Double-Crossed: A Spies and Thieves Story

Chapter Eight

FOUR HOURS AFTER THE GUNMEN BROKE INTO THE PARTY

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NO ONE EVER KNEW WHO PULLED THE FIRE ALARM. No one ever really knew why. The men in the masks assumed it was either a glitch in the Athenia's system or the authorities try­ing to distract them, gain the upper hand. The authorities assumed the gunmen had tripped some kind of alarm, made a little mistake. But no matter who had caused it, the effects were still the same. In the ballroom, the hostages huddled together a little tighter, grew a little more anxious. In the Calloway apartment, the men dropped the Jaws of Life and ran back to the ballroom to check with their superiors.

"Shut that off" Reagan yelled to the others. But the men looked at each other, dumbfounded, until, just like magic, the piercing sirens stopped, leaving the hotel in a silence that was now entirely too loud.

"What did you do ?" Reagan asked.

"Nothing," Bush said.

Reagan looked around the dimly lit ballroom. The hos­tages sat huddled on the floor, tuxedo jackets resting around the shoulders of a few of the women. The professional bodyguards were zip-tied to pillars, and everyone was away from the windows.

It looked like everything and everyone were exactly where they were supposed to be. But something in Reagan's posture was too rigid, like a man for whom time—or maybe just patience—was running out.

He shifted, scanning the ballroom until he was looking directly at the old woman with the white hair. To her credit, Mrs. Calloway didn't even blink when the man pointed a finger in her direction and said, "Get her."

"Let me try the drill again," Obama said.

"We don't have time. Now get her!" Reagan shouted loud enough for all the room to hear. And then Bush walked across the ballroom floor and pointed to the little old lady who owned the big yellow diamond.

"Mrs. Calloway," Bush said. "Come with me."

"No!" Mrs. Calloway's son shouted. He jumped to his feet and stood between the white-haired woman and the men. "Where are you taking my mother? You can't—"

But before he could finish, Reagan struck him across the face with the butt of his weapon. "We're not taking orders from you," Reagan snapped, and the son fell silent. No one said a word as the old woman was pulled from the ballroom.

They walked down the hall, Bush dragging the old woman beside him. "Where are you taking me ?" Mrs. Calloway demanded. "What do you want?"

"No need to worry, ma'am," Reagan told her. "We just need to have a little conversation."

But a conversation about what, no one ever got to ask, be­cause as soon as they turned the corner that led to the Calloway residence, they heard Obama running toward them.

"What is it ?" Reagan snapped.

Obama came to a sudden stop and looked between the masked men and the old woman. His voice was soft, almost rever­ent, when he said, "It's open."

"What are you talking about?" Reagan snapped, pushing past Obama and into the Calloway apartment.

The tools were still on the coffee table. The Jaws of Life lay exactly where the men had placed it. Only one thing was differ­ent when the men returned to Mrs. Calloway's formal living room, and for that reason they never had to ask her a single question.

Because the safe on which they had been working for hours now sat with the door propped open, revealing the largest yellow diamond that any of them had ever seen.