Unearthed Treasure (4 page)

Kent paused a second until both Chelsea and David stepped forward. When he saw them move he turned and continued over to stand beside his usual seat at the head of the bench.

Thaddeus and Luke had already taken their seats. A gentleman to his core, David paused beside his seat as Chelsea drew the strap of her satchel over her head, placed the bag at her feet and sat. Only then did David also sit. Phillipe remained standing.

“In part you’re completely right, Atchison,” Kent said. His body appeared completely relaxed but Chelsea wasn’t fooled. It was clear that David didn’t believe the danger was completely passed either—his body remained alert and tense. Phillipe, in contrast, leaned onto his chair, one hand clasped around the backrest, one leg casually crossed in front of the other, the very picture of an indolent dandy of times past.

“The Gallery, as I’m sure you’re aware, has a standard procedure for how to respond to such attacks like we performed today. Part of that is to ferry the most highly prized articles—those with mammoth insurance policies and delicate items on loan from notoriously volatile countries like Africa and the Middle East—and spirit them immediately away to be locked in the depths of the vault. As you so astutely pointed out, it’s damn near impossible, not to mention impractical for our purposes, for us to attempt entrance into that area.”

Chelsea nodded when Kent paused, seeming to want a response from her. After her acknowledgement he continued, “What interested us, however, was another section of this procedure, where it explains in detail how, while they do triple security, tighten patrols and go on a higher level of alertness, this is simultaneously their greatest flaw.”

Phillipe’s tone had turned decidedly smug now. Chelsea repeated his words in her head, looking for something she seemed to be overlooking. At first his meaning was too subtle to pick up on, but then the germ of an idea began to form.

“We’re not after a high risk target,” she surmised.

David didn’t move so much as a hair beside her, so she couldn’t understand why she had the distinct impression that he’d had a light-bulb moment go off in his brain. Not daring to risk a glance at him—they weren’t free and clear just yet—she kept her focus upon Phillipe. Surprisingly, though, a part of her was perpetually aware of David, almost a sixth sense that remained drawn to her partner.

Making a mental note to examine that feeling in more depth later, Chelsea smiled when Kent gave her a small round of applause.

“Exactly, my girl.” He beamed like she was his new prize student. “Yes, there will be more heightened security, and many more bodies roaming the corridors—but only selected corridors. Rounds through the larger exhibits will double, and adrenaline will have those poor sods trigger happy and itching to prove themselves and earn a bonus. But it will be focused upon all the well-known, far more expensive sections.”

“That corridor housing the local Art College’s award winners will be practically empty.” Luke spoke for the first time that afternoon. “It won’t be isolated or ignored, but they will be paying far less attention to it, and the rounds will be farther apart than usual.”

“So by attacking early, heightening security and awareness, you’ve effectively now created less resistance for us to bypass in a couple of sections,” Chelsea summarised. “That’s pretty ballsy. Are you certain it worked?”

“We’ll find out tonight,” Kent answered with a smirk. He picked up two thin folders and tossed them down the table at her and David. Chelsea reached forward, David leaning at the same time to collect his.

“The Boss wants us to collect one of Cézanne’s lesser known works. These are the details,” Kent explained. “It’s actually left over from last year’s huge European Post-Impressionist exhibit. Most of the larger works have been returned and scattered, but the owner of this particular piece has been away sunning themselves in a small, tax-free island hideaway and gave permission for the Gallery to keep it for now. It’s in the equivalent of a small, forgotten back corner.”

“A Cézanne hidden away in the corner?” Chelsea repeated, hardly able to imagine it.

“It’s one of his earlier works,” Phillipe replied with a disinterested shrug. “Not in his prime. Regardless, it’s one of the few sections we noticed where the lesser quality works are held and should be a fairly simple piece to acquire. It’s why we attacked this morning to set this plan in motion.”

“The Boss wants a second-rate, almost forgotten piece of art?” David spoke up for the first time. “Out of every piece inside the famous National Gallery he wants this? Why?”

Kent glared at David, his dislike for her partner clear to see.

“Does it matter? The money is good, the risk is now minimal. Maybe he likes Cézanne, or his Missus wanted one for her birthday. You’ll get to meet him and that’s what you’ve been angling for, right?”

“It’s the only way to set up our own cell,” David replied placidly.

“Oh that’s right,” Kent sneered. “Mr High and Mighty wants to be his own boss, only he doesn’t have the connections or balls for it. You know, it’s hard to trust you when you’ve never even pretended to want to be on this team. You’re here to set out for yourself. And you wonder why I’ve got my suspicions about you?”

“Sometimes two personalities clash. It’s a fact of life,” David pointed out.

“Right. And I’m just your stepping stone to the next level up. Well, you seem to have attracted his attention. He mentioned you, specifically, last time we communicated. Seems the Boss was curious why you didn’t kill that girl and save him the trouble.”

Chelsea frowned, worried at the turn the conversation had suddenly taken. If it was about what she thought, this could be dangerous for them all.

“What girl?” she asked, playing dumb and hoping it was something else entirely.

“The pretty little blonde thing who saw him burying evidence related to this heist.”

Tension knotted in her stomach for the first time. This was obviously what had been lurking in the background—the reason she hadn’t been able to fully relax even after they’d been over the ’test’ earlier that morning. Subconsciously at least she’d understood there was more to come.

If she were honest with herself, though, the real reason her belly was now tied in knots wasn’t because Kent was again questioning their loyalty to their team and the mission. It was because the man’s eyes rested solidly, unwavering upon David.

Chelsea didn’t mind having to talk quickly, to unravel something seemingly unexplainable. In a twisted sense she got a lot of pleasure from doing just that—it was one of the reasons she loved espionage and her job in general. But knowing it was David, not she, who was now under the microscope had her breaking out into a cold sweat of fear for him.

Reminded of the mammoth handgun tucked away in her satchel, she reassured herself that this wasn’t David’s first day on the job. Just as she needed him to trust that she could handle herself, so too did she need to have unshakeable faith in him. She forced a smile to her face, carefully relaxing her posture in the seat to indicate not a single iota of concern.

It was one of the hardest things she’d ever had to do. The gut-deep instinct to leap to her partner’s defence beat at her. Instead, she kept herself ready to spring into action should it all go to hell, while looking as if the two men were discussing the weather.

“What about her?” David asked in his calm, soft-toned way.

“You were compromised,” Kent growled. “Now, I know you think you’re hot shit, that you’re ready for the big leagues. Somehow, though, I’d thought even you had enough brain cells rattling around that tiny head of yours to realise if someone catches you burying evidence, you do something about it. Something constructive and…permanent.”

“Killing someone is a big deal,” David replied after waiting a short pause. “I’ve found something so irreversible always creates more problems than it solves. Friends and family ask difficult questions. They hassle the local police until they dig deeper just to get them off their backs. Ex-lovers vow revenge and even mild-mannered people can become flaming furies when they feel they’ve been hard done by. I’ve found such permanent measures rarely end the matter there and the problem remains unsolved.”

“But that’s just my point. As far as I can see you aren’t solving this ‘problem’ at all.”

“On the contrary.”

Chelsea shivered lightly as David’s tone turned positively arctic. Kent’s needling appeared to be getting beneath her partner’s skin. She remained silent and didn’t move, not wanting to make matters worse. It might be her personal bias, but she felt David had made a few good points and certainly seemed to be holding his own against their leader.

“I’ve been keeping close tabs on the woman,” David continued. “Should she pose a genuine threat I’ll deal with it.”

“What were you doing burying such sensitive data, anyway?” Luke asked, stepping in for the minute.

David turned his attention to the other man. Thaddeus, Chelsea noticed, appeared extremely bored by the whole byplay. He repeatedly flipped a small throwing knife up and over. The blond man’s lips moved as he appeared to count the number of rotations he could perform before needing to catch the knife in his palm.

“As I’m sure you’re aware,” David replied with an icy calm, “data like this is an investment. I’m certain we aren’t the only team to have ever wanted such details. You don’t destroy information like this. It has perpetual utility. Some people use bank vaults, others deposit boxes. I’ve heard of some who even prefer under abandoned houses or similar such places. I prefer to go to the middle of the boondocks and bury it. The chances of someone hunting it down are far smaller than anything else I just mentioned.”

“Except this time someone was there,” Kent snapped.

“Obviously more than one ‘someone’ was there,” David pointed out harshly. “I saw those men who tried to kidnap her. I presume those were the amateurs you sent? They were easy to lose.”

Kent pressed his lips together angrily but didn’t say anything.

David nodded as if the man had admitted doing so. “I thought so. So you’re prepared to hang me for not ‘dealing’ with her, when the idiot you sent couldn’t keep her in hand? How very magnanimous of you.”

There was a lengthy silence as David and Kent glared at each other. Kent looked away first and huffed out a breath. Chelsea again felt the tension seep out of the room. Her instincts told her they were through the worst of it now. They’d reacted to the betrayal earlier in the morning, walked the fine line for the power play about being kept out of the loop. Now Kent had aired his annoyance about them—or more properly David—not doing anything about Jennifer having accidently witnessed his actions.

“I’ve found not being proactive bites you on the arse in the long run,” Kent said grudgingly. It sounded more of a parting shot than an opening volley to a new argument.

David nodded, cool and calm once again, his voice sounding at a low tone. “Then it will be my arse, not yours.”

There was silence again, but this time it was far less tense, a more normal quiet as they all adjusted their composure.

“So,” Chelsea spoke again as the moment drew out, “are we going to make a plan for tonight? Or would you prefer to take some more pot shots at David and me?”

“Let’s get to business,” Luke said. They all stood once again and crowded around the tables as Kent cleared his throat and gathered some of the blueprints together.

Chapter Three

The crew had gone over the specs until Thaddeus had appeared to decide he’d had enough. He pushed away from the trestle tables with such force that it rattled the thin plywood, then he stood up and glared at the group of them, daring them to object.

“I’ve had it. We’ve gone over this to death. We all know what we’re doing. We’ll know in four hours whether it was good enough. I’m going to the pub.”

“We could all use a bit of downtime,” Kent agreed with a glance at his watch. “We rendezvous in three hours, at the stationing point. No one be late—or drunk—or else. We’ll do our final checks then, before we commit. Any last questions?”

Chelsea looked around the gathered crew, a faint hum of anticipation singing in her veins. They were really going to do this. She felt excited. The nerves would come later.

“Okay then, let’s go.” Kent dismissed them with a clap of his hands.

Thaddeus was already crossing the large warehouse before Kent had finished speaking. David and Chelsea both stood at a more luxurious pace. Luke remained in his seat, but sketched them a friendly wave goodbye as they gathered their things and left the building.

They didn’t speak until David pulled away from the kerb. Only once they were clear did Chelsea speak her thoughts.

“Do you trust Phillipe to honour his word, to bring us to the meeting once we’ve helped steal the Cézanne?”

“You’re thinking if he tested us once he thinks we’ll lower our guard now?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time one member of a crew killed everyone else to get the glory and money for himself,” she pointed out in what she hoped was a reasonable—and not paranoid—manner.

David seemed to think about this for a time.

“My thoughts are that we need to take the gamble anyway,” he finally said. “We’ve come this far—we’re so close to finally working out who the head of this smuggling ring is. I’d hate to give up now we’re nearly finished.”

Chelsea nodded, understanding.

“We’ll watch each other’s back,” she said, “so Kent won’t get the drop on us. Where are we headed?”

“Anywhere you like,” David said with that glorious lilt to his tone. Chelsea caught his gaze and grinned. Heat shot through her belly. His dark eyes roamed over her, making her flush like a novice.

“Don’t crash the car,” she murmured, her tone husky with her growing need. “I’d never forgive you if you didn’t pay up what you’ve been promising. My place is closer. If you don’t need to pick anything up let’s go there.”

“Your place it is,” he replied. The sensual note of promise in his voice had her shifting in her seat, her knickers now uncomfortably tight and damp.