Стюарт Вудс - Shakeup

Ah, there,” Alfie said. “They’re abed.” He pulled into the parking lot of the nearby pub, the Rose & Crown, shut off the car, and unscrewed the cap on a vacuum canister. “Coffee, Eddie, or will you kip for a bit?”

“I believe I’ll nap,” Eddie replied, and put his head back onto the seat.

“As you wish,” Alfie said. “I believe I’ll think this through while you kip.”

Alfie had committed the house’s plan to memory, and, in his mind, he watched Eddie and himself enter the building through the kitchen door. Then, using only a taped flashlight for a narrow beam, make their way, first to the control box for the alarm, then into the library, where the four Matilda Stones hung in their frames. After a bit, he dozed, too.

Eddie awoke first and checked his watch. “Alfie,” he said, quietly. “It’s just past two o’clock.”

Alfie sat up straight and looked around. “No moon, no traffic, no lights in the house. Ideal.” They both got out of the car and went to the trunk, where Alfie had black raincoats, watch caps, and cloth masks that would hang on their ears and cover everything but their eyes. “If we should encounter resistance,” he said, “under no circumstances remove the masks. If someone gets close enough to reach for them, I’ll use my cosh, and then I will decide whether to leave and, if so, what to take with us. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Eddie replied.

Alfie removed the canvas carryall that contained the forged paintings, closed the boot lid gently, and began walking up the road, on the opposite side of the house. “This is the last time we’ll speak, until we’re back in the car,” he said. “If traffic appears, just lie down next to the road, and it will pass us by.

Eddie nodded and followed his leader.

Stone got up in the night and found the bathroom in the dark. He relieved himself and then returned to bed, trying not to wake up.

Alfie had made it over the estate wall with a big assist from Eddie, and they both dropped soundlessly onto the grass beyond. Alfe held up a hand to say Be still , and he listened for a minute or two for a dog, a footstep, or the cocking of a shotgun. He heard only an owl, from some distance.

Alfie knew that the estate’s dog went home with a staffer, usually the retired Royal Marine, Major Bugg. And he was grateful for that. He had an air pistol in his pocket that fired a dart, but he was glad not to have to use it. The two men walked around the house, then slowly and silently up the steps to the kitchen door, where Alfie switched on his flashlight and examined the lock. Just what you’d expect on a country house kitchen door, he mused. He opened his zippered case and examined a selection of skeleton keys, choosing the largest one. Too big; wouldn’t go in. He returned it to the case and chose the next largest. It slipped in perfectly. He retracted it and picked up a small can of WD-40 oil, then sprayed the inside of the lock. The key went back in, and the lock turned smoothly and noiselessly. Alfie wiped any stray oil from the lock, returned the key to its case, and put a hand on the doorknob, turning it very slowly. The door eased open.

Alfie motioned Eddie inside and made closing motions for the door, then he moved as quickly as possible to a closet on the other side of the kitchen, where the control box for the security system lay, expecting it to chirp at any moment, signaling an entry of the house. To his surprise, the opened box made no sound. He pulled Eddie close by the lapel and whispered into his ear, “They didn’t arm the system. Piece of cake, now.”

Alfie walked in a measured way down the hall toward the study, keeping close to the wall to minimize creaking floorboards. The study door was unlocked, as he had expected; he ushered Eddie into the room and slowly closed the door behind him. He took the carryall containing the forgeries, walked across the room, following the needle beam of the flashlight to where the paintings hung. He went over each with the flashlight to be sure they were what he wanted, then examined the frames, motioning Eddie to remove the forgeries from the bag. His light played over both sets of paintings; the frames matched perfectly.

Alfie used his flashlight to examine what fastened the pictures to the wall and found exactly what he had expected. He needed only a small wrench and a paring knife to remove them from the wall and set them on the floor.

He beckoned Eddie to watch him work, and thus, to learn something. He slowly removed the screws from each frame, and set the pictures against the wall.

Then the thing Alfie had expected least happened; the lights came on in the room.

“Stand very still,” a man’s voice said, “or I’ll shoot you where you stand. Turn and face me.”

The two men turned around and found themselves confronted by a large naked man, who was pointing a small pistol at them.

Alfie shrank inside his coat, making himself as small as possible. He knew the man with the gun would pay more attention to Eddie, the larger burglar. Alfie coughed a couple of times, holding his hands over his mouth, turning the man’s focus to him, then away. He put his hands into his pockets and felt the cosh and the air gun.

The man with the gun stepped forward, put out a hand and spun Eddie around, a policelike move, as if he were going to cuff him. Alfie, seizing the moment of distraction, swung the cosh and struck the naked man in the back of the neck. He collapsed in a heap on the floor. Alfie put away the cosh and took out the air gun, previously reserved for a dog. It would work as well on a man.

Eddie turned, drew back a leg, and aimed a kick at the unconscious man’s head.

“No!” Alfie said, but the leg was already swinging. Alfie put out his own leg and tripped Eddie, who fell backward onto the floor. Unfortunately, in so doing, he inadvertently pulled the trigger on the dart gun and shot the projectile into his own calf. He must have caught a vein, Alfie thought, because he felt a sudden rush that clouded his mind. Then he, too, collapsed, on top of the naked man.

Eddie got to his feet. “Alfie? It’s Eddie. Are you all right?” Alfie was out.

Eddie turned his friend on his back and felt for a pulse. Slow and steady. He tried to be cool, now, as Alfie would have been. He knelt beside the paintings, put each of the forgeries into a frame, and fastened them to the wall again, then he tucked the originals into his bag and tidied up, putting the cosh, the tool kit, and the air gun into his coat pockets. He tried to find the dart, but couldn’t.

Eddie was strong and Alfie was thin and light. He got his friend to his feet and over his shoulder, in a fireman’s carry, then he picked up the bag containing the paintings and walked out of the study and down the hall to the kitchen door. He didn’t bother relocking it behind him.

Eddie hurried down the steps and walked to the place where they had climbed over the wall. He set down his bag, hoisted Alfie to a position facedown on the top of the wall, then picked up the bag and scrambled up and over. From the other side, he got Alfie back on his shoulders, picked up the bag, and walked back to the waiting car. He found the keys in Alfie’s pocket, then laid him on the back seat, stripped off his own raincoat and made a pillow for his friend, then he put the paintings in the boot.

A moment later he was behind the wheel, sweating freely, and starting the car. At the first roundabout he turned the wrong way, traveled 360 degrees around, and finally, came out on the correct road. He thanked God he had not met any traffic. All he had to do now was follow the signs to the motorway and stay on the wrong side of the road.

Felicity woke and found Stone gone. She couldn’t hear him in the bathroom, so she put on a robe and went downstairs, where light was coming from the library door. Stone was lying on his belly, stark naked and, apparently, asleep. What the hell?