They got The Baron dressed in his disguise as quickly as possible. Wade thought it looked convincing. The amulet the thief wore would help persuade the people who mattered—the night shift—that he was one of them.

It hadn’t escaped Wade’s attention that Stiff had given The Baron two magical items. He wondered if his gift to Wade—the Necklace of Agility—was an attempt to address the balance. Was The Baron Stiff’s premier thief? While Wade had been left to run the bread and butter operations? It was an uncomfortable thought, because it had a ring of truth to it.

He watched from the shadows as The Baron approached the main gates. He stopped. A conversation with the guards ensued. Only magic could convince them he was one of their own, even if he was wearing the right uniform. He entered. Wade had to hope they’d allowed him entry, rather than arresting him.

He turned to Femke. ‘He’s in.’

The two of them walked around to the rear of the mansion. The rest of their team were waiting here for them. The first obstacle was a stone wall. They helped Wade climb it—Murder’s raw strength proving essential in lifting him up so he could put both hands on the top and haul himself up. Femke was next, Wade able to help pull her up. Next came a length of rope. When Murder, Mags, and Mila were ready to take his weight, Wade clambered down into the property, followed by Femke.

They moved into the shelter of an out of control bush and waited, just in case they’d been heard. Wade stared at the rear of the building, getting a closer view from here than the other glimpses he’d got. He’d not once seen activity outside, and things looked the same tonight. Perhaps, when the Blairs weren’t in residence, security was more lax.

He was acutely aware of Femke’s presence next to him. He’d enjoyed playing the role of husband and wife with her over the last few days. He’d felt proud to have a woman like that by his side, even though it was a lie.

How sad is that? He asked himself.

He turned to her, wondering if she felt anything similar. Probably not, you eejit.

Femke raised an eyebrow.

‘Let’s go,’ he said.

They crept towards the mansion. Wade knew instinctively where to walk to avoid anyone inside the building catching sight of them, and Femke trusted him enough to follow in his footsteps.

‘Here,’ he whispered, stopping by a tree. He pointed up to the fourth story balcony. It was impossible to climb the walls and reach it. But it was the only visible means of covert entry.

Femke took the bow and Stiff’s contraption from her bag. Their boss had ordered a bespoke grappling arrowhead. It consisted of three steel prongs, a hook for attaching the rope, and a hollow end to attach an arrow shaft.

Wade had his doubts. ‘I bet I could reach it just by swinging the rope.’ The truth was, he was far from confident he could make that throw, even with his new necklace. And whirling a grappling hook on the end of a huge length of rope without getting seen? Not good odds. The arrowhead wasn’t a bad idea for the distance they needed. It was just that Femke wasn’t an experienced archer.

‘If I can’t do it,’ she said, ‘by all means, you can try that method.’

‘Fair enough.’ Wade picked up the coiled rope. ‘I reckon The Baron might be ready now.’

Femke put the strange looking arrow to her string, aimed, and released. The arrow didn’t disintegrate, as Wade had feared. It sailed up towards the balcony, but died before it reached the distance, falling back to the ground with a clatter.

They waited, the still night returning to silence. Their noise hadn’t alerted anyone. Wade pulled the rope back in, coiling it up once more. The arrow was still intact.

‘I need to get closer,’ Femke said.

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That would mean leaving cover and standing in the courtyard directly outside the mansion, fully exposed. ‘I don’t like it,’ Wade growled.

‘It won’t reach otherwise.’

She didn’t wait for his approval, marching into position and aiming for the balcony a second time. She was right. The hook went the full distance, over the balcony’s railings.

Tentatively, Wade pulled on the rope. The shaft broke free and fell to the ground, but that didn’t matter. At least one of the hooks gripped tight. He gave it a full blooded yank just in case, but it held firm.

Damn it. That means I have to climb up.

First, he had to pull on the looped rope. The lightweight section of rope, perfect for the initial arrow shot, slid through the metal hook and returned to the ground. The thicker hempen rope it was tied to—more able to take his weight—rose up to the balcony. When he had fed through the correct amount, it was time to go. He put a hand to the rope.

Above, a door opened, and a figure appeared on the balcony.

Wade froze.

‘It’s fine,’ came a voice he recognised.

Wade watched as The Baron put a hand to the grappling hook, perhaps checking it was secure. ‘There’s nothing here. Maybe it was a bird.’

Wade heard a voice responding through the door, but he couldn’t make out the words.

‘Of course you get nocturnal birds. You’ve never heard of a fucking owl?’

Wade had never heard The Baron swear before. Clearly, he was in character. He didn’t do things by half. But when the thief gave the all clear by wiggling the rope, Wade felt relieved, knowing his ascent would be covered.

‘Good luck, husband,’ Femke said, with a grin.

‘Thank you, wife.’ On impulse, he kissed her on the lips. Femke looked shocked, then smiled, and Wade was relieved to see it was a good kind of shock.

He climbed. Stiff had made sure knots had been tied into the rope at regular intervals, giving him handholds, then footholds. It made the climb infinitely easier. He had to admit, the mercenary leader had some good ideas. No doubt gleaned from experience of climbing into places he shouldn’t.

A voice from inside the mansion again. ‘What are you doing out there, Neal?’

Who is Neal?

‘Can a man not have a smoke in peace?’ The Baron answered. He signalled for Wade to hurry.

Bastard wants me to hurry myself? He just strolls into the place, while I have to climb four storeys on a damned rope.

The Baron held out a hand, and Wade reached for it. Between them, they managed to haul him over the balustrade without making a racket.

The Baron pointed past the far end of the balcony towards a window. It took Wade a few moments to realise what he was suggesting. A thin ledge ran from one to the other, only a few inches deep.

Wade shook his head.

The Baron nodded his.

Wade grabbed the bastard by the guard’s uniform he was wearing. ‘I can’t walk across that,’ he hissed, ‘even wearing the necklace.’

The Baron gave him a surprised look. ‘Hang walk it.’

Wade stared at him. Had the bastard gone mad? He’d just climbed a rope, now he wanted him to hang off a tiny ledge by his fingers and get across to a window, with a paralysing drop below? Once again, Wade shook his head. He gestured towards the open door.

The Baron’s eyes went wide with alarm. He shook his head and passed a hand across his throat.

It was true, Stiff had told them not to kill anyone. Breaking into the Blairs’ home and murdering their people was an act that would have to be avenged. They’d find out who did it and come looking for them. If, instead, one of their mercs’ women simply disappeared one night, no one would care for very long.

Wade gritted his teeth. He didn’t like being told what to do, especially by The Baron. But with great reluctance, he moved across the balcony, then climbed over the short side of the balustrade. Hanging from a baluster, trusting it with his weight, he put his left hand onto the ledge, then pressed his left foot against the wall.

Just do it, he told himself.

Not waiting to convince himself it was a terrible idea, he released his hold on the baluster and put his right hand onto the ledge. He didn’t fall, but the pain came instantly. He was holding most of his bodyweight up by his fingers, his feet contributing little. He had to make it to the window quickly, before his strength gave out.

He began to shuffle across horizontally, left hand followed by right. His feet pressed against the sheer wall, his leg muscles squeezing. But there was very little purchase for his feet. He kept going, glancing across at his destination. The more it hurt, the more the window seemed to get farther away rather than closer.

His hands and arms were trembling. He heard, and felt, a pop in his left middle finger, and lost a hit point.

No, he told himself. You can’t kiss Femke and then have her watch you fall off this wall and end up as a wet splat on the ground. That is the most embarrassing way to go. What will they tell Eden?