[MS] The Mastermind

9:13 a.m.

Theo hadn’t slept much last night, but he was too nervous to notice. He leaned forward in his chair, eyes glued to the TV screens mounted inside the delivery van. The screens relayed video from inside Musée des Arts du Rivage - a statue, a painting, a roving view of a near-empty hallway – all fed from video-enabled eyeglasses worn by the plainclothes officers inside. The air inside the van was warm and stale.

Keeping Theo company was Olivier, the local police lieutenant. “What will you say to him, if you catch him?” Olivier asked, leaning back in his chair.

“When I catch him.” Theo corrected. “I haven’t thought about it.”

That was a lie. Theo had thought of this day for years. He thought of it when as a young detective pouring over crime reports, he noticed a pattern everyone else had missed. He thought of it when his buddies told him he was crazy, that no one person could orchestrate such a series of robberies. He thought of it when his boss told him to give it up and get back to his queue, or else.

Now he was here, at the precipice of victory and vindication. Le Fantôme (that’s what Theo called him) felt so close Theo could almost reach out and cuff him.

“Any moment,” Olivier commented.

“Yes,” Theo agreed. He massaged his neck and felt the adrenaline tingle inside his stomach.

One of the camera feeds settled on a baroque painting hanging on a far wall – a cloth-wrapped baby nestled between apples and oranges.

“There it is,” Olivier said with a chuckle. “I don’t understand art.”

“Everyone is in position,” Theo narrated coldly, ignoring the lieutenant’s comment. He stood up and leaned over the screens.

“Remind me, why not arrest him already?” Olivier asked. “You know his schedule, where he sleeps. Just go get him!”

“We have to catch him in the act,” Theo responded. “This has to be airtight.”

“Big risk,” Olivier commented.

Theo knew he was right. But the bosses were out of patience. Now was not the time to play it safe, not when he was so close. And for the first time, he had an advantage, an ace in the hole. Someone on the inside.

Instinctively, he pulled the burner phone from his back pocket.

 “That’s how you two communicate?” Olivier asked.

“Yes,” Theo nodded.

“Sweet deal!” Olivier exclaimed. “How’d you set that up?”

For years, Theo had been three steps behind. The Bordeaux vault job, the Citadel heist - Le Fantôme was untraceable. He assembled a new team each time, and even when the police could piece together the identities of his accomplices, the accomplices knew nothing useful. Le Fantôme never shared his name and hardly ever showed his face. He pulled strings from the shadows. It was why Theo struggled to convince his superiors that Le Fantôme existed.

Then out of nowhere, a lucky break gifted Theo every detective’s dream. One of his juniors connived her way onto Le Fantôme’s new crew. Suddenly, Theo knew his target, the day, and the moment. 

It was a long story, and right now was certainly not the time.

“Just a good team, good police work,” Theo responded flatly.  

Olivier got the message. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

They waited in silence. Outside, the traffic hummed by softly. Occasionally, the van’s aluminum shell crackled. Seconds turned into minutes on the white analog clock. Like a hawk, Theo hovered over the painting on his screen.

Suddenly, a shrill, high-pitched clanging. The alarm! Theo and Olivier jumped from their chairs. Panicked voices crackled through the audio connection. The video blurred as the plainclothes officers panned the galleries.

“What’s going on!” Theo called into his microphone. “Where’s the painting!”

“The painting’s here,” responded an officer.  

“Well, find the alarm!” Theo urged.

The plainclothes officers raced through the hallways. Theo watched through jerky video. Paintings, statues, and patrons passed in a blur. Thirty seconds. A minute. Still the alarm rang out like a wild yell.  

“I’m going in,” Theo announced. He grabbed his gun and reached for the door handle.

“Wait!” Olivier gasped.

Theo turned back. One video feed had settled on the jewelry gallery. In the center was a smashed glass case. It was empty.

“Le Black Orlov!” exclaimed the plainclothes officer.

Olivier leaned in closer. “That’s 120 carats,” he whispered. “I thought they were going for the painting.”

“Me too,” Theo said. He clenched his jaw and rumbled out of the door.

He sprinted towards the museum entrance. Patrons streamed from the door and pooled on the sidewalk like confused sheep. Theo pushed through them, waving his badge. With his other hand, he pulled out the burner and texted: Where are you?!?

He plowed through the museum door. Someone in uniform escorted him through the halls. He kept checking his phone. Why wasn’t she responding? By the time he reached the jewelry gallery, his stomach was in knots.

Part 2

9:13 a.m.

Chloe quickly walked along the narrow ledge. In front of her, the pathway snaked across the Marseille rooftops. On either side, the shingles fell sharply towards the streets. One misstep promised a fatal fall. But Chloe only increased her pace.  

Behind her though, Emma struggled to keep up. Chloe was surprised; the height shouldn’t have been a problem.

Beneath them, the city was waking up. Impatient car horns and clattering feet floated through the cool morning air. For those people, it was just another normal Tuesday.

But for Chloe, today was showtime. Four short minutes to lifechanging reward or awful defeat. This was living.

The last four months had been unlike anything she’d experienced. The stakes. The charades. The pushing of boundaries, physical and mental. She loved a good challenge, and ones like these didn’t come around very often.

Just ahead, a glass dome rose above utility systems and antennas. A few more steps, and she was there. A chimney stood next to the glass. Here, Chloe crouched and peeked down through the dome into the museum’s jewelry gallery. She didn’t see anyone. Perfect.

Chloe glanced back. Emma was still maybe 15 feet behind, teetering precariously with her arms outstretched. Her backpack swung back and forth, playing with her balance.

Chloe offered a hand, and Emma lunged for it. With a strong grip, Chloe pulled her partner close. “Careful,” she said. “You okay?”

Emma nodded. Then she asked, “You ready?”

Chloe glanced at her watch. “Yeah. We need to go.”

Emma swung the backpack off her shoulder and took out three carabiners, a belay device, and some rope. In a heartbeat, she set up a perfect belay system. Chloe gently tugged on the anchor point drilled into the chimney, which Emma had installed the night before.

“Don’t worry,” Emma told her. “You can trust me.”

Chloe nodded.

Emma handed her a club hammer. The hammer was heavy, with a thick steel head. Chloe weighed it in her hand for a moment, then tucked it into her belt. She checked her watch again.

“You ready?” she asked.

Emma fiddled with her harness and then took a deep breath. “Yes,” she responded.

“On my go.”

Chloe peered down through the glass again. For a second, she held her breath. The air felt alive. The rushing city faded away. A bird floated peacefully above. One final nod to Emma.

Then she hurled herself through the glass, shoulder first. Instantly, a shrill, high-pitched clanging. Shards splintered and sprayed the air, falling with a crash to the floor. She heard screams below. For a second, there was freefall. Then, Emma slowed her to a controlled, rapid descent.

When she hit the floor, she glimpsed two people fleeing through the doorway. Not much time. Still clipped in, she raced the few steps to Le Black Orlov. Everything blurred around her. Only the diamond remained. It was a beautiful, milky dark color. And it was huge.

She whipped out the club hammer and swung it at the glass casing. Hard. The hammer bounced off, like a repulsed magnet. But it left a crack in the case. Again, Chloe swung. The crack widened, but the case didn’t give. She heard voices approaching. Sweat formed on her forehead. With a wild, desperate energy, she swung again. Still nothing.

But the fourth time, the case exploded. Tiny shards peppered the room. Chloe shielded her eyes. When she opened them, the diamond was gone. She raced around the podium and found it lying in a pile of glass. In one motion, she snatched it, slipped it into a velvet bag, and made for the center of the room.

“Up!” she yelled to Emma.

The rope tightened, and Chloe began climbing. Hand over hand. Like a machine. She had trained so hard for this, and now she felt unstoppable.

At the top, Chloe scrambled onto the rooftop. In thirty seconds, Emma had disassembled the belay system. They raced back across the ledge, with Emma leading.

Suddenly, Chloe’s phone buzzed. Without missing a step, she slipped it out of her pocket and side-eyed the screen. It was Theo. Where are you?!?

She slid the phone back into her pocket without replying.  

Part 3

9:13 a.m.

Emma hardly survived the journey to the entry point. She had lived her whole life in the sky; she was no stranger to risk. But this was different. This was illegal. Now she could hardly walk straight.

“Careful,” Chloe encouraged when Emma made it to the chimney. “You okay?”

Emma took a deep breath. She nodded towards Chloe. “You ready?” she asked.

Chloe nodded, and Emma swung into action. Setting up the belay system was like coming home to a warm hug. Today felt foreign and menacing, but the gear was her comfort. And she understood it perfectly. In seconds, the system was ready.

Chloe leaned over the glass dome. Once she jumped, it would be chaos. Emma glanced around. She saw the rooftops. The belay system. The museum’s glass dome. Masks and tools. How on earth did she end up here?

She remembered the envelope. Bulky and unmarked, it slipped through her mail slot one faceless morning. There was cash inside – so much cash – and a cell phone. The phone rang. A man’s voice greeted her. He seemed to know everything about her and promised a job that would make all her problems go away. She remembered how disconcerting that was, how exposed she had felt. But the money was real. Guarded but curious, she stayed on the line. And now she was here.

The shrill alarm ripped her back to the present. Emma desperately pulled on the rope, slowing Chloe’s fall. Then she felt the rope slack, signaling Chloe had made it down.

Alone, Emma shuddered. It felt like the alarm had grabbed her shoulders and was shaking her violently. It seemed to scream to the world: “She’s over here!”

Ten seconds felt like ten minutes. Emma’s eyes flickered to the streets below. She hoped no one was looking back. It would only take one video, one post, and she’d be done.  

Suddenly, the rope tightened. A few seconds later, Chloe crawled onto the roof. In an instant, Emma disassembled the belay system. Soon she was sprinting back across the narrow ledge.

The path was crooked, but Emma ran without thinking. She sprinted past a giant HVAC system, skipped over a gutter, and bounded down some steps. The alarm wasn’t so deafening now. At the edge of the rooftop was a fire escape. Emma hopped onto the first step. The steel mesh rattled and groaned.

She descended to the upper story window and crawled inside. The apartment was empty. The old wooden floor was swept clean, and the white walls were spotless. Emma bounded towards the door, the boards creaking under her feet. As she grasped the handle, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around.

“Hey,” Chloe said. “It’s okay.”

Chloe took a deep, slow breath, her shoulders rising and then falling. Emma gave a tired smile and copied her partner.

“Remember, slow and steady,” Chloe said, and nodded reassuringly. Emma nodded back.

Then she opened the door.

The hallway was empty. Emma started left, fighting hard to control her pace. Chloe followed behind.

“How was the movie?” Chloe asked.

“It was awesome. Leo is so hot!” Emma responded. She cringed inside at this fake conversation. But it was part of the plan, intended to deflect suspicion. Even this short jaunt down the hallway had been meticulously scripted.

They continued their charade until they reached the end of the passage. Here, they entered a stairwell. Their footsteps echoed off the walls as they descended. When they reached the bottom, Emma pushed through the door.

They stepped into a dark, underground garage. It was packed full of cars but completely empty of people. A dingy yellow light threw a faint glow onto the concrete. The air smelled musty and toxic. In the distance, Emma heard sirens and the sound of squeaking tires.

“What now?” Emma asked.

As if on cue, a man stepped toward them. It was like he had materialized out of thin air. His face was completely concealed by a surgical mask and oversized hoodie. Emma jumped backwards into Chloe.

“Where’s the diamond?” he asked.

“She has it!” Emma pointed at Chloe.

“Where’s the money?” Chloe asked.

Quickly, the man reached into his coat and pulled out two envelopes.

“Open them,” Chloe ordered.

The man quickly flipped them open to reveal thick stacks of bills. “Where’s the diamond?” he asked again.

Chloe produced the black velvet bag and handed it to him.

He peeked inside. Then he reached inside. “Oh,” he said in wonder. His voice trailed off.

“Money?” Chloe pressed him.

The man quickly snapped the drawstrings shut and dropped the bag into his inside coat pocket. Then he tossed one envelope to Emma, and a second to Chloe. Emma almost dropped hers.

“Can I go?” she asked. She didn’t even look inside her envelope.

“Yes,” the man said. “Good luck.”

She hadn’t expected that. From the moment he recruited her, he had been extremely demanding, requiring total commitment. The abrupt farewell startled her. “That’s all?” she asked.

“Yes. Go.” he said again.

Emma slowly stepped past him, as if he would snatch her back at any moment. Then, after a few steps, she took off running.

________________________

Four minutes earlier.

Theo stood in the middle of the jewelry gallery, his eyes empty with shock. Smashed glass lay strewn all around him.  Someone was unspooling yellow crime scene tape. Radios cracked. It felt like his brain and organs had run away and the only thing left was his skin and bone, stranded on the museum floor. Just like the diamond, his pride and career had vanished before his eyes.

Suddenly, the burner vibrated in his back pocket. He grabbed it and read Chloe’s message: Place Notre Dame du Mont. Underground garage. Hurry.

His heart jumped, and in an instant, his mind was clear. Le Fantôme was his prize again!

“Follow me!” he shouted to the closest officers he could find.

As they raced together towards the exit, he grabbed the microphone on his lapel.

“Place Notre Dame du Mont. Underground Garage. All units. Now!”

Part 4

Chloe watched Emma flee into the parking garage. Soon, she disappeared behind a distant row of cars. Her footsteps echoed for a moment more and then melted away.

Chloe turned back to the man in front of her – the mastermind who had orchestrated everything. His gaze remained fixed on her from underneath his bulky hoodie.

“Good luck,” he said, and began to turn away.

“Wait!” Chloe called out. The garage was still deathly silent, and the sirens outside seemed a world away. She needed to stall. Opening the envelope he had just given her, she said, “I need to make sure it’s all here.”

She began to thumb through the bills.

The man looked at her, then back across the garage towards the exit, then back to her again. The wailing sirens outside seemed just a bit crisper. “No,” he stated, “it’ll take too long.”

“You could have cheated me,” Chloe said. “I’m not leaving ‘till I count it.”

The sirens blared louder.

“You’ll have to trust me,” he said. “Good luck.”

He turned to go, then stopped. Suddenly, the sirens were right outside. He tensed, and scanned the garage, looking for options. A line of patrol cars rumbled down the ramp at the far end. Flashing red and blue pierced the darkness. Screaming sirens pounded their ears.

“How?” he muttered under his breath. He bolted left.

“Here! Quick!” Chloe called.

The man turned. She was standing next to a utility van. The driver’s door was open.

He bolted towards her. She got into the driver’s side; he jumped into the passenger seat. They closed the doors, and the cab muffled the shrill sirens.

“Where’s the key?” he asked, as he pulled the hoodie down further over his eyes.

“It’s not my van,” she responded.

“You don’t have the key. What are we doing here?”

“We’ve got no chance out there,” she said. “I’m improvising. We’re utility service workers now. Take off your mask.”

He growled. But slowly, he peeled off his surgical mask.

“Hoodie,” she said curtly.

With similar reluctance, he pulled back the fabric to fully reveal himself. He was probably in his late thirties. His hair was dark and ruffled. But what stood out most to Chloe was his eyes. They were dark and intelligent. They darted back and forth, scanning her, and the van, and the garage. He was always thinking, planning, scheming.

Chloe realized she was probably the first cop to ever see his face.

The garage was now infested with police. Two dozen patrol cars rolled through the aisles. Dozens more officers combed the area on foot. The air was thick with squeaking tires, yelling officers, wailing sirens. Just fifteen feet ahead, two uniformed men methodically checked every vehicle on the opposite aisle. A patrol car turned down their row. Its headlights shined across their cab, momentarily blinding them. Chloe felt the man tense. The car rolled past their parking spot without stopping, but it was clear they were living on borrowed time.

“Okay, let’s hide the diamond and cash,” Chloe said. “We’ll give ourselves up, pretend to be witnesses. They’ll question us and let us go. When everything dies down, we’ll come back. It’s our best chance.”

The man didn’t respond. His eyes flickered across the garage. She could tell he didn’t love the idea. But the two uniformed officers were right across the aisle now.

“I’m not leaving the diamond,” he said.

“How are we going to explain it when they search you?” she asked.

He growled again, then took the velvet bag out of his pocket. He fingered the soft cloth for a moment. Slowly, he reached down and maneuvered the diamond under his seat. All the while, Chloe watched him. Then she stuffed her cash envelope under her seat.

They looked at each other.

“Ready?” she asked.

He nodded. Chloe clicked open her door. Immediately the officers noticed. They pulled their guns.

“On the ground!” one of them yelled.

The man waved his hands above his head and dropped to his knees. It seemed a dozen officers swarmed him from out of nowhere. In an instant, he was theirs.

__

Theo stared through the one-way glass at the man sitting in the cold interrogation room. He hunched in his chair. His wrists were handcuffed to the metal table. His face was long and empty.

Theo smiled and breathed a deep sigh. Now, he would demand respect. What deference they’d give him in Paris! All he needed was the confession.

Theo grabbed a file and headed toward the entrance of the interrogation room. At the door, he paused. For a moment, he tried to memorize everything – the sounds, the smells, the temperature. His thoughts.

Finally, Theo rotated the handle and stepped inside. The man turned his head. His expression remained blank. Theo circled in front of him and threw the folder onto the table. It landed with a smack.

“I’ll be brief,” Theo began. “We can already link you to the Paris Lockbox job with DNA evidence.”

He paused for effect.

“That was ten years ago, now,” he continued. “Back then, you were doing everything yourself. Not so clever.”

He paused again. Then, he continued.

“Based on that little excursion alone, you’re eligible for twenty years of free room and board at your local penitentiary! We also know you’ve been involved in numerous other crimes, and it’s only a matter of time before we come up with concrete evidence to prove it.”

The man remained silent and unmoved.

Theo leaned over the table.

“But I’m prepared to make you an offer,” he said. “Admit to all your crimes and tell us where you hid Le Black Orlov. In exchange, it’ll be only ten years, and we’ll drop all charges except the Paris Lockbox job.”

Theo opened the folder, and with three fingers, rotated it so the man could read it. He produced a pen and very gently set it on the table.

“All you need to do is sign,” Theo said softly.

The man looked up as if to ask: Are you done? Then he leaned forward and began to read. His eyes danced across the paper, processing and calculating. Minutes passed. Theo got tired of leaning over the table, so he stood up and crossed his arms. Finally, the man took a deep breath.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay,” Theo repeated, with surprise. He hadn’t expected it to be that easy.

Slowly but deliberately, the man signed the paper. And just like that, it was done. Theo had captured Le Fantôme.

Theo felt like a dam had burst inside of him. All he wanted was to yell in victory. But with his last ounce of self-control, he held back. Instead, he pulled up a chair.

He took a deep breath, then asked, “So, where is Le Black Orlov?”

“I hid it in the van,” responded Le Fantôme, “under the passenger seat.”

“I know the van,” Theo began. “We searched it and didn’t find anything. Where exactly did you put it?”

“Right under the seat!” Le Fantôme exclaimed.

“What do you mean, right under the seat?” Theo pressed. “There was nothing under the seat.”

“Well, you didn’t look hard enough!” Le Fantôme challenged.

Theo leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. “You know, this deal doesn’t work unless you play ball.”

“Why would I lie?” Le Fantôme exclaimed.

“I don’t know,” Theo waved his hand energetically. “Maybe you’re having second thoughts.”

“Did you find the cash?” Le Fantôme asked.

“What cash?”

“Under the driver’s seat. The woman put it there. It was her payment.”

Theo stood up so powerfully that his chair wobbled backwards, scraping across the floor. “Clearly you’re not ready to talk.”

“Wait -” Le Fantôme called. But Theo was already gone.

He slammed the interrogation room door closed behind him. Waiting nearby were three officers.

“He’s all yours now,” Theo told them, with a twirl of his finger.

One of the men nodded. They slipped inside and soon reappeared with Le Fantôme in tow. The thief gave Theo one last look as he passed. It wasn’t anger. Or sorrow. It was befuddlement.

Theo watched as the officers ushered Le Fantôme down the hallway and around a corner, out of sight. In his hand was the confession. It was everything he had always wanted. But something about Le Fantôme’s last look stuck with him. Suddenly, the old, unanswered questions called out to him again, this time mixed with a new one: where was Le Black Orlov?

Yes, he had the confession. But did he know the truth?

Meanwhile, the officers led Le Fantôme through the station. A crowd swarmed them. Reporters yelled questions. The officers bulldozed through the chaos. Finally, they arrived at a reception desk where they paused to grab some paperwork.

The thief’s mind was spinning. He caught glimpses of the station through the crowd – desks, watercooler, conference room. Then his heart stopped. Who was that officer in the distance, talking by the coffee machine? He narrowed his eyes. It was Chloe.

Instinctively, his mouth hung open. He had wondered how they found him so quickly. Now it made sense.

Then a second thought froze him. He couldn’t believe it, but it was the only explanation. Until that van was confiscated, there were only two people who knew where the diamond and money were. Him, and her.

She had played him like a virtuoso plays the concert grand.

He supposed she’d be questioned about the diamond’s whereabouts. But who would Theo believe? Him – a serial criminal? Or her – the decorated cop who had made his capture possible?

She looked up and saw him from a distance. He nodded to her, ever so slightly. A smile played at the edges of her lips.

Part 5

Thirty minutes ago, Emma had been running across that rooftop, adrenaline pumping.  But now, as she walked the final steps to her apartment, the world had finally stopped shaking. The chaos was behind her. She was home.   

Emma closed her eyes and leaned into her apartment door for a moment. Then she slipped a tiny key from her pocket, clicked open the lock, and pushed inside. The hinges groaned.

It was a humble space. The kitchenette and living area were separated by only a few paces. The paint was old and stained. The wooden floors were scratched and discolored.

“Mama!” came a voice from the bedroom.

“I’m here, Thomas,” she called, and headed towards him.

As she did, she walked by a set of shelves and almost tripped over a drawer she had left open the night before. This was her bin of mementos: climbing trip schedules, souvenirs, pictures. Even her first – and only – sponsorship contract. The money was small, but the deal meant so much at the time, a promise of things to come. Now, these were only stinging reminders that she hadn’t quite been good enough. 

Outside Thomas’s door, she slipped the envelope out of her jacket and quickly flipped through the bills. Unbelievable. She’d never held this much money in her life. But she set the envelope on the counter before walking through the doorway.

Inside, Thomas lay stretched across the bed. When Emma entered, the seven-year-old smiled and set his book down.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Where were you?”

“Yes, I’m okay,” she answered, and leaned down to give him a gentle hug. “How’s the leg?”

Thomas glanced down at his lower left leg, which was wrapped in a dirty, discolored cast. “It’s okay,” he said. “Kind of itchy.”

Emma remembered when the doctors broke the news – he had a genetic disorder that caused his bones to easily fracture. Even day-to-day living was risky. They called it “Osteogenesis Imperfecta.” To her, it sounded like a prison sentence. How, she wondered, could she be so athletic, while he was so frail?

There was no cure, but they told her it could be managed with the right treatment. The problem was the right treatment cost money. She and Leo, his father, made it work for a while. But Leo became increasingly distant and less invested. Then one day, she came home and he was gone.

Suddenly, she was alone, with a sickly child and failing career. Soon, she only had enough left to pay for a few weeks of bare necessities.  

Until that mysterious envelope slipped through her door.

Emma ran her hand through Thomas’s hair. “It’s going to be okay now,” she said. “We’re going to get your medicine.”

“Really?” he asked, and looked up at her with a deep earnestness.

“Yes, and therapy,” she smiled.

“How?” he asked, confused.

She took his hand and gently brushed it with her thumb. “Because I’m your mother,” she said.

He smiled.

She moved to the chair in the corner and sat down. Slowly, the pressure, desperation, and stress began to wash away.

Outside, people wove around each other on the sidewalk. Cars lined up in the narrow street, and someone honked impatiently. She felt like a spectator to their flurried lives.

For the first time in forever, she had nothing to do.

She looked at Thomas. “How’s the book?” she asked.