The Last Interview

A Stolen Dagger

The smell was unforgettable.  The antique house carried the aroma of age and blueberry muffins across its worn surfaces.  I have always had a soft spot for a good blueberry muffin.  It would provide a good background for me to work tonight.  Under normal circumstances, I would never have let myself enjoy such luxuries while on a job.  Though tonight I could afford it.  Even though it had been such a long time since I had been in the field, I had gone through great pains to make it as smooth as possible.  Locks are useless if one has the key, and alarm systems are powerless if the code is writtenon the inside of your wrist.  It was almost too easy really, I just had to walk in and grab it.

This place was a gold mine if you knew what you were looking for.  As a collection it wasn't worth much, that's why this guy turned his bottom floor into a private museum.  It was no wonder the guy was going broke, he didn't know how to manage his money worth a dang.  I would have sold this stuff individually to my fence contacts and made more than this guy would in twenty years from charging admission.  Just gotta know the right people.  I always knew the right people.  Also had to know what you were holding, and I would soon be holding that Egyptian dagger.

The antique rugs cradled my footsteps and even the creaky floorboards remained silent as I stalked my way through the house turned museum.  The thumping of my heart caused me to pause, I was getting too excited.  It had been too long since I had really let myself go like this and move as the shadow I was born to be, too long since I had been the predator.  Oh, how I had missed it with every fiber of my being.  Although I had not quite noticed just how much until that very moment.  The blade itself would be priceless, but I would do it all over again for peanuts just to feel this high.  Capture, prison time, even death all seemed like reasonable trades to have just one more shot at these silent, adrenaline fueled outings that were once my nightly routine. 

Despite my elation I purposefully made my way to the simple case that held my dagger.  It could have been a stand-alone testament to the fact that this guy had no idea what he actually had tucked away in his quaint 1840's residence.  There were hoards of useless antiques and bobbles that this geriatric dragon kept smuggled in his cave of a basement, and haphazardly mingled within those hoards were truly priceless artifacts.  This particular blade was protected within a basic locked case that cost less then fifty dollars.  Others still were kept in crates or cardboard boxes just a floor below, ignored or unknown to the people that possessed them.  The world was full of such injustices, but tonight this was my injustice to set right.  FIX Retrieving the picks, I went to work on the elementary lock and had it cracked within seconds.  The sound of that final click always brought a smile to my face, and this time was no different.  It was good to know that I had not lost my edge, larceny was a perishable skill after all.  The dagger was then carefully bound into a leather wrap, it was tucked into a bag, and then slid into my inside coat pocket.  Much safer there then inside that joke of a security case.

I heard a creak from the upstairs floorboards; and froze, still crouched in front of the case like a diligent gargoyle.  My breath was instantly ceased and my ears were strained to pick up any clue as to what he might be up to.  There were a fair amount of options.  Sleepwalking, getting some fresh air, and bathroom trip all meant he would remain upstairs and away from me.  Although if he somehow heard me, wanted a glass of water, or just wanted to check up on the security he would be heading down the stairs any second.  I would know depending on which staircase he took.  The kitchen was easier to get to from the back staircase, and if he went down there I could probably shelter in place and be fine.  If he came down the front stairs I would need to improvise. 

The creaks were not consistent, but they were definitely getting closer.  The handrail on the front staircase rattled and I needed to find some place to be invisible for a minute.  There was an old chest nearby and I tucked myself into its shadow.  It would be a good enough spot, unless he turned on the lights in this room.  Fortunately, he came down the stairs, bypassing this room and turned toward the kitchen.  I guess the old coot just liked to make things more difficult on himself.  The sink turned on and I relaxed with the knowledge that he just wanted some water.  After a few minutes he made his way back upstairs and presumeably went back to bed

Once I was sure there would be no more disturbances, I began backtracking out of the house.  Any curiosities, or anything that caught my eye, found its way safely into my eager pockets.

Author's Note:
Thank you for reading my story!  I encourage you to express any comments, criticisms, and corrections to the author via direct message here on Wattpad or my email ( michaelbridgesjrbooks@gmail.com ).  Your feedback is appreciated.