He took Kitsune’s natural talents and honed her into a weapon more lethal than a bullet, or a knife. She had the touch. A gift. She had the best hands in the business, and no bourgeois morals to ever sway her opinions or her actions. She could disappear at will, switch languages from one word to the next, change looks to add or subtract a decade. She could blend in anywhere. She had no conscience, no qualms. A job was a job, and she was the very best. She took great pride in her skills. She always basked in his approval when she returned, flushed with triumph and money ready for distribution to private accounts.
She remembered in particular the time she’d flown to Berlin to steal a Rembrandt from the foreign minister of Germany, Herr Joschka Fischer. Mulvaney had gotten her enrolled in an exclusive private school as Bettina Genscher from Vienna, and she soon became best friends with the minister’s very smart daughter, Liese. Kitsune was twenty-one at the time, yet no one knew she wasn’t the same age as Liese, an innocent and sweet sixteen. Soon, Bettina and Liese were best friends, and she was a frequent visitor at the Fischer house. The foreign minister in particular found her charming and well spoken for such a young girl, her German elegant.
After the Rembrandt went missing, she finished the last two weeks in the private school, their top student in a decade, and bid Liese and her family a tearful good-bye.
She would do anything necessary for money, but stealing art, that was her forte.
Mulvaney taught her not only his trade but practical things as well: how to shelter her money, how to use weapons, how to utilize technology and explosives. She became proficient in martial arts. She learned how to cross borders without raising suspicion, learned how to pick the clients who would pay, and be discreet. And most important, he taught her how to stay apart, unemotional. She was never to feel pity for a mark. She was never to lose her heart, never leave herself vulnerable, because that way meant failure.
He put her through university, giving her the vocabulary she needed to mingle among the world’s wealthiest men and women. If she were to move in the right circles, she must possess the proper pedigree. They decided archaeology was the perfect cover. After five years putting in the labor in dusty fields and catacombs, an inspired dissertation on ancient Etruscan art, at twenty-five she received her doctorate, a moment of great pride for them both.
As Kitsune’s talent grew, so did her reputation. Mulvaney’s choice of the name the Fox was inspired. It was gender-neutral, and many of the clients she worked for had no idea she was a woman. She kept to the shadows, made deliveries without being seen.
Mulvaney let her choose her own calling card, assuring her that someday a victim would see her token and know it was the Fox who’d taken his treasure, since she would become that famous. She chose a small plastic skeleton, which made Mulvaney laugh.
At one point, Mulvaney set himself up as her chief competitor, allowing her to ace him out, and letting it become known in the right circles, to help her reputation spread. They shared the profits, and both got richer.
She was soon sought after the world over. Art crime was her true love, though she’d take other jobs, if they paid well enough, and her small token, the plastic skeleton, became her trademark. No one guessed she was a woman.
She had only one rule.
No guns. Ever. She refused to tell Mulvaney why, simply said guns were too unpredictable in the wrong hands, and much too noisy.
Ten years before, Mulvaney had retired from the game. She hadn’t understood why he chose to quit; he was vigorous, strong, agile. He had a fast and devious brain she admired. He was getting older, he told her; it was time for him to sit back in the sun and enjoy himself. No, he would never leave her. He would always be there to watch over her, to have her back. She’d come to love him with everything in her, a deep abiding love, a bond stronger than a daughter’s for her father. She couldn’t imagine him not being a part of her life, a part of her, and she told him so. He’d hugged her, patted her cheek, then kissed her forehead. She felt safe and secure with him. Only him.