Planet Heist (The Dunham Archives Book 1) (5 page)

She took a few deep breaths, sighed, and looked me square in the eyes, “I’ll give it to you, but if you die, I’m not speaking at your funeral.” She said sardonically, and dug through the chest to find what I needed.

June 15
th
8:25 am

Cairo, Planet Earth: Cairo Town Square

I scanned the street through my new, dark silver sunglasses, searching for my contact. Salah to my left glanced around in a somewhat hilariously nervous manner while my brother on the right stood casually, probing the area for possible dangers. Down the street, out of a normal person’s view, there was a drug deal going down. A smile spread across my face.

“I found him. That man selling crack, he’s our contact, Mahar Nefri.” I nodded towards him and then stalked off in that direction. The boys hastily followed. Even though it was almost impossible to move fast enough in what I had begrudgingly put on this morning in an attempt to fit in with the locals, I scurried along. Uncomfortable “everyday” shoes called Chucks that thoroughly pissed me off, khaki shorts and a white beater that didn’t exactly fit into my image of formality, but allowed me (in all my pale glory) to fit in this land of tan people and tourists.

“We’re supposed to trust a man selling drugs?” Salah asked, and I decided it was a rhetorical question.

As Mahar started to move away quickly, I began to run in a…less than inconspicuous way. People stared at this gangly teenager running faster than an Olympian towards a drug dealer with incredulous expressions on their faces. I’m not exactly something you see every day. On my way towards Mahar, I noticed a poster plastered to a telephone pole with one of my more famous pictures. It was me, running away from the police, my wild blonde mane flying around me like a deathly halo. Panic fluttered in my eyes. This was taken last year, the one time a policeman actually laid his hand on me in an attempted capture. Under my picture was the condemning word alerting my intentions: خطر!

I immediately translated it in my head: خطر! Danger!

There was a phone number under the picture, telling the locals who to call if they happened to see me on the streets. I sure hope nobody recognized me, as I only have enough weapons and motivation to take out a small army with my bare hands.

Good luck police force.

“Mahar!” I whispered excitedly when I caught up to him.

“Kairee! I would recognize that voice anywhere!” He said, embracing me. He smelled as he always had, of lemons and tobacco, as we exchanged hugs. Mahar had strong middle-eastern features with a squared jaw, crooked nose, full lips, and deep, fathomless chocolate eyes. He was in his early twenties, and was extremely attractive.

“Kai, who is this?” Rowan asked suspiciously as I rarely embraced anyone not in our immediate family.

“Remember when I went to Neara, a few years back, for that criminals convention? Well Mahar here was the arbiter and helped me around. Since it was my first, it was a great help, and since then he’s been letting me in on top secret information for some of our previous exploits. A very good friend who’s earned a spot on the coveted list that is people whom I trust,” I said with a glare at Salah.

“And who are your friends?” Mahar asked, his accent marring the familiar English language. But, of course, I was fluent in Arabic and responded in it. I loved the sound of Arabic – it slid effortlessly out, sounding smooth and velvety.

“My brother, Rowan, and our accomplice, Salah the younger,” I said in Arabic, leaving Row and Salah in the dust. I can’t believe Salah grew up here and yet did not speak one of its dominant languages, “He’s a bit of a twit.”

“Salah the younger?” Mahar laughed, and the one spoken of recognized his name with interest, “Didn’t you kill his father just a few months ago?”

“Yes, but let’s not mention that in front of him, shall we?” I immediately switched to English, “I’m treating all of you to breakfast.”

Minutes later we were sitting in my favorite Cairo restaurant, a little shop that sells alcohol before eleven in the morning,
The Mauve
, and we were going over Mahar’s plan. The place was a large, gated courtyard made of cobblestone, with ivy scaling the brick walls, giving it a certain French Riviera feeling. The tables were wrought iron with intricate spirals and whorls carved into the metal. Emerald umbrellas sat atop the rounded tables, giving shade to the matching chairs.

I did a weapon check for myself. Three knives (one strapped to my stomach, a smaller one clipped to my ankle, and a large dagger on my back, covered with leather for the unlikely situation that I fell), two guns(a small Rizer 0.1, a very powerful weapon that vaporizes everything within a twenty foot radius of the target and
a
 
.
22 magnum mini revolver), my razor pins, a small collection of needles, covered in various sedatives, a hard plastic shell covering my right index finger that shocks an enemy if touched, and protection (clothing made of hard nylon that prevents bullets from hitting my skin, but that’s all), and I was satisfied. When I got dressed this morning, I had suddenly felt that something dangerous was going to happen, so I came ready.

“Boys,” I began. Salah, Rowan, and Mahar all looked at me expectantly, “Listen up: Mahar knows the intricacies of the Institute where the Xeron’s kept. He wants to draw us a map of the tunnels.” I told them, masking my thrilled nature.

“Wait. Kai, how does this
commoner
,” Rowan accentuated the word as if it were poison on his tongue, “know anything about the tunnels?”

“As I’ve told you, Mahar is nothing of a commoner. I met him at an
Intergalactic
criminal convention
. He was there for a reason – Mahar works under cover at the Institute of Technology, providing technological advance information to the most infamous thieves around the galaxy: Sienne, Heema, Itu. They trust him and he can get us inside the tunnels, give us a vague direction of where we’re to go, and stay connected through an earpiece.”

“All right, but I’ll need some reassurance that he won’t give us up to they horrendous police patrolling the Institute 24/7. What can you give us?” Rowan asked, his dusky eyes turning to slits.

“Money, estates, whatever you want.” Mahar replied indifferently with a shrug.

“We need something better.” Rowan said confidently, and I could practically see the wheels turning in his head.

I sat in silence, waiting to see what my twin would come up with.

“What did you have in mind?” Mahar asked curiously, “What would be better for you than more places to hide and more money for new weapons?”

“Don’t be naïve, Nefri. Kairee and I have built hundreds – no, thousands – of manors, estates, and mansions in every part of the universe. Money is no object in our family, so that would simply be unnecessary. I’m thinking something a little more…personal.” Rowan told him, and Mahar’s eyebrow lifted in curiosity, “Something you would have to get back from us. What about that?” Rowan’s gaze went to Mahar’s right ring finger.

When Mahar lifted his hand, I got a good look at the amazing ring. It was white gold with a hundred pure, forest green emeralds set around a large diamond.

“That’s stunning.” I cut in, “May I ask where you got it?”

“Of course.” Mahar smiled, “When I was about your age, six years ago, my father went to America and became president. He was given this ring to symbolize the unity of America and the rest of the world through their first foreign president. Just before I turned twenty, my father became horribly ill and gave me the ring. On my twenty-first birthday, he passed away.”

Rowan smiled almost insensitively, “Perfect.”

Mahar reluctantly pulled the ring off his finger and handed it to my brother.

“I promise I’ll take good care of it.” Rowan said quietly.

A handsome, raven-haired waiter came over with four beverages, and flashed me a flirtatious smile. Charming waiters are lovely here on Earth – it’s pretty much the only planet where cute boys, of mostly the same species, can flirt with me.

My drink is a blue-raspberry martini, Rowan held a glass of Chardonnay, Mahar with a beer, and Salah sipped a Coke looking exceedingly awkward.

“What?” I asked when Salah eyed me suspiciously.

“You’re not old enough to drink.” He said matter-of-factly.

“On
this
planet.” I scoffed, “Where I come from, the government has realized that that Saizians mature faster than any other species. My brain, unlike yours, is already fully developed and isn’t affected by alcohol the same way as a human’s. Why do you care anyways? On Saize they introduce you from a young age, like in France, so one martini won’t affect me like it’ll affect you, little boy. Anyways,” I sighed, “Mahar? What are your terms?”

“What do you mean ‘terms?’” He asked innocuously, but I knew.

“Ha ha,” I smiled without warmth, “We all know that not even the most generous person in the galaxy would give away this information without some sort of bartering item. Money, perhaps? Inexplicable fame?” I tried slyly.

“None of these.” He replied, leaving me in the figurative dust.

“Then what?” Rowan snaps, knowing (unlike myself, at the time) where Mahar’s thoughts were headed.

“I want the Xeron.”

This is unheard of.

Outraging.

My eyes almost popped out of my head, and I had to take a few deep breaths to get myself under control, “No. Anything but that. Nobody gives up their spoils of battle, and thievery is my unending war.”

He smiled at me almost knowingly, and I felt like spitting at him.

A snarl just about escaped my lips as I clenched my teeth. I would have yelled at him in some language he wouldn’t understand when I felt Salah’s hand on my leg. I was still fuming, but now somewhat flattered. His touch was warm on my bare leg, causing my skin to tingle and my head to become momentarily clouded.

I squeezed back my anger, letting it simmer for another few minutes.

“That is my one term. You can have all the glory, but I want the prize.”

The nerve!

Wrathful anger bubbled up inside me, making my stomach churn and my head spin. Even Salah’s attempted comfort couldn’t hold back my rage. Never, in any history I’ve ever read, has anyone ever heard a request of such audacity!

He wants my prize!

With that goes the glory!

“Salah, Rowan, I need to speak with you. Immediately.” I stood up abruptly and walked to an open door that led into the kitchen.

“Hey!” Our waiter yelled in Arabic, clearly a native, coming after us, “You’re not allowed in there!”

I stopped suddenly, allowing him to catch up with us. My temper was flaring at Mahar, indecision lacing my brain and clouding all my decisions.

In short, this wasn’t a good time to mess with me.

I slammed the door behind him without turning.

“Don’t screw with me. You either walk out of here and never see me again, or in two minutes you can be decaying on this floor.” I growled to the waited I couldn’t see. I felt strong hands on my shoulders, one Salah’s and the sturdier obviously Rowan’s, and he was squeezing my shoulder.

I heard the idiotic waiter take out his cell phone. He was about to dial security when I whipped around, grabbing his phone, and stared him straight in the eye.

“That’s not a good idea. Trust me.” I growled.

“What are you going to do? I’ve got a head on you. You’re tiny; I could take you. I’ve seen your posters and I could haul you to jail and get a reward.” He responded.

I pull a knife that had been strapped under my tank-top and press it to his throat. A look of rapid terror spread on his face, his sparkling blue eyes wide in horror.

“Now, what did you have to say to me?” I smiled sweetly.

“Nothing.” He gagged out.

“Oh? I think that since you have nothing to say, you have nothing to live for.”

“I’m not ready to d-”

This is one of the most typical lines I’ve heard from captives on their death beds.

So I reply with a classic line.

“You’re not ready to die?  Then you shouldn’t have lived.” I grimaced, plunging the dagger into the small of his back. I felt Salah’s hand withdraw sharply from my shoulder.

Rowan’s, on the other hand, didn’t flinch – he was used to my ruthless ways. I slowly pulled my knife from his still blushing flesh and wiped it on his blue jeans, leaving a streak of crimson on his leg. Glancing fleetingly at his face, I watched the life leave his eyes and the color fly away like a frightened bird. With his legs no longer supporting his body, the waiter plummeted to the hard stone of the kitchen, blood slowly pulsing out of his fresh wound. The stench of flesh combined with the air of death was in the room.

“Kai? Calm down.” Rowan gripped my shoulder more tightly and turned me around. My breath was heavy and quick, and the erratic beating of my adrenaline-pumped heart echoed through my body.

My fury still had not subsided at Mahar.

“I just…I
cannot believe
he wants the Xeron!” I yelled. I had to hope the door was soundproofed, but if it wasn’t, so be it.