Thief (13 page)

It ended then, and Mikel suddenly found himself in the bright sunshine of his home. He was lying on the ground, body somehow drawn up into a foetal position and he felt no inclination to move. Sherial was with him, as he had known she was all the way through that obscenity he had just witnessed. She was holding him like a mother would a small child with nightmares. Yet no child should ever have known the waking horrors he had just seen.

His cheeks were wet, and he realized without surprise, he’d been crying uncontrollably at some point, though he didn’t remember it. A mess on the ground beside him told Mikel he’d lost his lunch too. Again it didn’t surprise him.

Sherial’s touch was the warmth he couldn’t have lived without, for her love was the only thing that kept that dark nightmare he had seen, at bay within him. Her hand on his shoulder was a lifeline, and he clung to it, while trying to find something stable within his soul to cling to.

He’d never seen, never really even imagined anything like what she’d shown him, and the pain of those who had been tortured was as real to him as his own. In some way it was his own pain.

How, he asked, could Sherial live with the memory of what she’d shown him? For she too had seen it, had felt it, surely more intensely than he himself since he had witnessed it only through her. He knew it was only because of her faith that she could endure it. She believed, and that gave her the strength to survive anything. He never had, probably never would, and so was vulnerable. The only thing he could believe in was Sherial, and he stuck to her like glue.

But it wasn’t quite over. Though he heard no words even in his mind, nor even was shown an image, he suddenly understood that there was more he needed to know. More that was already somehow, buried deep within his mind.

Taking his courage in both hands, he looked at the rest and saw a village. A primitive village with several dozen huts, little more than lean-tos built of sticks and mud, and a dirt area between them. He saw a few people moving about there and even though he couldn’t see anything clearly about them, he knew that they were like him, people the angels had also asked to help. People who had failed.

He couldn’t see those villagers, he knew nothing about them, yet when he looked as closely as he dared he saw that they lived with their failure. It was in their movements, their gestures, their voices and their eyes. And yet there was something more. It was as though their failure had somehow become magnified. As though they were totally responsible for the fate of those they had failed. Them, not the demons. In some way he guessed, the demons had hurt them. Had made them suffer on Earth in a way others surely couldn’t until they reached Hell.

And it was this risk he faced if he chose to help. Sherial told him that as strongly as she could, her thoughts flashing inside his tired mind. If he failed, then he too could become as these. Doomed.

It was a nightmare looking at their beaten forms, as little as he could make out of them. And for Sherial too he knew it was a living horror. Angels had picked these people, had asked them as she had asked him, and had watched them fall. The pain they lived with, their angels also knew. Yet Sherial wasn’t frightened of her possible suffering to come. She was scared for his.

Eventually he came to a decision, though he was sure it wouldn’t be a surprise to her. It was the only decision he could make and live with, and Sherial had known that from the beginning. That he finally understood, was why she had picked him. He was capable, possibly the most capable thief on the planet, and he just possibly might be able to pull off the impossible and free the prisoners. But more importantly he was willing to try where any other half way sane human being would run away immediately.

“Are you willing?” For the first time in the short time he’d known her, he saw he had startled her. It was a question she hadn’t expected, and yet one that should have been obvious. It was not only his life that was at risk. Maybe Sherial’s risk would be even greater than his own, for in the end he could at least be released by death. It was an option she didn’t have.

Slowly Sherial nodded, the first truly human gesture she had made, and he knew that she wouldn’t have come to him if she wasn’t prepared, and didn’t believe there was hope. Looking at her, he knew she was prepared, as prepared as she could be. She knew the risks, and still knew they had to be taken. Which left him with only one possible choice.

“Good.” And in a way it was. For if she was willing, if she knew the risks, and feared them yet was still willing to try, then there was a chance. That was what he did after all, take chances and turn them into reality. “You have your thief.”

Her reaction to his words, her thoughts in his head were everything he could have wished for and everything he hated as she knew a sense of gratitude and hope that all but overpowered him and left him crying with joy, and at the same time a terrible fear that he might fail and be caught by the fallen.

“Don’t worry. You wanted a thief and you’ve got the best in the entire world. I will not let you down.” Or more importantly, himself. He had no intention of being caught by the evil that dwelled in that darkness, and he had no intention of failing, not when so much was at stake, so many souls. But at the same time he knew that this was a gamble, and he hated gambling. Still he had no choice.

“Hoisted by my own petard!” He laughed quietly as he suddenly realized how totally he’d set himself up for this throughout his entire life. How he’d led himself down this garden path directly to hell. His curiosity and paranoia had made him ask, his pride wouldn’t allow him to admit defeat and his humanity wouldn’t allow him to back out in fear. It was a thin laugh.

“I don’t know how. But I’ll get them out.” And he meant it. He had no clue as to how to set about the impossible - he wasn’t even sure he could - and he was as terrified of going through with it as he had ever been of anything in his life. But he knew he had to try.

Anything else would be unendurable.

The fateful day came upon him far faster than Mikel would have believed possible. Yet he had been preparing harder and for more weeks for the mission than ever before. Still he knew a million years would have been too soon. For the first time in more years than he cared to remember he felt totally unprepared for what he had to do, despite having spent more time and energy on planning for it than on any dozen other capers.

The previous weeks had not been an easy time for him. Dealing with the undeniable and devastating allure of Sherial while trying to keep his thoughts in some sort of order. Planning and preparing with the greatest care, knowing that even a slight error could spell disaster for everyone, while at the same time coping with the ever-growing guilt as he thought of those imprisoned in that living hell. Suffering for every day that he dallied and they suffered, yet also understanding that no matter how he readied himself, he might well be getting into something beyond his ability to handle. Working for an angel with all his will, knowing her every thought to be true, trying to obey her every wish, while at the same time suspicious of her every step.

So many conflicting emotions raging through him constantly were wearing him out. Doubt and fear too had become his companions over the last few weeks, urging him to give up before he lost everything. Before he failed.

Perversely the emotional extremes had also made him feel more alive than he had felt in the longest time. Mikel had discovered during those weeks, that for longer than he’d imagined he’d almost been sleep walking through his life. One crime - one burglary - was much the same as another, and his preparations for them had almost become almost routine. There was a reason he hardly ever sweated any of his more normal crimes; they weren’t really a challenge any longer. It had been years since he’d faced a real opponent, and he hadn’t even realised it. Now he was up against so many unknowns that he couldn’t even count them.

On some incredibly stupid level he was actually looking forward to it. Not just the challenge - the glory of succeeding against impossible odds, - but the chance to take on the demons of Hell itself instead of just their human shadows. If he won through, it would be the theft of the century, a triumph of literally biblical proportions. He couldn’t help but be over-awed by the very concept, and the planning for it, well, that was something else again. This would be his ultimate theft, if he succeeded. His finest hour. Of course if he failed it would be far worse. And failure was a real possibility as he kept reminding himself.

Discipline was the key, unshakable discipline. It had been all his life. He knew it as surely as he knew the back of his own hand. His emotions had rocketed in every possible direction every time he let his concentration slip. Therefore he had to ensure his concentration never wavered. It was exhausting.

He hadn’t always been successful over the weeks. It had been like riding a roller coaster, but one that travelled through more than just the usual three dimensions. Fear, lust, challenge, excitement, doubt and desperation all had raged through him, usually all at once, pulling him in every direction.

Then there was his normal scepticism. Often he’d wondered if he was losing it. If his mind was finally turning to a pile of soggy mush. If Sherial really existed, or was but a figment of his deluded grey matter. While she was there, he could believe in her, or at least accept it. But whenever she was gone, it took him only minutes to collapse into doubt and paranoia.

Only the years of discipline had held him in check, reigning in his warring emotions, setting his mind and all his energies to the task ahead. Yet those same emotions had made him stronger as he overcame them again and again. And in doing so he had become more and more confident. Yet overconfidence too was always a dangerous emotion for him, and he tried to clamp down on it. It was one thing to know how capable he was and something else entirely to simply rest on his abilities. There was no such thing for him as good enough.

To make things worse Sherial had been up to her usual tricks, turning his life into chaos. Though in fairness he had to admit often it wasn’t her fault but his. For while she seemed determined to turn his every security concept upside down, she had many things sewn up in ways he couldn’t have guessed. He simply hadn’t had a clue.

The first time she’d met Cedric had been one such nightmare for him, something he’d been dreading since that first day with her. And yet when it happened he was caught completely off guard, something else that should never have happened.

One second he’d been down in the workshop, trying to make heads or tails out of the visions Sherial had given him of the target, the next he’d looked up at the monitors to see Cedric had come a day early. The shock was like a physical blow as he saw the grizzled gardener staring at where Sherial sat with her entourage, his mouth hanging open and eyes wide. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. Cedric often changed his days to suit the weather and his fishing. Then again the alarms should have gone off when his boat arrived at the dock, alerting him to the gardener’s presence. They hadn’t made a sound. Sherial at work he guessed.

Mikel had rushed to the garden as fast as he could, but knew the damage was already done.   Cedric would go home that evening, sit down on his porch with just a few close friends, a cold beer and a tall tale. By mid-morning the entire island would know an angel was living at his place. It was hopeless. But as he finally made it to the garden and his friend he found things were far different to anything he could imagine. Different to what he guessed, though it took him a long while to realise that. Too long.

Cedric still stood there, gaping like a fool, exactly as had Mikel only a few days before. But he didn’t see what Mikel did. What exactly he saw, Mikel wasn’t sure, but then he suspected neither was Cedric. The big man had made odd mumblings as Mikel led him to the kitchen for a drink, but when he’d tried to explain he’d made a greater hash of it than had already been. For Cedric told him he was delusional when he mentioned the word ‘angel’ and actually laughed out loud. By which time Mikel had been trying to retract his words, as usual, too late.

Whatever Cedric had seen however, by mid morning had been forgotten, but unfortunately not Mikel’s inane explanation for it. The entire island now knew the crazy dealer in precious stones really was crazy. It was the least he deserved for being such a dolt.