Red-Hot Ruby (5 page)

“Thanks for the info,” Farrell said. She produced a small knife from her pocket, and a piece of gum. She chewed the gum while cutting the wire. Then she glued the wire with the gum to maintain the detector in place. Finally, she slid her hand under the plastic, snatched the ruby, and put the box in its former place. Carter looked at her with an opened mouth.

“Impressed?” she asked triumphantly.

“Absolutely not,” he lied.

“Goodbye, mister Carter,” she said while stepping back to the other side of the cord.

“Oh no, you don’t,” he mumbled. He consciously moved his foot so the alarm would go off.

As the guards were starting from their place, Carter outran Farrell to the back door. He blocked her way, but she was smart and fast. She held the ruby as far from him as she could. While he stretched over her head to reach it, she made a slight cut through his shirt and skin right below his arm.

“Fuck! That hurt,” he yelled.

Farrell walked passed him and into the locker room. He followed her. She grabbed her boots and sprang into the street. Carter was about to do the same thing when he heard footsteps getting dangerously close behind him. He looked around, saw the concierge jacket. As the guards made a bursting entrance, Carter was lying on the ground by the door.

“Help,” he said. “The thief, she went that way.”

One of the sentinels ran outside. The other one leaned over Carter.

“Are you okay, sir?”

“Yes, fine,” Carter answered in his perpetually cold and sarcastic tone. He knocked the guard down, abandoned the khaki jacket, and got out. There was no sign of Farrell, and the sentinel who’d went after her was standing at the end of the street, making a phone call. Carter ran in the other direction. He was determined to get the ruby along with his revenge on Farrell.

Josh Williams was lying in bed with his boyfriend when the phone rang. Both of them started up at the shrill sound. Williams groaned and stretched his hand. The bright screen hurt his eyes as he read LORRAINE COWLEY. He sighed.

“What?” he said in a sleepy voice.

“Emergency, boss,” Cowley answered. “Duval’s ruby has been stolen from Spears Art Gallery.”

“The what has been stolen where?” Williams asked, slowly getting up.

“Spears Art Gallery,” Cowley repeated. “You know, the museum in Brooklyn?”

“Yeah, right.” Williams was stumbling through the bedroom, trying to find his pants.

“Well, there was an exhibition yesterday. A priceless ruby made by some guy called Duval.”

“And the ruby’s been stolen,” Williams concluded.

“They need us there. Want me to come and pick you up?”

“No no. I’m… already on my way. See you there.” Williams hung up. He finished dressing, refreshed himself in the bathroom, and kissed his lover before leaving.

Williams drove through the perpetual New York traffic jam. It was later than he’d thought when he’d answered the phone. The sun was already up, and people were flooding the streets. When he arrived at Spears Art Gallery, Cowley was waiting for him with two coffees in her hands.

“Hi,” she said, handing the coffee. “You look… messy.”

“Late night,” Williams mumbled as a justification.

“You weren’t the only one. Guards reported two thieves, a man and a woman. They say that when the alarm went off, the ruby wasn’t in its place anymore.”

“And they didn’t see anything?” Williams asked, slightly surprised.

“Nope. They say the thieves probably came in through the back door. And the CCTV cameras were disabled by one of them.”

“There’s a back door?”

“Yep.”

“Through which one can come and go at ease?” Williams raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

“It’s supposed to be locked at all times.”

“Supposed to, yeah. Poor protection,” he groaned.

Williams and Cowley were then lead to Spears’ office. The room was badly lit, and smelled of sweat. Williams stopped at the door to observe Spears. He was walking around his desk like a caged tiger. His necktie was loose, and his shirt very wrinkled. When he noticed the police officers, he jumped up and almost ran to them.

“You must absolutely find whoever stole the ruby,” he said, while vigorously shaking their hands. “You must, you must!”

“Calm down, Mr Spears,” Williams said. “We need to ask you a few questions to—”

“Why ask me?” Spears interrupted. “You should be looking for fingerprints in the hall.”

“And I bet we’d find yours, along with a collection of other prints from anyone who helped install the ruby,” Cowley said in a very analytical tone.

“Well… I… erm…” Spears looked so nervous that one could think he’d been electrified. His hair was messy as hell, almost standing straight on his head. There were marks of sweat on his shirt. “I hardly see how I could help you,” he finally managed to articulate.

“First of all, calm down,” Williams said. “Maybe we could sit down.”

Spears walked around the desk and sat down heavily on his chair; Williams sat opposite him and Cowley leaned on the desk.

“Now that we’re comfortable, would you please tell me about your security system?” Williams tried to be as calm and moderate in speech as he could, so that Spears wouldn’t break down.

“Two sentinels are posted at the gates. There are CCTV cameras at each angle of the hall, and one more in the gift shop. There are also very efficient movement detectors all around the ruby. It’s one of those that made the alarm go off. The last barrier was supposed to be unbreakable, but…” Spears had talked in a monotone matter-of-fact voice, but his shaking hands still showed his nervousness. And he eventually became speechless when he noticed—through his own explanation—that his unbreakable security barrier had been easily broken.

Farrell ran along the street, and made a sharp left turn. She quickly looked over her shoulder. No one seemed to be following her. She took her mask off, untied her hair, and slowed down to a regular pace. A second later, she had perfectly melted into New York night life, and went unnoticed to her car.

When Farrell got home, it was still quite early in the night. She gazed at the ruby for a long while, caressing the subtle cracks and cuts with her fingertips. She was amazed by the way in which the ruby glowed, even with little light. It was bright red at its center and dark pink at the edges. And the shape—the rose—was near perfection.

Maybe she should have kidnapped Duval himself instead of stealing the gem. That way, she could heave forced him to work for her. Farrell smiled at the thought of having a personal jewel-craft-artist making beautiful sculptures out of rubies and emeralds, only for her.

Farrell concealed the ruby along with her gun. And then on second thought, she picked up the gun—an old Colt Python which she hardly ever used. That Carter guy would probably try and find her. She thought it best to carry her gun for protection, although it seemed easy to disturb his mental abilities with a low-neckline shirt. Farrell then had a quick shower, and changed. As the night was still young, she might as well go out for a drink.

Carter arrived home early in the morning. He had walked for quite a while, trying to ease his nerves. When he was calmer, he’d got tired of walking. He’d looked about him and noticed he was at the angle of Flushing Avenue and Navy Street; still a long way from home. He was lucky enough to quickly find a taxi.

At home, he went straight to the bathroom, undressing on the way. That woman had cut through his most beautiful shirt. And he was bleeding, not much, but enough to rile him up. Carter washed the wound and bandaged it.

Then he went back to the living room and picked up his shirt from the floor. He examined the tear. It was about two inches long, incredibly neat and thin. Obviously, she wasn’t an amateur. Carter felt like crying, but he laughed bitterly instead. The bitch had challenged him, wounded him, spoiled his best shirt,
and
left with the ruby. He didn’t even know her name.

“Rafa had warned you, you fucking idiot!” he yelled at himself, throwing the shirt to the wall as though he wanted to break it. But the cloth only fell flabbily on the floor. Carter went to sit on his couch. He stretched his legs in front of him, and looked at the ceiling. López knew her. Which meant there was a way to find her, and take a nice revenge by humiliating her. And of course, recover the ruby.

My Ruby

Carter wasn’t the kind of person who accepts to be defeated and moves on. Giving up wasn’t part of his ideology. He got dressed and went for a walk. He loved being caught in the swarming life of Manhattan. So many people walked by him, and yet every single one of them was just as lonely as Carter. Earphones, headphones, mobile phones; those were now the sole company of humanity. Carter savored the sun on his face, as well as the somewhat bittersweet perfume of the exhaust fumes which penetrated his clothes, and insinuated itself between the pores of his skin.

Carter wandered for some long minutes before heading to his favorite pub. He sat at the usual seat, and scanned the place. She wasn’t there.

“Hi there.” López startled his friend. “What’s on your mind?” he asked while pouring the whiskey.

Carter sighed. “Five feet three, long black hair, killer eyes, perfect legs, beautiful breasts.”

“Ah, you met miss Farrell.”

“Farrell, hmm. What’s her first name?”

“Juliana.” López was waiting for an answer, but he didn’t get any.

Carter seemed lost in thought again. His middle finger was running along the glass, making a gentle hum. He sipped a mouthful, savored the sweet burning feeling of the alcohol down his throat.

“Where does she live?” he asked.

“What’s she done to you?”

“Stole my ruby right under my nose.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.” Carter emptied his glass. “So, where does she live?”

“Not sure,” López said enigmatically.

“Oh, come on,” Carter hissed impatiently.

“Do you like musicals?” López suddenly asked with a wide smile.

“What?” Carter was taken aback by the question.

“Try
Les Miserables
tonight.” López winked and turned back.

Williams and Cowley had been talking to Richard Spears and his employees, but their investigation seemed to be stuck in stagnant waters. They didn’t find any fingerprints near the ruby showcase, and no one had seen the thieves come in or out of the building.

The guards had reported a woman with black hair and a mask on her eyes. They had also mentioned that the new concierge had apparently created a diversion to help the woman flee. Yet, not only was that concierge nowhere to be found, but the
real
new concierge had arrived to take his position.

Cowley soon figured out that the man who had impersonated the concierge was the second thief, and Williams asked the guards to describe him as well as they could. And eventually, their report ended in a detailed sketch of Carter’s face, who wasn’t unknown to the NYPD.

“I thought he’d left New York,” Cowley said.

“Hm,” was Williams’ answer.

“Do you think your friend can help us again, like the other time?”

“Probably.” Williams was oddly reflective. “He didn’t help much the other time, though. I suspect he even helped Carter more than me.” He was silent for a while. He knew Carter wasn’t a sweetheart, and he didn’t want to risk letting him escape again. “We’ll find him,” he finally said. “We’ll put the whole department in search of him if we have to, but we’ll find him.”

Farrell over-tipped the driver and stepped out of the taxi. It had been a while since last time she went to watch a musical. And as she’d been told only good about this one, she couldn’t wait to sit down and let the music and dancing of the numerous performers take her into a dreamland of golden spangles. She walked to her seat with a light pace, picked up the promotional leaflet which lay at her feet, and went through the pages distractedly.

Farrell felt happy and light-hearted. She knew the most beautiful jewel in the world was safely locked up at her place, away from any mischievous hands, especially those of that Carter guy. She rejoiced, letting an enormous smile out every time she thought of how she’d left him open-mouthed, wondering what the fuck had just happened to him and the ruby.

The hall went dark and people applauded loudly to welcome the performers. Farrell felt someone sit by her side. She moved a little to be more comfortable, but the person next to her somehow adjusted to her new position, thus making her uncomfortable again. She turned to him with the intention of telling him off. The words remained stuck in her throat.

“Hello, little girl,” Carter whispered.

“What the…?” Farrell couldn’t believe it. Why did he have to ruin her evening with his narcissistic grin? “How did you even find me?” she asked angrily.

“I’m always attracted to gorgeous women.”

“Ugh,” Farrell sighed disgustingly. She’d have loved to see the bastard pinned on the sexist wall of fame, one knife through his heart, and another through his cock. “Go waste your bad breath with someone else,” Farrell said, “I’m not interested.”