“Yeah, I did,” I said as I leaned into the chair.
“Anything important?” he inquired.
“I didn’t know you were suddenly interested in this,” I replied with a chuckle.
“I was when he said it was the Sibylline books,” he said. “And besides, the cipher was in English. Tell me that they didn’t have some future reading bullshit.”
“Eh, I’m under the impression that it was added by someone later. The ink was different.”
“Oh, that makes more sense.”
“True, but the Vigenere cipher was invented in 1553. The ink that was used was more prominent in the 14th century.”
“But that would just mean they used an old ink. Nothing too crazy, I guess.”
“Realistically, that’s probably true. But the scifi part of me wants to believe the former.”
“Oh my god you’re turning religious.”
“In God we trust,” I said while clapping my hands together like I was praying. “Take a left here.”
“Bro, I have GPS, it says to take a rig-never mind you’re right,” he said. “Anyway, what did you figure out?”
“Well, the first issue was figuring out what it was talking about. The lost diamond of a legend and the azure’s gem. The only real clue is lost.”
“And that word could be used to describe a lot of gems,” Blake said.
“Right, but what if it isn’t lost, per say. Historically, when something is lost, we think it’s destroyed. But what if its whereabouts are unknown, but it still exists.”
“That narrows it down to diamonds in private collections.”
“See, you are learning something,” I said tongue-in-cheek.
“Okay, I get it. You’re a thief and detective,” he complimented.
“A thief has to research like a detective would, except they have to outperform them,” I said, sounding so philosophical. We shared a tiny laugh.
“Then there’s the line, lost legend. This is your area of expertise now, but who controls the diamond supply in the whole world.”
“The De Beers Corporation.”
“Which are controlled by what family?”
“Well, it was controlled by the Oppenheimer family until the Anglo American Mining Company bought their share. They had, uh, an eighty year control I think it was.”
“Right about the family, but I’m not sure about the eighty year thing. I’ll take your word for it though,” I said. “Now connect the dots. What is the lost diamond that is linked to the Oppenheimer family?”
“The Oppenheimer Blue,” he deduced. “It was sold at a private auction with an anonymous buyer. So in a sense, it would be lost.”
“M-hm,” I sounded out with satisfaction. “It’s the only line of reasoning that narrows it down to one specific gem.”
“Well that’s neat,” he said. “But knowing you, you want to steal it. And the only way you’d tell me this is if you located it.”
“Ah, you know me so well. It is in the hands of one Edward James.”
“And I’m just gonna know who that is?”
“One of the biggest weapons dealers for the British Royal Force,” I said, my voice completely serious and filled with disdain. Weapons dealers were bad enough, even if they did funny stuff like starting a clothing line. Cough Lockheed Martin cough. Not to mention it was to that government.
A long silence filled the car, though I couldn’t tell if it was from that piece of information or him driving.
“So, do you have a plan?”
“Parts of one,” I said. “But we need two helpers.”
“Marcus and Damien?”
“I don’t want to drag Marcus in with us again,” I replied. “And Damien is an idiot.”
“He’s not that bad.”
“He told the mark his real name,” I said.
“We … all make mistakes?” Blake said, though forming it more like a question.
“Well, that was up there with you putting ice in hot chocolate to cool it down,” I teased. All Blake did was mumble something incoherently.
“But that’s all I want to talk about this tonight. We’re here to enjoy ourselves.”
Blake nodded his head as our conversation changed into one of small talk and banter. We were still a long time away from Jocelyn’s house.
----------------------------------------
Jocelyn wasn’t having a good day. And her situation right now just made it worse.
“Dad! Can you stop!” she pleaded. Sitting on the couch of the living room were her parents. Displayed on the TV was the laptop screen of her dad on google.
“Joce, we’re just trying to find out more about him,” her mother teased. “You never tell us anything.”
“You’re stalking him!”
“Psh, stalking would be me using police resources to look into him. I’m just using public information,” Oscar said. “Though it’s a bit weird he doesn’t really have social media.”
“Maybe it’s to stop people like you two!”
“Ah, isn’t this your school’s talent show?” Oscar asked. He clicked on it and began watching the video.
“Pick a card, any card!” Zack charismatically said. He fanned the cards and looked away. The audience member picked a random card and Zack brought them all back.
“Remember it, and remember it well,” Zack said. The audience member nodded as they continued to look at the card.
“Now, we’ve all seen magicians guess one card, but how about throwing in a second one?” Zack asked the audience, spreading his arms apart in a grand gesture.
“Heh, clever,” Oscar complimented.
“Now, I’m gonna show you all the cards in the deck, and pick one. Except the bottom one because the trick won’t work.”
The audience laughed as Zack began to run his fingers along the edges of the card. “Got it?”
“Yeah.”
“Great, put the card back in the deck,” Zack said. He cut the deck, leaving room for the card to go in. He gave it a series of riffle shuffles in the air. Once he looked satisfied, he held the deck on his hand.
“Watch as I find the first card,” Zack said. His stance changed such that his right foot was now leading and pointing towards a target. Quickly, he threw the deck of cards towards the target.
“Was that your card?” he asked with a gleeful smile. “Nine of clubs?”
“Yes,” the volunteer said with awe.
“Madam, I think you have something behind your ear,” Zack said. He put his hand behind her ear, and with a quick movement, a card suddenly appeared in his hand.
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“Huh, ace of spades. What are the chances?” Zack said, revealing the card to everyone. The audience erupted into cheers and applauds.
“Now now, all the enthusiasm you have is great! It brings a joy to my heart!” Zack said, placing his hands on his chest. “But I believe that illusions are more beautiful once you know how it’s done. So I’ll be breaking the first rule of magic, letting you know how!”
The audience became even louder, so much so that the other contestants were now watching instead of rehearsing. Zack walked over to the target and took the card off.
“First, the second card. There’s more than one nine of clubs in the deck,” Zack explained. Behind him, the projector showed the deck fanned out on a table, with four of those cards highlighted. “Your brain will pick up on this and you’ll subconsciously pick it.”
The audiences oo-ed and aww-ed at the explanation.
“But now, you’re wondering about the first card,” Zack said. “Well, it was nothing special. When she put it back in the deck, I marked the location. When I riffled it, I was careful to keep it on the top. When I finish, it was just a matter of palming the card.”
Zack demonstrated this. The card was in his right hand originally, but as soon as his left hand went over it, it disappeared! The audience stood up and began to applaud.
“Thank you! Thank you! Have a good night!” Zack said. He was waving as he walked off the stage.
“That’s certainly impressive,” her mother said. The dad went back onto the google search results and clicked on another link. “Oh, and he’s good at archery too.”
Suddenly, Jocelyn’s phone rang. She received a text message. “Zack says he’s almost here.”
“We have time for one more, right?” Oscar asked, although not really looking for information. He went all the way down and clicked on the dreaded third page. He quickly scrolled down, not finding any information.
“Wait,” her mom asked, her voice losing its playfulness. “Go back to the one titled Julius Zephyr.”
As his mouse hovered over the link, the doorbell suddenly rang.
“Close this,” Jocelyn yelled and whispered at the same time. “Now!”
“I know, I know,” he said. He disconnected his laptop from the screen, closed it, and rose from the sofa.
“Coming!” Jocelyn yelled out.
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“For the record, I think this is gonna go horribly,” Blake said as we left the car.
“Okay, that’s crazy and all, but I don’t remember asking,” I replied. In front of us was a mansion. The perimeter had a gate, although it was opened. The house looked to be two-stories and very big. Part of the backyard was visible, and I saw a pool. We followed the paved road to the entrance of the door.
“You’re saying that, but you’re literally Icarus.”
“Oh cool, I’ve always wanted to be a myth,” I said.
“If tonight ends in handcuffs, I told you so.”
I opened my mouth before closing. “I can’t think of a PG-13 joke.”
His jaw dropped. “Not what I meant!”
With a smile, I adjusted my suit before ringing the doorbell.
“Coming!” Jocelyn yelled out before a series of loud footsteps echoing towards us. The door opened and I was greeted with a girl in a stunning light-green suit and a man wearing a gray T-shirt and jeans.
“Joce, you look-” I began, at a loss of words. “-stunning.”
She covered her mouth, but her eyebrows showed the smile that was hidden.
“Ahem,” the gentleman to her right coughed. My eyes widened as I realized I had forgotten about him.
“Oh, h-hi mister, I’m Zack Zephyr. Nice to meet you,” It sounded a bit too rehearsed when I had said it, and it drew an eyebrow. But nonetheless, he accepted my handshake.
“Oscar Saxe, it’s a pleasure to meet you young man,” he said, giving a smile.
“No need for formalities like those,” I replied respectfully.
“Heh, did Leah tell you that?” he guessed.
“Yeah, she did,” I admitted. I wouldn’t disrespect him by lying. Omission doesn’t count. “But I also don’t like them.”
“I’m Blake by the way,” Blake suddenly said. “Blake Lockheart.”
“Hi Blake,” her father said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too.”
“Shall we go inside?” I asked.
“No, I wouldn’t want to take too much of your time,” he replied. “We can chat on the ride there.”
“Uh,” I sounded out immediately, thinking of the very glaring flaws. “Are we taking your car or ours? Because if we take your car, are you going to take us back here so we can drive home? And if we take ours, how are you getting back? An Uber?”
His face froze. He moved almost imperceptibly back, just a small movement of the foot.
“You’re very … astute,” he said, regaining his composure.
“Not really Mr. Saxe,” I tried to reassure. Was this coming consciously or subconsciously? “It’s just a very simple line of reasoning.”
“It’s that you identified the problem and came up with a solution,” he said. “You should consider a career in law enforcement.”
“I’m flattered, really,” I responded. “But I think you’re reading into things that aren’t there. It’s something anyone could do.”
“You need to learn to take a compliment young man,” he playfully said. I nodded, realizing it wasn’t worth arguing. Blake handed her dad his keys, and the four of us walked into his car. Being the gentlemen that we were, we let them have the front seats.
He put the key into the ignition. The car immediately spun to life and he began to back out of the driveway.
The atmosphere should’ve been tense. On the one hand, I was sitting in the car with my date’s dad, someone who would be probing for information. And on the other hand, I was with one of the people chasing after me. One of the people that might one day be my executioner.
Yet, despite these circumstances, we both shared one thing in common. A smile. His was one which was reassuring and genuine. An eagerness to get to know the person his daughter is infatuated with. And mine, which was both real and fake, a mask welded onto my face. Behind it was a touch of irony.
The power of a smile should never be underestimated. We all feel its warmth and let our guard down, revealing a bit too much.
“So,” he began in a smooth voice. “I heard you two got into a rather heated debate about the thief on TV.”
“We did,” I admitted. “Already getting to the awkward stage, huh?”
“I’m just curious about your perspective,” he said.
‘Unfair to use police tactics against a civilian,’ I thought, almost letting it escape through my mouth. Empathizing with the target and asking open-ended questions were hallmarks in their strategy to build rapport and finding information.
“The jewels never really belonged to Britain. The thief only returned it to its rightful owners, nonviolently,” I answered somewhat guardedly. “And apparently, they're quite the humanitarian. Giving away a million, not to mention other thefts with similar M.O. gave money back to shelters in the area.”
Her dad nodded as he continued driving. “And you Blake?”
“Huh!” he sounded out sharply. “Oh, uh, I don’t support him, even if he’s giving back.”
‘Et tu?’ I mouthed to him. He shrugged his shoulders.
“I share that same sentiment,” he replied. “Even if he’s giving back, a crime is still a crime.”
“Yeah Zack, don’t support criminals,” Jocelyn chimed in. I guess being supported did wonders for her confidence.
I resigned from that position. “I don’t think I ever got your name.”
“Oscar,” he replied. It was my turn to build rapport.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what do you do?” I asked slowly, enunciating clearly. “I take it you’re law enforcement.”
“Mhm, I am,” he admitted.
“Cool,” I said with amazement. “So do you get to shoot the criminals?”
“Eh, I’m not that type of police,” he replied. “Actually, why don’t you have a guess at it?”
Should I tip my hat? Oscar was a profiler and detective for Interpol, so no doubt he already made a profile when he first met me. But what did it exactly entail? People don’t completely change for no reason, so if I underestimated his guess on my intelligence, then it’d just have him ask more questions.
“Before I answer your question,” I began, somewhat ominous, calm, and collected. The dominant jovial tone became more of an undertone. “Tell me, what are your thoughts on the thief?”
I saw his grin get wider, either out of fascination or curiosity. “I think that he’s a dangerous criminal. No bullets have been fired yet, but that doesn’t stop one from being sent. And the fact he was able to break in and escape is concerning in itself.”
“But do you see where the people who believe he’s an antihero are coming from?”
He was silent for a while. The whole car was silent. “Yeah, I can see where they’re coming from.”
I leaned back into the seat. “And now that you’ve answered my question, I’ll answer yours. I think you’re a detective.”
“And how did you arrive at that?” he challenged me.
“First off, you’re not built like a patrol officer. No short hair, clean shave, or extremely defined muscles. And you carry yourself more formally than they would.”
“Ah, that would only give you a clue. I’m assuming the question revealed the deeper nature of my thought process.”
I clicked my tongue. “Close. I was looking to see if you were able to analyze the views of the other side. Aristotle said that that was the mark of an educated mind, and a mind like that would crave something that challenges them.”
The car continued down the road as our conversation danced on the edge of casual and calculated. Oscar chuckled, seemingly amused by my bullshit deduction. Well, not entirely, it would be my line of reasoning if I didn’t know.
"It seems I was right about you," he said proudly. "You're right; I am a detective, but also a profiler."
“Profiler,” I said, snapping my fingers. “That explains the probing.”
Oscar whistled. “Joce, I think he’s a keeper.”
Me and Blake snorted as Jocelyn became flustered. “Dad! Not in front of him.”
“What? I think he’s a fine boy,” he retorted. “And well educated by his own standard. Your parents must’ve taught you a lot.”
A high-pitched ring came into my ears, replaying the fading memories of my father. My face was frozen in place, locking in my expression.
“They taught me a lot,” I was careful to keep my normal voice.
“And if you don’t mind me asking, what do they do?”
“Consulting.”
“Ah, now that explains your breadth of knowledge,” he said. “And what about you Blake?”
“They are in the gemstone business,” he replied, somewhat reserved.
“I get the impression that your parents are friends,” he said as if it were a question.
“You’d be right,” Blake responded. “They’re great friends.”
I breathed a sigh of relief that Blake used present tense. I guess I’m underestimating him a bit.
The rest of the car ride was awkward to say the least. There were small attempts at small talk, yet it still felt like an interrogation. But hey, I guess that's what detectives do. Look for weaknesses.
But they usually face people that don’t know their strategies. That haven’t thought about how to respond properly. They usually never face an observer, someone who watches quietly without expressing any thoughts.
The worst enemy.