To live and to love

01| 𝕰𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞 𝖒𝖆𝖓 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖍𝖎𝖒𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖋

"Ever wondered who, precisely, had written the rule that thieves breaking into anything larger than a paper bag must always scale walls?"

Al let out a strangled laugh. "I mean, you've done it a hundred times."

My eyes slid from the stone wall in front of me to the wrought-iron double gate at the front of the sprawling Somoro Estate and gave a small smile. Some lawmakers were more enterprising than others. "Yeah, but who started with the tradition?"

"Do we care?"

"How's the hacking coming along?" The impatient click of her tongue told me that it had only taken her a second to override and bypass the security system. My fingers shoved one of the gates open far enough for my body to slip through. "Show off."

We'd spent the entire week memorizing the location of the cameras and the three motion detectors I needed to pass, and in two minutes I'd crossed through the trees and landscaped garden to sink into a crouch at the base of an earthen staircase. What the photographs hadn't done was do justice to the color and scope, and I took a second to catch my breath.

Somoro Estate had been built in the 1940s before the partition, and each successive owner had added rooms and floors—and increasingly sophisticated security to its structure. Its current incarnation was probably the most attractive so far. The impressive mansion stretched well beyond the legal means of a public officer with lawns that were trimmed and pruned to perfection.

"You're drooling," Al muttered into my ear, her voice tinged with a hint of amusement.

"If they'd built it out of a respectable business, I would have been impressed."

"You and your strange morals."

My feet carried me towards the main double doors, going around to avoid the guards, checking out the window casings. They were wired within an inch of their lives. With a check of my watch to confirm my timing, I pulled out a roll of gray duct tape, taping down a rough, three-foot circle low on the patio window, then pulled a suction cup and glass cutter from my backpack.

The glass was thick and heavy, the pop and squeak when I jerked the cut round piece free louder than I would have liked. Wincing, I set the circle into the flower bed and returned to the opening.

"Smooth."

"Will you shut up?" I hissed waiting for a moment, listening, then, with a deep breath and the customary adrenaline flowing into my system, I slipped inside.

"Go straight up the stairs," a Gulji painting hung from the wall at the first landing and I passed it with barely a glance. Another would be hanging in an upstairs conference room, both wired with sensors and worth millions. I knew about them already, and tempting as they were, they weren't the reason I was there.

"The distraction is on its way."

"How long?"

"Three minutes."

Keeping low, I waited for Mian Somoro to emerge from his bedroom, counting the seconds to his imminent exit. His wife was on a retreat, correction, his third wife was on a retreat, as expected and his first wife was arriving at the estate tomorrow. Just like clockwork.

Routine was what I looked for. Complaisance. That was the time to strike. When they were perfectly comfortable and happy. Unaware.

A thin, dim glint of moonlight ran straight across the hallway, two feet above the floor and three inches from my left leg. I shifted towards the back, avoiding the light, waiting.

Right on time, a burly and heavily mustached man rushed into the corridor, knocking on the bedroom door.

"There better be a reason for this interruption!"