Perfect Scoundrels (Heist Society 3)

She didn’t hear or feel or say a thing. Her own legs gave way and she was on the ground, damp grass bleeding through her jeans, freezing her, numbing her.

“No,” Garrett said. “It’s not true. It’s a trick. They’re con men,” he yelled, as if that could explain everything, make it all make perfect sense.

“That man’s dead,” a bystander said flatly, but Garrett just pushed him aside and stared for himself through one of the cameras trained on the falls below.

“He’s…He can’t be…” Garrett stumbled away from the sight, pale as ghost, but Kat kept crawling toward the ledge.

“I’ll go get him,” she said. “I’ll get him and then we can bring him to the hospital.…” She stumbled to her feet. “I have to get him.”

But she didn’t move—couldn’t move because Hale’s arms were around her so tightly her feet no longer touched the ground.

“Let me go, Hale. I have to go get him and help him up.”

“No, Kat. No.”

“Let me go!”

“No.” Fury faded, and Kat knew Hale wasn’t going to let her near the edge.

“I have to get him, Hale.”

“No,” he said, and held her tighter. “I have you.”

“Mr. Garrett,” the goon said. “We have to get you out of here.”

“He fell,” Garrett said.

“Your fingerprints are all over that case, sir, and now that case is lying by his body and covered with his blood. You have to leave. Now.”

They didn’t seem to care about the crying girl or the crumpled body. They just drove away, wheels spinning, the SUV disappearing into the mist.

Chapter 44

There wasn’t really a manhunt, not in the traditional sense. No one alerted Interpol. There were no roadblocks or Wanted posters. No one in a position of authority was going to care too much about the death of the king of the thieves.

Sure, the tabloids had all picked up on the news that Reginald Hale had gone over Niagara Falls, and by morning the rumors would be rampant; but for that night, at least, the streets were dark and the stove was cold. Kat couldn’t look at it. But she couldn’t look away either.

“Kat,” Hale told her, “you should get some sleep.”

“No.” She pushed his hand away.

“Come on. You’re going to need your strength tomorrow.”

But before Kat could protest, there was a knock on the door.

“That’s probably the boys,” Hale said, but he was wrong.

Kat knew as much as soon as she heard Natalie’s voice say, “Hey, Scoot.”

“Go away.” He tried to slam the door in her face, but Kat caught the edge, held it there, and glared at the girl on the stoop.

“What do you want?” Kat didn’t want to look the girl in the eyes, but she had to.

“I heard about what happened and… Are you okay, Kat?” Natalie asked.

“What do you want?” Kat said again.

“I’m so sorry, Kat. And Hale, I never thought my dad would forge a DNR. You’ve got to believe me.”

She reached for Hale’s hand, but he pulled it out of her grasp.

“I don’t have to do anything,” he said, and for a moment, Kat thought he might hit her. “But you have to leave.”

“No, Hale. Listen. I know…I know I did a terrible thing, but I never dreamed my father would hurt Hazel.”

“Really?” Hale was shouting, and Kat doubted he even knew it. “What did you think he would do?”

“I don’t know.” Natalie bit her lip. Her voice was barely a whisper. “I just… He’s not a strong man. He’s angry and bitter and… You don’t know what it’s like—being near you. All of you. The Hales. You’re larger than life, you know that, right? With your houses and your jets. You have everything.”

Hale stood trembling, and Kat thought about the boy in the Superman pajamas. He’d had nothing.

But Natalie talked on. “Then my dad told me about the prototype.” She shrugged as if she wasn’t sure who or what to believe anymore. “He was so desperate to get out from under your family’s shadow, so I said that if he felt the Hales owed him so much, he should do something about it.”

“But Hazel fired him,” Kat said. She thought about the carbon copy of the letter that she’d found in Hazel’s desk.

“Yeah.” Natalie nodded. She looked impressed that Kat knew. “He was just going to take the prototype and sell it and…no one was supposed to get hurt. No one was ever supposed to die.”

“That’s the thing about being a criminal,” Kat told her. “Nothing ever goes according to plan.”

“What do you want, Natalie?” Hale was deflating. It was like the fight was leaving his body, and all that was left was an empty, hollow shell.

“I’m sorry. And I just want to make it right.”

“You think you can say you’re sorry?” Hale yelled, and Kat knew that it must have felt good. Like crying. He must have wanted to purge all the excess emotion from his body, because he yelled louder. “You think that makes it okay?”

Natalie shook her head. Tears streamed down her face. “No. No. Of course not. I just—”

“What?” Hale yelled. “Tell me why I shouldn’t spend the rest of my life trying to destroy you.”

“The prototype,” Natalie blurted.

“I don’t care about the prototype.” Hale’s voice was flat and cold and even.

“You can still save the company,” Natalie said. “You can still do what Hazel would have wanted.”

“Don’t say her name,” Hale snapped. “You don’t have the right to say her name.”

“I know.” Natalie looked at the ground. “But if you want it, then you should know that my dad is meeting with a new buyer. In Switzerland. After…what happened…he knew he was going to have to disappear, so he decided to sell it. Now. Tomorrow. If you hurry, you can catch him.”

“Where is he?” Kat asked.

“Zurich. He’s meeting his buyer on the twelve-ten to Geneva. They’ll be in the last car on the train.”

Hale pushed away from the door and rushed down the hall. Kat couldn’t tell if he had calls to make or if he just couldn’t stand to be in Natalie’s presence one second longer. It didn’t matter. For a moment, Kat was alone with the girl from Hale’s past, the girl who had been there long before Kat had climbed through his window. Part of her wondered about what might have happened if she had never come and he had never left. Nat might have been perfect for him. For Scooter. But Scooter was gone. And despite everything, Kat felt sorry for Natalie. After all, most girls don’t get to choose their families.

“I really am sorry, Kat,” Natalie tried one last time, but Kat said nothing. She wasn’t in the mood to make peace. “If he ever decides to forgive me…”

“He won’t,” Kat said, and closed the door.

Chapter 45

When the man in the hat boarded the train, he looked like just another businessman, a banker perhaps. No one would have noticed him at all had it not been for the woman he was meeting. She was the kind of woman people couldn’t help but notice.

When she gripped his hand, people glimpsed her perfect nails and long, elegant fingers. When she said, “I’m so happy you called,” everyone in the first-class car listened to the light trill of the syllables that drifted up and down, as gentle as the jostling of the train.

“I’ve reserved a private car,” the man said, and led the way; but behind the sliding doors, there was no doubt the mood of the meeting changed.

A big, meaty man followed the pair into the private car and patted the woman down. She didn’t object, however. She raised her hands and waited, perfectly accustomed to such a scene.

And when she was finally free to take a seat, she crossed her long legs. “As I said, I’m so glad you called.” The woman smiled. “I’m also glad the terms have changed.”

“No, they—”

“Yes,” she said flatly, “they have. You wouldn’t be here if the price hadn’t taken a drop.… Fallen off a cliff, so to speak.”

The man swallowed hard. “It was an accident.”

“I’m sure it was,” the woman said. “And I’m equally sure that you can have a very nice life in exile. Now, do you have the device?”

He handed her the case that was on the seat beside him. She removed the prototype and plugged it into her phone, waited for the device to spring to life.

“And the schematics?”

He passed her a jump drive, which she plugged into a laptop. A second later, thousands of intricate formulas and designs flashed across the screen.

“If these are incorrect, my employer will make your retirement most…uncomfortable.”

Garrett shifted nervously, but said, “They work. I just want them gone. Trust me. I never want to see that prototype again.”

“Very well,” she said. “You have a deal.”

The man reached for his own laptop and logged on to the train’s wireless network. Soon the screen bore the logo of one of Switzerland’s most elite and secure banks. They each typed in a series of numbers, and a moment later, the woman held out her hand.

“It was nice doing business with you, Mr. Garrett.”

The man was sweating and breathing hard.

“Congratulations. You’re a very wealthy man,” she told him, then placed the jump drive and prototype back into the case, slid her purse onto her shoulder. “Enjoy your retirement.”

The train pulled to a stop and the woman stood and sauntered down the aisle, back into the first-class car and out the door. When she crossed the platform, briefcase in hand, the man in the hat was perhaps the only person on the train who wasn’t watching. He couldn’t keep his gaze off of his computer, clutching the machine with sweaty palms as if his whole life lay inside. And that was perhaps why he was the only person who didn’t see the teenage girl and boy who chose that moment to board the train themselves and were soon pushing their way into his private car.

When Garrett saw Hale, a flash of fear crossed his face, but then he actually smiled as he snapped his laptop closed. “You’re too late.” He gave a low, dry laugh.

Hale was rushing down the aisle as the train began to move, but Kat just stood at the door, wondering what kind of person could watch somebody die and then run for the hills, his only concern how much money he might have for the journey.

“Sorry, Scooter, it’s gone.” He placed his laptop in his bag and his bag on the seat beside him. “You tried. But it’s done.”

“You stole it,” Hale said.

“I took what I was owed!” the man shouted, and still Kat stood, searching his eyes for any sign of remorse, but all she saw was a cold and empty greed that no amount of money would ever satisfy.

“You think that company is your legacy?” Garrett challenged. “Your birthright? It’s a tomb.”