him. He's stuttering over his words, which is something that isn’t normal for him.

  “Ok, well thanks for caring, but I got this.” Against my better judgment, I push my way into the building. The dim hall light provides enough room to walk up the steps without an issue. When I'd been trying to figure out what to liquidate, it had been daytime. The storage unit looks a lot different at night.

  My unit is on the third floor all the way at the end. I climb the three flights and pull the door open, dragging myself into the corridor. I’m tired after all that climbing. Even if I am some sort of supernatural, I still need rest and food. Rubbing my eyes while the door pushes closed behind me, I don’t see them until it’s too late.

  Two police officers have their back to me. One with a hand on his unclipped gun, the other trying to get the lock off with bolt cutters. My treasures.

  I freeze, not knowing what to do. I’ve never been caught before or had even a single brush with the law. I’m always careful, plus my powers help a lot. Fucking, Carlo. This wouldn’t have happened if I had my amulet.

  I start to move backward as quietly as I can, my hand clutching at the door. Pushing it slowly from behind, I try to slip through the tiny opening, but my foot gets caught and the door swings open wider causing the hinges to squeak. The sound is like a clap of thunder in a quiet forest. My whole body flinches up in fear.

  The two men spin on their heels in slow motion, their eyebrows raise at their luck. They’ve got me, and I feel like a deer in headlights. I hesitate for a moment and it costs me everything.

  “Hey, you,” the younger one says. My mind finally starts to function again and I push the door fully open, running down the flights of stairs. If I can get to the bottom, I’ll be okay. There is a small alley that cuts off from the main one. It will lead me around the block. The guys behind are too wide to fit through.

  All I can picture are bars. The feeling of being captured, alone in a place where my powers could hurt people. The icy cold touch of the steel wrapped around my wrists. The bars keeping me contained. Due to my powers, I’m not good surrounded by metals. Most of my tools are made out of a carbon fiber material or, if they can afford to be a bit softer, silver.

  In the forty seconds it takes me to race down the stairs, I know in my heart this is a setup. No one knows about the location of my storage unit, except Carlo. I’ve never brought anyone here but him, and the only reason then was because we worked one job together that required a specific artifact I had and it was too heavy for me to lift. This last meeting with the buyer was supposed to be it for me. I was packing up come tomorrow and leaving after I retrieved my amulet. New York City was dead to me now that my only friend and mentor betrayed me.

  Carlo hadn't wanted to be at the meet. He didn’t even want to see if it was real, he just gave me the name of the buyer. And I fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.

  Now it all became clear. This was his plan all along. I bet there isn’t even a buyer for this piece. It’s probably worthless and the only reason Costos wants it is because he finds elbows sexy or some other ridiculous reason. It was so stupid to trust Carlo. I should have known better. I think back to when I met him, and I never would’ve thought it would come to this.

  The disgraced art professor turned amazing art thief had been my mentor since freshman year at NYU. He was my fine arts teacher, and I was a student who looked for approval wherever I could get it. My parents, the ones that abandoned me when I was a child, never saw fit to have anything nice to say or treated me like I was loved. That all started when I met Carlo. He was the father I never had.

  And now it is all coming to an end. If I get caught, there will be nothing left for me. No one will miss me or look for me. I’ll be another body in a state prison doing time because I listened to a man. Some sucker I am.

  I hit the door hard, swinging it open and scaring Mike in the process. Running at full steam now, I make it to the fork where the two alleyways meet. I jump the fence and squeeze myself along the concrete walls. It’s a tight fit, but I can make it. I hear screaming from behind me, but I don’t stop. A little more and I’ll be free.

  Grabbing the handholds in the wall at the end, I lift myself up and over the fence that is now between myself and freedom. The screaming behind me stops and I glance at the silent alley. They must be moving to the other side.

  Pushing off the last bit of wall, I land on my feet in a squat position and look up past the tree branches that are obscuring the whole street from the opening. The silence is almost deafening, and that uneasy feeling from before has blossomed into one of straight terror.

  "Drop the bag and get your hands up,” a booming voice cuts through me since I’m not seeing what’s hiding past the trees. Three police cars all aimed at me with officers pointing their guns in my direction. I inhale the last of my free breaths and do as they say. I may move things with my mind, but I can’t take on six cops and get away.

  “Now get on your knees and lay yourself on the ground. No sudden movements or we will shoot you.” My stomach twists and knots up as my entire body breaks out in a sweat. There is no other option. I have to get down. Slowly, I lift my hands and go to my knees before stretching forward.

  People have stopped on the street to watch, and out of the corner of my eye, I see him, the man who shattered me more than either of my parents did. His smile is wide as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out my amulet. He shakes it in his palm before throwing it up and catching it. A tick forms in my jaw. If I ever get free, Carlo is dead.

  An officer puts his knee in the center of my back to cuff me. It's unnecessary. I'm not going anywhere. Another officer picks up the bag and opens it up, eyes wide with excitement. This is probably the biggest bust they’ve had in a while, that is, if the painting is really worth anything. He takes the painting out, holding it for someone else to see.

  “This it?” he tilts his head as he looks at the painting. He’s not that impressed. I don’t blame him; a two-year-old could have drawn it.

  “That’s what she said,” I say from my position on the sidewalk. Leave it to me to make a joke in the middle of getting arrested.

  “You don’t talk,” the one on top of me says, his sharp knee pushing me further into the ground. It feels like he’s at least three hundred pounds. I can feel my face starting to get impressions from the disgusting concrete underneath me. To be honest,I’d rather have been thrown directly into the car.

  “Yeah, that’s it. Put it in an evidence bag and let’s get this piece of shit to the station. The longer we stay out here, the longer it is before I get my next cup of Joe.” The cuffs click on both wrists and the pressure from his knee leaves my back, allowing my lungs to expand.

  The sheer gravity of my situation is beginning to sink in as I pick my head up and watch the cops around me. I’m going to prison for a crime I committed but was set up to do. And that asshole, Carlo, will get away with it all. This has to be a nightmare.

  "This is not real," I say to the concrete my chin currently rests on. My cheek is too sore for me to place my head back down. The smell of urine and smog float through the sewer and right into my nose. I shudder at the filth.

  "Oh, it's real," the officer says, pulling on my wrists. "Get up. You’re going to be in prison for a long time.”
My heart cracks a bit. I can’t imagine being locked in a cage.

  He pulls me to my feet with one arm. His fingers dig into my skin, but I don't complain. It would be futile to speak further. I need to bide my time until I can speak to a lawyer. Leading me to one of the cars, he opens up the back door. The scent of artificial trees hits my nose and I grimace.

  A hand goes to my head as he pushes me into the car. I cooperate and fold myself into the seat. He smirks at me like I’m going to be the reason he has the best day. I have a strong desire to kick him, but I don’t need assault on an officer added to my charges.

  “We got an anonymous tip you’d be trying to sell a hot painting,” he says, not being able to hold his gloating in any longer.

  “Of course, you did,” I say in a snarky tone. I know exactly what happened — Carlo.

  “You best mind yourself, you’re no longer a free woman. We got you dead to rights, the goods still on your person. Should have ditched the bag,” the officer says, slamming the door. I watch as he high fives the other cop. I drop my head forward and lean it on the seat in front of me. Fuck! What am I going to do?

  Chapter Five

  Sitting in the interrogation room, the panic starts to set in. The light above me casts a harsh fluorescent light. The only things in the room are a table and two chairs. I'm sitting in one of the chairs directly under the light. It buzzes constantly in a maddening cadence. I feel like the room is closing in on me. I know this is just a tactic to make me nervous, but is working.

  I've seen all the movies, they leave you in the room to sweat it out. I pull my shirt away from my chest and shake it to get some air moving around. Since the arresting officer dropped me in this sweatbox, I haven’t seen or spoken to anyone.

  What is taking them so long? I was caught with the evidence in my backpack. It will take a miracle for me to be cut loose. If I didn't have the painting on my person when they got me, I might have had a chance. I can't very well say I didn't take it.