Perfect Scoundrels (Heist Society #3)(53)

“So”—Bobby slapped the table—“I hear someone needs to rob the Superior Bank of Manhattan?”

“Yes, sir,” Hale said.

Bobby pulled out a chair. “Have a seat.”

How many times had Kat seen Hale at Eddie’s kitchen table? Too many to even count, she was sure. But right then she was holding her breath, hoping everything was going to be okay.

“Just to back up a moment…” Hamish said. “So that I’m clear, we are supposed to run a dead con on someone who knows that we’re conning him.…”

“Well, not him, exactly—my family,” Hale said. “But pretty much. Go on.”

“And we’re supposed to set up a Big Store with no money,” Hamish said.

“And rob the Superior Bank of Manhattan with no time,” Angus finished.

“And then break into the U.S. Patent office to swap out the fake plans for the real plans…” Hamish said. “Or something like that.”

Kat looked around the room. If she could have chosen any crew in the world, it would have been them, but she didn’t feel any peace.

“You’re right, Hamish, I don’t have any money,” Hale said. “But I have some things we can sell.”

“No, sir,” Marcus chimed in. “I have savings, which I will happily contribute to—”

“No!” Eddie’s fist banged against the table. “You think this is supposed to be easy? In my day we had to work for what we stole. We didn’t fly around on private jets. No one wrote us a check and bought us a Big Store. We made our own luck with our wits and our hands. Now, you two.” He pointed at the Bagshaws and shuffled toward the door. “You boys find me a Big Store. You find it fast.”

“But…” Angus started.

Eddie glared. “Go.”

And with that, Angus and Hamish were up and out the door.

Eddie looked around at the rest of them. “Why are you sitting here? We have work to do.”





“Well, what do you think?” Angus squinted through the bright sun, staring up at the big abandoned building behind him. There were boards on the windows, a rough patch on the roof. Even in spring, the wind felt straight from the North Pole, and Kat shivered on the high bluff with the view of the icy Atlantic waters.

“This is the place?” Gabrielle asked. “We’re supposed to believe a member of the Hale family has spent the last fifty years living…here?” She followed Kat through the front doors, past crumbling stairs and dirty windows, and didn’t try to hide her disgust. Birds nested in the rafters. A squirrel ran across the floor.

“Is it cheap?” Kat asked.

“It’s free.” Angus gave a self-satisfied grin.

“Then it’s perfect,” Kat told him, and walked on.

“Hey, Kat!” Hamish yelled from the second story. “Don’t worry about the lights. Dad had a…uh…supply of generators. We’ll have the whole place lit up by tonight.” He was running down the stairs, but then he hit a loose step, stumbled, and fell the rest of the way.

“We’ll fix that,” Angus told Kat.

“Good idea,” Gabrielle said.

Kat walked on through the empty foyer. “What was this place again?”

“I don’t know exactly.” Angus shrugged. “The really old house of a really old rich dude, I guess. Felix found it. He ran the Monte Cristo here once. No one comes this far up the coast this early in the year, so we’ve got twenty square miles to ourselves.”

“Good.” Kat nodded her approval and headed down the hall, past someone carrying a massive stack of board games. “Is that Guido Romero?” Kat asked.

Angus shook his head. “Guido’s having a little Interpol situation, so we got Antonio.”

“Hey, Antonio!” Kat yelled, and she and Gabrielle and Angus walked on, past Uncle Ezra and Uncle Felix, who were engaged in a serious argument regarding a pair of fuzzy slippers.

“Do I want to know what that’s about?” she whispered.

“No,” Angus said, then led them into a room equipped with an upright piano, three Ping-Pong tables, and a massive aquarium. Angus took them through a library, which had been recently outfitted with every textbook Uncle Marco had stolen from the Cornell Medical School in 1983. There was a commercial-grade kitchen being cleaned by the Bagshaws’ cousin Buster, a dining room being transformed into a parlor by the two DiMarcos who weren’t currently in jail, and two Hungarian sisters who owed Uncle Eddie a very large favor were arguing over the best way to apply bars to the exterior windows.

“What’s upstairs?” Gabrielle asked.

“Bedrooms,” Angus said. “We’ll try to keep them off-limits, but we’ll have one ready to go if we need it.”

“Good,” Kat said.

Everywhere they walked, Kat smelled fresh paint and new two-by-fours. There was the constant humming of drills and banging of hammers, and Kat imagined she was backstage on Broadway, but judging by the butterflies in her stomach, she wasn’t ready for the curtain to go up.

“Can we do something about the smell?” Gabrielle asked.

“We’re running fans twenty-four hours a day, and in the morning we’ll hit the whole place with that.” Angus pointed to a pile of cleaning supplies in the corner. “We’ll have it lemon-fresh by showtime, don’t you worry.”