Caught

ALEX STARED AS JULIA rushed over to the door.

“What are you doing?”

“Someone took it,” she said, practically vibrating with tension. “It was here and they took it. It wasn’t an accident, they had to know what it was. We’ve got to catch them.” She clutched at the knob.

“And what then? Say, ‘Give it back pretty please’? No way. We call the guards.” Alex spun around to grab the nearest phone.

Only to hear silence. “It’s dead,” he said just as she said, “It’s locked.”

“What do you mean?” They spoke at the same time, stopped at the same time.

And stared.

Alex answered first. “The phone line’s dead. Did you hear anything about them taking the phones down this weekend?”

“I don’t recall, but we’ve got a bigger problem than that.” Julia twisted the black knob in her hand. “The door won’t open.”

“Try it again. It’s an old door. It’s probably stuck.”

“It’s not stuck.”

Impatiently, he strode over to give it a careless tug. He was surprised to feel it solidly unmoving. His eyes narrowed and he took a better grip and pulled.

It made no difference. Okay, not humorous. Alex twisted the handle, listening. “The knob’s moving. Maybe something’s out of whack with the linkage.”

Julia shook her head. “There shouldn’t be. They take good care of it. It’s hard to get the key in the right spot, but once you do, it turns smooth as—” She broke off.

“What?” Alex asked, but she was already leaning in to stare at the lock.

“I always leave the key in the lock when I come down here because it’s so hard to get it in the right spot on the tumblers.” She put her eye to the keyhole. “And it’s still there.”

“So what’s the big deal?”

She didn’t answer and he saw the familiar air of abstraction on her face. She could say all she wanted to that he didn’t know her, but he could see when her mind was vaulting along one of its lightning chains of thought.

She just wasn’t always good about clueing anyone else in.

He watched her cross to the tool bench and search its surface. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Julia? Help me out here.”

“I just want to check and see if…aha!” She held up a piece of thin wire triumphantly. “Here.” She came back over and threaded the wire between the door and jamb, then slid it up and back down along the edge of the wood. “The crack’s too narrow to see into but—” The motion of the wire stopped. “See? Something’s blocking the wire. It’s the bolt, thrown over. This door is locked.”

“So we unlock it.” It seemed simple enough, until he realized there was no thumbscrew below the knob for unlocking it from the inside. “What kind of damn fool locksmith doesn’t put a manual latch on the inside?” he growled.

“One who wanted things to be really safe.”

“Well, I’m feeling a little too safe. Let’s figure out how to unlock it.”

“I’m not sure it’s that easy,” she said slowly. “The key’s still in it.”

He felt the first flickers of frustration. “So? It’s an antique. How hard can it be? We get some tools and we pick it.”

“You can’t pick it. The key’s in the way. You can’t reach the tumblers.”

Alex reached for her wire. “Then we push the key out.”

“You can’t,” she said faintly. “Once it’s locked, you’ve got to turn the key back a full revolution to get it out of the keyhole. The end of the key has these flanges….”

He eyed Julia. “You’re not being very helpful.”

“It’s an incredibly complex but an incredibly good lock. That’s why they left it in place during all the renovations. There’s a line of safes over in the UK that are based on this design.”

“Well, we’ve got to figure out a way to get out.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. We’re not going to get out through that door without help.” She swallowed. “We’re locked in.”

ALLARD WALKED DOWN the street in the gathering twilight, sleek and satisfied as a cat with a dish of cream. She was his again, his. The days and nights of frustration meant nothing. Now he had only to slide his hand into his pocket to feel her, warm and smooth against his fingers.

It had been laughably easy to stay in the museum undetected, to watch, to wait. He’d expected to break into the woman’s office once night had fallen and the guards retired to their control room. Who’d have guessed she would make it so easy for him, walking out of her office with a box that so obviously held something precious?

Instinct had told him to follow. And there, his impatience had nearly betrayed him, when he’d almost found himself stumbled upon by the lovesick fool on her heels. Idiot, he could hear his father’s sneer. Amateur. Only quick reactions had let Jean whisk out of sight in the stairwell to pursue the woman’s pursuer.

Ultimately, it had been to his advantage, for he’d seen the cameras as the young fool had opened the door to the basement. Of course, a clever man carried a small, telescoping steel rod for just such occasions, a rod that could nudge a camera a crucial fraction of an inch, enough to leave a small area unmonitored without making a change large enough to alert the guards.

Once he’d done that, it had been easy to move down the hall undetected, to find them. Of course, taking the amulet had been almost no challenge at all with the two so absorbed in one another. Bah. Only a weak man lost sight of the world because of a woman. And weak men made mistakes—mistakes that could help him.

He’d listened as their discussion had quieted, crept into the outer room as they’d touched one another among the books. And he’d watched a moment, as any man would, savoring the gleam of the woman’s bare breasts and feeling his body tighten as she moaned.

But he had not come there for pleasure. He’d come for the amulet, and when he’d opened the box to see the glowing ivory of the White Star, he’d nearly shouted aloud in triumph. He hadn’t, though. Instead, he’d tucked the box into his jacket and stolen to the door, turning the key behind him. He’d already taken a moment to provide them with a few…challenges.

And now, he was on the street in the growing darkness, the place he had always felt most strong. And he was strong. He’d recovered his prize. She would bring him pleasure, she would bring him respect.

And she would bring him rewards beyond measure.

JULIA’S FISTS ACHED from hammering the heavy oak door. Tired and hoarse from yelling, she tucked her little fingers in her mouth and blasted a shrill whistle.

Alex paused in what he was doing to give her a startled glance. “Where’d you learn that?”

“Summer camp.”

“Not just another nice society girl,” he observed.

She hammered at the door again, cursing a blue streak. Alex raised his eyebrows. “Definitely not another nice society girl.”

“I can’t believe no one’s coming.”

“It’s Friday night,” he said mildly. “Everyone’s long gone.”

“Did you try the other phones?” she asked.