Startled, his eyes popped open, and before he could fire, she kicked him in the side of the head, dropping him out-cold to the lawn like a toppled garden gnome.
With those alarms still blaring like dissonant horror-show music, waterproof bag tucked under an arm, Max circled the house, leapt the wall, and approached her hidden boat carefully, in case any of Sterling’s security team had scouted ahead.
But only her boat was waiting, and she eased it out onto the lapping water and she, the Grant Wood, the Heart of the Ocean, and the ungainly tourist craft disappeared onto the fog-flung lake.
Not exactly a perfect heist, but the haul was good, and even with a few flubs, she knew Moody would be proud of his girl. This was a seven-figure evening, easy, enough to finance the search for Seth and allow her to slip back into the anonymity of the straight life... for a while anyway.
A few hours later, with the glow of the coming day already lightening the easterly sky, Max sat on the couch in her squatter’s flat, staring at the necklace.
She still had no idea how Sterling had ended up with it, and now she wondered what she was going to do with it. The painting needed to be fenced, which would cover immediate expenses; unfortunately, she had no such connections in Seattle... yet.
She had not called Moody in LA, since getting to town and settling into this new life; she’d wanted a clean break... but now she had to talk to him. This time of night... or morning... she didn’t dare bother him. But in a few hours, she’d find out what the hell was going on with the real prop of the necklace.
Dropping the stone into a black velvet bag, she hid it in her bedroom, and ambled back out to the living room to try to relax — so hard for her to get to sleep after a score...
To Max’s surprise, Kendra was sitting on the couch now, watching TV.
“What’s up?” Max asked.
Kendra gave her roommate a coy smile. “Just got home. Had a date.”
“Really?” Max sat beside her, gave her sly look. “Nice guy?”
Kendra’s smile widened. “No, he was a bad, bad boy... in a nice, nice way.”
They laughed at that, perhaps a little too much — what with Kendra a little drunk, and Max trapped in wide-awake exhaustion.
“Details,” ordered Max, “details.”
“No way.”
“I would tell you.”
Her mouth open wide in mock astonishment, Kendra said, “You would not, and we both know it — you are the most secretive little bee-atch on the planet... and you’re pumping me for details?”
“I wasn’t pumping you,” Max said with a laugh. “What I want to know is, who was pumping you?”
“Oh, you’re wicked...”
They were interrupted by the distracting white noise of TV static; both young women quickly recognized what this signaled, and their conversation ceased as they gave their attention to the cool yet intense eyes on the screen, eyes bordered above and below by blue, with the words STREAMING FREEDOM VIDEO gliding in white letters against a red background.
“Do not attempt to adjust your set,” the calm yet intense voice intoned, making the same introduction as before, a sixty-second untraceable cable hack from the only free voice in the city.
“Look at those eyes,” Kendra said.
“Shhhh,” Max said.
“He can hack my cable any ol’ time...”
“Quiet, Kendra.”
“This bulletin contains graphic violence, and we are broadcasting at this hour to avoid young viewers. This footage — banned from the media in Los Angeles where the slaughter occurred two days ago — is sobering evidence of what happens to people who stand up for freedom.”
Max’s eyes widened in dread as she saw the handheld footage of the outside of the Chinese Theatre.
“Official documents indicate that the gangster group the Brood was responsible,” the electronically altered voice continued, “but the media clampdown — and reports of black-uniformed, heavily armed soldiers at the scene — indicate government involvement, even collusion.”
The camera moved closer to the theater and revealed four bodies sprawled on the patio in postures of bullet-riddled death. Max’s fingers clutched the cloth of the couch.
“The Chinese Clan, freedom fighters in the Los Angeles area...”
Freedom fighters? Max thought bitterly. Not hardly...
The camera moved into the lobby where more bodies were flung, some of them Brood members, and she wondered if Moody’s crew had been able to fight back, to hold off the onslaught, to limit the carnage...
“... were gunned down by the Brood in a dispute, allegedly over stolen goods.”
And Max saw Fresca, in his worn Dodgers jacket, lying in rubble next to a headless girl... Niner? Fresca’s jacket, originally Dodger blue, was now an ugly, blood-soaked purple.
“None of this group of freedom fighters escaped the wrath of the Brood.”
The handheld was in the auditorium now. Bodies lay strewn about like abandoned, broken toys.
“Gross,” Kendra said; but her eyes were glued to the screen.
Again Max felt warm wetness trailing down her cheeks, but she otherwise remained passive, simply sitting watching the video footage of her dead Clan family.
“Eyes Only sources indicate the Brood may be expanding into Seattle,” the voice continued. “If this criminal gang truly has government sanction, our city will be further enslaved.”
The camera swung around in the theater’s auditorium for the image Eyes Only had chosen to make his final point: Moody’s head impaled on a spike. On spikes on either side of him were the heads of Tippett and Gabriel...
“Shut it off!” Max gasped, and turned away.
Kendra used the remote, but the bulletin was already over, SNN back on; the tears on Max’s cheeks surprised her roommate into sobriety.
“What’s wrong, Max? You’re not the squeamish type.”
“I know them... knew them.”
“What?”
“I was one of them... the Chinese Clan. They were... family. Like family...”
Kendra slipped an arm around Max’s shoulders. “Oh, God, Max, I’m so sorry. What can I do to help?”
Max shut the grief off, as if she’d thrown a switch. “You can help me find Eyes Only, I’ve got to talk to him. I’ve got to find out more about what happened at that theater.”
Kendra’s eyes were big, and she was shaking her head. “Honey, I don’t know anything about him — nobody does. He comes on the tube at will, he does his thing, he splits.”
Max shook her head. “There’s got to be more to it than that — there must be an underground movement in this city.”
“Well, if so, I don’t know anything about it. And I don’t know anybody who knows anything about Eyes Only... you gonna be all right?”
Nodding, Max said, “I’m fine.”
“No you’re not. You’re holding it in — that’s not healthy. If you don’t let it out...”
“There’s nothing to be done for them now.”
Kendra frowned in concern. “You sure you don’t want to talk it out?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Well...” Max’s roommate rose, yawned, and said, “I guess I better catch some z’s... that is, if you’re sure—”
“Kendra, go ahead and crash... I’ll be fine.”
After Kendra stumbled off to bed, Max went to her own room, where she took from its hiding place the black velvet bag with the necklace.