Chapter 80

 

Black sky dotted with stars, no sliver of moonlight to guide them, the Heist Ladies parked at a turnout on the curving road to the mansion. Pen carried her set of lock picks. Gracie hefted the emergency evacuation rope ladder they’d purchased earlier. Each of the four carried a small flashlight. It was nearly three a.m.

“Here’s the path,” Amber whispered, taking the lead, relying on her memory of the aerial photo she’d studied until it was imprinted on her brain.

The other three followed the beam of her tiny light as she shined it on the ground. The ‘path’ was actually a game trail, most likely made by the small deer that roamed the hillsides. It was no more than eight inches wide, frequently bisected by exposed roots and jutting rocks. They had less than two hours until daylight would expose them. Two hours to climb the six-hundred foot hill, scale the wall, break in, retrace every step and get back to their car. Although they’d endlessly discussed the pros and cons of choosing the correct hour, every step of the plan had taken longer than anticipated and now here they were. It is what it is, as Sandy said.

From the photo, she knew they would have to leave the path after about two hundred yards and make their way through underbrush. She hoped the wall would be in view by then. Meanwhile, she kept a close eye on her wristband step monitor to calculate the distance. At one-hundred-eighty yards she shined her flashlight ahead.

There it was, the wall.

Next in line, Gracie spotted it and nodded. Passed the word back to Pen, then to Sandy. They headed off the trail trying, not too successfully, to be careful of dry twigs and other noisemakers. Pen cringed at every sound, certain their rustle through the woods was being heard by everyone in the big house. At last they came to the wall. Smiles all around—from the car it had taken only twenty minutes so far.

It stood about ten feet high, and their spirits lagged. It had been impossible to tell the height from the aerial photo and they had held out hope that it would be no more than a garden wall, something they could easily hop over, but that was why they’d purchased the ladder—just in case.

The ladder was one of those sold for emergency home fire evacuation, with two sturdy metal arms to hook over a windowsill and wooden rungs held in place by ropes knotted at intervals. The big question now—how thick was the wall? If it was some medieval thing three feet wide, they were screwed.

“Let me scope it out,” Amber said. “Give me a boost.”

Gracie stepped up, twined her fingers for the smallest member of the group to step on and gave a heave to get Amber to the top of the wall. Amber gripped the stone and hefted herself up.

“Good news,” she whispered, straddling the top, “it’s not too wide.”

It wasn’t exactly flat on top either and she found herself constantly rebalancing. In the distance she could see outdoor lighting around the mansion, but the house was a good hundred-fifty yards away. She saw no interior lights.

“Toss me the ladder.”

Gracie gripped the top of the piece, making sure to send the hooking device first. Her first toss missed but Amber caught it on the second throw. She hooked the metal arms over the wall and tested it by climbing down. She issued instructions in a whisper.

“It’s secure enough, I think. Once you get to the top you’ll have to drop to the ground. There are shrubs—I have no idea what kind—hopefully not thorny ones. I’ll sit at the top to help. Once we’re all over the top, I’ll position the ladder the other way so we can get back out.”

Good thing Amber had considered that part of it, Pen thought.

Amber climbed to the top, testing the rungs to set them firmly in place. Once again, she straddled the wall and then motioned for Gracie to follow.

“Ow!” Gracie let out when she hit the large bush below. “Well, at least it was softer than the ground,” she stage-whispered to Amber.

Sandy followed, then Pen. The others waited to assist with the landing. Amber repositioned the ladder, cringing at the thunk of wooden rungs hitting stone wall.

“The mausoleum is right over there,” she said when she joined the group.

Keeping their lights pointed directly at the ground, they approached the fifteen-foot-square stone building from the back. They knew the opening faced toward the mansion and they kept to the soft patch of trimmed grass that grew around the small edifice.

Now, Gracie took the lead, edging around the building until she could see the mansion and the pathway lights leading from it to the mausoleum. All seemed quiet until she heard a voice not ten feet away.