“Okay, Kat. Just calm down,” Gabrielle was saying, but Kat couldn’t answer—couldn’t even pull her eyes and mind away from the desk that was inches away. There was nothing but a soft velvet rope between Kat and the beautiful mahogany piece that bore the label FROM THE ESTATE OF HAZEL HALE.
Part of Kat wanted to jump over the rope, kick and claw at the desk—break it into a million pieces if she had to. Find the will, and be gone. Of course, she knew a basic Smash and Grab would never work at the Henley. Still, a part of her wanted to try.
“Are you ready, Kitty?” Hamish asked. “Kat?”
She took a deep breath. And said, “I’ve seen enough. Let’s go.”
Chapter 12
If Carlos’s apartment had seemed cold to Kat when she first saw it, then the following night the room felt absolutely frigid.
The London skyline was perfectly clear through the tall glass walls, with the London Eye spinning around and Big Ben overlooking the House of Commons. Kat was a hundred stories above it all, hidden in a fortress of steel and glass, and yet she couldn’t help feeling entirely too conspicuous, like anyone and everyone could see what they were doing. Even though Hale was on the other side of the Atlantic, Kat still wished she could draw the blinds.
“So what do we know?” Gabrielle asked. In the reflection of the windows, Kat saw her cousin sashay into the room.
“They’ve changed their guard patterns,” Hamish said.
“And most of their guards,” Angus added. “Which I don’t mind at all, I can tell you. One of those blokes was bound to remember me, handsome as I am.”
“Simon?” Gabrielle asked, but he just kept staring at the computers spread out on the table in front of him. It was like he didn’t hear a thing.
“Simon!” Gabrielle shouted.
“Yes.” He bolted upright, startled. “Yeah. Okay. Do you want the good news or the bad news?”
“Good,” everyone but Kat said in unison.
“Oh.” He deflated.
“What?” Kat asked.
“I don’t really have good news; I was just hoping to soften the bad,” he said.
“Just tell it like it is, Simon,” Kat said.
“Well, they’ve changed their cameras since we hit them last fall,” he began.
“That’s good news there, isn’t it?” Hamish tried.
“These have facial-recognition software,” Simon added. “So…no. But I don’t think they have any records of our faces from last time, so…hey…that’s good news!”
He seemed so happy, so proud of himself. And Kat couldn’t be still a moment longer. She started to pace.
“Cat in the Cradle?” Gabrielle said.
“We don’t have Hale,” Hamish said.
“You could do it,” Gabrielle challenged.
“Do I look like a classically trained violinist to you?” he asked, and Gabrielle didn’t broach the subject again.
“Then what about an Ace’s Wild?” Simon said.
Angus scooted forward. “With a little Count of Monte Cristo?”
“Exactly,” Simon said, excited.
“Yes.” Gabrielle crossed her arms. “That is the perfect way to remind everyone at the Henley that we were the kids locked in a supposedly abandoned gallery when the Angel was stolen.”
“Maybe that back door into their computer system is still there,” Simon said, and Kat could practically hear his palms sweating. “If it is, maybe I could—”
“Chill, Simon,” Gabrielle said, looping an arm around his shoulders. “Breathe.”
“But—” he started, and Kat cut him off.
“They closed that back door before they plastered over the nail the Angel hung on. No one is ever going to use that again.”
Simon hung his head, mourning the fact that a most excellent security breach had had to die for their last mission to live.
The silence stretched out, wrapping around them like the city skyline on the other side of the glass. It felt for a moment like they were floating, suspended, flying down the Thames. Kat prepared herself to feel the crash.
“’Course, we could do this the easy way.” Angus sounded like he’d been waiting hours for someone—anyone—to state the obvious.
“An easy way?” Kat said. “To rob the Henley?”
“An easy way to get into the Hale desk in the Henley.” Hamish was up and walking purposefully across the room. “If only we knew someone. Someone named…”
“Hale?” his brother guessed.
“Precisely,” Hamish said.
“No,” Kat told them with a quick shake of her head.
“I know ol’ Hale is busy, Kitty Kat,” Angus talked on, “but he’d come if you called him.”
“No,” Kat said, walking toward the coffeepot in the kitchen. She was tired of being cold. “I won’t call him.”
“Fine, then,” Angus said, following. “I’ll call him. I bet even the Hale of Hale Industries would be glad to jump on that corporate jet and…what’s the word?”
“Jet,” his brother supplied.
“Yes, jet over to help. He’d be—”
“No!” Kat snapped, then drew a deep breath. Her hands began to shake, so she set the coffeepot down. “Hale can’t help, okay? He just can’t.”
“And why would that be?” Simon asked.
“Because, technically, Hale doesn’t know we’re here,” Gabrielle said.
Kat felt the truth of it wash around the room until, finally, Angus had to ask, “Then who does know?”
“What?” Angus asked.
Gabrielle met her cousin’s eyes, and finished. “Help.”
Chapter 13
In a continent of beautiful places, there was always something Kat liked about Brussels. The Royal Palace. The river Senne. Cathedrals and ancient buildings as far as the eye could see. So she sat on a bench and sipped her coffee, waiting until the church bells chimed three o’clock.
Kat could imagine those big gears turning, moving the hands of the clock and then setting off a chain reaction down the street and across the city, all the way to the halls of St. Christopher’s Academy. By the time the bells had finished, the big double doors were swinging open and a tide of blue blazers and book bags emerged. But Kat stayed on her bench, watching, waiting, until one boy appeared among the masses.