The Lady Is a Thief

 
   
Published by:

Heather Long

120 E. FM 544
Ste
72

P.O. Box 338

Murphy, Texas 75094

The Lady is a Thief

Copyright © 2012
Heather Long

Photo by
Jenn
LeBlanc

Cover Art by
Kendra
Egert

Editing by
Noel Varner

eBook
Edition

ISBN
:9781301150540

All
rights reserved.
eBooks
are
not
transferable and
can not
be given
away, sold or shared. No portion of this book may be reproduced or transmitted
in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying,
faxing, forwarded by email, recording or by any information retrieval and
storage system without permission of the publisher, except where permitted by
law, as this is an infringement on the copyright of this work. Brief quotations
within reviews or articles are acceptable.

Author’s Note
: This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any
resemblance to a person or persons, living or dead, business establishments,
events or locales is purely coincidental.

First electronic publication: November 2012

Visit Heather Long on the Internet at
http://www.heatherlong.net

The Lady is a Thief

The Fortunate Buddha #3

By

Heather Long

http://www.heatherlong.net

 
   
The
value of the Fortunate Buddha is not the precious stones or metals, but the
legend of good luck it brought to the temple visitors who made a wish and a
prayer while rubbing its ruby-studded belly.

 
   
We
are shaped by our thoughts. We become what we think.

 
   
–
Buddha

 
   
J
arod
Parker peeled back the layers of latex and faux skin disguising the shape of
his jaw and neck. Next, he removed the addition to his cheeks and ducked his
face into the water. In minutes, he washed away the Walter Curry appearance he
manufactured when he dealt with his assets. Glancing at the mirror again, he
studied his altogether nondescript face. A single scar ran parallel to the
underside of his right eye. It wasn't discernible most of the time, unless someone
looked closely. But the slash of a knife that opened the flesh nearly ended his
life. Just thirty-five, he could make himself look anywhere from his early
twenties to his late fifties.

 
   
His cropped close and typically dark hair
appeared salt and pepper from dealing with the Kingston situation. A good
shampoo would correct the lingering color. With precision he stripped his
button-down shirt and suit pants. He hung everything up, leaving it on the rack
for the housekeeper to collect.

 
   
Fifteen minutes later, showered and shaved,
he strolled through the three-level townhouse in search of the files he brought
home. Rubbing the back of his neck, he carried his briefcase and its contents
back to his bedroom and left the towel slung over a wooden chair back before
sprawling on the bed. Phone in hand, he flipped open the statements he
collected.

 
   
Statements from Anya on her initial issues
reclaiming the Buddha in Morocco—including a statement about recruiting Max to
put the item back. A second statement from Max detailing the theft of the item
between the times he returned it to the vault and the meeting with the
Ambassador just a few hours later. Jarod flipped open his phone and dialed a
number for the asset he had on site in Morocco.

 
   
“
Renard
, is he
planning to attend the auction in Ankara?” If Walter's brisk manner and clipped
tone surprised the man, he said nothing about it.

 
   
“No, sir.
Not as I
can tell. I think the Buddha incident has scared him off. He's limiting his art
acquisitions to proper channels.”

 
   
“Keep an eye on him.”

 
   
“Yes, sir.”

 
   
They rang off, no pleasantries, no catching
up and a call that lasted less than thirty seconds so less likely to be traced.
That meant the Ambassador was out of the game. The next statements included
police reports, text messages, and a handful of news stories from Geneva. No
mention of the break-in at Louis
duMonde's
corporate
building, but plenty of Max slugging the French Viscount at the party.

 
   
The bagged note of apology to Anya yielded
no fingerprints or DNA. It had been printed right there in the office, so no
way to trace the computer back to the culprit and the single letter
K
as the signature.

 
   
He stood, stretching, and padded naked back
down to the kitchen.

 
   
K.

 
   
He stared unseeingly at the coffee maker as
he reviewed his mental notes from the file. Twice the Buddha had been removed
in and around Anya's actions. She had it in her possession a brief time, they
returned it, and it was stolen.

 
   
Louis
duMonde's
involvement with the theft from the Ambassador's mansion in Morocco fit the
facts. That he must have used an accomplice also fit the facts. The coffee
hissed into his cup and the
Keurig
shut off. Cup in
hand, he walked up back up the stairs. The facts also detailed that another
thief took it from
duMonde
in Geneva even as Max and
Anya tried to reclaim the item.

 
   
That person clearly didn't work with
duMonde
.

 
   
In one corner,
duMonde
and his men, in another, the IAAR—International Art and Antiquities Recovery
agency for which Walter ran an entire division of assets—and in the third
corner a mysterious thief who identified themselves only by the name
K
or
Kit
.

 
   
Though Kit could be a pseudonym or stand for
something else—he didn't think so.

 
   
Settling back on the bed, he flipped to his
notes from the Kingston situation in New York. Somewhere between the Geneva
heist and the day of the curator's shooting in the museum,
The Fortunate Buddha
made its way there.
duMonde's
men stalked one of the art specialists,
Sophie Kingston, in a retrieval attempt.

 
   
The Viscount's violence seemed to be on the
rise. Despite his men's losses and the subsequent rediscovery of the item, he
was in New York.
The Fortunate Buddha
,
remanded to police custody, disappeared from their evidence lockup to parts
unknown.

 
   
In Sophie's file were two other notes, also
secured in evidence bags. Apologies from a thief who stole her laptop, cell
phone and dissertation research—a note also signed with a
K
. So the thief remained on the trail of the Buddha and seemed the
most likely candidate for removing it from police lockup. Despite the lack of
video or physical evidence, Walter's gut said Kit did this.

 
   
The next file wasn't on the Buddha, but the
small wedding ceremony coming up in three weeks. Unlike his cousin Max,
Pietr
planned a small, informal gathering in New York with
Sophie’s family. Four months pregnant, they wanted to make it official before
the baby came. Anya deliberately rescheduled her own wedding to accommodate.

 
   
A smile pulled at Walter's mouth. Anya
remained one of his best assets. Despite her engagement to the son of one of
IAAR's regents, she didn't turn down opportunities to reclaim stolen property
and lured her fiancé along with her. The two were hopelessly besotted with each
other and he imagined it wouldn't be long before she left fieldwork behind to
run assets of her own.

 
   
Regret tugged at him. A natural progression
for talent and he had done much the same thing; running assets and agents in
the field rather than go after the items himself.

 
   
Until now.

 
   
Rolling his forefinger down the guest list,
he paused at the one name he'd circled.

 
   
Lady Katherine Hardwicke.

 
   
The daughter of a wealthy land baron in
England, as well as a member of the aristocracy, she traveled in circles similar
to the
Sauvages
. She also turned up in New York
during the museum incident, befriended Sophie, and earned an invitation to the
wedding. But these were not the facts that aroused his curiosity.

 
   
No, the phone conversation he overheard
between Sophie and the Lady Hardwicke just two days before left him intrigued.

 
   
A conversation where Sophie called Lady
Katherine one name: Kit.

 
   
Beneath the invitation list lay the file
he'd had pulled on Lady Katherine. Sipping his coffee, he leaned back against
the pillows and read. He and Lady Katherine were about to be very well
acquainted.

 
   
It was time for Jarod to get back into the
game.

 
   
This one thief would not elude them again.