Chapter One

The deserted office was close and oppressive. Gary Nesbitt straightened and pushed the notebook computer back a few inches. He smoothed his sandy blond hair and eyed the screen’s cryptic columns of numbers, brilliant white against a black background.

“Did you get in?” John Mason asked, his black face so serious it looked painful. John’s heavy, athletic frame towered like an avenging angel.

Gary felt his jaw muscles tense. “No, but we’re not going to let that stop us.”

“I just saw the display go wild,” John said, pointing to the computer.

Gary’s blue eyes flicked over the screen. “Those were data packets transmitted by the security system. The system has holes, all right, but I haven’t been able to hack into the control program. I can access it, but I haven’t found a valid ID and password.”

“Did you get anything?”

“Quite a bit, actually. I have the security configuration, but we could have guessed that: electronic locks on the vault and front door, microwave motion detector, infrared motion detector grid, and a surveillance camera. Looks like a job for Sherlock.”

John’s brown eyes grew very wide. “You mean we gotta go in through the window?”

Gary almost smiled. “Don’t see any way around it. I could defeat the front door’s alarm, but then we’d trip the infrared grid and probably the motion detector as well.”

John nodded. “Okay, okay. Just a thought.”

Gary rose and stretched his wiry body. “Grab your gear. Time for some mountain climbing.”

John nodded but was obviously not pleased with the prospect. He hefted his backpack and began attaching it to his climbing harness.

Gary snapped his own backpack onto his climbing harness and looked around the room. Then he flipped off the light, stepped to the window, and looked out. Darkness flooded in like a black tide. The cool night breeze, mild for the second week in April, caressed his face. The window glass, removed by John earlier, sat on the floor to one side. Gary looked out at Manhattan’s galaxy of lights, then down at the late-night traffic on Fifth Avenue, seventy-six floors below. He felt a momentary twinge of fear as he watched the distant red and white lights of the cars and trucks. He punched a button on his watch. It was almost midnight.

John ran a hand through his close-cropped black hair. “You sure you want to do this?” he asked.

Gary nodded. “Absolutely. Come on, we can do it.”

“Okay.”

John placed the hook of his miniature motorized winch over the windowsill, turned, and climbed cautiously over the edge until he was hanging by his fingers and the slim steel cable that was his only lifeline. “See you.”

The electric motor whined, and Gary watched as John bumped his way down the side of the Empire State Building on his three-story trip. After almost a minute, John stopped. Gary rigged his winch and started down. Halfway there, he heard a barely audible whump. He stopped beside John and peered in through the large, neat hole cut through the window by the shaped explosive.

Nice work, Gary thought to himself. The lighting inside the office, while dim, was adequate. His eyes made a quick survey of their target. He spotted the motion detector and surveillance camera immediately, both aimed at the tall vault door. However, the camera’s fixed field of view did not include the window. Gary couldn’t see the infrared motion detector grid, but he knew where the invisible beams would be. He smiled at the popular misconception of ruby-red bars forming an impenetrable electronic fence. I wish I could see them, he thought. John nudged him and pointed toward their goal.

Gary reached into his backpack and extracted Sherlock. The miniature wheeled robot was about the size of a DVD player and could be fitted with caterpillar tracks if necessary. Its upper deck, also detachable, was tailored to the mission. Although Sherlock was John’s invention, Gary had spent more time practicing with its remote control. Gary lowered the machine through the window and pulled out the controller. In moments Sherlock was scooting silently along the walls underneath the infrared grid, until it was directly under the surveillance camera. A tiny hatch popped open, and a compacted mast extended until the short cylindrical object in its manipulator hung in front of the camera. Gary tapped the joystick, and the cylinder slipped over the lens. A green light on the device winked on, indicating that the blackout iris was closing. The security monitor, wherever it was, would now be dark. Hopefully, the guards would assume it was only a camera failure. There were no alarms—for the moment.

Gary thumbed a switch. The cylinder shifted when the padded gripper released but did not fall. One down, two to go, Gary thought. He retracted the mast, repositioned Sherlock, and swiveled the gripper to pick up a gray box on Sherlock’s deck. The pincers closed, and the mast hoisted the device up beside the motion detector and stuck it to the wall with a strip of exposed tape. Two wires hung down, each tipped with a tiny alligator clip. Down came the mast again, and this time Gary picked up a multi-tool unit topped by a microcam. He moved it up beside the motion detector, rotated the drill into place, and cut two holes near the detector’s circuit board. Then he extended a pair of miniature forceps, gripped one of the alligator clips, and guided it through a hole and onto an exposed wire. Then came the second wire, and a green LED reported the detector bypassed. Now for the vault.

Gary retracted the multi-tool and guided the robot over to the massive steel door, tweaking the joystick until Sherlock was in position. He picked up four wire jumpers and raised the mast beside the lock’s control panel. He examined it with the microcam and sighed in relief as he recognized the manufacturer’s name emblazoned on the faceplate. He extended the power driver and removed the plate. One by one, he attached three of the jumpers using the forceps, rotated the cutter into place, and clipped two wires. Gary examined the readout on the controller’s LCD screen, then keyed in two commands in quick succession. The first inserted a date/time packet into the security system network, resetting the time to 9:00 A.M., defeating the time lock. The second began retracting the locking bars. A muted whining sound drifted out through the window, and moments later the vault door swung open a fraction of an inch.

“Show time,” Gary whispered. “Don’t take all night.”

John grinned, his white teeth glinting in the dark. “Don’t get in my way.” He detached the descent cable’s drum from his winch and carefully let it go. It swept through the window and swung back and forth like a pendulum. He pulled a telescoping pole out of his backpack and attached a compact drill with a circle cutter in its chuck. John eyed the sprinkler heads and extended the pole until the blade was lined up with the water pipe hidden above the acoustic tile. He pressed a button and raised the drill. The blade cut through the light fiberglass easily. John exhaled and retracted the pole. He removed the fiberglass disc and repeated the operation three more times. He exchanged the drill for a pair of pliers and placed a hook with attached wire through the nearest hole and over the sprinkler pipe. The hook settled into place with a faint click. John stowed the pole in his backpack and snapped an empty drum onto his winch. He attached the wire to it and took up the slack until his toes barely touched the sill. Then he pushed off, pulling his legs in at the same time. He swung like a pendulum above the infrared grid.

John placed three more wires and shifted to each one in turn until he was hanging beside the vault. He pulled the massive door open a few inches, then played his flashlight’s beam about the vault’s interior. Holding the miniature light in his teeth, he reached in with the pole and snagged something. Out came a cloth bag dangling from the pliers. John slipped it inside his backpack. He collapsed the pole and then started coming out, transferring his weight from one wire to the next until he was ready to lower himself back onto the windowsill.

Gary held onto the window frame with his left hand while he reached for John’s boots with his right. He missed on the first try and slipped. He pivoted out of control and hit the inside wall, his boots slipping to the edge of the sill. Gary looked down. Sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cool evening. A fraction of an inch of hard rubber was all that prevented him from tumbling into the room and setting off the infrared motion detector alarm. Carefully he pulled himself back and inched his boots to safety. He looked up at John, who hung from the ceiling, his eyes bulging in surprise.

Gary reached in again, grabbed at John’s boots, missed, tried once more, snagged one, and pulled it toward the window. In moments John was standing on the sill once more. A car horn drifted up from the street below, sounding thin and far away. John’s descent cable and drum slapped against the building’s limestone exterior. He swapped winch drums. Then he and Gary started back up together.

“Not a bad night’s work,” Gary whispered, as if someone might hear them three-quarters of the way up the skyscraper.

“Yeah, but I sure am glad we’re done.”

*      *      *

The security guard searched for the right key among the myriad circling the ring hooked to his belt as he stood outside the offices of Sheldon Silverman and Company, one of several diamond wholesalers in the Empire State Building. The guard had argued against making a trip up to the seventy-third floor, but his supervisor had insisted. But it had to be a faulty TV camera; what else could it be? Why not wait until morning and let the day crew handle it?

The man found the right key, inserted it, and only then remembered. He reached up and punched in the security code on the keypad. He got it wrong the first time, but the green light blinked on with his next try. The guard unlocked the door and pushed it open. His angry scowl faded into disbelief, then fear as he saw the open vault and the gaping hole in the window.

“What the. . .?” he began, before trailing off into a series of feeble curses. Then he grabbed for his radio.

*      *      *

John knew he should be sleeping since he and Gary had to be up early the next morning. But he hadn’t unwound yet, and sleep would be impossible until he did. He thumbed the TV on with the remote and started surfing the cable channels, thinking he might find a movie, what Gary would call “bubble gum for the eyes.”

The unmistakable image of a news desk flashed on the screen, and it was not until three or four channels later that something about the image forced John to go back. Behind the female news anchor was a picture of the Empire State Building.

“. . .apparently lowered themselves down the side of the Empire State Building, blew out a window, then somehow opened the vault belonging to Sheldon Silverman and Company, diamond merchants located on the seventy-third floor. How much the thieves took is not known at this hour; however, the police investigation is continuing.

“We take you live to. . .”

John jumped up, raced across the room, and banged on the adjoining room’s door. “Hey, Gary, get up! We’ve got a problem.”

*      *      *

Gary yawned as he and John got off the elevator on the seventy-third floor. Down the hall a reporter and cameraman waited.

“That’s great,” Gary grumbled. “Just what we need.”

“The vultures have landed,” John whispered back.

The male reporter seemed to come to life when it became obvious the visitors were headed for the target office.

“Rolling,” the cameraman said.

“Excuse me, are you involved in the diamond heist hoax?” the reporter asked, shoving a microphone in John’s face.

“No comment.”

The mike shifted to Gary.

Gary felt an urge to evade but knew that wouldn’t be right. There wasn’t anything wrong with a simple “no comment,” but he decided the question deserved an answer.

“I’m not aware of any hoax, but we did conduct a security system test last night at the request of our client.”

“And that would be Sheldon Silverman and Company,” the reporter prompted.

“Yes. And building security also had notice of what we were doing, so there is no hoax.”

“Then why did they report the break-in to the police?”

“You’ll have to ask them that. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have an appointment with Mr. Silverman.”

“One more question. Who are you? Who do you work for?”

Gary considered refusing but decided it really didn’t matter. In fact, it was probably free publicity. “SecurityCheck, Incorporated, Northridge, California.”

“Has your company ever had a failure like this before?”

“Excuse me,” Gary said. He opened the door, waited until John went through, then closed it, blocking out the glaring light and the inquisitive reporter.

The receptionist stared at them. “May I help you?” she asked.

“We’re here to see. . . ” Gary began.

“In here, gentlemen,” a deep, cultured voice said.

Gary turned to see Sheldon Silverman looking at them through tinted designer glasses. He was not smiling, but then Gary couldn’t remember a time when he had. But what the man lacked in humor, he made up in elegance. Gary couldn’t guess what the man’s suit, shirt, tie, and shoes cost, but he knew they hadn’t come from a discount store. Not a hair was out of place on Sheldon’s head. He waved toward his office.

Gary and John marched inside and waited while their host closed the door. Sheldon rounded his massive walnut desk and sat down in his executive swivel chair. “Please sit down,” he said in what seemed like an afterthought. The young men did as they were told.

Sheldon glowered at them for a few moments, then said, “I’m a respectable diamond wholesaler, and this publicity isn’t doing my business any good.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Gary said, “but it wasn’t our fault. If the security people had followed your instructions, this wouldn’t have happened.”

This seemed to deflate Sheldon’s anger. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. What’s done is done.”

“How bad is it?”

The fire came back into Sheldon’s eyes. “It started out as a break-in, then changed to a diamond heist as soon as they checked out my company. Finally the news clowns escalated it to the largest diamond robbery in New York history.”

“They actually said that?”

“I believe the words they used were ‘according to reliable sources.’ You know the rest.”

Gary nodded. “They emphasized certain details to boost their ratings.”

“You’ve got it. The real story broke just in time for the morning shows. Now I’m a laughingstock all across America, probably around the world.”

“I’m sorry, but I imagine it will die down before long.”

“I hope you’re right.” Sheldon paused. “Do you have it?”

“Yes, sir.” Gary thought that was a silly question since he was holding the bag in plain view.

“May I. . .” It was not a question.

Gary got up, handed him the bag, and sat back down.

“The building people are giving me a hard time about the window.”

John cleared his throat. “Sorry about the damage, Mr. Silverman, but we followed the rules. Damage to property consistent with an actual break-in is the responsibility of the client, and so on.”

“That is correct.” Sheldon looked closely at the bag, hefted it, and dropped it on the desk. “You didn’t open it, I see.”

“No, sir,” Gary said, “but I did spot the fine thread you stitched into the neck so you’d know if we did.”

“How very observant.” There might have been a hint of a smile, but it quickly disappeared. “However, a handful of cubic zirconia isn’t worth a lot.”

“That’s not the point. Per your instructions, we penetrated your security system and took what you told us to, as proof of what a real crook could have done, which is a lot more than what we actually did.”

Sheldon tapped the bag with his silver letter opener. “But everything else was locked up.”

“Those dinky drawer locks are nothing compared to evading the alarms and opening the vault. We can demonstrate that as well, if you like.”

The client leaned back in his chair. “That won’t be necessary. So what do I need to do?”

Gary held up a binder. “It’s all in our report.” He leaned forward and slid it onto the desk. “But I’ll give you the breaking news version.”

Sheldon leaned back and folded his hands. “Please do.” He listened carefully, making an occasional note with his gold pen, and stood as soon as Gary finished.

Gary and John sprang to their feet.

Sheldon reached into his suit’s inner pocket, withdrew a folded piece of paper, and handed it to Gary. “I believe you will find this correct,” he said.

Gary glanced briefly at the check and saw it had the right number of zeros. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

Sheldon nodded toward the door. “I have a busy schedule, so I must bid you good day. Have a pleasant trip back to California.”

“We’ll sure try,” Gary answered for them.

In moments they were out in the corridor, walking back to the elevators. Gary smiled, thinking of their return to the Valley. His mind sprang into fast-forward. The Empire State Building heist was history. Next stop: Fort Knox.

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©2009 Frank Simon