Page 2 of Cozen

The butler was not a young man, but maybe to a woman of Pearl’s age, he seemed like it. Ace couldn’t be sure, but his amusement came out in the form of a grin that he hid by looking down at the tablet in his lap.

Nonetheless, the warning in Pearl’s old voice could have cut glass. Her age, Ace decided, was nothing more than a number. She was just as dangerous as anyone else who laid claim to the Astor name.

“Don’t interrupt my meeting again,” Pearl said.

“My apologies,” the butler muttered.

He was quick to scatter. His footsteps couldn’t even be heard as he left.

Sighing, Pearl turned back to Ace. “Now, are you going to show me what you have? Prove the thief you chose is the right one for the job?”

“She is the right one,” Ace returned, “and actually, she may be the only one.”

Pearl lifted a brow, and a jeweled finger to wave. “So you say.”

“Cozen is exactly what you need. She integrates into a mark’s life, gains their trust, and gets the job done. It may take two weeks, or it may take six months. It doesn’t matter because when she is done, she leaves quietly and without the fanfare another thief might cause with a quick heist.”

“Problematic.”

“Pardon?”

“That would be problematic for us,” Pearl said, “and so, you think this woman and her partner will be—”

“I never said Cozen has a partner. She works alone.”

For a long while, Pearl stared hard at Ace. It almost felt as though she were weighing his words, and how she felt about them.

“No partner?” she finally asked.

Ace shook his head. “She doesn’t need one.”

“And what if she fails—what is her backup?”

“She has never failed.”

Pearl rested back in the couch, and the lines of her aging face deepened with her contemplating frown. “Never?”

“Her way of working takes time, and sometimes it feels like very little is getting done, but it is always successful. If you give her a little bit of faith, I promise you will receive everything you want in return.”

“Fine, show me.”

Ace turned the tablet on, and typed in in his four-digit passcode. A few swipes across the screen, and he had the video brought up. Turning it around for Pearl to get a good view of what was happening on the screen, he waited.

Pearl watched in silence as a party was caught on camera in what had been an art gallery—the famous theft of the Van Gogh painting had basically bankrupt the place when the rich who had been using it to show off their art under the guise of possibly selling it no longer had a client list to keep them relevant.

The camera was directly on the wall that showcased the Van Gogh—a small painting no larger than twelve by eight inches, or so—and a few other pieces that any respectable art dealer would die to put on the market.

The crowd swelled once in the video.

They dispersed.

“I’m sorry, what is happening?” Pearl asked.

“Wait for it,” Ace murmured.

The crowd swelled again, but this time when they dispersed, the painting was gone. The Van Gogh was taken.

Pearl sat back quickly. “I missed it, didn’t I?”