Kat turned to see a perfectly planned garden spread out along one side of a massive estate. Smoke spiraled from at least three chimneys. She imagined that somewhere in that grand old building, Marcus would soon be preparing soup and tea.
She missed Uncle Eddie.
They started for the great stone house, the weight of what they had to do settling down on them.
“Mr. Stein—” Kat started, but Hale cut her off.
“Don’t think about it.”
“They aren’t Taccone’s paintings, Hale.”
He stopped her. Her arms felt especially small in his hands as he held her there, staring into her eyes. “First, we save your dad, Kat.” There was an urgency in his voice that made Kat forget to fight as Hale narrowed her options down to one. “First, we rob the Henley.”
He put his arm around her and led her toward the house where W. W. Hale the First had been born.
“We’re gonna need people,” Kat said as Marcus opened the big double doors. “People we can trust,” she added.
Hale nodded and walked her down the ornate hall, pausing before a pair of sliding doors. He pushed them aside, revealing a two-story library, a warm fire, and the familiar faces of the Bagshaw brothers, Simon, and Gabrielle.
“You mean, like them?”
Chapter 17
The assembly of a crew is a monumental event in a young thief’s life. There are meetings and phone calls. Plans, and occasionally, a celebratory cake. Normal families have graduations. Thief families have this. Kat should have felt a little cheated that she’d missed out on all the fun. But she didn’t.
She looked at Hale. He shrugged. “I had a hunch.” And then he helped himself to one of the finger sandwiches that Marcus was circulating around the room, popping it whole into his mouth, barely taking time to chew before reaching for the tray again.
No one shook hands or said hello. Kat’s friends looked as if they were prepared to stay all night, planning. And even though they were essentially in a circle, Kat saw the way they watched her, and for the first time in her life, she knew what it felt like to be at the head of the table.
“Thanks for coming.” She took a step closer, gripped the back of a Queen Anne chair. “I’ve got sort of a job.”
“I knew it!” Hamish exclaimed. “I told Angus when we saw you at Uncle Eddie’s that something was happening— didn’t I? So what is it?” He rubbed his hands together. “Jewelry store?”
“Maybe a bank job?” Angus guessed.
Hamish nodded. “You know I do adore a proper bank heist. They’re so preferable to . . . improper ones.”
“It’s not a job like anyone here has ever done before,” Hale said, giving the Bagshaws a look that said quite clearly there would be no need for anyone to interrupt Kat again.
In that moment, the room seemed to find a new energy. Simon’s fingers twitched. The brothers leaned closer. Even Gabrielle seemed to be giving her cousin her full attention as Kat searched their eyes and drew a breath.
“Whatever we do next,” she blurted, “we do without Uncle Eddie’s blessing.”
No one responded at first. Then Hamish looked at his big brother, smiling, as if waiting for permission to laugh. It had to be a joke, after all. But Gabrielle was stoic, and Simon was mumbling about Vegas, and growing pale. And, most of all, something had pulled Kat back into their world.
Hale dimmed the lights and turned on the television. The same black-and-white video that had been haunting Kat’s dreams started to play.
“This is a private villa in Italy.” The frame froze on the empty gallery-style room. “And I mean private.”
“How do we get in?” Angus asked, inching closer to the screen.
Hale and Kat looked at each other. She shook her head. “We don’t.”
Then, as if on cue, the man they called Romani came onto the screen. “Someone has already done us that favor.”
They watched the artist work for a few moments.
“Hey, Kat,” Simon started, “is that—”