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“I hope this works,” Gabriel grumbles.
“Confidence,” I remind him. “It’s all about confidence.”
“The moment I think things are going south, I’m pulling us out.”
“I know, I know,” I mumble as I hop into the backseat of the black SUV. Gabriel takes up his position behind the driving wheel.
It’s finally time to get this show on the road.
The front gates to the property are grand and spectacular, iron-wrought with lions carved out of marble on either side. There’s a guard booth just up ahead, two armed patrol officers and a man inside checking ID’s. Thankfully, it looks like our buddies Klaus and Anders are nowhere to be found. I’m not sure if they’d remember us, but I’d really like to avoid a run-in with them either way.
“Name?” the booth guard asks.
“Amelia Stern’s assistant, Patty Monroe,” Gabriel says flatly. I can’t tell if he’s nervous. I’m personally on the edge of my seat, quietly praying things go smoothly. One wrong move, one reason to suspect us and these guards may very well pump us full of lead.
The booth guard frowns. “We were expecting Mrs. Stern herself. I don’t have a Patty Monroe on our list.”
That’s my cue.
“Let me talk to him,” I snap, putting on my best southern drawl. Fun accents help me get into character.
“I can handle this, ma’am,” Gabriel argues.
I snap my fingers. “I won’t ask again. Roll down my damn window!”
Mumbling under his breath, Gabriel obliges. I all but shove myself out the gap, glaring at the booth guard with the fury of a thousand suns.
“Now you listen here, mister,” I say, slowly increasing in volume. “I didn’t fly all the way from Texas just to have you turn me around. Mrs. Stern gave me express orders to come here on her behalf. Her darling grandson’s come down with a terrible flu —the poor dear— so she can’t make it. She sent me in her stead to takes notes for her.”
The guard bristles, clearly not expecting to deal with the wild Texan whirlwind that is my Patty Monroe. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we never received clearance—”
“Do I look like I give a shit?” I hiss. “I hauled my ass on an overnight flight to make it, and you can’t do me the courtesy of checking your damn emails? I sent notice before I got on the plane. Are you calling me a fucking liar?”
I’m a little bit proud that the guard looks like he’s two seconds away from pissing himself. I keep going, sure it’s only a matter of time before I make the bastard crack. Waving Amelia Stern’s iPad in the air, I bellow, “I’ve got Mrs. Stern’s notes right here. She said she’d fire my ass if I didn’t get Herr Van Straus’ requests just right. If I end up fired because of you, I’m gonna come all the way back to Germany just to kick your ass!”
“We’re in Switzerland, ma’am,” Gabriel corrects me.
“Did I ask for your fucking opinion, John?”
Gabriel shoots the guard an apologetic smile, speaking gently in German. They have a quiet, calm exchange back and forth. Much to my relief, the guard lets us through after checking the ID Gabriel lifted off the original driver. Combined with his spiffy black suit and swept back hair, he makes for a fairly convincing personal driver.
“Come on through,” the guard says after a moment, the large iron gates slowly sliding open.
“Thank fuck!” I hiss for good measure, keeping up my performance until Gabriel rolls up my window. I slump into my seat and take a deep breath. “Holy shit, he bought it.”
Gabriel glances at me using the reflection of the rearview mirror. “Nothing like a little good cop, bad cop.”
We pull up to the front of the castle where a large water fountain sits at the center of the roundabout. The water isn’t working right now, probably because of the sub-zero seasonal temperatures and judging by the ice covering the moat surrounding the castle.
I keep an observant eye out the window, mentally tallying all the armed guards, attack dogs, and exterior security cameras. We’ve officially entered phase two of our heist: scouting the location.
The car comes to a stop. Gabriel gets out first and opens the door for me, offering me a hand as I step out onto the cold pavement. It’s slippery, a factor that may or maynot make things difficult for us the day of the heist.
Gabriel and I are greeted by a middle-aged woman in a severe, conservative black dress. If it weren’t for the apron wrapped around her waist, I’d assume she was off to attend a funeral somewhere. Her bright blonde hair is pulled back into a tight bun, her eyes a piercing frosty blue.
“Ms. Monroe,” she greets demurely. “I’m Cassandra. Right this way. I’m here to give you a tour of the castle as per Herr Van Straus’ instructions.”
“And whereisHerr Van Straus?” I ask.
