In Which Kevin And Brendon Rob A Bank, Frame A Pillar Of The Community, And Victoria Throws A Party
It's a plan with many layers. It's possible that Victoria is slightly dissatisfied with the role she's been handed this time.
"I mean, it's not like I can't do it, god knows I can throw a party, but really? A party? Alex, pass me that mirror, won't you? Like I'm not capable as any of them at breaking and entering."
Alex passes her the mirror, rolling off the bed to come behind to help her pin up the last stray wisps of hair. "We know, V, but you're better at wining and dining and gossiping and flattery. Imagine those dirty wretches we met the other day trying to fit in here?"
She laughs a little, gratified, but still feels the need to add, "You might be surprised."
Alex's reflection raises an eyebrow. "Oh really?" He rests his hands on her tastefully bare shoulders. "Colour me intrigued. Anyway, we still haven't heard your cunning plan to ruin a man in an evening."
"Oh it won't just be me, darling," She says brightly, whirling about from beneath his hands. "Have you ever taken on a role as the hired muscle in a blackmailing operation?"
Alex twirled an imaginary mustache. "I am always ready to extend my range."
"Of course," she continues thoughtfully, "we'll have to thoroughly destroy his reputation in front of everyone who is anyone before we blackmail him into fleeing the city."
Alex wandered over to where a stack of ties and cravats were haphazardly piled. "You know, word on the street? Your boy isn't exactly making friends." He held up the purple one and looked critically in the mirror. "His money and his plans to make more, yes. But the man himself isn't feeling the love."
"Maybe," she says, "But by the time tonight is out, he's going to know it--no, try the green. I was thinking I'd recruit Gabe to get some of the gossip spread."
Alex looped the green one around his neck. "Ryland is good at improv, too," he says easily. "Of course," he added, making the knot with deft flicks of his wrist. "The best way to get a rumour going is to deny it."
"Deny it," Victoria asked, hairbrush in hand.
Alex nodded as he straightened his tie. "Deny hearing rumours about embezzlement. Say you trust McCracken with your money, why wouldn't you? Then they'll not only hear the rumour, but they'll be pissed that they didn't hear it first."
"Has anyone ever told you you're a little brilliant?" She asks, and the question isn't nearly as flippant as perhaps it should be. Alex's reflection smirks at her.
"I need to make a few more arrangements," she finishes, excusing herself.
...
"Seriously Greta? It's an easy break in. Get in, get out, and there probably won't be anyone on duty."
"Still, it never hurts to be prepared."
"I think one grappling hook will be plenty, honest."
Brendon is trying hard not to grin at Greta's fussing. "Honestly, Greta, I think that if we clank as we walk, we'd attract the wrong sort of attention."
Greta was looking a little flustered. "What about wrist gauntlets?" She hobbled over to the shelf where Nick and Frank had stacked whatever they could rescue from her damaged lab. Greta was getting fast on her sticks, but still Kevin winced everytime she tried to move on her injured leg.
Kevin pushed the thought out of his head and peeled back his sleeves. "How many wrists do you think we have, Greta?"
She deflates a bit at that.
"Hey, no," Brendon tries, glaring at Kevin, "We could try then on our ankles. Nothing sucks worse than getting knifed in the ankle, does it, Kev?"
Greta leans one of her crutches against the bench and tucked her hair behind ears. "Sorry, I'm just...this is a big deal."
Brendon came and wrapped himself delicately against her side, chin resting on her shoulder. "We'll be fine."
"You'd better be."
The words come out almost threateningly. Brendon just curls closer. "We'll be fine and then it'll be over."
Greta nods.
Kevin gets it. "And so will Ryan and Macy, and Victoria too. We got this, Greta."
She nods before blurting helplessly, "I know you do, but I don't. I'm feeling a little useless here."
Kevin comes to hug her other side, mindful of her balance. "Greta, look at what we've got. We can defy the laws of gravity and the laws of men with impunity because of stuff you dreamed up over tea. You're anything but useless."
She smiles at him crookedly. "So I suppose I need to resign myself to waiting again."
Kevin gives her a soft little kiss on her cheek. "We'll be back soon. Leave the light on for us, darling."
She laughs at that. "Like we won't all be sitting up waiting."
Kevin and Brendon nod, and take off into the gathering night.
...
The tables are set, the musicians are prepped, and Victoria's staff have been thoroughly debriefed on their expected behaviour for the evening. The entire massive ballroom seems poised on an edge, waiting. Victoria descends the stairs like a goddess, taking Alex's hand where he waits at the base. "Are we ready?"
Alex nods as a servant signals the arrival of the first coaches. As the guests begin to arrive Victoria feels a flutter of--not nervousness. Surely not. She looks down to see her hand shaking just a little--the tiniest tremble. She thinks, slightly hysterically, perhaps, that this is the kind of anxiety a society lady is supposed to feel over the success of a social event. Of course, not many society ladies had to worry about canapes, wine selections and grand larceny.
Victoria pastes a smile and goes to greet her visitors.
"Auntie," Gabe calls out loudly from across the room.
"Cheeky boy," she replies carryingly, laughing and walking across the floor to him. "Enjoying my party?"
"A formal gala? I had no idea this was your style," is his reply, and it hits her that she really shouldn't underestimate this young man. He's perceptive. She takes his arm, the two of them strolling casually towards where the waiters were standing armed with champagne. "Darling boy, I have a little errand for you."
"Darling auntie," Gabe murmured back. "I am but your dutiful nephew."
That one makes her laugh. "Gabriel," she has to say, "You have never been dutiful in your life. He gives her a wounded look. "Willful, spirited, wicked, bright and always entertaining, but never dutiful."
Gabe nods. "Okay, yes, that's fair. What can I do for you?"
Victoria tells him just what he needs to know. She feels vindicated in her choice when he doesn't press for details.
The room's abuzz with rumors before long--rumors of McCracken's untrustworthiness in financial matters, yes, but also rumors of scandals and affairs and a string of casual infatuations and passionate adorations. The air is thick with rumor and supposition, and fact slipped in at the oddest places. When Victoria starts hearing rumours she didn't concoct herself, she starts to relax, satisfied that the stories had taken root.
...
The streets are quiet under the moonlight as Kevin and Brendon move from one patch of shadow to the next. Kevin feels a nervous energy building under his skin as they creep closer to the bank's imposing pillars. Victoria and Mike had both gone into as much detail as they could, describing what they knew of the layout, drawing maps. The climb is easy, all the carvings and statues plastered to the walls offering easy handholds.
The imposing glass set into niches across the ceiling to pour light onto the floors below are easy enough to remove. The drop to the bank floor is an exciting rush of air, and then they're in, crossing the marble floor on silent feet, heading for the real challenge; the vault.
They're cautious, stepping on light feet. The point of this is to make it seem as though they were never here at all.
The hallways are more opulent than most of the rooms Kevin's ever been in, and in a moment of fancy he wonders it they'll notice the lower class of the dirt on the soles of his shoes to that of the floor's usual occupants. He looks back, can't see a thing.
"This way," Brendon hisses, and they descend steps to the outer room of the vaults.
This level's darker, more utilitarian, and Kevin feels more at ease for no sensible reason. The vault's going to be tricky, though. Kevin sees the note of respect in Brendon's gave as he looks at it, and Kevin worries a little. Brendon saves his admiration for true challenges. Kevin has to hold onto something, gloved fingers wrapping around an elegant chairback, as Brendon gives it a little salute before kneeling before the locking mechanism.
He stares at it for a few long moments, gloved hands making abortive, twitchy motions in the air as time ticks by, before finally reaching forward for the mechanism. It's like watching a seduction as Brendon coaxes the combination out of the tumblers, one number at a time.
The safe opens with an anticlimatic sigh of well-oiled hinges. Brendon looks up at him with a tight, restrained, working grin, so different from his customary enthusiasm. Brendon's a professional, though. He steps into the vault with the same measured gait as Kevin. Mike's told them the procedure, ran them through it; there would be a sign-in book, listing each client's box numbers. Kevin flips through the pages until he finds 'McCracken.'
65 and 66. Kevin points the way, and working as one, he and Brendon slide out the large, heavy strong boxes. A moment with a pick, and Brendon has them open.
Kevin knew it would be more cash than he'd ever seen before in one place, but he can't help but feel taken aback. He's gratified when Brendon, who's had a hand in a few bank jobs over the years, lets out a low whistle. They share a quick, giddy grin, before unslinging their empty packs. Luckily, Greta, smart pretty Greta, had realized that that much gold would weigh a lot, and had prepared them accordingly.
Even so, Kevin groaned as he stood up under the weight. Without Greta's grappling devices, they'd never lift this back to the roof.
They take extra care to put things back exactly as they found them, Brendon even adjusting the ledger book so it was as it was before, square and true to the edge of the desk. Even the tumbler dials went back to their original positions.
They walk back up through the hallways as quietly as ghosts, though their steps are a bit heavier. When they get back to their exit, Brendon climbs up first, so that Kevin can attach the gold to the pulley and Brendon can haul it to the roof.
All goes according to plan, and Kevin goes to climb out himself. Brendon's jittery, out in the open on the roof. He wants to get out, be done. Kevin hauls himself up out the window, and hisses as he hits the rusty nail in the frame. He jerks away, until he hears, "Kevin, quick, LIE DOWN," hissed at him urgently. There's terror in Brendon's voice.
Kevin throws himself back against the sill and against the nail without a thought, and just in time--the beam of light corresponding with the, "Anybody up there? I catch you vandals again and it'll be your necks on the line," passes just over Kevin's head.
They stay low, barely breathing, Kevin gritting his teeth against the stinging strip burning fire down his side. He clamps his arm tight, elbow tucked in against his hip, feeling slick wetness there. Fuck, last thing they need after being so careful is to leave a blood trail.
The light passes over again, then heavy boots. "Still after 'em kids, 'arry." There was a little laugh. "You'll never catch 'em blighters, they're halfway across town now, and it's brass monkeys out here."
There's some grumbled agreement and the light goes away, the distant sound of a door slamming. They stay down for a few minutes more.
When Brendon pokes his head up and signals the all-clear, the sharp pain in Kevin's side has eased. From there, the biggest challenge is walking streets too disreputable to get caught by the watch on, but too safe for them to get mugged.
They can achieve their revenge just as well whether they get the money or lose it, so long as it ends up gone, but to be solvent would be a luxury. Luckily, there's not much traffic out on the town; Kevin wonders if Victoria's party is big enough to empty the streets of the rich and powerful to such an extent.
But as they crossed the street that marked 'them' from 'us,' Kevin knew he wasn't the only one breathing a little sigh of relief.
...
The rumor mill is in full swing when Victoria moves in for the kill: Mrs. McCracken.
Victoria drags her to the side and is all, "Darling, I'm telling you this as a friend," and the woman's totally unnerved--she has only even met Victoria once or twice, but she listens when Victoria says, "I've heard, and you know, my information is usually reliable, that things are socially going to get a little sticky for your Bert some time tomorrow. You might want to get out while you can until the fuss dies down."
And Victoria is so solicious, and all "it's for the best, darling" and "I wouldn't want you to have to worry, when there's a run on a bank it's not pleasant," and a whole bunch of other stuff she only half understands but knows is bad.
Victoria smirks when the dear all but drags her husband off by the elbow to whisper frantically in her ear. She hopes Kevin and Brendon are clear, it looks like the bank isn't going to be slow responding...
While Victoria's theatrical soul is praying they'll check the bank tonight and the police will storm McCracken's house just as the carriage is pulling out, what matters is that they're leaving, so any time in the next day that the law comes down, they'll find the man leaving, packing to leave or already gone. Victoria circles her guests one more time, checking that the rumours have taken root, just to be sure.
As the party winds down and the room empties slowly, she wanders over to one of the most stationary and boisterous clusters of stragglers; Gabe is chattering brightly to Alex and Ryland, but when Victoria steps into view he turns to her and says, "V, you'll tell me, won't you? These fuckers don't want to let me in on why you've had me wreaking havoc all night."
Victoria smiles sweetly and takes his arm. "No, darling. I don't think I will." Gabe pouted and everybody laughs. Victoria pets his hand. "You'll just have to read a paper for your news for once, just like everyone else."
...
The story, when it breaks the next morning, is just the sort of sensationalist claptrap that the papers thrive on, so of course the scandal is splashed across the front page. The surprising thing, Kevin thinks as he skims through it, is how uncommonly accurate it is. Nick is hanging off his shoulders, reading along. "Do you think they know," he asks quietly.
Kevin shook out the pages. "I think they suspect some, are guessing some more, and are making up the rest. Come on, if you heard the truth secondhand, would you believe it?"
"Yeah," Nick said quietly, "But only because it's you."
Kevin smiled up at him fiercly. "It's us. It's all of us."
Nick squeezes Kevin in a brief almost-hug. Kevin is too shocked for a second to react, and by then the moment is past. "Teamwork. It's always a good idea."