《Double Crossed: A Spies and Thieves Story (Heist Society #2.5)》 Page 1 Chapter 1 SITUATED ON THE UPPER EAST SIDE with a glorious view of the park, the Athenia Hotel was supposed to be some kind of Olympus, high in the clouds above the mere mortals, a place for playing and drinking and dancing like gods. But as Macey followed her father and mother out of the gleaming elevator and into the towering ballroom, she wasn¡¯t exactly in the mood. Sure, the Calloway Ball was supposed to be the charity event of the season, but before Macey had even entered the ballroom, she already knew precisely what she was going to find. She saw the same food and the same band. The same old men flirting with the same young women. The same stories and canap¨¦s and people pretending they were there for charity and not just for a picture in the gossip columns on Page Six. So Macey decided not to look at the room as the daughter of a senator and a cosmetics heiress. Macey found herself looking at it as a Gallagher Girl. She heard her Covert Operations instructor¡¯s voice in her ear as she counted the exits in the ballroom (five) and the armed security professionals there to watch over VIPs (three). She mentally noted the best ways to block the cameras, and she eavesdropped on ten different conversations in four different languages. But still, Macey McHenry couldn¡¯t help herself. Macey McHenry was bored. She was just starting to consider her escape (the fire exit near the kitchen seemed especially promising) when, at last, Macey saw something that she absolutely was not expecting. A boy. Oh, there were always plenty of young men at these parties. They went by names like Scooter and Mitchell and Beau and were frequently juniors or seconds or thirds. They went to schools like Colgan and Exeter and had hobbies that varied from polo to yachting, womanizing to rehab. But walking through the door right then was one boy who seemed, in a word, different from the others. When Macey walked by in high heels and a strapless red dress with a slit high on her thigh, he didn¡¯t stare. When she tucked her glossy black hair behind her ear, he didn¡¯t notice. And when she allowed her blue eyes to linger a moment too long in his direction, he gave a small smile of indifference and turned and started across the crowded room. For a moment, Macey studied him¡ªthe one puzzle in the room the Gallagher Academy hadn¡¯t taught her how to break. She racked her brain, trying to remember if she¡¯d met him at any of the many schools she had attended before the Gallagher Academy took her in, but the boy remained a very handsome enigma. It was something of a game to her after that. He was tall, with broad shoulders and careless hair, in a designer tuxedo that he wore as if it was simply what he¡¯d found on the floor by his bed that morning. With his roguish smile and cool indifference, that boy looked how Macey McHenry always felt¡ªlike he¡¯d been born into a world of privilege and had spent his whole life not really caring whether or not it spat him out. She watched him stop to pat the mayor on the back. He stumbled a little in the crowd, and his left hand disappeared ever so briefly inside the mayor¡¯s tuxedo pocket. It was over in a flash, a blink, a second. And Macey was quite certain she was the only person in the entire room to have seen it, but that was just as well. At last, Macey had seen enough. And at last, the boy made sense. Carefully, she walked through the crowd until she found him standing out on the hotel balcony, eating a jumbo shrimp with one big bite. ¡°You might want to put that back,¡± she told him. She leaned against the ledge, her hands at the small of her back. From there, she could look up at his square jaw and bright eyes. When he smiled down at her, despite her training, she might have swooned a little. ¡°Now what would that be?¡± He cocked his head. ¡°The mayor¡¯s cell phone,¡± she told him. ¡°It was so rude of you to slip it out of his pocket when he was distracted.¡± The boy feigned offense. ¡°Would I do that?¡± ¡°You know you did.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t have a cell phone.¡± He held his hands out wide. ¡°Go ahead. Frisk me.¡± He leaned a little closer and winked when he said, ¡°You know you want to.¡± ¡°Nice try,¡± Macey said, totally immune to the flirting. ¡°And it might work if I hadn¡¯t seen you steal it a minute and a half ago.¡± ¡°Yes, but evidently you didn¡¯t see me put it back forty-five seconds ago.¡± Then, as if on cue, a phone started to ring. ¡°See,¡± the boy said, pointing at the mayor, who was searching his tuxedo jacket, finally finding the device not exactly where he¡¯d left it. And for the first time that evening, Macey was impressed. ¡°Oh, you¡¯re good.¡± ¡°Well, if Macey McHenry says so¡­¡± The boy turned from the railing and stepped back toward the ballroom, and again she felt the pang that something in this boy was familiar. ¡°I seem to be at a disadvantage,¡± she told him. ¡°Don¡¯t feel bad.¡± He grinned. ¡°Most people are.¡± ¡°I mean¡­¡± she said pointedly, ¡°what¡¯s your name?¡± ¡°You¡¯d be surprised how many times I get asked that question,¡± he said; then he looked at Macey anew. ¡°My friends call me Hale.¡± ¡°Hale? As in¡­a Hale?¡± she asked, but he only smiled in response. ¡°Why are you stealing cell phones? Doesn¡¯t Hale Industries own a cell phone company?¡± ¡°Only a little one,¡± Hale said, exasperated, then added to himself, ¡°Why are girls always getting that wrong?¡± ¡°How disappointing,¡± Macey said. ¡°I was starting to think you were some high-society thief, determined to pilfer our pearls and steal our Rolexes. The party just got boring again.¡± ¡°I could be a thief.¡± He sounded almost insulted. ¡°The grandson of one of the wealthiest women in the world?¡± Macey asked. ¡°Somehow I doubt it.¡± ¡°Would it make you feel any better if I told you that serial numbers make Rolexes almost impossible to fence? But pearls, on the other hand¡­¡± He leaned a little closer, studied her a little harder. But then, just that quickly, the sparkle faded. He seemed almost serious when he said, ¡°I¡¯m sorry if I¡¯m not flirting with you. I¡¯m kind of spoken for.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry if I¡¯m not disappointed. I kind of don¡¯t care.¡± ¡°A year ago your father was running for vice president. That¡¯s how I knew your name.¡± ¡°I was America¡¯s sweetheart,¡± Macey said, a little too much saccharin in her voice. He gave her a smile. ¡°America could do worse.¡± The music was louder than Macey remembered when she walked with Hale back to the ball. And for one brief moment, he looked like a code she really wanted to break, a language she couldn¡¯t quite understand. ¡°I suppose I could try to pull some high-class heist,¡± he told her. ¡°You know¡­just to spice up your evening.¡± ¡°Really? Well, I¡¯m pretty sure Lady Darlington was wearing emerald earrings when she got here.¡± The boy looked impressed. ¡°Yes. But Her Ladyship put her earrings in her handbag ten minutes ago.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Besides, I have a bad history with emeralds.¡± ¡°What about canaries?¡± Macey scanned the crowd and pointed to the one jewel that stood out from all the others as it dangled around the neck of the woman of the hour. ¡°The Calloway Canary? Oh, very tempting¡­¡± He looked longingly at the necklace that seemed to catch every bit of light in the room. ¡°Twenty carats if the rumors are true. A perfect canary diamond surrounded by flawless white stones¡­Nope. Sorry.¡± Hale shook his head and pulled another shrimp from a passing tray. ¡°Besides, it¡¯s a fake,¡± he told her with his mouth full. ¡°No, it¡¯s not,¡± Macey said. ¡°I assure you, old lady Calloway is rich enough to buy any diamond she wants. There¡¯s no reason for her to have a fake.¡± ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure the Calloway Canary is very real,¡± Hale told her. He grabbed another shrimp and pointed with it across the room. ¡°I¡¯m just saying that¡¯s not it.¡± Was he lying? Maybe. But then again, Macey realized, maybe not. ¡°So are you the Hale who was institutionalized or the one who burned down the planetarium at Colgan?¡± The boy shrugged and smiled, looked at her with that thousand-watt grin. ¡°Who says they can¡¯t be one and the same?¡± ¡°Seriously.¡± Macey felt herself growing impatient. ¡°Where do you go to school?¡± ¡°Knightsbury. Why? Where do you go?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a girls¡¯ school,¡± Macey told him. ¡°So? I know lots of girls.¡± ¡°Not like these,¡± Macey said with a shake of her head. ¡°Why don¡¯t I know you?¡± ¡°Does anyone ever really know someone else?¡± ¡°You think you¡¯re cute,¡± she told him. ¡°You think you¡¯re gorgeous. But I¡¯m the one guy here who knows better.¡± ¡°So I¡¯m not gorgeous?¡± Macey challenged. ¡°Of course you are.¡± He started away, turned back at the last minute. ¡°But I¡¯m the guy who figured out that¡¯s not all you are.¡± Chapter 2 FROM THAT POINT FORWARD, W. W. Hale V knew two things for certain. First, the party was far more interesting than he¡¯d been expecting. But the second (and more important) thing was that he should not talk to Macey again. Since the day a little over two years before when he had crawled out his window and out of his world, Hale had lived with the fear that someday someone in his old life might find out about his new one, and he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that Macey was very much up to the challenge. She wasn¡¯t a thief; of that much Hale was almost sure. But she wasn¡¯t your typical society girl either. Her steps had too much purpose; her blue eyes moved around the room with too much precision. She reminded him far more of the girls in the world he¡¯d chosen than the girls in the world he¡¯d been born to, and that was why he knew that he shouldn¡¯t let her study him too closely. That maybe she might see a little too much. It didn¡¯t matter anyway, Hale realized. He wasn¡¯t going to stick around to find out. He looked down at his watch: 9:45. Then a man in a dark gray suit caught Hale¡¯s eye and started his way. ¡°Yes, sir?¡± Marcus asked. Hale had often wondered how Marcus read him so well. He was supposed to have a good poker face, after all. But it didn¡¯t matter how good an inside man Hale was supposed to be; Marcus was a far superior butler. ¡°I think I¡¯m in the mood to leave, Marcus,¡± Hale said, scanning the room. He saw his father chatting up a business associate by the bar; his mother was busy looking over an antique clock that was a part of the silent auction. He wondered exactly how long it would be before they realized he was gone. If they¡¯d ever realize¡­ ¡°What¡¯s our exit strategy?¡± Hale asked. ¡°I believe the stairs by the balcony are mostly vacant,¡± Marcus told him. ¡°Perfect,¡± Hale said, and without another word he started toward the other side of the room. When his phone rang, he had to dig through his pocket to find it, and his fingers brushed against a pair of tiny earbuds he and Kat had last used in Monte Carlo. Hale smiled a little, realizing he hadn¡¯t worn the tux in ages. It was just one of many ways his life had changed in the years since a girl named Katarina Bishop crawled into his window and into his life. Page 2 ¡°You¡¯re late,¡± Kat said as soon as Hale put the phone to his ear. She wasn¡¯t the kind of girl to wait for hello. ¡°What can I say? Macey McHenry has been throwing herself at me¡­.¡± ¡°See, that¡¯s the kind of thing that would make me jealous if she weren¡¯t way out of your league.¡± ¡°You know, if I had feelings, that might have hurt them.¡± ¡°Sorry,¡± she said. ¡°Now come on down. There¡¯s a Raphael in Rome that has our name on it.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­¡± Hale started. ¡°It might be hard to get away from Macey. It looks like she works out. And you know how crazy I drive the ladies.¡± ¡°Crazy is an understatement.¡± Kat took a deep breath. ¡°Am I going to have to come up there? Because I will. I have no objection to stealing people, you know.¡± Hale started to laugh. He wanted to tease. But right then he saw something that seemed a little out of place in the elaborately decorated ballroom. Behind the stage, covered in canvas, lay a device, a piece of metal sticking out at such an angle that only Hale could really see it. Kat talked on, but Hale was no longer listening as he crept closer to the narrow gap between wall and stage, looking. Thinking. ¡°Hale?¡± Kat¡¯s voice sounded in his ear. ¡°Hale, are you listening to me?¡± That was when Hale noticed a hotel employee standing beneath the security camera that was trained on the dance floor, an odd bag draped across his arm. On the other side of the room, a sign that read that the elevators were temporarily out of service made Hale¡¯s mind come to a terrifying stop. When Hale saw a man lingering near the elevators, he had a sudden sense of d¨¦j¨¤ vu, remembering a particularly intricate operation in Denmark. Another man, in an ill-fitting waiter¡¯s uniform, was moving to the stairs by the veranda, and Hale thought about a long night spent near a garbage chute in Belize. ¡°That settles it.¡± Kat sounded annoyed by Hale¡¯s silence. ¡°I¡¯m coming up.¡± ¡°No, Kat!¡± Hale shouted, but she was already gone. ¡°Marcus, I need you to go downstairs. Now. Stop Kat.¡± ¡°Of course, sir.¡± ¡°And, Marcus,¡± Hale called after him. ¡°Just¡­tell her I have these.¡± Hale reached into his pocket and found the long-forgotten earbuds. It is a testament to both Marcus¡¯s demeanor and the oddities of Hale¡¯s new life that the butler didn¡¯t say another word. He didn¡¯t ask a single question. And Hale was left with one other thing to do. ¡°There you are,¡± Hale told his mother when he found her. ¡°Oh, darling, do you know Michael Calloway? His mother is the event chair. We¡¯ve just been arguing over whether he is going to let me outbid him for this gorgeous antique clock,¡± Mrs. Hale said, but her son didn¡¯t care. ¡°Sorry,¡± Hale told the man in the tux with the small bits of sweat gathering at his brow. ¡°I need her,¡± he said, pulling his mother from the table and toward the bank of elevators on the far side of the room, the ones that appeared to still be operational. ¡°Mom, I need you to come with me.¡± ¡°But, darling,¡± the woman protested, ¡°it¡¯s Swiss!¡± The elevator dinged and Hale pushed her inside it. ¡°Sorry. Dad will meet you downstairs.¡± The doors were just starting to close when someone yelled, ¡°Hold it!¡± and Hale turned to see Macey McHenry dragging her own mother behind her. ¡°She¡¯s going down,¡± Macey said, and pushed the button for the lobby. Before anyone else could protest, the doors slid smoothly closed. Behind Hale, another elevator opened, and Macey pointed to it. ¡°After you,¡± she said. ¡°No.¡± Hale let the word stretch out. ¡°After you.¡± ¡°No,¡± Macey said. She grabbed his arm and pushed. ¡°Hey, I bruise,¡± Hale said. ¡°Also, you are freakishly strong.¡± Macey McHenry was sidling up to him. She looked like a bored society girl who was in the mood to grab the nearest guy and leave the party. But if there was anything that W. W. Hale V truly understood, it was that looks could often be deceiving. As soon as she was close, she whispered, ¡°You¡¯ve got to get out of here.¡± ¡°No. You¡¯ve got to get out of here,¡± he told her. ¡°Go downstairs. Go now.¡± ¡°No,¡± she countered. ¡°You go.¡± ¡°Why?¡± he asked. ¡°You tell me first.¡± But before they could say another word, the last elevator slid slowly open and two men in masks rushed out. From the opposite side of the ballroom, shots rang out, rapid-fire, piercing the ceiling, plaster falling onto the dance floor like snow. And then Hale and Macey whispered in unison, ¡°Because of that.¡± Chapter 3 PERHAPS IT WAS TOO LATE¡ªthe crowd too tipsy¡ªbut it seemed to take a moment for the partygoers to realize exactly what was happening. Their exits were blocked. And the finest of New York society had no choice but to huddle together, watching a series of masked men run into the ballroom through the fog of falling plaster. They were not a group accustomed to being told what to do, even when one of the men jumped onto the stage. He carried a machine gun and wore a plastic mask over his face, the kind popular at Halloween with people who just want to put on a suit and pretend to be a president. This man had chosen Ronald Reagan. ¡°Stay where you are,¡± he ordered. He kept his gun at his hip, pointed into the air, the butt resting against his side in a way that made him look more like an old-time gangster than a Navy SEAL. Macey could have told him he was doing it wrong, but she had a feeling he wasn¡¯t the type to take orders. He was the type to give them. ¡°I assure you, ladies and gentlemen, that we mean you no harm.¡± He walked slowly down the stage. A member of the band had dropped a violin and he kicked it, daring anything or anyone to stand in his way. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean we won¡¯t hurt you. Do not fight us. Do not doubt us. And do not do anything stupid.¡± Macey couldn¡¯t help herself; she looked at the boy beside her, thought of how casually he¡¯d pulled the phone from the mayor¡¯s pocket, and wondered if maybe stupid was what he did best. ¡°Now, with the formalities out of the way,¡± Reagan said, ¡°I¡¯m so glad you could join us.¡± A rush of cold air filled the room and Macey turned to see another gunman (Jimmy Carter) coming in from the balcony, pushing a small group of about a dozen partygoers in front of him. One woman was crying. A man looked indignant. They all carried themselves with hurried, nervous strides until they examined the larger scene¡ªthe masks and the guns and the fact that there was absolutely no way out. ¡°Good. We¡¯re all here,¡± Reagan went on. ¡°Now let¡¯s get comfortable.¡± He spun and pointed his gun at one of the armed men Macey had spotted earlier. ¡°Not you. Bill, why don¡¯t you help Rambo here get comfy?¡± A man in a Clinton mask walked toward the private security professional. ¡°Hands up,¡± Clinton said with a fake southern accent. Slowly, the guard raised his hands, and Clinton pulled the man¡¯s own gun from the holster at his side. Clinton slipped a pair of zip ties around his wrists and pulled them tight. But the guard didn¡¯t try to stop him. ¡°You too.¡± Reagan pointed at the other private guards, the two men who hadn¡¯t seen the signs, who hadn¡¯t noticed the subtle shifts in the room that had seemed so obvious to Macey. She looked at the boy beside her. And to Hale. ¡°Okay, ladies and gentlemen,¡± Reagan said with a little flourish, like part of him was putting on a show. ¡°If you could move to the edges of the dance floor...¡± he said calmly, but no one moved. ¡°Do it!¡± Another burst of bullets filled the air. People screamed. Some fell to the floor with their hands over their heads, but almost everyone was frozen. ¡°Now move to the edge of the dance floor,¡± Reagan said again very slowly, and this time the people did as they were told. ¡°Hands where we can see them, ladies and gentlemen. In fact, ladies, why don¡¯t you toss your handbags into the center of the room? No use hanging on to those now.¡± A handful of women ¡°tossed¡± their ten-thousand-dollar evening bags onto the hardwood floor, and Macey was glad no one was in the mood to protest. ¡°Gentlemen,¡± Reagan said with renewed flair, ¡°we will now be moving through the crowd to collect your cell phones. No use hiding them. We have our ways.¡± When one of the masked men (George H. W. Bush) came toward them, Macey watched Hale slip a cell phone out of the interior pocket of his jacket and put it into the bag Bush Senior was carrying. ¡°I thought you didn¡¯t have a cell phone,¡± Macey whispered. ¡°I lied,¡± Hale said, and Macey realized how good he was at doing exactly that. ¡°Now, who still has a phone?¡± Reagan asked like a kindergarten teacher giving a child once last chance to confess to leaving the lids off the markers. ¡°Come on now.¡± He walked down the stage, and when no one said a thing he shot another blaze of bullets into the air. And suddenly, a handful of cell phones were on the floor, sliding toward the pile of handbags in the center of the room. Quietly, Macey went through her options. Even though the masked men were asking for cell phones, the gunmen were making so much noise that she was sure someone had already called 911. The obvious exits were blocked, and the elevators had no doubt been disabled. The men moved with confidence and order, but they weren¡¯t trying to be quiet. There was nothing covert at all about this operation. Unlike the boy beside her. From the corner of her eye she saw him reach for his coat pocket. ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± she whispered. ¡°What?¡± he asked with a shrug. He looked and sounded almost bored. ¡°Don¡¯t do whatever you¡¯re doing.¡± When Hale¡¯s hand disappeared inside his tuxedo jacket, Macey wasn¡¯t exactly sure what he¡¯d find inside that pocket. It could have been another phone or a breath mint. Really, nothing would have surprised her. Well¡­nothing except¡­ ¡°Is that an earbud?¡± she whispered. He smiled. ¡°Are you on comms?¡± ¡°Shhh,¡± he told her softly. Macey saw one of the men, Carter, over Hale¡¯s shoulder, walking slowly around the group, standing guard, and she lowered her voice even more. ¡°Why do you have a comms unit?¡± Hale smirked. ¡°You¡¯re cute when you¡¯re annoyed.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± she warned, but it was too late; he was already placing the tiny device in his ear. Macey couldn¡¯t decide whether to be intrigued that Hale was walking around with a state-of-the-art covert communications device or jealous because she¡¯d been caught without one of her own. ¡°Now, ladies and gentlemen,¡± Reagan said from the stage. He bowed a little. ¡°Why don¡¯t you all have a seat?¡± ¡°What is it?¡± When Kat¡¯s voice finally came into Hale¡¯s ear, it was cold and steady and even. All tease was gone. If she was angry at him for standing her up, she didn¡¯t show it. She just said, ¡°Tell me what¡¯s going on.¡± Page 3 ¡°Party crashers,¡± Hale whispered. He watched Macey watching him. ¡°Five, and they brought toys.¡± ¡°Guns?¡± Kat guessed. ¡°Big ones,¡± Hale said. ¡°You know this is what you get for doing a favor for your mother.¡± ¡°I know,¡± Hale admitted. ¡°What are they after?¡± Kat asked. ¡°Hard to say,¡± Hale said; again, he eyed the room. ¡°Who is that?¡± Macey asked. ¡°The reason I wasn¡¯t flirting with you,¡± Hale told her. ¡°Ladies,¡± Reagan was saying, ¡°if you would be so kind as to remove your jewelry. Gentlemen, that goes for you too. Watches. Cuff links. Let¡¯s have them.¡± ¡°It¡­it¡¯s my wedding ring,¡± one woman protested. ¡°Sweetheart¡­¡± Clinton jammed the end of his gun into the woman¡¯s husband¡¯s chest. ¡°He can buy you another one.¡± Hale watched the men systematically make their way down the line of people sitting in a circle, dropping millions of dollars in jewels into their outstretched bags, but the masked men didn¡¯t hurry. And when the bag finally made its way to the Calloway Canary the whole room seemed to sigh. What a pity. ¡°What are they doing now?¡± Kat asked. ¡°Jewelry and wallets,¡± Hale said. But something didn¡¯t quite make sense. ¡°They¡¯re too slow.¡± Hale looked at Macey, who added, ¡°Seven minutes since shots fired.¡± ¡°Kat, what¡¯s the emergency response time in Midtown Manhattan?¡± ¡°Not long enough if they want a clean exit,¡± she told him. Macey hadn¡¯t heard Kat¡¯s words, but she looked at Hale like she¡¯d read his mind. ¡°They aren¡¯t trying to beat the cops out of here,¡± she said. ¡°I know.¡± She shifted on the floor and leaned closer. Her mouth was only inches from his ear. He placed an arm around her, and to anyone watching, it probably looked like a boy comforting a girl, offering a shoulder and maybe laying groundwork to make a move, but Hale knew better. ¡°Okay, Hale¡¯s mystery lady,¡± Macey whispered, ¡°listen up. If you want to help, you need to call 212-555-9898. You¡¯ll get a recording. Tell it the Peacock is caged.¡± Hale laughed. ¡°Tell it what?¡± ¡°Someone will be here within an hour,¡± Macey went on. ¡°They probably already know, but¡­Do you need the number again?¡± ¡°Look, Macey,¡± Hale said. ¡°Thanks for the offer, but we¡¯ve got it. Now just keep your head down and try¡ª¡± ¡°You don¡¯t get it, do you? Those are AK-47s. They can fire six hundred bullets per minute and can reload in less than three seconds. And in case you didn¡¯t notice, there are five of them.¡± She drew a deep breath. ¡°Now does your friend need the number again?¡± ¡°She¡¯s got it,¡± Hale said with a nod. ¡°Now, why don¡¯t you tell me exactly why she should waste her time doing your errands,¡± Hale said, but Macey said nothing. ¡°You¡¯re not a normal girl, are you?¡± He looked and sounded like someone who was already certain of the answer. ¡°That¡¯s cool.¡± Hale nodded, unfazed. ¡°But just so you know, that¡±¡ªhe pointed to the piece of metal peeking out from behind the stage¡ª¡°is a Hurst 5,000 PSI hydraulic spreader-cutter, more commonly known as the Jaws of Life.¡± ¡°So?¡± ¡°So I¡¯m not a normal boy.¡± Chapter 4 AS WORD SPREAD¡ªAND WORD ALWAYS DID¡ªthe streets outside the hotel eventually became clogged with police cars and fire trucks. News vans lined the barricades while uniformed men tried to keep the curious at bay. But try was all they could manage. It was New York City, after all, and word that the mayor, a senator, a district court judge, and the most popular players in the Manhattan social scene were currently being held at gunpoint at the charity event of the season was sweeping through the city like a fire. The SWAT teams shouted at the NYPD; the NYPD argued with the FBI; and the FBI demanded in the loudest voices possible, ¡°Who let this happen?¡± Only a smaller-than-average teenage girl stayed quiet in the dark, right on the edge of the barricade. Occasionally, a man in a gray suit would appear, place a cup of hot chocolate in her hands, a heavier coat around her shoulders, but it was as if the girl herself didn¡¯t realize she was freezing. She just stood looking up at the high-rise as if wondering whether or not she should try scaling the walls herself, stealing her way inside. ¡°Are you Katarina Bishop?¡± Kat jerked her head away from the Athenia in time to see a woman walking toward her. She was tall and thin, with shiny black hair that blew behind her in the wind. And even in that crowd of chaos, there was something about the woman that demanded attention. ¡°You¡¯re Kat Bishop?¡± the woman asked again, studying Kat, who wasn¡¯t sure whether or not she should say yes. But answering, it turned out, was optional, because the woman raised the yellow tape and said, ¡°Come with me.¡± On the other side of the barrier, Kat struggled to keep up with the woman¡¯s long legs and quick stride. And when a man with a walkie-talkie stepped in front of Kat, blocking her way, the woman flashed a badge Kat couldn¡¯t read and ordered, ¡°She¡¯s with me.¡± No one asked the question again. The two of them walked undisturbed all the way to the opposite side of the street. ¡°So¡­I got your message,¡± the woman said once they were alone in that crowd of people. ¡°Now I need you to tell me everything you know about Macey McHenry.¡± It was then that Kat realized two things. First, this was the woman whom Macey had needed Kat to call. The second was that even though Kat hadn¡¯t left her name or given her number, this woman had picked Kat out of the crowd as easily as if they¡¯d met a dozen times before. Kat didn¡¯t know whether to be scared or impressed, so she just focused on the only thing that mattered in that moment. All up and down the sidewalks, uniformed officials shouted and spat and spewed. But this woman just kept her eyes glued to the Athenia¡¯s balcony high overhead as if she, like Kat, were tempted to scale the walls and burst inside. And that was why Kat said, ¡°You know her.¡± It was more realization than whisper. She watched the way the woman stared up at the towering hotel. ¡°You know Macey McHenry. And you love her¡ªthere¡¯s someone you love in there. Well¡±¡ªKat drew a breath¡ª¡°you¡¯re not the only one.¡± Before the woman could say a word, Kat pulled an extra earbud out of her pocket and held it out. ¡°Here you go,¡± Kat said. ¡°You can talk to my friend on the inside. Well, technically, he¡¯s more than a friend, but¡­¡± Kat remembered almost too late that she was talking to a woman with a badge. ¡°Anyhow, you can talk to him. He¡¯s with Macey.¡± When the woman took the earbud, she didn¡¯t ask another question. She was a woman on a mission as she placed the tiny device in her ear and said, ¡°This is Special Agent Abby Cameron. Let me talk to Macey McHenry.¡± There was only one gunman in the ballroom. Macey watched the man walk around the people who sat in a huge circle on the floor, like a conga line that had gone terribly, terribly wrong. And she thought about what it meant. There was only one gunman in the ballroom. Wordlessly, she slipped off her shoes. Gently, she placed a palm on the floor, shifted to stand, but that was when Macey felt another hand pressing down on hers. Hard. Too hard. ¡°Just what do you think you¡¯re doing?¡± Hale hissed in her ear. His fingers burned into her skin. And Macey knew that if she was going to take out the gunman, she was first going to have to neutralize the boy beside her. ¡°Why don¡¯t you let me go, and I¡¯ll show you,¡± she said with only a modicum of flirt in her voice. ¡°Why don¡¯t you put your fancy shoes back on and sit there like a good little girl?¡± ¡°First of all, I¡¯m good at a lot of things. Taking orders from bored billionaires isn¡¯t one of them. Second of all, he¡¯s alone, and I can take him,¡± Macey said. ¡°No!¡± Hale said. ¡°You don¡¯t know anything about this guy.¡± ¡°I know he¡¯s left-handed and has an old injury to his right knee¡ªprobably a torn ACL at some point but the details don¡¯t matter. And the way he keeps his finger purposefully away from the safety of that gun means he¡¯s never fired it. And he doesn¡¯t want to.¡± ¡°You¡¯re kinda scary.¡± Macey leveled him with a glare. ¡°My school offers a self-defense class. A good one.¡± ¡°How nice for you. Now I want you to promise me that if I move my hand, you won¡¯t do something stupid.¡± Macey was just starting to protest when Hale stopped and brought his hand to his ear. ¡°Besides, there¡¯s someone who wants to talk to you.¡± He held out the extra earbud, whispering softly in the too-quiet room. ¡°It goes in your ear and¡ª¡± But before he could finish, Macey rolled her eyes and placed the bud in her ear. ¡°This is Peacock,¡± she whispered. She watched Hale¡¯s eyes go wide as she heard a very familiar voice say, ¡°You¡¯re not getting extra credit for this. Now¡±¡ªMacey¡¯s teacher took a long, easy breath¡ª¡°what¡¯s going on in there?¡± ¡°Five gunmen. Automatic weapons. Very organized. They¡¯ve got all the hostages in the main ballroom. Looks like the gunmen have split up. I¡¯m thinking I can pick them off one at a time.¡± ¡°No, Macey. Bad idea,¡± Abby said just as Hale gave her an I told you so grin. ¡°We¡¯ve got to protect your cover. There haven¡¯t been any ransom demands yet, but when there are¡­¡± ¡°They¡¯re not looking for ransom,¡± Hale said, interjecting himself into a conversation that was far above his clearance level. ¡°They might ask for one, but it will be a distraction. That¡¯s not why they¡¯re here.¡± Macey rolled her eyes again and told him, ¡°Half the power players in the city are sitting on this ballroom floor.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Hale agreed with a little too much vigor for Macey¡¯s liking. ¡°And as you pointed out, four out of five gunmen aren¡¯t in the ballroom. So,¡± Hale said slowly, ¡°whatever they want, it isn¡¯t in here.¡± Macey was just starting to argue when Abby asked, ¡°What can you tell me about the gunmen?¡± ¡°They¡¯re amateurs,¡± Hale said at the exact time Macey told her teacher, ¡°They¡¯re pros.¡± Hale shook his head. ¡°Just because you do something professionally doesn¡¯t mean you¡¯re a professional. And, trust me, these guys are just the type to get someone hurt.¡± Abby was talking in Macey¡¯s ear, going on about emergency extractions and contingency plans. She¡¯d warned Macey to sit tight, not to blow her cover. But the clock inside Macey¡¯s head was ticking, Hale¡¯s words washing over her. And she was tired of sitting on the floor, doing absolutely nothing about it. Page 4 Macey would have given anything to have her best friends with her, but Cammie and Bex were in London on not-so-official CIA business and Liz was¡­Well, Macey reconsidered. Perhaps having the most accident-prone girl in the history of the Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women far, far away from the men with the assault rifles was a good thing. ¡°What about lover boy up there?¡± Abby asked. ¡°He¡¯s walking around with a pair of comms units in his pocket¡ªcould he be useful?¡± Macey looked Hale slowly up and down, then whispered, ¡°I highly doubt it.¡± Hale huffed and mouthed the words I can hear you. Macey just eyed him. ¡°But I guess he¡¯ll have to do.¡± The man in the Bush mask looked bored, or as bored as anyone with his face covered could possibly look. He kept his weapon on his hip and walked around the wide circle, staring down at the captives. This man wasn¡¯t the brains, Hale knew. He held no authority, made no decisions. He was there to wear a mask and hold a gun. And hopefully, Hale thought, make a key mistake. ¡°You should get us away from the windows,¡± Hale said when the man walked by. ¡°Shut up,¡± he ordered, his voice husky and deep and vaguely European. ¡°They¡¯re gonna have snipers out there,¡± Hale said. ¡°I watch movies. I know how this ends. We need to get away from the windows. Look, that one door is even open.¡± ¡°I said shut up.¡± ¡°Okay.¡± Macey took up the argument. ¡°If you want to get shot coming over here to check on us, fine, but my debutante ball is this spring and I can¡¯t show up with scars and stuff.¡± She cast a weary glance toward the massive wall of windows and French doors. ¡°Besides, I¡¯m cold. The least you can do is close that door.¡± Hale watched the man consider this. His posture changed. His feet shifted. And when he turned and started for the window, Hale dared to whisper, ¡°Kat, you hearing this?¡± He didn¡¯t get a reply, but as soon as the gunman reached the open door, a bullet burst through the glass, shattering it into a million pieces, spraying it across the floor. It missed the gunman, though. It was supposed to. And what followed was chaos. Hostages bolted to their feet and ran. Others crawled across the floor, over stray bits of glass, struggling to free themselves from that place and that terror. And when the dust and the panic settled, nobody even noticed that the boy and the girl who had mentioned the windows in the first place were gone. Chapter 5 WALKING DOWN THE ABANDONED HALL, Hale went through the list of all they had to do. ¡°First, we have to find out where they¡¯re going and what they want. And keep your eyes peeled,¡± Hale ordered. ¡°If we find a way of sneaking out some hostages, we should do it. And, Macey,¡± he said, stopping to catch her full attention, ¡°don¡¯t get caught.¡± It was good enough advice, but Macey McHenry seemed to have other things on her mind. ¡°You¡¯d better not be planning on looking up my dress.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t look up your dress.¡± ¡°Because if you look up my dress, I will hurt you.¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± Hale laughed a little. ¡°You can try and¡ª¡± But before Hale could finish Macey spun, knocking him against the wall. She had her fingers around his neck and his head poised to snap. It was all he could do to choke out the words ¡°I won¡¯t look up your dress.¡± ¡°Good boy,¡± she said, and let him go. Without another word, the two of them eased down the narrow hallway that ran along the back side of the ballroom. Carts of food sat, abandoned. Bucketsful of ice were melting. It felt to Hale like they were walking through a ghost town. And Hale couldn¡¯t help himself¡ªhe worried. The whole job felt wrong. Too overt. Too obvious. Too physical and dangerous and risky. Whatever it was that had brought the men in the masks there, he didn¡¯t like it. ¡°What are you thinking?¡± Macey tilted her head and studied him. ¡°It¡¯s not a Gab and Grab¡ªthey¡¯ve been here too long and they¡¯ve gotten too entrenched. They¡¯re big and they¡¯re organized, but they aren¡¯t set up for the Queen of Sheba.¡± Macey looked at him oddly, so Hale added, ¡°To run that con you need a set of triplets and a goat.¡± Then he shook his head and talked on. ¡°They¡¯ve got hardware and hostages, and that means¡­¡± ¡°What does it mean, Mr. Bored Billionaire¨Cslash¨CAmateur Thief Guy?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m usually the heister¡ªnot the heistee. And I don¡¯t work this way.¡± He walked a little faster. ¡°You take hostages at a bank¡ªsomeplace with lots of cash and lots of exits. And you only do it after you mess up and don¡¯t get out. Seriously, no one in their right mind intends to take hostages. Unless¡­¡± ¡°Unless what?¡± ¡°Unless they intend to use them.¡± The words washed over both of them, neither of them moving. Neither of them spoke until Hale glanced up at the air vent that opened overhead, and held out his hands in the universal signal for let me give you a boost. ¡°Now I promise I won¡¯t look up your dress.¡± Macey wasn¡¯t the type of girl to have regrets, but as she crawled through the dirty air vents that ran along the top of the Athenia¡¯s highest floor, there were a number of things she would have changed about that particular evening if given the opportunity. First, she would have gone with the black gown instead of the red. (In those situations, you really need a dress with straps.) She absolutely would have brought one of the little travel-sized tear gas canisters her roommate Liz had perfected the previous semester. And perhaps most importantly, she would have done more than a little reconnaissance on W. W. Hale V before the evening took its covert turn. Macey risked a look at the boy behind her. She couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that he was at home there, but nervous. Like a veteran athlete who has been asked to play a new position. He seemed a little off his game. ¡°Cammie¡¯s going to be mad she missed this,¡± Macey said to fill the silence. ¡°Excuse me?¡± Hale asked. ¡°Nothing.¡± She shook her head. ¡°I just¡­I have a friend who really likes air vents. And dumbwaiter shafts. And laundry chutes. Of course, the last time I was in a laundry chute, Cammie and I fell about a dozen stories¡­.¡± ¡°Well, that sounds like fun.¡± ¡°It was either that or get kidnapped by terrorists, so I guess we got off easy.¡± Macey glanced back to see Hale¡¯s flirty grin. ¡°Somehow I find that very¡ª Wait!¡± Hale snapped, and grabbed her ankle, held her in place so that she couldn¡¯t move another inch. Macey jerked her head around and saw why Hale had stopped her. Narrow red beams crisscrossed the empty shaft, shining in the darkness. ¡°Lasers,¡± Hale sighed. ¡°Lasers,¡± Macey repeated. They eased away from the red flickering beams that covered the shaft and blocked their way, inching backward until they heard voices below. Through a grate in the ceiling they could see the masked men lingering near a closed door, leaning against an antique table and smoking European cigarettes as if they had all day. ¡°Okay, so clearly they don¡¯t have access to the target, which means¡ª¡± Hale started, and Macey cut him off with a ¡°Shh!¡± She leaned closer to the vent and listened to the foreign words that filled the hallway beneath them. ¡°What is that?¡± Hale asked, leaning close to the vents. ¡°Russian?¡± ¡°Albanian,¡± Macey said, and again, motioned for him to be quiet. ¡°Now I suppose you¡¯re going to tell me they teach Albanian at your school.¡± ¡°Only for extra credit.¡± Macey leaned even closer, listened harder. ¡°It¡¯s a job for hire,¡± she translated. ¡°They don¡¯t know how to get past the security system.¡± Hale wasn¡¯t impressed. ¡°Of course they can¡¯t get past the security system. You see that sticker by the door. That unit is protected by the new Sterling system. I can¡¯t even get past that.¡± Macey rolled her eyes and kept her ear trained on the men in the hall. ¡°The boss¡ªI guess that is whoever hired them¡ªhe said the system would be off, but it¡¯s not.¡± Below, the men talked on. Their frustration grew. ¡°What are they saying now?¡± Hale asked. ¡°Cusswords.¡± Macey cut her eyes at him. ¡°Bad ones.¡± ¡°What are they waiting on?¡± Hale asked almost like he wasn¡¯t expecting an answer. But then, as if on cue, the air vent was plunged into darkness. In the hallway beneath Hale and Macey, only the emergency exit signs emitted any light, and the hall was covered in an eerie red haze as Clinton shattered the IN CASE OF FIRE glass and pulled an axe from the compartment inside. With two long strides he walked to the door and swung. A minute later the men in the masks were walking inside. The red laser beams disappeared and Macey glanced back at Hale and said, ¡°Come on.¡± Even with the power off, the air shafts were hot in the middle of winter, and sweat beaded on Macey¡¯s brow and ran down the side of her face as she crawled along ahead of Hale, past the point where the lasers had previously blocked their way. Inching along, she glanced down through the grates into the room below. It was gorgeous and luxurious with a silk-covered fainting couch and a balcony overlooking the park. But even for the Athenia, it was too nice to be a regular room. ¡°It¡¯s an apartment,¡± Hale said. ¡°Did you know the Athenia had residences?¡± Macey nodded. ¡°They do for a few select clients.¡± But then something caught her attention. ¡°Is that¡­¡± Macey started. She was staring at a painting on the wall. ¡°A Klimt?¡± Hale filled in, then sighed. ¡°Oh yeah. But don¡¯t get your hopes up. It¡¯s a copy.¡± ¡°And you know this because¡­¡± Macey drew out the last word and looked at Hale even more skeptically than before. ¡°I saw the original at the Louvre last summer,¡± he said with a shrug. ¡°Oh,¡± she said, deflated. The masked men were right below them, unloading gear and going to work on the opposite side of the opulent room, so Macey and Hale spoke in hushed whispers, pressed together in the tiny space. But Macey didn¡¯t feel a charge, a spark. Handsome though he was, there was no doubt that W. W. Hale was otherwise engaged. When the man in the Reagan mask pulled the Klimt from the wall, she felt Hale go cold and rigid as he studied the space behind where the print had been. ¡°Oh boy,¡± Hale whispered almost to himself. ¡°What?¡± Macey asked. ¡°The safe,¡± Hale said. Macey looked back at the room, at the big metal box around which the masked men were gathered. ¡°What about it?¡± ¡°It¡¯s¡­good,¡± Hale admitted. ¡°Surely it¡¯s not too much for a world-class art thief such as yourself?¡± Macey tried to tease, but Hale was already backing slowly away. ¡°No, Macey. It¡¯s too good.¡± He shook his head. ¡°Come on. We¡¯ve got to find whoever lives here and figure out what these guys are after.¡± Page 5 ¡°Don¡¯t bother,¡± Macey said. ¡°Why¡­¡± She looked at an oil painting that hung over the fireplace, a woman in a canary diamond necklace that was even more famous than she was. ¡°Because she¡¯s in the ballroom right now.¡± Macey spoke slowly. ¡°So if you were right and the necklace Mrs. Calloway wore to the ball was a fake¡­¡± Hale nodded. ¡°One guess where she¡¯s keeping the real one.¡± Macey peered through the vent at the place where the men were working. They were methodical as they unloaded their equipment, laying it all out on the coffee table like a surgical team preparing their tools. There were a half dozen devices Macey hadn¡¯t seen before but one small packet that was far too familiar. ¡°C4,¡± she whispered, and froze, staring down at the tiny but powerful explosive. ¡°What will they do if they can¡¯t crack the safe?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t get it, Macey. They can¡¯t crack that safe.¡± ¡°And what will they do?¡± ¡°Try to pry it open,¡± he said. ¡°And will that work?¡± she asked. He shook his head and said, ¡°No.¡± ¡°Can you blast into that safe, Hale?¡± ¡°What? Why are you asking?¡± ¡°Because I think we have bigger problems.¡± ¡°What kind of problems?¡± Hale asked, but Macey just pointed to the fireplace under the painting. The gas-powered fireplace. ¡°The kind that go boom.¡± Katarina Bishop had been many things in her young life. The daughter of a con man, the niece of a thief. (And once, during a particularly delicate operation in Hungary, the heir to an American ketchup dynasty.) But on that evening, she was something she had never, ever been before: helpless. Needless to say, she didn¡¯t like it. ¡°Kat,¡± Abby called, strolling in her direction. ¡°Tell me about your boyfriend.¡± ¡°Well¡­I don¡¯t know that he¡¯s my boyfriend. I mean¡­he¡¯s a boy. And he¡¯s my friend. And there¡¯s recently been the addition of kissing. But does that make us friends with benefits or¡ª¡± ¡°Kat,¡± Abby snapped. ¡°Sorry,¡± Kat said. ¡°What were you asking?¡± ¡°What is his training?¡± ¡°Oh¡­¡± And then, for an excellent liar, Kat had absolutely no idea what to say. Abby seemed to read her face, because she inched closer and lowered her voice. ¡°Look, I¡¯m not a cop. And I¡¯m not Interpol. I¡¯m just someone who took an oath a long time ago to keep Macey McHenry safe, so whatever you can tell me¡­¡± ¡°He¡¯s a con man. An inside man. He¡¯s pretty good at short cons and street work. Picking pockets, sleight of hand¡ªstuff like that¡ªbut what he does best is¡­lie.¡± ¡°Can he handle a safe?¡± Abby asked. ¡°What kind of safe?¡± Kat asked. ¡°A Scribner 9000,¡± Abby told her, and Kat couldn¡¯t help herself¡ªshe laughed. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she said, righting herself. ¡°But that safe is drill-proof, hack-proof, and has an internal gyroscope with titanium shafts that bolt into place if anyone even breathes on it funny. Seriously. They don¡¯t even install them in California because of earthquakes.¡± Kat watched the way Abby gaped at her. ¡°Maybe I don¡¯t know much about boys.¡­¡± Kat shook her head. ¡°Doesn¡¯t mean I don¡¯t know about safes.¡± ¡°Can you pry your way into it?¡± ¡°You mean like with the Jaws of Life?¡± Kat thought about what Hale had seen hidden in the ballroom. ¡°You can try, but it won¡¯t work. Or¡­well¡­it didn¡¯t work at the Israeli Diamond Exchange in 2009.¡± Kat thought about what she¡¯d said, then quickly added, ¡°Allegedly. There are only two ways into a Scribner nine series. Either you hire one of the half dozen or so safecrackers in the world who can work the tumblers or¡­¡± Kat cut her eyes up at Abby, who was totally not liking the answer. ¡°You get someone to give you the combination.¡± Kat drew a deep breath. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°I think we might have a problem.¡± Abby looked up at the high-rise. ¡°What do you know about the new whole-house system from Sterling Security?¡± ¡°The new one?¡± Kat raised her eyebrows, impressed. ¡°It¡¯s good. I mean¡­really good. A friend of mine¡¯s dad designed it, and there¡¯s really no way around it unless¡­¡± Kat let her voice trail off, and Abby must have read her mind. ¡°Somebody cuts the power,¡± Abby said, and Kat looked up at the too-dark building. ¡°The authorities turned off all electricity to the building five minutes ago.¡± ¡°What about¡ª¡± Kat started, but Abby was already shaking her head. ¡°Backup generators too.¡± ¡°That¡¯s why they needed the hostages,¡± Kat said, and in spite of herself she had to smile. ¡°That¡¯s why they weren¡¯t in a hurry. This had to be big and public and scary enough to get the cops to black out the whole building. It¡¯s genius.¡± She suddenly remembered who she was speaking to. ¡°I mean it¡¯s awful. But it¡¯s also kind of genius.¡± Suddenly, the hostages made sense. It wasn¡¯t a holdup, Kat realized. It was a diversion. It had a purpose. And purposes made Kat happy. Abby smiled and never asked how a fifteen-year-old girl could be so good at doing very bad things. ¡°They¡¯re past the security system, Kat. And now they¡¯re working on the safe.¡± ¡°Whose safe is it?¡± ¡°Have you ever heard of the Calloway Canary?¡± ¡°Is Mrs. Calloway in there?¡± ¡°She¡¯s in the ballroom now,¡± Abby said. ¡°With a fake necklace that our gunmen evidently knew was a fake, because they went straight for the safe.¡± ¡°So someone is slipping them inside information,¡± Kat said, and Abby nodded. ¡°What do you know about the gunmen?¡± ¡°Not much. According to our source¡ª¡± ¡°You mean Macey?¡± Kat asked, but Abby didn¡¯t answer. ¡°They¡¯re Eastern European, probably muscle for hire,¡± Abby said. ¡°There¡¯s some big boss we haven¡¯t identified yet. Someone¡¯s calling the shots, but these guys are just here to do a job.¡± But Kat was shaking her head. ¡°There isn¡¯t any honor among thieves, Abby. Not among that kind, at least. And right now they¡¯re trying to get into a safe they can¡¯t crack while holding on to over a hundred people they no longer need.¡± Kat watched the woman¡¯s eyes, her worried posture and hasty glances toward an empty balcony. ¡°What is it?¡± Kat asked. ¡°What aren¡¯t you telling me?¡± ¡°Kat, can you blast your way into that safe?¡± ¡°Technically, yes,¡± Kat started slowly. ¡°But in a private residence with close quarters and utilities you¡¯d have to be crazy to try.¡± ¡°So we can¡¯t let them try.¡± ¡°No.¡± Kat shook her head. ¡°We can¡¯t.¡± Then Abby seemed to remember that she was the adult and Kat was the teen, the civilian, because she patted the younger girl on the back and said, ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry about it, Kat. You¡¯ve done enough.¡± She turned away. But there was something inside of Kat that was alive, thinking, planning, knowing that it wasn¡¯t over and it wasn¡¯t okay¡ªthat there were codes to her world and her life and anyone who would pick up an automatic weapon and take a hundred hostages wasn¡¯t going to live by them. Whoever these men were, they were not members of the family, and that more than anything made Kat yell through the darkness, ¡°Abby!¡± The woman turned, studying her, as Kat said, ¡°There¡¯s something else that I can do.¡± Chapter 6 ¡°STOP PACING,¡± Hale said in the manner of someone who was used to giving orders. Sadly, Macey wasn¡¯t used to taking them. ¡°No thank you,¡± she said, and kept on walking. Too bad there was no real place to walk to. The storage closet they¡¯d found was small and crowded with dirty laundry and old housekeeping carts. But it was also private and far away from the eyes and ears of the men in the masks. ¡°Macey, calm down. We don¡¯t know why they brought the C4,¡± Hale said. ¡°Well, we do know that there is a gas line running behind the Calloway safe. The bad guys with the big explosives don¡¯t seem to care that there¡¯s a gas line. Let me do the math for you. Gas plus explosions equals boom!¡± ¡°Don¡¯t look at me. I would be more than happy to offer a short course on How to Conduct a Proper Apartment Heist, but I doubt these guys are going to take my advice.¡± ¡°Abby,¡± Macey said, trying her earbud again. ¡°Abby, do you hear me? How¡¯s it going trying to cut the gas to the building? Did you do it? Is it done?¡± ¡°And what about the gas that¡¯s already in the lines?¡± Hale asked. ¡°Never mind.¡± He shook his head. There was no doubt he already knew the answer. ¡°Guys.¡± Abby¡¯s voice came through their earbuds. ¡°Just sit tight. We¡¯re working on a Plan B.¡± ¡°What kind of Plan B?¡± Hale asked. He was almost holding his breath when a voice answered, ¡°My kind.¡± Macey tried to read the look on his face then, but it was gone in a flash. It had been a simple moment of peace and joy and pure happiness. That voice made Hale happy. It kept him calm. It was his backup and his conscience. Macey couldn¡¯t help herself; she envied him. Then Macey asked, ¡°Okay, Abby. What do you have in mind?¡± When the plan was set and the mission in motion, Macey had to admit she felt slightly better about the situation. There are few problems a Gallagher Girl can face that cannot be improved by a job. A task. A target. So there was a new spring in Macey McHenry¡¯s steps as she led the way back down the corridor that lined the ballroom. The carts were still abandoned. Trays of shrimp still lay carelessly tossed aside and they were starting to smell. Macey walked through it all, feeling in her bones that it was over. She turned and looked at Hale. ¡°Smile, thief boy. It¡¯s a¡ª¡± But before Macey could finish she felt something¡ªsomeone¡ªrun around the corner and into her side, knocking her against an ice machine and sending her spinning around. The man in the Clinton mask seemed completely shocked to find he wasn¡¯t alone. But shock quickly faded as Hale rushed forward, and the man shifted his weight and sent the slightly lighter boy flying too hard into the wall. Then the man turned his sights on Macey. ¡°Abby,¡± Macey whispered to her teacher, ¡°I think we might need a Plan C now.¡± And then she picked up one of the heavy platters of shrimp. And swung. Chapter 7 THE LIGHTS WERE OFF INSIDE THE BALLROOM. So Macey stumbled inside through the glow of the candles that still burned on the tables. At first there was a hiss and then a whisper. It was like the people on the floor didn¡¯t know if she was shadow or ghost as she hobbled on a bruised leg and broken heel, slowly making her way through the flickering light. Page 6 ¡°Macey?¡± a voice cried through the room. ¡°Daddy?¡± Macey called, but the man in the Clinton mask yelled, ¡°Stop right there!¡± And for maybe the first time in her life, Macey did as she was told. She thought of the masked man¡¯s gun and the rapid burst of bullets. She thought of Hale lying on the floor. She thought of the mission she hadn¡¯t had the time to finish. And Macey yelled louder, ¡°Daddy?¡± Her voice cracked. Macey saw the senator moving her way, through the ballroom. ¡°What was that shooting?¡± the senator demanded. ¡°What have you done to my daughter?¡± The masked man whirled and sent the beam of his flashlight across the crowd until it shone on the tall man in the back of the room. But Clinton just pointed his gun at Macey¡¯s head and said, ¡°Stay where you are.¡± The man in the Bush mask was coming toward them. ¡°Reagan needs you in the other room,¡± Bush said, but Clinton shook his head. ¡°Found this one out in the hall,¡± Clinton told Bush. ¡°Her and her little friend. I handled them, though. Didn¡¯t I, sweetheart?¡± He ran a finger down the side of Macey¡¯s cheek and she shivered but didn¡¯t fight. It wasn¡¯t the time, Macey told herself. It wasn¡¯t the place. She¡¯d have her chance later, but right then all Macey wanted to do was run into her father¡¯s arms. She tried to push past Bush, clawed against his arms and his sides, but he held her in place, not moving. ¡°Please,¡± she said. ¡°Please. I won¡¯t try to sneak out again. I promise.¡± ¡°No,¡± Clinton snapped, and pulled Macey away. ¡°You think we¡¯re gonna trust you?¡± His drawl was obviously fake and sickly sweet. He didn¡¯t sound like a former president. He sounded like a psychopath. ¡°You think we¡¯re gonna let you go back to your daddy after what you did?¡± The man fingered the side of his neck¡ªa place that was still bleeding from an earlier blow. ¡°Please,¡± Macey said, but Clinton just grabbed her arm. ¡°Come here.¡± ¡°No!¡± the senator shouted. ¡°Bill,¡± Bush said, ¡°Reagan needs you in the other room.¡± ¡°She¡¯s coming with me,¡± Clinton yelled over his shoulder. He marched Macey to the farthest, darkest corner of the room, where he made a great show of tying her to a chair, and the man in the Bush mask went back to walking slowly among the hostages and holding his weapon. If he had felt the hand that reached into the messenger bag he kept strapped across his chest, he didn¡¯t show it. If he thought it strange that Clinton had made such a scene of securing his hostage himself, he didn¡¯t question it. And when Macey whispered, ¡°Okay, Kat. You¡¯re on,¡± the fake President Bush didn¡¯t appear to hear a thing. In fact, in the darkness, none of the hostages seemed to notice when the air vent at the back of the ballroom slid slowly up. In fact, not a soul appeared to see the small girl who dangled out of the opening, her black hair and clothes disappearing in the shadows of the room. ¡°We missed our flight for Rome,¡± the upside-down girl said. The Clinton mask eased up and the boy behind it gave her a smile. ¡°I own the jet, remember? It¡¯ll wait.¡± ¡°Hi,¡± Kat said, shifting just a little to the girl at her boyfriend¡¯s side. ¡°Macey¡±¡ªHale gave a very Hale-ish grin¡ª¡°may I introduce Kat Bishop?¡± ¡°It¡¯s nice to meet you,¡± Macey said. The upside-down girl grinned and took a small package from Macey¡¯s hand. A moment later she was gone, into the air vent and scurrying away, perfectly at home in the black. Macey shook her head. ¡°Someday I¡¯ve got to introduce her to Cammie.¡± Chapter 8 NO ONE EVER KNEW WHO PULLED THE FIRE ALARM. No one ever really knew why. The men in the masks assumed it was either a glitch in the Athenia¡¯s system or the authorities trying to distract them, gain the upper hand. The authorities assumed the gunmen had tripped some kind of alarm, made a little mistake. But no matter who had caused it, the effects were still the same. In the ballroom, the hostages huddled together a little tighter, grew a little more anxious. In the Calloway apartment, the men dropped the Jaws of Life and ran back to the ballroom to check with their superiors. ¡°Shut that off!¡± Reagan yelled to the others. But the men looked at each other, dumbfounded, until, just like magic, the piercing sirens stopped, leaving the hotel in a silence that was now entirely too loud. ¡°What did you do?¡± Reagan asked. ¡°Nothing,¡± Bush said. Reagan looked around the dimly lit ballroom. The hostages sat huddled on the floor, tuxedo jackets resting around the shoulders of a few of the women. The professional bodyguards were zip-tied to pillars, and everyone was away from the windows. It looked like everything and everyone were exactly where they were supposed to be. But something in Reagan¡¯s posture was too rigid, like a man for whom time¡ªor maybe just patience¡ªwas running out. He shifted, scanning the ballroom until he was looking directly at the old woman with the white hair. To her credit, Mrs. Calloway didn¡¯t even blink when the man pointed a finger in her direction and said, ¡°Get her.¡± ¡°Let me try the drill again,¡± Obama said. ¡°We don¡¯t have time. Now get her!¡± Reagan shouted loud enough for all the room to hear. And then Bush walked across the ballroom floor and pointed to the little old lady who owned the big yellow diamond. ¡°Mrs. Calloway,¡± Bush said. ¡°Come with me.¡± ¡°No!¡± Mrs. Calloway¡¯s son shouted. He jumped to his feet and stood between the white-haired woman and the men. ¡°Where are you taking my mother? You can¡¯t¡ª¡± But before he could finish, Reagan struck him across the face with the butt of his weapon. ¡°We¡¯re not taking orders from you,¡± Reagan snapped, and the son fell silent. No one said a word as the old woman was pulled from the ballroom. They walked down the hall, Bush dragging the old woman beside him. ¡°Where are you taking me?¡± Mrs. Calloway demanded. ¡°What do you want?¡± ¡°No need to worry, ma¡¯am,¡± Reagan told her. ¡°We just need to have a little conversation.¡± But a conversation about what, no one ever got to ask, because as soon as they turned the corner that led to the Calloway residence, they heard Obama running toward them. ¡°What is it?¡± Reagan snapped. Obama came to a sudden stop and looked between the masked men and the old woman. His voice was soft, almost reverent, when he said, ¡°It¡¯s open.¡± ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Reagan snapped, pushing past Obama and into the Calloway apartment. The tools were still on the coffee table. The Jaws of Life lay exactly where the men had placed it. Only one thing was different when the men returned to Mrs. Calloway¡¯s formal living room, and for that reason they never had to ask her a single question. Because the safe on which they had been working for hours now sat with the door propped open, revealing the largest yellow diamond that any of them had ever seen. In the ballroom, things were changing, though no one really knew what. Or how. But the air was no doubt different when Mrs. Calloway strolled in, unharmed but obviously confused. The men were gathering their bags of loot and moving around the room with renewed purpose, making sure they were leaving nothing important behind, their work finally finished. ¡°Looks like your girl delivered,¡± Macey said through the unit in her ear. Across the room, she saw Hale shift toward her. ¡°She always does,¡± he said, his mouth invisible behind the Clinton mask he kept pulled down. But then Obama dropped a bag on the floor and shouted something in a language Hale didn¡¯t understand. ¡°What did he say?¡± Hale asked. ¡°It¡¯s time for Clinton to go check on the elevator,¡± Macey translated. Hale smiled. ¡°Glad to.¡± But Macey was already slipping out of the ties Hale had never tightened around her wrists. She was already taking off her broken shoe. ¡°Where do you think you¡¯re going?¡± Hale asked. He stopped. He looked at her. And even in the darkness there was a spark in Macey¡¯s eyes when she told him, ¡°To end it.¡± The SWAT team was careful in coming up the stairs, slowly clearing corners and making their way in the dark. It was a good thing, it turned out, or else they might have tripped over the man in the Obama mask, who sat handcuffed to the railing of the emergency exit stairs. When the team reached the Athenia¡¯s industrial-sized kitchen, they found the man who had started his evening in a Clinton mask bound and gagged and lying in a large walk-in refrigerator, right where Macey McHenry had left him. But it wasn¡¯t until the team finally breached the corridor that ran along the back of the ballroom that they heard banging and found Carter, Bush, and Reagan in a freight elevator that had been (in the SWAT team¡¯s professional opinion) booby-trapped, locking the men inside, a simple note taped to the outer doors, reading ¡°We were not the brains.¡± There was a satchel inside, filled with jewels and wallets, watches and the assorted valuables that the finest members of New York society had chosen to bring to the party. Only one thing was missing, it turned out. And that was the big yellow diamond. That, it seemed, was gone for good. The hostages were interviewed. The room was searched. But despite the best efforts of the NYPD and the FBI, it seemed the Calloway Canary had flown out of the ballroom that night and into the cold winter air, never to be seen again. The most beautiful ballroom in all of Manhattan was nothing but a maze of overturned chairs and broken dishes, a table full of European antiques and luxurious vacations that didn¡¯t seem quite as important or valuable as before, there at the end of the party. No, in the end, all that really mattered were the questions. ¡°I¡¯m very sorry to keep you here, Mrs. Calloway,¡± Abby said. She walked to where the older woman was sitting, patiently waiting to be set free, looking at the cops and federal officers that filled the room as if she¡¯d just traded one set of gun-wielding captors for another. ¡°We just have a few questions,¡± Abby said. ¡°Routine things, really. Like was the necklace insured?¡± ¡°Of course.¡± Mrs. Calloway practically huffed at the notion that there could be any doubt. ¡°In fact, the insurance people were the ones who insisted I have a fake made. They have rules about these things, you see.¡± ¡°And the fake is what you wore to the party?¡± Abby asked. ¡°It was. According to my policy, I either have to wear the fake or hire a guard whenever I wear it and that seemed like a lot of trouble. But when I saw those men and their guns¡­well, it was the first time I was ever grateful for insurance companies and their silly rules. But when those men pointed their guns at me and took me away¡­¡± The woman¡¯s face went whiter as she recounted the evening. ¡°I didn¡¯t know what to expect. I would have given them the safe combination.¡± She trembled slightly. ¡°I would have given them anything. But when we reached the apartment, I saw my safe was already open.¡­How was my safe open?¡± Page 7 ¡°I understand that there are perhaps a half dozen safecrackers in the world who could break that particular model.¡± Abby smiled a little, let her gaze drift to Kat. ¡°I suppose one of them must have been here tonight.¡± ¡°Yes.¡± Mrs. Calloway gripped the base of her throat, as if feeling for a necklace that was no longer there. ¡°I was¡­It wasn¡¯t what I was expecting. But I must admit I was grateful. I don¡¯t know what they would have done to me.¡± ¡°I understand.¡± Abby reached to pat the old woman¡¯s hand. ¡°Just one more question. I wonder how the men knew the necklace you were wearing wasn¡¯t the real Calloway diamond.¡± ¡°Well, I suppose they could just tell,¡± Mrs. Calloway said, but there was a new doubt in her voice. This was a question she hadn¡¯t thought to ask. ¡°But they brought equipment to get into the safe, which makes me wonder if maybe someone might have told them that you wouldn¡¯t be wearing the real necklace tonight?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± She shook her head and looked at her son. ¡°Michael?¡± ¡°Really, Agent Cameron.¡± Michael Calloway placed an arm protectively around his mother¡¯s shoulders. ¡°We have been through quite an ordeal tonight and¡ª¡± ¡°It wasn¡¯t with them,¡± Abby said, cutting him off. ¡°The Calloway Canary wasn¡¯t with the men when we searched them.¡± ¡°Well, that doesn¡¯t make any sense,¡± Mrs. Calloway said. ¡°I know, right?¡± Abby told her. ¡°Why break in, go to all this trouble, only to leave the grand prize behind? Unless¡±¡ªAbby lingered on the word¡ª¡°leaving it behind was the plan all along.¡± ¡°I¡­¡± Mrs. Calloway started. ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡± Abby stood and walked around the room. She eyed everything¡ªthe tables strewn with forgotten plates of food and burned-out candles; the stage, which was still covered in instruments the band hadn¡¯t yet returned to claim. And finally Abby¡¯s gaze came to rest on the long table covered with clipboards and items up for silent auction. ¡°Ooh,¡± Abby said, looking down at one. ¡°A week in a Tuscan villa? Jealous.¡± Abby giggled a little. She sounded more like a young woman than a government agent as she walked slowly down the table, fingering each item in turn. ¡°Oh, look,¡± she said, stopping. ¡°You won this one, Mr. Calloway.¡± Abby picked up the antique clock that Hale¡¯s mother had been examining earlier in the evening. She glanced back down at the clipboard. ¡°Looks like you were very aggressive. You must have really wanted it.¡± ¡°Well, I did,¡± the son said proudly. ¡°Eighteenth century. Not terribly valuable, but I¡¯m a collector, so I couldn¡¯t¡ª¡± ¡°Oops,¡± Abby said as she dropped the clock and it shattered on the floor. ¡°I¡¯m such a klutz,¡± she said, but no one was listening to the words¡ªthey were too busy staring down at the pile of rubble on the floor with the yellow necklace lying in the center. ¡°Well,¡± Abby said, ¡°I guess now we know why the gunmen didn¡¯t have the necklace with them. It looks like the man who planned the heist was meant to take it home all along.¡± There were protests and excuses, calls to attorneys and proclamations of innocence, but none of it really mattered at that point¡ªnot to Hale and not to Kat. Not even to Macey, who walked, barefooted, with her two new friends out of the elevator and into the palatial lobby of the Athenia Hotel. As the NYPD officers led the handcuffed man outside, only the tall dark-haired woman in the very trim suit seemed to look the three teenagers¡¯ way. ¡°Macey,¡± Abby Cameron said as she strolled in their direction, ¡°your mother and father would like a word with you. They¡¯d also like to give their thanks to Mr. Hale¡­.¡± Abby eyed him skeptically. ¡°Evidently, they are under the impression that he fought valiantly to save you. For the sake of your cover I would recommend you not correct them.¡± ¡°I never do,¡± Macey said, and started to saunter off. But at the last minute Macey stopped and turned. ¡°Thanks, Kat,¡± she said, then quickly added, ¡°Just so you know, I¡¯m not a hugger.¡± ¡°That¡¯s okay, Macey. Neither am I.¡± And then Macey McHenry flashed Kat a million-dollar smile. She looked like royalty as she asked, ¡°What are you doing next?¡± Kat shrugged. ¡°I might go to Rome. There¡¯s a Raphael there I kind of need to¡­acquire.¡± ¡°That¡¯s funny.¡± Macey laughed. ¡°There¡¯s an ambassador¡¯s son there I kind of need to kidnap. Maybe we¡¯ll see each other around.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Kat said. ¡°Maybe we will.¡± But as Macey and Hale walked across the lobby, Kat was certain that no one was going to see Macey¡ªthe real Macey¡ªon first glance. And Kat smiled at the fact. She totally knew the feeling. ¡°So, Kat,¡± Abby said slowly. She looked Kat squarely in the eyes and it was like the lobby went still. Abby had that effect on people and places, Kat had realized. Of her many secrets, one of them had to be that she had the power to make time stand still. ¡°It was a pleasure working with you tonight.¡± ¡°You too,¡± Kat said. ¡°Without you¡­¡± ¡°You would have been fine,¡± Abby said; then she seemed to realize the weight of the words. ¡°I mean it.¡± ¡°Thanks. But we might not have gotten this.¡± Then Kat reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a diamond necklace so bright and pure and brilliant that it seemed like the entire city of New York had to stop and watch it shimmer. ¡°Is that¡­¡± Abby started slowly. She seemed almost afraid to reach out for the stone. ¡°Oh,¡± Kat said. ¡°This is the real thing, all right. Here.¡± She held the necklace out for Abby to take, dangling ten million dollars away from her like she was worried the temptation might be too much. ¡°See that it gets back where it belongs, okay?¡± ¡°So you did swap it out for the fake?¡± Abby said as if part of her had been wondering. ¡°Of course,¡± Kat said. ¡°Hale and Macey slipped me the fake and then I left that for Reagan and his crew just in case. Plan D,¡± Kat said by way of explanation. ¡°Tell you what, Kat, I¡¯ll trade you,¡± Abby said, taking the necklace and slipping a piece of paper into Kat¡¯s small hand. ¡°It¡¯s my card.¡± ¡°¡®The Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women¡­¡¯¡± Kat read. ¡°It¡¯s a school?¡± ¡°Part school.¡± Abby cocked her head, considering. ¡°Part sisterhood.¡± ¡°And you¡¯re a teacher?¡± Kat didn¡¯t try to hide the skepticism in her voice, but Abby didn¡¯t seem offended. She just let her gaze drift across the room, a slow smile spreading across her face. ¡°Something like that.¡± Kat tried to read Abby¡¯s expression, but like so many things about her, it was shrouded in secrets. Still, Kat was certain there was far more to the story. She glanced from Macey to Abby and back again. ¡°Exactly what kind of school is the Gallagher Academy?¡± Kat asked. ¡°The kind that would welcome you in a heartbeat.¡± Abby folded Kat¡¯s fingers over the card and turned to leave. Neither of them spoke again. Neither of them had to. There was a subtle understanding already coursing between them. Maybe Macey was right and they would meet again. Then Kat thought about her new friends on the right side of the law and wondered whether that would be a good thing or a bad thing. But in the end she merely shrugged, knowing at the very least it would be interesting. Knowing, in her gut, it might just be the beginning.