We used a crew vehicle to drive to the mark's address.
I knew it wasn't right to call her "the mark." She was a woman with a name, one who was about to have her home violated and her possessions stolen just because she was out for the evening trying to take revenge on a philandering husband. But, like an undercover cop, I had to get my hands dirty in this job.
Shifting into the gang's mentality was easier than it should have been. I'd been hanging out with Karl too long and, while I often argued with him about the moral bankruptcy of thievery, I'd come to understand and accept it. He'd been raised by a thief, knew no other life, and he needed the adrenaline rush to work off the more uncivilized urges of a werewolf.
On an intellectual and moral level, I knew what I was about to do was wrong. But on a physical and emotional level? I couldn't wait to get started.
OUR MARK LIVED in a luxury high-rise. From Karl's lessons, I knew this would be tougher than breaking into a single-family dwelling. The only safe route in was through the patio door. Fortunately, with a third-floor apartment, that didn't require much skill or equipment. It helped that the balcony overlooked a tree-shrouded auxiliary parking lot. Once we'd donned our black hoodies and pants, we'd be invisible.
Jaz and Sonny agreed I should go up first and take a look while they stood guard. I made it to the balcony easily. The French doors couldn't be opened with the keys, but it was such a simple lock that a credit card would do the trick. It couldn't be that easy. I peered through the glass. Beside the front door, a light blinked on a security panel.
I pulled out the minibinoculars hoping I could identify the alarm type. When I did, I bit back a laugh. Cheap bastards.
A count to three, then I unlocked the door, threw it open and sprinted across the room. As I disabled the alarm, my heart sped from a canter to a full-out gallop.
I should have called Sonny up for a second opinion so if anything went wrong, I wouldn't shoulder the blame alone. But there was no time for that now. In less than a minute, this alarm would go off.
The pressure and the doubts should have made me fumble or hesitate. But the risk only added to the exhilaration. Then came those final few seconds, when I knew I was pushing the limit, either I'd succeed or I'd fail and I wouldn't get another chance because if I did fail, the alarm would sound and--
The blinking light turned off.
I leaned against the wall, trembling. Bliss. I smiled and closed my eyes, telling myself I needed to catch my breath but savoring every lick of chaos to the sweet end.
Then I waved Jaz and Sonny up and we set to work.
It quickly became apparent that these guys were no petty stereo-and-TV thieves. They knew what could be turned over fast, for the most profit, and they knew where to find it. Quick and clean--anything that didn't fit in the knapsacks stayed behind.
Most of what we took came from the safe. Like the locks and security system, it was a cheap one--a prop to scare off amateurs. It locked with a key, and we found one in our handful of duplicates.
I made a few suggestions, mostly about covering our tracks and leaving a tidy scene, so the owner wouldn't walk in to ransacked drawers--all tips from Karl.
Most of Karl's training had been theory, mingled with safe practice, like breaking into council delegates' homes with their consent. A flat line on the chaos monitor.
The theft with Jaz and Sonny couldn't have been more different. Sonny was enjoying himself, but Jaz was stoked--trumpeting every new find as if he'd discovered buried treasure, darting in to check our progress, prowling the apartment, peering out the windows for danger...and almost seeming disappointed when he didn't find it. He threw off chaos waves so strong and sharp I shivered each time he came near.
I found a dusty jewelry box on the top shelf of the closet--antique stuff that probably came from an estate. Sonny helped me sort through it, leaving the costume pieces behind. Then Jaz burst into the room.
"Got trouble, bro," he whispered to Sonny. "We're cutting it close to Guy's time limit and there's a couple fighting in the back parking lot. We'll have a helluva time getting off the balcony."
Sonny doused his flashlight, lifted the bedroom blind and looked out. "Shit."
"I know."
Jaz tried to keep his tone sober, but his eyes gleamed. I could feel the adrenaline pounding through him and turned my face into the shadows so he wouldn't see my response. When I glanced back at the guys, Jaz had his face averted, hands stuffed in his pockets, trying to play the cool professional. For my benefit, I presumed.
"Should we wait or go out the front?" I asked.
"Front's easier leaving than entering," Sonny said.
As we talked, Jaz rocked on the balls of his feet, saying nothing, as if knowing he couldn't be trusted to come up with the safest answer.
"They're still fighting," Sonny said after one last look out the window. "You guys got everything?"
We nodded.
"Then let's go."
I WENT FIRST, sprinting across the hall with my hood pulled up, face down. A survey of the stairwell showed only one camera, at the bottom and easy to pass unnoticed.