Chapter 4: Chapter 3: Art Requires Risk

The following day began in a relatively mundane manner. I awoke, ate breakfast, and contacted the gala event planner for updates on the preparations. They informed me that everything was proceeding well, which bolstered my mood. I thanked them then headed to my family’s exercise room.

Our exercise room enjoys all sorts of amenities. To name but a few, on the more mundane front, we possess treadmills and stationary bicycles, racks filled with dumbbells, another rack for the barbell weights, an adjustable bench, and a glass wall to monitor oneself with.

On the more unconventional end, we possess a boxing ring, punching bags, and mannequins built for striking. It all eased my tasks as both a thief and an heiress considerably.

How it aids me as a thief should go without say. As for my role as heiress, it enables me to perform better as a corporate ambassador.

Ever since I was young, my mother suggested I consider my appearance as people would judge me on it. She informed me of how people automatically associated kindness, trust, and intelligence with people who are attractive. I embraced her advice after noticing how my gender and mixed heritage impacted others. By forging a respectable and alluring visage, I acquire greater control over others. By acquiring greater control over others, I ensure my safety and accomplish my ambitions – my extralegal ones included. For instance, I’m quite certain my pleasant visage has diverted all sorts of suspicion.

I was midway through jogging on the treadmill when my phone dinged. I kept my pace as I checked it and found a message from Rae.

I’m outside, Rae texted. And I’ve got a surprise.

I pressed a button on my phone to switch to the gate’s camera feed. Then a tiny gasp escaped my lips; I knew only one person who drove a dark green sports car.

I pressed another button to grant them access, grabbed my hoodie, and raced to the front entrance. I reached as the car halted at the top of the driveway. My suspicions were confirmed as Rae’s older brother Gale stepped out of the driver’s seat.

It may be because of Gale and Rae’s father, but whenever I saw Gale in his dark blue suit, he gave off the impression of a prosecutor. He wasn’t, though he was involved in law and order as part of Governor Arkland’s security team. One could tell he was physically fit from how his suit hugged his firm physique.

Beyond that, Gale had an arresting face, with thin lips, a slender nose, and deep-set dark brown eyes. In contrast to his formal appearance everywhere else, he had somewhat shaggy charcoal-black hair which was neatly trimmed and kept at neck length.

Rae exited the passenger seat. Unlike him, she wore a far more casual attire, with sneakers, shorts, and a sports bra. Beyond that, they shared a fit physique, thin lips, slender nose, deep-set dark brown eyes, and charcoal-black hair. She too kept her hair shoulder-length, though she wore it in a razored bob.

“Is Govenor Arkland not providing you enough work?” I teased. “Or are you so on top of everything that you've time to squander chauffeuring people around?”

“I never consider what time I can get with my family a waste,” Gale said, his voice genial. “That includes you, Cassidy, despite us not being blood relatives.”

My lips curled into a smile. “It’s nice to see you as well, Gale.”

The three of us caught up with one another as we traveled to the gym. Before we entered, Rae touched my shoulder and asked for the chance to speak to me alone. Gale nodded and entered the gym.

“Is Wynn here?” Rae whispered.

“He has the day off today, so he headed downtown.”

Rae’s shoulders drooped for a second, but she hitched them back up.

“You’ll see more of him in the future,” I said. “I’ve a plan.”

“You always have plans upon plans. Just wish you’d tell me what it is already. I don’t like when you’re secretive. It feels shady.”

“Says the person who pulled me aside for a private conversation. If you wish for me to be more forthcoming about everything, we can speak about this in front of Gale.”

“Gale doesn’t need to know about this.”

I clamped my lips together and held back my laughter. “I won’t speak a word. Regardless, trust me. I’d share what I intend to do, but truth be told, it’s embarrassing. Besides, I won’t do it if we don’t spar as agreed.”

As we entered the fitness room, Rae said, “I think Gale should be able to assess any holes in your defenses. He trained with Mom far more than I.”

“You undersell your own capabilities,” Gale said. “You’re the one who takes after her.”

“It makes no difference to me which of you aids me,” I said. “I simply must know I’m still able to defend myself.”

Gale’s face softened. “I’m certain that the two of us together can assist you in that regard. For now, let’s see how you handle a game of tag with Rae.”

“Tag” was the earliest sparring technique their mother, Olivia Crawford, taught us. The fundamental notion of tag is to develop one’s capability to interpret an incoming attack and respond. For our purposes, Gale assigned Rae the role of attacker.

The two of us entered the ring, stretched, and took our positions across from one another. Rae shifted into the textbook picture of a martial arts stance: she placed her left foot forward, slightly bent her knees, and guarded her head with her arms. If Mrs. Olivia were still alive, she’d be proud. Rae replicated what she taught us perfectly. If I tried any attack first, Rae would counter.

I mirrored Rae’s stance.

“Ready?” Gale asked.

We locked eyes and nodded.

“Start!”

We edged in closer to one another until we entered one another’s space. Then Rae lunged at me.

My heart jerked, and my body slipped out of the way of her attack. She pressed the advantage, swinging at my face, but I ducked, and her hand sailed over my head. Her opposite hand swiped at my head mid evasion, so I struck her wrist with my forearm before it could connect.

Rae recoiled and smiled with gritted teeth. We were only getting started.

“Hey Cass,” Rae said midway through sparring, as we circled one another.  “Why’d you change today’s plans from tennis practice to sparring?”

“You heard Narcissa’s challenge to The Grandmaster of Theft, correct?”

Rae grimaced. “What does that have to do with you?”

“From an intrinsic perspective, nothing.”

Rae squinted in a way which told me she was waiting for the “but.”

“Having said that—” I began, but Rae swung. I slipped beneath her strike and said, “This might offer some free publicity before the gala. I’m certain it can benefit from the attention Narcissa is generating.”

Rae prowled around me. “What are you planning?”

“I’m going to confront Narcissa and wager on the outcome of her challenge. If I’m correct, she’ll donate a substantial sum to Cain International’s alternative fuels research. It should ensure something positive comes out of this disorder. There is an element of risk, what with Narcissa’s volatile nature, so I felt I best ready myself.”

“There’s something I wish to ask you about the gala, Cassidy,” Gale said.

I bent my gaze towards him.

“Are there any invitations remaining?” he asked. “Governor Arkland would like to attend this year.”

Rae shot towards me and fired a straight palm.

“You needn’t ask!” I said as I pivoted out of the way. “My family appreciates the work she’s done for Bergmastand far too much to not reserve her a spot.”

“Cassidy,” Rae said, her back to me, her voice low-pitched and barely concealing a note of malice, “are you going to bet on that thief?”

I tightened my legs. “Indeed.”

Rae whirled around and swung a fist, but I sprung out of the way.

“What are you—” She brought her arms back down, hands balled, and lowered her voice. “Why are you rooting for a criminal?”

“I’m not rooting for—”

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“You are! You’re hitching your wagon to her, so you’re rooting for her!”

“Rae, calm down!” Gale called out. “Cassidy isn’t the one breaking the law. She’s free to do as she pleases, so long as it doesn’t violate the law.”

Rae turned as red as my hair and tucked her chin in.

I slouched against the ring’s corner, unfazed. I had prepared for this possibility.

“I’m choosing The Grandmaster so, no matter what, I come away with this with some measure of victory. If The Grandmaster steals the relic, Cain International profits. If The Grandmaster is captured, Cain International profits. We’ll still gain publicity from this and I can utilize this opportunity to construct a relationship with Narcissa. What’s more, I’ll have another tale to tell at the gala. Finally, if The Grandmaster doesn’t show at all, Cain International profits. My scheme doesn’t rely on The Grandmaster of Theft’s success so much as it does my presence and visibility.”

“Which one of those possibilities do you think is going to happen?” Rae asked.

“I suspect The Grandmaster won’t show. This entire scenario strikes me as undesirable. Why confront Narcissa now when she can simply steal the relic later?”

“For the same reason you wish to appear,” Gale said. “Cassidy, what do fictional figures like Faux or Masquerade have in common with real figures such as The Grandmaster of Theft?”

“They carry out what they believe to be justice?”

Gale shook his head. “Their ‘justice’ is simply an excuse for overstepping the law. What they all share is a desire to showcase their skills. One need only look at The Grandmaster’s self-appointed title. She will appear for the visibility.”

I maintained a neutral expression, but my jaw stiffened. Of course Gale doesn’t understand, I thought. Truth be told, I would’ve been astounded if he didn’t say something of that nature. Still, I loathed being reduced to “an attention seeker.” I loathed having my desire to aid those who require atypical solutions dismissed as an excuse.

“What do you think she’ll do?” Rae asked.

“From what we know, she’s a trickster. So, thinking like a trickster, she’s likely to find some indirect route.” Gale cupped his chin. “Cassidy, you’re a talented tactician. May I borrow your brain for a moment?”

“While I’m certain you’d handle my brain tactfully, even a moment without it would kill me. I’d rather not take the risk.”

Rae groaned while Gale smiled.

“Just humor him,” Rae said.

“I just did,” I said. “From a technical perspective.”

Rae glared. “I’m going to hit you.”

“That’s depraved. What’s more, it’s ineffectual. Information obtained through violence is far from reliable.” I snapped my fingers. “Wait! Gale, as much as it pains me to say this, I’ve reason to suspect your sister is The Grandmaster of Theft!”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Rae said.

“I’ve every reason to believe that you’ll engage in illegal conduct to obtain what you wish. Why else would you threaten me?”

“You know that isn’t what I meant!”

“Ladies,” Gale said, his voice neutral, “please, let’s not lose focus. Cassidy, all jesting aside, what would you do if you were The Grandmaster of Theft?”

No avoiding this, I realized, and so I shifted my attention to turning the tables. I cupped my chin, but instead of contemplating his inquiry, I scanned my memory for anything I could make use of.

What’s going to be your gigantic stunt this time? Going to steal the train itself so you can confront Narcissa?”

I snickered. Who would’ve thought Lilah’s words would inspire me?

“Have an idea?” Rae asked.

“I might.” I shifted my gaze towards Gale. “Narcissa said she’ll ride in her carriage alone, correct?”

“That is what she claims.”

“Can you check how fast The Bergma Express travels?”

Gale withdrew his phone from his pocket and searched for the requested information. “Ten miles per hour.”

“If I were The Grandmaster of Theft, I’d assume a guise, purchase a carriage on the train, and slip out of a window or door. I’d climb atop the train, travel across the exterior, break into Narcissa’s carriage, snatch the necklace before Narcissa can do anything, and escape.”

“What’s stopping her from calling for help?” Rae asked. “And where would you escape?”

“With regards to the latter, perhaps an escape is planned at a certain point. The Grandmaster could parachute out—” My eyes popped as a more credible explanation materialized. “Actually, perhaps The Grandmaster intends to enter from above! What if she does something daring such as skydive in? Or insert herself via helicopter? What if she lands on the roof, somehow creates a hole atop the carriage, blitzes the room, snatches the jewel, and exits via her helicopter?”

Gale frowned. “That seems…theatrical.”

I shrugged. “The Grandmaster wishes to lord this over everybody, correct? Wouldn’t such theatre suffice?”

“Perhaps…”

“How would you go about it?” I asked.

Gale’s face relaxed into a smile. “I have no clue. Whenever I consider such stratagems, I detect flaws. Unraveling crimes is easier than committing them.”

Art requires risk, I mused.

I didn’t press the question, for obvious reasons, and allowed the conversation to flow into other topics. Rae and I continued to spar until The Crawfords left. We paid each other farewells and I monitored them as they cruised down the driveway. Once they exited my family’s property, I heaved a heavy breath.

Gale was as perceptive as ever. If I had answered him in any real sense, he might’ve deciphered where I intended to strike. He still might, I speculated, which sent a shiver through me.

I reminded myself how troublesome any endeavor against me would prove. I was abstract. Invisible. A phantom thief. He had no inkling where I’d strike.

He does know, a part of me said. While I was fairly certain he wouldn’t uncover my infiltration of Narcissa’s home, he knew I’d show at the train in some form or another. If I had to plant the phone and he learned of it, he could pull that thread in a bid to uncover more.

My insides clenched.

This isn’t an issue, I told myself. The only way he could obtain such information is if Narcissa provided it. Which she wouldn’t.

One, she wouldn’t wish to incur my wrath as The Grandmaster of Theft, especially after the display of power I intended to exhibit. Two, if she did consider the possibility I was involved, the distance between her home and Bergmastand would make it appear I were an accomplice at best. Assuming she assumed I was involved. If she tried to pursue that thread, she’d have to grapple with my status, resources, and connections.

My insides roiled at the thought of utilizing connections, despite the observation benefitting me.

A part of me felt that such sway shouldn’t exist. My mother and I have bickered about this topic in the past. I had learned of the concept of “crony capitalism” and argued that we shouldn’t utilize political relationships to ensure our company’s interests. It goes against the spirit of capitalism, of strict accountability. Mother agreed in theory but argued for its necessity if we were to survive amongst the many who didn’t possess our ethical leanings.

I’m evening the playing field for those without my advantages, I reassured myself. I wasn’t surviving simply for my own sake. I was contributing to society in ways only I could, as my grandfather encouraged me to. What’s more, said sway was essential to my scheme’s viability.

Most individuals are far more willing to embrace fiction when the truth is troublesome. Sometimes the alternate to the truth is unpleasant. Sometimes people don’t wish to suffer the consequences the truth brings. Sometimes they’ve no inkling what to do with the truth. No matter what, the deception triumphs. Thanks to that observation of human nature, my deception could triumph.

I’m doing the best I can with the options before me, I concluded before shifting my thoughts to the next phase of my preparations.

There remained a second point of failure in my scheme: the insertion of the phone. The insertion carried the greatest hazard of all, seeing as I’d have to smuggle the phone into her carriage and plant it without being noticed. One wrong move and I’d be caught red-handed. Fortunately, I had an illusionist who would be more than happy to help with my sleight of hand.

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