Chapter Five
It may seem weird that someone who had committed a felony by the time I turned six would like to knit. The truth is that I learned to pick locks using knitting needles—the circular ones are perfect for small pins and little hands. Plus, throw in some yarn and the whole thing looks innocent, even if your bag gets searched. Of course since then I’ve moved on to more elaborate picks and hooks, professional tools of the underground trade. But I always keep needles, and a skein of yarn, in my bag for luck.
I tighten my hold on the fraying leather straps, trying to get into the right headspace.
Except I can’t get into the headspace where I’m cold and calculating.
All I can think about is West.
The Grand looms ahead, almost glowing against the pitch dark sky. It looks like a fortress, impenetrable. When I started working here a year ago, security was had been about big muscles, shiny guns, and a bad reputation. Very few people would have dared to steal from Ivan’s pet business, and anyone too high to know better would learn their lesson quickly once his men found them.
Then someone threatened Candy, Ivan’s favorite girl.
Now security is a lot tighter, with cameras covering every square inch and laser sensors on every door and window. But I’m constantly casing whatever place I’m in, always monitoring the entry points and exits. I find weak spots in their security system.
Old habits and all that.
Which is why I know exactly how to break into the Grand.
“Bee,” comes a whisper from the alley. I meet Maisie in the shadows, where she slips me a folded piece of paper. “The code to the alarm.”
Suspicion rises up in me. “Do I even want to know how you got this?”
“Of course not,” she says as if she doesn’t care. Because she doesn’t. Whatever illegal or unethical thing she had to do doesn’t matter. Whoever got hurt doesn’t matter.
Trade up. All that matters is that she got what she wanted.
Right now I can’t even blame her. Some very scary men have Jeb. They won’t be treating him well. And if we don’t get them their money, they won’t ever let him go.
The paper is cool between my thumb and forefinger. “This means you can come in with me.”
She shakes her head, a flash of white-blonde hair in the dark. “I’ll stand guard. That was always the plan.”
The plan had been for her to cut the alarm. I’d be ready to go inside the second the alarm went dead. And she would stand guard, because it didn’t make sense for her to catch up. I’m the safe cracker in the family. Maisie has the smile, and Jeb has the charm. And me? I’ve had a good ear for clicks ever since I was a little girl.
Now that she doesn’t need to cut the alarm, she could come in with me. And the fact that she doesn’t want to has more to do with hedging her bets than keeping a lookout.
“Fine,” I say, my teeth clenched. I tell myself for the millionth time that I won’t be sucked into any of their schemes, but how can I even believe my own lies? The second they show up on my doorstep with some sob story—and some crazy violent assholes on their tail—I’m back to doing their bidding.
She puts her hand on my arm. “Bee, don’t be upset. You need to go in calm. Clear your mind.”
I close my eyes and squeeze them tight. I do need a clear mind if I’m going to crack that safe. “You’ll be here when I get out?”
I hate how small my voice sounds, how childlike.
“Of course,” she says in that carefree way. And I know better than to believe her.
It’s something else that pulls me across the street, something else that makes me climb the metal gate. A sense of duty. Or maybe something darker. The fear that if I don’t do this, if I turn my own parents away from my door, I’ll have no one left.
The cameras sweep over the courtyard in an irregular pattern, but I’ve watched it. I’ve learned it. And I use that knowledge now to evade them, pausing behind the broken fountain before running across the broken cobblestones.
I don’t bother trying to pick the fancy carbon locks. It only takes me a few minutes to pry apart hinges from old wood and wedge the door open from the other side.
That’s the fatal flaw of this place. No matter how much high-tech security infrastructure you add, it’s still an old building, a genial building, one designed to welcome people in—not keep them out.
The security system beeps in warning.
I enter the code on the slip of paper, and it goes silent.
Well, that was the easy part. Now I have to break into the basement, which will be no small feat. And then I have to break into a safe before anyone finds me. And then I’ll have to get out of town.
I’ll get out of town and never be able to come back.
The Grand is silent and still and almost pitch-black, only the placid green blinks from the security system to light the way. The energy is different now too, without the avid curiosity of the attendees, without the hard beauty of the girls. It feels truly grand, with old-world elegance and an air of demure calm.
It hurts to think about robbing this place, even while I’m halfway there. As if I’m defiling something pure. It hurts to think about leaving and never coming back.
Maisie is waiting for me outside. Jeb is waiting for me, his life hanging in the balance.
So I force myself to cross the floor and head to the hallway by the stage. There’s a set of stairs leading down. I’ve only been down here once, when Ivan hired me. I never planned to rob the place, but I cased it anyway. So I could tell he kept the safe in his desk, bottom drawer. It would be something heavy, not something normally transportable. He would have had it built into the room, small and impenetrable.
I do have to pick the lock on the basement door. I bypass the half-made hat and the knitting needles in my bag and get the equipment I need. The hinges here are made of steel, the door itself a heavy metal as well. It takes me longer than I hope to get through the three dead bolts, each with a different size and shape bolt. I leave more scratches on the locks than I’m comfortable with. It’s sloppy, but I don’t have time to be neat. Every second that front door hangs open is a second I’m vulnerable.
I can’t forget what’s at stake here. Not just my life but Jeb’s. And Maisie’s. They wouldn’t stop with him if they’re trying to send a message. Their acts of violence are almost legendary. Everyone knows how ruthless they are. We don’t stand a chance.
Finally I push the door open. The floor of the Grand had seemed dark, but it’s nothing compared to the basement. There isn’t even the thread of moonlight through high stained-glass windows or the green glow of security buttons. There’s nothing at all.
I take two steps in the direction of the desk. I remember the placement of the room. There is no other furniture but that. And with the heavy safe built into it, he wouldn’t have moved the desk.
Two more steps. It’s disconcerting moving in the darkness, like I’m floating in a sky without stars.
A small scuffing sound makes me freeze.
The whistle of metal hinges makes the hair on my neck stand up. Then the door slams shut behind me. I’m not alone.
“Hello, Bianca.”