[kiasusam]

“You’d think not, wouldn’t you?” She looked like the ace was tucked inside her sleeve, ready to play. “Look, Mac, this has been a very pleasant interlude, but quite frankly I’ve got business to attend to. The meal’s already covered, so if you were to make yourself scarce by the time I’ve come back from the ladies’ room, that’d probably be best for both of us.” She lifted up her bag as she said it, and then shot him a final smile before departing. Mac stared after her, his addled mind still churning, and then he saw it. The mobile phone had slid from her bag as she took hold of it, the device on which she’d been so busily at work landing on the table unnoticed.

Who the fuck was she talking to?

Mac picked up the phone, checking to see whether she was already coming back for it. She had vanished, however, and he seized the opportunity; when someone as thorough as Miranda made a slip-up, you had to claim that moment. The device had not even been locked – now there was a result – all its communications begging to be revealed. Not waiting for his estranged wife to realise her faux pas, he left table and restaurant, planning on delving into the phone’s secrets once he had driven out of the pub’s carpark.

In the rear-view mirror he could see her walking briskly from the venue’s main door, looking around for him with a frantic air. Got you! Damn, you think you’re clever. Well not this time. Jaw set in determination, he spun the BMW’s wheel in the gravel and roared away from the venue.

He pulled over into a layby a mile down the road and began to search the phone’s contents. It had clearly been purchased for tonight’s devious purpose, for there was only one conversation thread to be found, with someone monikered ‘Black-Ops 1’. Clearly Miranda’s little joke, this name boded nothing good. He scrolled back the beginning of the exchange and read through it, incredulity building within him.

IN POSITION?

YES. WAITING FOR UR INSTRUCTION

TARGET ARRIVED. I’LL KEEP HIM OCCUPIED AS LONG AS YOU NEED.

OK

LET ME KNOW WHEN YOU’RE INSIDE.

INSIDE NOW. OPERATION UNDERWAY

TEXT ME WHEN YOU’VE COVERED THE STUDY. USE THE CODE WORD.

DONE.

GOOD. AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS. HE WON’T CATCH YOU, MUCH AS HE’D ENJOY THAT.

Mac set the phone on the dash and took a moment to force his breathing under control. ‘Study’ – his study? Was this what he thought it was? “Christ – she’s having my place burgled.” He sat in wonder for a moment at his own voiced realisation and then repeated the phrase, bitter, astonished laughter erupting from his mouth. “Unbelievable. You think you’re a fucking criminal mastermind now, along with everything else.” Distracting the target, while someone else did her dirty work for her… even by Miranda’s standards this was low.

Her minions. They all ‘have their uses’, she’d told him. She was paying one of her hangers-on to break into his apartment! Maybe that smirking pretty-boy she had managing Vanguard’s Piccadilly outlet, the one she’d more or less let him know she was fucking. The wretched woman had possessed enough gall to allude to her own plot during their conversation. God, the bitch must have been enjoying herself. “Well your enjoyment ends here, my dear.”

The thought of calling the police flashed momentarily through his mind, but then a better idea occurred. I can deal with this myself. I won’t hurt him, but I’ll scare the fuck out of the smug little shit. How much better to interrupt Miranda’s plans and then hold them over her? It might even act as a secret bargaining chip, one to help him renegotiate the whole divorce settlement. But he had to act on this quickly. Grabbing the phone, he sent the intruder a message of his own.

SEARCH THE OTHER ROOMS TOO – LIVING-ROOM AND BEDROOM. BE THOROUGH.

He gunned the ignition and set off towards his apartment to catch the bastard in the act. This time of night the journey should take no more than half an hour. Within seconds he received a reply to his text, and broke his usual rule, by reading and responding while in motion at the wheel.

REALLY? IS HE STILL THERE? WHAT AM I LOOKING FOR?

OF COURSE REALLY. TARGET WILL BE WITH ME ALL NIGHT. ANYTHING OF INTEREST – USE YOUR INTELLIGENCE FOR GOD’S SAKE. TEXT WHEN YOU’RE DONE. DON’T LEAVE TILL I SAY, UNDERSTOOD?

YES, UNDERSTOOD.

Mac sped through darkness, wiper blades cutting through the rain that had begun to drive, like good sense cutting through his anger. Keep a clear head. Deal with this situation. If you don’t get her now, you never will.

Anger kept rolling over him, however, threatening to preclude all rational thought.I knew she was like this, I knew she was a game-playing bitch. Why the hell am I surprised?

“She found out one of her employees was thieving,” he’d told Alan Sinclair in one of their divorce strategy meetings. “Know what she did? She blackmailed the girl, and her boyfriend into sex. Can you believe that? And then she told me over dinner one night like it was foreplay. Like she thought I’dcommend her for it. That I’d be as turned on by the story as she clearly was remembering it. That’s the kind of woman we’re dealing with here and I can never afford to forget it.”

Incensed, he thumped the steering-wheel with both hands. “Christ, how stupid areyou, Lewis? How much were you ready to put up with from that… that fucking harpy?” Well no more. One stupid mistake on her part, and Miranda French’s best-laid plans were about to come crashing down. And whoever was fool enough to partner with her? They’d get caught in the crash as well. Payback was due.

Swallowing his rage, Mackenzie Lewis drove through the filthy night to the place of reckoning.

••••••••••••••
Coming up next is the Burglars point of view.
••••••••••••••

“It’s all okay. She’ll keep him otherwise engaged for the rest of the night. We’ve got the run of this place.” The voice behind the stocking-mask was young and female, polite but with a Kentish twang. The girl slid the mobile phone into her mini-backpack and motioned to her companion.

“Are you sure? I’d have thought we’d be out of here by now,” her similarly masked comrade said, huddling close. “I can’t imagine what it’d be like if he caught us.” There was a thrill of excited fear in her voice. Her accent suggested a woman likewise in her twenties, but from some upmarket part of London like Chelsea or Teddington.

“Didn’t you hear what I said? No one’s showing up. We can take our time and do this properly.” There was a hint of irritation in the phone-girl’s voice. Of the two she had the more classic cat-burglar’s build, sinuous and elegant in her clinging black tights and sleeved black top. Her partner-in-crime, identically attired, was more curvaceous than slinky and seemed less attuned to the task in hand. She followed her take-charge friend into the apartment’s living room, both of them scanning around with their pocket flashlights.

“What exactly are we looking for?” the curvier girl inquired. “I thought once we’d searched through his study and left the envelope…”

“Yes, well you thought wrong. If Miranda wants us to be thorough, that’s up to her.”

“But Lysette…”

“We’re being paid enough,” the slinkier girl said, “but only if her plan works out.”

“I know. It’s just… I thought this would take ten minutes, and…”

“Look, Imogen…” The more proactive of the two grasped her fellow-burglar by both arms and stared into the eyes that blinked wide from the slit cut into the mask. “The code worked. If the alarm hadn’t been switched off, we’d know about it by now. Miranda’s going to occupy him for as long as it takes and notify us in plenty of time if he heads this way. We’ve got all the time we need. I’ll search and you photograph anything that looks of interest. That’s all you have to do here – that and not knock anything over. Like that bloody vase in the hallway.”

“Oops…” the one called Imogen said with a nervous giggle.

“‘Oops’ my arse,” Lysette snapped. “We don’t leave the faintest sign anyone’s been here – that’s essential, remember? So no fuck-ups.”

“Yes – I know. I’ve got it.”

“Good. Now let’s get on with this and no more idle chatter.”

The living room was minimally furnished and promised little in the way of search results. Lysette flipped through the magazines on the coffee table – Imogen snapped one or two photos of the contents.