Double-Crossed: A Spies and Thieves Story

Chapter Six

THREE HOURS AFTER THE GUNMEN BROKE INTO THE PARTY

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"STOP PACING," Hale said in the manner of someone who was used to giving orders. Sadly, Macey wasn't used to taking them.

"No thank you," she said, and kept on walking. Too bad there was no real place to walk to. The storage closet they'd found was small and crowded with dirty laundry and old housekeeping carts. But it was also private and far away from the eyes and ears of the men in the masks.

"Macey, calm down. We don't know why they brought the C4," Hale said.

"Well, we do know that there is a gas line running behind the Calloway safe. The bad guys with the big explosives don't seem to care that there's a gas line. Let me do the math for you. Gas plus explosions equals boom!"

"Don't look at me. I would be more than happy to offer a short course on How to Conduct a Proper Apartment Heist, but I doubt these guys are going to take my advice."

"Abby," Macey said, trying her earbud again. "Abby, do you hear me ? How's it going trying to cut the gas to the building? Did you do it ? Is it done?"

"And what about the gas that's already in the lines?" Hale asked. "Never mind." He shook his head. There was no doubt he already knew the answer.

"Guys." Abby's voice came through their earbuds. "Just sit tight. We're working on a Plan B."

"What kind of Plan B ?" Hale asked.

He was almost holding his breath when a voice answered, "My kind."

Macey tried to read the look on his face then, but it was gone in a flash. It had been a simple moment of peace and joy and pure happiness. That voice made Hale happy. It kept him calm. It was his backup and his conscience. Macey couldn't help herself; she envied him.

Then Macey asked, "Okay, Abby. What do you have in mind?"

When the plan was set and the mission in motion, Macey had to admit she felt slightly better about the situation.

There are few problems a Gallagher Girl can face that can­not be improved by a job. A task. A target. So there was a new spring in Macey McHenry's steps as she led the way back down the corridor that lined the ballroom. The carts were still abandoned. Trays of shrimp still lay carelessly tossed aside and they were start­ing to smell.

Macey walked through it all, feeling in her bones that it was over. She turned and looked at Hale. "Smile, thief boy. It's a—"

But before Macey could finish she felt something—some-one—run around the corner and into her side, knocking her against an ice machine and sending her spinning around.

The man in the Clinton mask seemed completely shocked to find he wasn't alone. But shock quickly faded as Hale rushed forward, and the man shifted his weight and sent the slightly lighter boy flying too hard into the wall. Then the man turned his sights on Macey.

"Abby," Macey whispered to her teacher, "I think we might need a Plan C now."

And then she picked up one of the heavy platters of shrimp. 

And swung.