Double Crossed(21)
“Don’t get used to it.”
He shook his head. “Oh, I won’t.”
The whisperlike purr of the engine filled the car as it snaked through the countryside.
“Why’d you do it, Hale?”
“You don’t belong in that place.”
“Why’d you do it?” she asked again, her patience wearing thin. “I’m not joking, Hale.”
“Neither am I, Kat.”
“You’ve got—”
“A job for you,” Hale said. “And only you,” he added before she could protest.
The hills were growing steeper. Leaves scattered in the wind, and in the distance, the sun glistened off a lake. But Kat didn’t take her eyes off Hale as she said, “I don’t want a job.”
“You’ll want this one.”
“I’m out of the family business. Or haven’t you heard?”
“Fine.” Hale crossed his arms and sank deeper into the seat. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Kat could have sworn he was already half asleep when he asked, “But are you out of the family?”
Of all the houses the Hale family owned, W. W. Hale the Fifth’s favorite wasn’t the penthouse on Park Avenue (too pretentious), or the flat in Hong Kong (too noisy), or even the mansion on Martha’s Vineyard (entirely too much sand). No, the youngest Hale was only truly fond of the old, six-hundred-acre estate in rural New York. At least, that was the only place where Kat had ever heard him say…
“We’re home.”
The foyer was two stories tall and stretched in front of them for at least thirty feet. Hale walked ahead of her, hurrying past the Monet in the hall as if that would keep her from noticing it—or stealing it. He gestured toward the stairs. “Marcus put you in the blue room. You can go upstairs if you want. Or we can go out to the veranda and have Marcus bring you something to eat. Are you hungry? I didn’t even ask. Do you want—”
“I want you to tell me what’s going on.”
After hours of watching the New England countryside roll by, and listening to Hale snore, Kat was finished with plotting and strategizing how to get her boarding school life back. She was out of options, so she called upon every thief’s oldest and most trusted method for getting what she wants: Ask nicely.
“Please, Hale.”
But he didn’t answer. He was too busy walking down the main hall, guiding Kat into a dim room that she had never seen before. Moonlight cascaded through the windows that lined one wall. There were bookshelves and leather sofas, brandy decanters and the stale smell of old cigars and even older money. There was no doubt in Kat’s mind that it was an important room. For important men. And yet Kat brushed past Hale without a second thought…until she saw the painting.
Stepping toward it was like approaching a window into another country, another century. She studied the rich colors and strong brushstrokes. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, staring at the work of an Old Master in the moonlight.
“It’s Vermeer.”
Kat turned to the boy who lingered in the doorway. “It’s stolen.”
“What can I say?” Hale eased behind her and studied the painting over her shoulder. “I met a very nice man who bet me that he had the best security system in Istanbul.” His breath was warm on the back of her neck. “He was mistaken.”
Kat stayed perfectly still as Hale walked to the desk in the far corner of the massive room, picked up a telephone and said, “Marcus, we’re home. Could you get some—Yeah. The library.” He held his hand over the receiver. “Do you like corned beef?” Kat glared at him, but he only smiled. “She loves it!” he exclaimed. He hung up and collapsed onto one of the leather sofas as if he owned the place, which, Kat had to remind herself, he did.
“So,” Hale said with a slow, easy grin, “did you miss me?”
A good thief is always a great liar. It’s part of the skill set, the tools, the craft. And at that moment, Kat thought it was probably a very good thing she’d walked away from the life, because when she said, “No,” Hale just smiled wider.
“It really is good to see you, Kat.”
“You might want to remember who I am before you try to con me.”
“No.” Hale shook his head. “You might want to remember who you are. You want to go back to Colgan, is that it? After I saved you from that place?”
“Colgan wasn’t so bad. I could have been normal at Colgan.”
Hale laughed. “Trust me: you would never have been normal at Colgan.”
“I could have been happy at Colgan.”