But Kat barely heard. She was too busy scanning the casino. Tourists in fanny packs sat in rows at slot machines. Waitresses glided through the crowd. It was easy to feel alone there, lost in the chaos. But Kat was a thief. Kat knew better.
She patted the cylindrical case in her hands and looked at the boys beside her. “Let’s go find a blind spot.”
As they walked through the maze of the casino floor, Kat couldn’t help but notice a slight bounce in Simon’s step as he chatted on about the lecture, the advances in technology. The geniuses and legends who’d given talks that morning at breakfast.
“You know you’re smarter than all of them, right?” Hale said flatly. “In fact, if you wanted to prove it . . .” He glanced at the blackjack tables.
Simon shook his head. “I don’t count cards, Hale.”
“Don’t?” Hale smiled. “Or won’t? You know, technically, it’s not illegal.”
“But it’s frowned upon.” Sweat beaded at Simon’s brow. He sounded like someone had just suggested he swim after eating . . . run with scissors. . . . “It is seriously frowned upon.”
They found a table outside, near the edge of the crowded pool, away from cameras and guards.
Simon dragged his chair beneath an umbrella. “I burn,” he explained as Kat took the seat across from him. He took a deep breath, as if working up the courage to ask, “Is it a job?”
Hale stretched out on a lounge chair, his eyes hidden behind dark shades. “More like a favor.”
Simon seemed to deflate, so Kat added, “For now.”
The desert air was dry, but there was no denying the smell of chlorine—and money—as Kat rolled the blueprints out onto the glass tabletop.
Simon leaned over the plans. “Are these the Macaraff 760s?”
“Yep,” Hale answered.
He whistled in the same way Hale sometimes whistled, but Simon’s sounded more like a wounded bird.
“That’s a lot of security. Bank?” he guessed. Kat shook her head. “Government?” Simon guessed again.
“Art,” Kat said.
“Private collection,” Hale added.
Simon glanced up from the table. “Yours?”
Hale laughed. “I wish.”
“Is it our objective to make it yours?” Simon’s eyes grew wide.
Hale and Kat exchanged a look. Hale’s grin seemed to admit that the thought had crossed his mind. Then he leaned closer and said, “It’s not exactly a typical operation.”
Simon wasn’t fazed; his mind was too full of theories and algorithms and exponential alternatives for typical to have any meaning for him anymore.
He studied the blueprints in silence for ten minutes, before looking up at Kat. “In my professional opinion, I’d say it’s a pass. Unless this place is Fort Knox. Wait a second.” His eyes shone. “Is it Fort Knox?”
“No,” Hale and Kat said in unison.
“Then I wouldn’t hit it,” he said, pushing the blueprints away.
“It’s already been hit,” Kat confided.
“Your dad?”
“Why does everyone keep saying that?” Kat exclaimed.
Hale took off his sunglasses to look Simon in the eyes. His voice barely carried over the sounds of the laughter and splashes from the pool. “We would like very much to know who hit it.”