The clues were hinting at some sort of triangle, with the target presumably in the middle, but without knowing the points, that left an entire city to search. Fancy scanners and gadgets would be useless without the locations of the outer points. All the technology, energy, and magic that was present would confound the operation further.
For all the combined experience and tools of her growing operation, Shay was forced to rely on a much more old-fashioned approach. Exploration on foot, no matter how frustrating it might be.
If I ever find the twisted asshole who stole the owl, I’m going to slap him around and make him go through my own set of clues. First one, ‘The five knuckles form the painful thing soon coming at your face.’
Shay had been visiting cafes and looking out at the streets from tables for most of the day. She still had no idea what the café clue could mean.
“Oh, Harold, we have to visit the Louvre,” said an elderly American woman sitting with her husband a few tables away from Shay. She was dressed in a pale blue suit, her hair neatly pinned back. She pointed in the distance, a heavy charm bracelet hanging from her wrist. “We can even see it from here.”
Several nearby tourists in jeans and matching velour outfits with matching fanny packs were talking about the nearby art museum loud enough to be heard several tables away.
Just go already and leave me in peace.
Shay glanced over at the woman and just past her. She bit down a gasp as her eyes widened.
Son of a bitch.
Shay had been so focused on ancient clues and ideas that she’d forgotten that the owl wasn’t stolen hundreds of years ago but only a few decades ago. Around the time the Louvre Pyramid was built.
Shay peered down the street, taking in the sight of the distant glass and metal pyramid making the Louvre.
Okay, thanks, old lady. Art serves the mind… and the heart. If that’s the case, what serves the body?
The delivery of a bowl of soup to another customer almost made Shay cackle in glee. Inspiration flowed freely now.
Oldest café or restaurant?
Shay already happened to know that place, Café Procope. She’d always wanted to visit the restaurant but had never gotten around to it. Unfortunately, it was only a likely point in a triangle and not her final destination. She had no reason to check it out until after the job.
With two points figured out, she only needed to find the oldest place to serve the soul’s needs in Paris.
Shay smirked.
Oldest brothel? Nah, that would the body if anything.
Shay picked up her phone to make the research easy on herself. She typed in oldest church in Paris into her search.
The Church of Saint-Germain-des-Prés? Okay, I have my three points, now just have to see what’s at the center.
A helpful map application pinpointed an old mansion snuggled in a commercial district. That stood out enough that she didn’t doubt she was on the right track.
Okay, I guess I know what I’m doing tonight. Just need to make a couple of calls first.
That night, boots, jeans, and a jacket and tactical harness over a sensible shirt replaced the beautiful dress and heels. A woman needed to dress for the function, and a tomb raid required a different fashion sensibility than a day tour of the City of Light.
Shay crept along in the darkness between the buildings, avoiding the street lights. As her backpack rustled, she wondered if, in the end, she preferred jobs that took place on remote islands or deserts in the middle of nowhere. Breaking into some old building in the center of one of the largest cities in Europe screamed complications.
Getting into a gun battle would bring her the kind of attention that would soon have the streets of Paris swarming with hitmen and cops.
Guess we’ll see how much of a bitch it’ll be to get into this place.
The last two decoded clues injected more tension into her body.
Burn the holy lamp and prove your faith with the holy fire. Only then will the prize be revealed.
Yeah, that could mean a lot of shit. Fires of hell, anyone?
Shay easily hopped a fence, approaching the target building from behind. The two-story building was once a nobleman’s mansion centuries ago, and now served as a living museum during the day.
The drone survey didn’t show any security guards and the cameras would be easy enough to loop and the alarms to disable once she was ready to enter. The only thing Shay still couldn’t figure out was why the client had gone to the trouble of hiring a tomb raider at all. The job seemed like more of a simple snatch and grab, which meant there was information held back. Peyton searched for gossip on the dark web but there was nothing. Shay was going to have to learn on the fly.
The obvious explanation was the owl was a magic artifact, possibly dangerous. The background check confirmed the client was a legitimate businesswoman with a claim to a solid-gold owl. Shay was not turning over a weapon to a sociopath. More protocol.
The multiple dead bodies associated with the hunt for the owl might have been enough to spook the woman. The idea of a legitimate curse wriggled in the back of her thoughts.
Maybe she’s throwing enough bodies at it until the curse is resolved. Fun, fun. I don’t know if dying while looking for a golden owl is badass or lame.
Shay closed in on the rear of the building. She pulled out a small black rod and pulled it apart, extending three metal legs and a small antenna. She pressed a few buttons on the side and set it down, whistling to herself.
The simple device was insufficient to take down a serious security system, but Peyton reassured her that the mansion museum wasn’t exactly an IT marvel in the heart of Paris.
The next job I’ll probably end
