Night Games Pt. 08

"That's also true. But they were already together. They did the Eye of Andalusia job, which couldn't have netted them a lot, because even a named opal like that isn't worth a fortune. And those two wouldn't have been able to assemble a new crew and pull this off in two days, so the behind-the-scenes people must be the same ones too."

"And then," Mander joined the conversation. "Someone tipped them off when and where to find the Star at it's most vulnerable. They got that info and knew they had to move fast. But if you're some diamond company bigshot, what are the odds you happen to know a team of jewel thieves you can call on at a moment's notice? That's not a thing you can do, that's a thing that you know somebody who can do. There's someone in-between our hypothetical diamond bloke and Sinclair and his people. Someone who knew all of them and could get them from New York to San Finzione in a couple days. Then, before they've even had time to take their shoes off, plan and pull a heist like this one."

Helen took in his words. Jeanne returned with a tray for her and Maria. Since it was about to be another busy day, Helen put bacon and eggs on toast and made a quick sandwich of them. Once she'd finished a bite, she spoke again.

"See? Thoughts like this are why I bring you people together. Mander, I think that, armed with these new ideas, we should pay a couple more social visits today and try to find something on this 'mastermind.' This time, with more emphasis on the social part. In fact, I'd like Susan to come with us if you don't have another idea, Susan."

"You know I'm always happy to help, Helen. It's sort of my thing."

That got a smile.

"Good. We have plans. Now, I'd like to take a moment to have my breakfast sandwich and just be happy that you're all here before we move out. Hey, wanna hear about this cool concert Maria and I went to last night?"

* * *

Aboard the yacht, Tracy Baker watched the morning news. Still nothing on the theft, of course. La Contessa had that story under control.

She watched the reporter talk about the Orchestra Simphonica's command performance at the castle. A clip from the concert played. The camera showed Helen grinning goofily as the orchestra played Warren Zevon's "I Was In The House When The House Burned Down." She was still wearing the emerald pendant from the reception the day before. The pendant that Tracy had seventy percent decided was what they were going to steal from her before seeing it around her neck a second time and settling on it.

She'd worn it two days in a row. And with the story behind it, the pendant wouldn't be something she kept locked in that vault a mile underground that everyone said the castle had. It would be kept close at hand. Close to her heart. Probably in her bedroom or that safe Morris found.

This was something she'd notice missing. This would "get to her." And if you're going to steal from the biggest criminal in the world, you'd better make it something memorable. Tracy had seen La Contessa on television and in magazines for years. She had fancier, more valuable jewelry than this, but the pendant meant something to her. Stealing it from her would cement Tracy's rep as the greatest criminal of all time.

She looked around at the others. Spencer Malone was in the room had something going on the computer. He'd said that plans for Castle Finzione were classified, however, there were enough royalty enthusiasts who'd taken the tour online that he was piecing together a rough map of the Palace Wing from visitors' stories. It would prove helpful.

Oscar Dodge was outside lying in a deck chair and reading a copy of On Makeup, a professional trade magazine for makeup artists. He'd gone to Hollywood in his younger days to be an actor and ended up getting into the industry as a makeup artist. After he'd left the film industry, Oscar had used his talents to commit fraud and pull off short cons. His age was starting to show, and he knew it. So, these days, he just provided the disguises and let others do the stealing. Still, he was a bit of a legend in both the film industry and the con game.

Morris Sinclair was pacing and smoking on the deck. Sweat was forming on his brow from the heat of this sunny San Finzione morning and his nerves. Tracy watched him for a bit. On the job, Morris was a complete professional. Away from it, his nerves tended to get on top of him. And with the entire country looking for them, having to sit on the stone for another two days, and his friend out there without him, worry had set in. He'd be like this until Gordon and Alice made it back. Tracy often thought that medication might be good for him, but the opportunity to suggest it never came up.

Speaking of being back, Franz was due back any time. It made her feel like a horrible headmistress that in this country known for its many tourist attractions, casinos, and nightclubs, she had to make sure everyone stayed around home base and didn't stick their necks out. The only other criminals that La Contessa would allow to operate in her country could only do so if they were beholden to the woman who controls the police. She hadn't even gone to pay her respects to Don Nessuno because she knew that he had to be in La Contessa's pocket as well.

"I'm taking a nap." She told Spencer, who was still at his job.

"In this heat?" He commented. She didn't answer. Tracy went belowdecks to her stateroom and flopped onto the bed.

Her eyes lit on the small vision board she'd constructed since she'd had the idea for this job. A collage of images of Contessa Helena de San Finzione taken from various magazines and newspapers. Scattered amongst the pictures were quotes from interviews or biographies that Tracy had read. She pulled out a more recent magazine and a pair of scissors and cut out the cover photo. Not of La Contessa's whole image this time. Just the necklace. Tracy pasted it onto the board and looked back at the whole thing.

Tracy's gaze drifted amongst the photos. The pictures of this woman who'd pulled off the biggest crime of all: stealing San Finzione. Tracy had read a few biographies on La Contessa. She knew about her tragic upbringing and her whirlwind May-December romance with the late Count that left her sitting on the throne after she'd fucked him to death. Tracy had laughed at the rumors that she was some kind of CIA sex assassin sent to take out the Count and be installed on the throne.

She'd heard other rumors too. That La Contessa was a witch with powers to enslave the minds of others. The woman was gorgeous. How she controlled minds was no mystery.

Tracy put the scissors back on a shelf without looking away from the woman she'd come to this country to one-up. Tracy would get her necklace, get away clean, and prove herself the superior thief.

As she continued to stare at the images of Helen, her hand slipped into her panties.