He gave her all his best clients; Saleem Lanighan’s father, Robert Lanighan, was one of them. Which led her to Saleem, and his fanatical desire to own the unownable. To steal the Koh-i-Noor diamond, possibly the most protected, revered stone in history, part of the very fabric making up the history of England. It would be the biggest, most elaborate job she’d ever attempted.
And then she, too, could retire, perhaps to Capri, perhaps somewhere equally lovely and anonymous, and find a protégée of her own to train.
45
After Lanighan was in contact the first time, she debated long and hard about taking the job at all. Whether it could even be done. She weighed all the options, talked to Mulvaney at length. It took three months of convincing before she even agreed to discuss it with Lanighan, and opened the line of communication in a coded email.
Lanighan’s desires were simple and clear. Get the Koh-i-Noor, at whatever cost. And he was paying her more money than even Mulvaney had ever earned on a single job. Of course, it was Mulvaney who’d told her to charge him through the teeth, and why not? For whatever reason, Lanighan wanted the diamond more than anything else in the world. Be audacious, he’d advised. And so she had.
And she remembered a long-ago winter sun, beginning to slip into the sea, casting an unearthly glow in the sky. Mulvaney had roused himself, walked to the balcony, and stared out over the beautiful Mediterranean. He looked toward the harbor, watching the boats, watching the crowds gather in the outdoor restaurants, watching the shadows grow. Finally he’d turned and said in a meditative voice, “There is a rule you must never break, Kitsune. It is a rule you must never forget, and you must never question it. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
She’d never called someone sir willingly, and the word sounded strange in her mouth.
“Good. Excellent. Here is your rule: never ask why.”
“What do you mean?”
“When a client wants something, your responsibility is to make it happen. You never, ever ask why he wants the job done. It is not your business. Do you understand?”
She nodded, though she didn’t understand. She couldn’t imagine it, actually, not knowing the why behind a theft, or a murder. And then she thought about what he said, and saw the wisdom in his words.
Asking why would bring her own morality, or lack thereof, into the equation, and could alter her course.
Which could jeopardize the job.
She nodded again, and this time he knew she meant it. And in all her years, she’d never asked a client why.
But the Koh-i-Noor was different. Lanighan didn’t want it because he was a fanatic collector. No, it was more, it was an obsession and over-the-top. But why? The Koh-i-Noor was an awesome diamond, steeped in bloody history, but still—and when he’d agreed to pay her fifty million dollars, she wanted to know his reasons so badly she had to bite her lip to keep from asking him.
But she put it aside, because she had a job to do.
She’d long known she was both lucky and cursed with her looks. The pretty teenager had grown into a very beautiful woman. Beauty was a tool as valuable as her treasured lock picks, but it was also a hindrance, because she was easily remembered. Her greatest skill wasn’t her ability to steal with impunity, but her ability to camouflage her beauty when needed.
And allow it to surface when it was needed, as well.
When she took up residence in London to begin the greatest job of her career, stealing the Koh-i-Noor diamond from the queen mother’s crown, she quickly realized it was time to let her beauty shine through.
His name was Thornton. Grant Thornton. He was a former noncommissioned officer in Her Majesty’s Royal Air Force, decorated, dedicated, and driven. He was handsome, and strong and kind. His new post would be in the Tower of London, as a junior member of the prestigious, sought-after Yeoman Warders.
A beefeater.
Guarding the crown jewels.