Acolyte to Priestess - The Twelve Crimes of Hannah Smith Series

  She wondered how Conan and Thierry would handle the bond and what had been said after her call to Thierry asking for another delivery address. She surmised that Michael was probably stepping up his security just in case.

  On Tuesday, she called Thierry to get the address, feigning impatience as the plan was incomplete without it.

  “I need the new delivery address, Thierry; by Friday, please.”

  “How do you plan to do it?”

  “If I told you, you wouldn’t need me would you?” Hannah replied, laughing, also imagining the three of them scratching their heads, wondering how she planned to pull it off.

  Michael’s demeanor that evening would be interesting to say the least. It wouldn’t matter if he stepped up the security; she would not be going anywhere near the place. But he needed to be put out of action and, if he was, who would they send to verify the piece before the bond was handed over? Her only advantage being that no one had seen the sculpture in the flesh for ten years and the fact that Luke was doing a painstaking job of making a copy. It was costing her thirty thousand dollars all told but worth every cent.

  She got ready for the benefit, confirming with Michael that she would be arriving a little later than planned. Her proposal to pay his donation would be made at the last minute so that he didn’t have a chance to say no. Playfully, she wore a pinstripe suit and a dress shirt of snowy white to really set off the rubies - which were fakes but exceedingly good ones, the fake pear-drop diamond earrings, her good watch and the trademark sunglasses. Pete dropped her off and she found Michael waiting in the foyer to escort her inside.

  “Fiorina; you’re dazzling tonight,” he said, smiling broadly.

  “Going out with a bang,” she replied cryptically

  “When do you fly?”

  “Thursday, after my meetings ... Shall we go in?”

  They went in and he grabbed them some champagne.

  “Are you still confident that we can conclude our business before Thursday?” he asked in a very carefully chosen tone.

  “Absolutely! And I have a wonderful idea; I’ll cover your donation here tonight ... presumably that would have presented a problem to you as you need ready money, no?”

  “I was going to make a fairly modest donation actually, which I could cover.”

  “You have a reputation, Michael. If they get a whiff of anything, then you’ll have more issues to resolve, especially if they’re also backing your projects. These things have a habit of knocking each other over. How much would they expect you to donate?”

  “At least two hundred and fifty thousand.”

  “I’ll cover that and let you have the other two hundred and fifty on Thursday; will that work for you?” she asked, smiling very sweetly, practically laying her heart open for inspection.

  “That will work just fine. I’m so grateful, Fiorina ... as for the collateral-”

  “Never mind about that, Michael; we’re friends and I trust you will make good in the fullness of time ... it will be one less thing to worry about.”

  “It pains me to take advantage of your generosity but I am exceedingly grateful.”

  “Say no more ...”

  They mingled, together and separately. Hannah spoke to the event organizer and handed over a cheque for fifty thousand dollars on her own account and fifty thousand for Michael - effectively the proceeds from the sale of the emeralds. When the event organizer took the money, which they believed was from Michael, they raised an eyebrow.

  “Darling; I hear things aren’t going too well ... please don’t mention it,” Hannah pleaded in a very confidential tone.

  “Signorina; we never disclose the details of how much an individual has donated.”

  “Excellent. As a dear friend, I wanted to spare him the embarrassment; these things can be judged very harshly, and the information could be damaging, shall we say.”

  She left the organizer and found Michael.

  “It’s done; don’t worry about a thing and on Thursday, you’ll have a draft for the balance.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “Are we still on to catch dinner?”

  “Yes; if you’re free. My car is waiting; is yours?”

  “I came with Marco de Vron; let’s take yours. I have reservations at the Metropolis.”

  “Perfect! And I can tell you about the new venture. I’ll leave you time and space to make your investment if you still want to once things sort themselves out.”

  They left and found the car. Pierre was driving; not Pete.

  “Where to, Signorina?” he enquired.

  “The Metropolis, please.”

  They headed off and Hannah kept Michael distracted with her tittle-tattle so that he didn’t pay any attention to the journey or the route they were taking. It was only when his internal clock registered that he should be where he expected to be, that he looked out the window. He didn’t recognize where he was.

  “Hey! Where are we?” he demanded of the driver.

  “Pete?” queried Hannah.

  Pierre stopped the car and looked around.

  “It’s Pierre, madam.” With which he shot a tranquilizer dart into Michael’s chest, who slumped within a few seconds.

  “Right; let’s get moving!” urged Hannah.

  Pierre had driven the car because he was roughly the same height and build as Michael. He swapped clothes with Michael and they managed between them to haul Michael into the trunk of the car.

  Hannah drove and took them back to Park Avenue where Pierre alighted, diving into the building. With his hat pulled down and his collar turned up, he avoided being recognized by the doorman and made it to the elevator where he used Michael’s key to operate the elevator.

  Hannah drove off and parked the car in the garage attached to her building, checking on Michael, who was out for the count.

  “Goodnight, sweetheart!” she said as she entered her building from a side door.

  She called Thierry.

  “Change of plan, Thierry; the piece will be moved tomorrow and I need that address!”

  “There’s a warehouse, corner of West 48th Street and 12th Avenue; be there at eleven o’clock in the morning.”

  “Who will take delivery?”

  “I’ll be there myself with the payment.”

  “Excellent!”

  Hannah called Pierre at Michael’s apartment.

  “Delivery is at eleven o’clock in the morning; expect the call shortly afterwards.”

  “Okay, Maddy; good luck!”

  Chapter Nine – Appearances can be deceptive

  Early the following morning, after giving Michael another tranquilizer shot, Hannah took the security van and collected the copy of the sculpture from Luke. Between them, they easily lifted it but in order to fool anyone else, they secured the ensemble to a heavy base which was on a pallet, already in the back of the van.

  “Thanks, Luke,” Hannah said as she handed him thirty thousand dollars.

  “Can I see you later?” he asked hopefully.

  “Sure ...”

  She went to Pete’s place and picked him up; he was dressed as a security guard of the firm.

  “Let’s go!”

  En route, Hannah changed into a uniform, also putting up her hair, donning a wig and fixing her makeup so that she looked Spanish. They arrived at the delivery address - a disused warehouse near the Chelsea Piers.

  A car was already positioned just inside the door and a man was standing beside it - she presumed Thierry. Hannah got out and in English, but heavily accented, she asked him his name.

  “Thierry Silber; where is Maddy?”

  “Seeing to business; you have the bond?”

  “Yes; you have the piece?”

  “In the back.”

  “Once I’ve checked it, the payment can be made. I’m surprised Maddy isn’t here herself.”

  Hannah ignored the comment and opened up the back of the van. Thierry looked inside and then made a call on a mobile phone. Hannah had nev
er seen the like of it. Thierry stepped away from the rear of the van for privacy. A few minutes later, he returned.

  “Okay; here’s the bond,” he said, handing an envelope to Hannah. She checked it and closed the rear door of the van. Pete got out and they walked away from the warehouse together, grabbing a cab as soon as possible for the rendezvous at the 80th Street apartment with Pierre who, having taken the call from Thierry, knew his masquerade as Michael was no longer required.

  An hour later, they were all together and Hannah paid them.

  “One hundred thousand dollars for you both, as agreed,” she said as she handed over the cash.

  “That’s a lot of money, Maddy, for a short day’s work,” said Pierre, and Pete just nodded.

  “Without you, it couldn’t have worked, so it’s well-earned ... and we were just lucky he was alone and there was no obvious danger. I do not like this style of handover; it’s too risky.”

  “Someone is going to be very pissed very soon,” suggested Pierre.

  “And someone else is just about to wake up,” announced Hannah.

  She’d vacated the 23rd Street apartment, knowing that, within the hour, Michael would wake up and find himself locked in the trunk of the limousine - minus his dignity, though not his bronze. Hannah thought that was very gallant of her, seeing as he was plotting with Conan to end her promising career and Conan would, in the not too distant future, be mourning the loss of his half million dollars - but probably nursing his bruised ego more.

  As for Thierry; he drove the security van to the airport and had the sculpture loaded onto a plane bound for Hong Kong, and then disappeared.

  Hannah believed that Thierry was working on his own account. It seemed wrong that he would hand over the bond if the plan had originally been to clear her out. Maybe Michael and Conan were in on it together and Thierry saw a chance. When he had called Pierre at the time of the handover, he had simply asked if the piece had been moved and Pierre had confirmed that it had. So maybe they were in on it together and Michael needed the insurance, alleviating Conan of half a million dollars in the process. Where the fake sculpture was now, who knew?

  Hannah sat quietly after the guys had gone and tallied up. The bond for five hundred and thirty thousand dollars was in her hand. The costs of the operation were covered by the three hundred thousand that she had received from the Californian for the auctioned De Nizza. The hundred and fifty thousand dollars profit on the original sale of that piece was bonus money, the emeralds having funded the hundred thousand she’d handed over at the benefit. The one hundred and fifty thousand she hadn’t expected was deposited along with the bond.

  The comment she had made to the guys weighed on her mind. The handover of a stolen masterpiece was fraught with danger and, had it not been for Pierre and Pete, she was certain that she wouldn’t have been quite so lucky. A safer handover process was needed - and a cheaper one too! It had cost her one hundred thousand the last time and two hundred thousand this time. Of course worth it to secure the payment but money that could have been invested elsewhere.

  “Work alone, Hannah. Don’t rely on anyone, trust no one and don’t find yourself responsible for someone else; worrying about them distracts you from your purpose.”

  She didn’t know whose voice it had been in her head. It wasn’t her own; it sounded much older.

  The following day, she went to see Luke and gave him his bonus, losing something of herself in the process but gaining some useful experience.

  She packed and vacated the apartment, and boarded a train for San Francisco.

  This ability to melt away like ice gave her a special feeling, one of immense power and true freedom. She smiled for the first hour and then picked up her book - Brave New World, by Aldous Huxley.

  Crime Five - Virtuoso

  Chapter One – Steinway would be turning in his grave

  Hannah found a small apartment behind Ghirardelli Square, a rear-facing unit with a small balcony, overlooking the Square and the water’s edge beyond.

  Up to this point, she had committed four crimes. In each case, she had used a number of disguises, and only now realised that she had a trademark or signature of sorts - the use of decoys, copies and fakes. She’d stolen the Degas, which was a fake, also leaving Hettie the fake Cartier lipstick case. She’d stolen both original and copy of the chalice and left a replica in its place in the display case. She’d masked Gerhardt’s paintings with good quality prints to make him believe the security firm had delivered the wrong pictures to the yacht, giving her the opportunity to offer to take them back to the gallery and fetch the correct ones, instead, leaving him just a photograph of the painting she had teased him with. She’d led an associate to believe that he was exchanging half a million dollars for a magnificent bronze sculpture, which was, in fact, a clever copy made by a student friend.

  Hannah had one million dollars in the bank, a very chic and stylish wardrobe, and a lot of valuable experience.

  Shortly after she took up residence in the apartment, she had a piano delivered and advertised that she gave lessons. Within a week, it resulted in her obtaining two students, a girl and a shy boy - both aged thirteen; each belonging to very pushy and wealthy parents with homes in The Heights.

  Perfect!

  The choice of profession had been deliberate; wealthy, pushy parents always wanted their children to learn the piano. It made for frequent invitations to soirees, and cultivated a perfectly simple and discrete image of the rather austere but incredibly talented pianist. Who would suspect her of harboring secrets and plans to steal their highly prized masterpieces? She liked to teach children the piano; they had less guarded tongues and let slip the most personal of details about their parents and their security systems!

  Hannah’s plan this time was to steal and then dispose of her ill-gotten gains rather than steal to order. She wanted to avoid the handover in draughty and deserted warehouses to heavyset men who probably carried guns. She didn’t trust anyone, save Pierre and Pete, but she vowed that she would never use their services again. They were also beginning to learn too much about her; information that could be sold if the pension needed topping up. In her view, far better to trust no one; perhaps not going as far as mistrusting everyone; that didn’t figure - teenage students with no real talent could be trusted.

  The girl - Zoe - was pretty and tone deaf; the boy - Dominic - a little better and more conscientious. His parents made the first move and invited her to play for them at an evening with friends, celebrating the mother’s fortieth birthday.

  The big 4-0. That sounded scary as hell to Hannah; not yet twenty-four albeit acting twenty-eight this time. She was posing as Valerie Bishop, from Oxford; the accent was simple and the city was one she knew well. Dominic gave her the invitation.

  “Oh thank you; crikey! The big 4-0 … What does your mother like? I want to get her something.”

  “She collects thimbles,” replied Dominic shyly.

  “Does she; well, that’s simple enough. Shall we practice a duet that we can play for her on her birthday?”

  Dominic would have preferred to have sunk out of all trace than allow his parents to judge his performance. Hannah knew she could coach him and deliver a half-decent job.

  Happy parents made for relaxed atmospheres, loose tongues and recommendations.

  The party was two days hence, and all Hannah had to do was find a pretty, little thimble to provide the gift. Two antique shops later and the perfect Edwardian silver thimble was in the bag.

  Hannah’s goal was to inveigle herself in the upper echelons of the San Francisco society and steal something worth the bother; she practiced her half of the duet and a number of other pieces to clear her mind.

  On the evening in question, dressed as Laura Ashley had intended a proper young woman from the Home Counties to look, she turned up at Dominic’s house in The Heights and announced herself.

  Chapter Two – Finding a thimble in a haystack

  “It’s
Valerie isn’t it?” inquired the woman.

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “I’m Dominic’s mother, Francine; won’t you come in? I’m so pleased you agreed to perform for us, and Dominic is very excited about the duet.”

  Hannah knew different. “He has a lot of potential.”

  “Does he?”

  “Oh, I almost forgot; happy birthday!” said Hannah, handing over the gift and the card.

  “Oh really you shouldn’t have; playing for us is enough.”

  “I hope you don’t already have one like it,” Hannah said as Francine opened the delicately wrapped box.

  “Oh my dear, this is perfect!”

  “English, Edwardian silver…” added Hannah.

  “I certainly don’t have one like it; as you will see …”

  They went into the main living room to meet the other guests; there were few because Hannah had arrived early, hoping that she and Dominic could practice a little before the performance. She met the husband, Charles, and sundry friends whose names she filed away carefully. Dominic was hiding, hoping to avoid the spotlight so she made a beeline and they went to the music room to practice for half an hour.

  “Don’t worry; she’ll love it. Just imagine you’re at my place, and if we do really well then I’ll treat us next time you come over, okay?”

  He didn’t say much and just smiled in his pale, thin way. The poor lad was weighed down by all of the expectations and the not so gentle cajoling his parents dished out, believing they were instilling him with confidence. If they’d asked the lad what he wanted, they would have heard something about computers and software but it all got lost in the arguments.

  Francine appeared.

  “Time to get ready; nearly everyone is here,” she announced.

  Hannah grabbed Dominic’s hand and held it as they walked into the main room where the grand piano was set up. Francine introduced Hannah as “Valerie”, and she and Dominic took up their places.

  They played their little piece and Dominic, presumably trying to please Hannah as much as his mother, did a reasonable job and only faltered once, which Hannah expertly covered up. The applause was good natured, and once the ordeal was over, Dominic relaxed and was allowed to escape. Francine waltzed over to Hannah and handed her a glass of champagne.