PART 7: THE SOWING TOMORROW GALA JOB -- THE TALE

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I almost forgot about my arrangement with Narcissa – the night was far too eventful. I contacted her after I instructed Wynn to escort Becca home and returned to my bedroom.

“You took your time,” Narcissa said after answering.

“I’m not one to rush into critical scenarios. That said, I constructed a scheme that would serve as an excellent snare for The Grandmaster.”

“I’m listening.”

“We’ll start with the framework you’ve already laid. You’ll once again antagonize The Grandmaster and challenge her to steal The Maker’s Tear from you.”

“She didn’t show the first time I did this,” she said, “so why will she now?”

“One, I imagine the last predicament displeased The Grandmaster. When you challenged her before, it was a curiosity. Now it’s an insult. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s stressed from everything and so strikes.”

“Anything else?” she asked as if she were bored.

“You’re familiar with The Sowing Tomorrow Gala, correct?”

“I’ve heard a thing or two.”

“I’ll guard The Maker’s Tear during the lead-up to the event. Once it arrives, I’ll return it and you’ll wear it. I can’t picture The Grandmaster resisting the chance to infiltrate, especially since the event shall take place in the penthouse atop our company.”

“She isn’t going to waltz in and take it directly,” Narcissa said.

A smile stretched across my lips as I considered the possibility of performing such a feat. After all, she didn’t believe it possible, and thus it was her blind spot. I lacked the time to contemplate the minutiae, however, so I dismissed the thought.

“Perhaps she will,” I said, “perhaps she won’t. No matter what route she takes, I’m certain she’ll appear. She’ll appear for the sake of her reputation. And that is how we’ll seize her.”

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“You’re not offering any solutions!”

“When capturing a thief, one must start by accessing how they accessed the scene of the crime. She’ll approach somehow, which will leave a clue – a thread for us to pull. We’ll follow the thread to wherever next it takes us. And, eventually, said thread shall lead us to The Grandmaster.”

“Okay,” she said, “I’ll give it a try… after you pass a lie detector test.”

I rose my brow. “I thought I only had to agree.”

“I’m altering the deal. I can’t work with you without knowing what you did last night.”

Interesting ploy, Vincent, I mused.

His move brought me back to an article in Psych Out I once read. It taught me that people who lose access to something they believe they’re about to receive experience the same psychological response as someone who has something they own taken from them. The reason is simple: the human mind projects forward.

Vincent’s gambit – I’m certain he suggested this move – sought to infuriate me into a misstep.

With venom injected into my voice, I asked, “Why does my private life concern you?”

“You never know what The Grandmaster might be up to. I’d like to make sure you’re not a spy or anything.”

“Thank you for this opportunity,” I said, “but I’ve no interest in doing business with someone who wishes to treat me—”

“Why are you avoiding this?” she asked. “If you’re innocent, you have nothing to hide.”

“—in such a manner,” I continued. “I wish—”

“You’re involved, aren’t you!?”

“I wish you the best—”

“I’ll find out—”

I ended the call.

I’m certain my choice might seem dire, but I assure you, it was the wisest choice. While I had no clue as to how much Vincent suspected me, I was certain he needed the gala. I imagined he’d commit fully to the scambaiting scheme, especially when he had come so far.

My phone chimed, Vincent’s name manifested on the caller ID, and I snickered. I utilized the same psychological trick as he had.

“Hello Vincent,” I said, my voice as genial as possible, “to what do I owe the honor?”

“I had hoped the next time we spoke it would’ve been more pleasant, but what can one expect when working with Narcissa? If anyone owes anyone anything, it’s me to you. I owe you an apology – not just for what Narcissa did today, but what I learned she did last night.”

“What did she do last night?” I asked with a touch of hardness in my voice – I felt it best if I seemed defensive.

“Before I explain, believe me when I say I had no clue about this. It seems she instructed some of my Damatessa to monitor you. During this, they witnessed you leave your home and travel to a…certain hotel.”

The chirping of birds outside my balcony spoke much louder than me, as I had to play petrified.

“Narcissa is paranoid,” Vincent said, “and so she wanted to force answers out of you for last night. I’ve put a stop to that.”

“Much obliged,” I said, tense.

“While I’d understand why you wouldn’t want to work with us anymore, the invitation remains. If you’re worried about her antics, I can keep her under control.”

I sighed. “I won’t deny my interest in this, but…” I paused for drama and waited to seem as if I were debating. “…Can you guarantee no more nonsense from her?”

“I give my word.”

“I suppose I can try, one last time.”

“Thank you,” he said.

And with that, The Maker’s Tear was all but mine.

I dedicated the following two days to ensuring everything went as desired on the day of The Gala – assuming, of course, I reached The Gala. Grandpa remained distant. I’m certain he was struggling with a heavy heart. I simply had to let him marinate.

Wynn readied our escape plan, just in case. Lilah meanwhile kept in contact with me regarding the supplies and personnel I requested, such as the helicopter. She found one which she could rent off-the-books, so we were in the clear so long as we returned it in the same condition as found.

Another task I addressed was the hiring of an appraiser. If I was to receive The Maker’s Tear, I had to ensure it was true.

The weekend had arrived once more when I received a text from Narcissa.

I have The Maker’s Tear, the message read. Disguise yourself and come to my hotel room.