Penguins and Mortal Peril: Mystery (Madigan Amos Zoo Mysteries Book 1) Page 16
Although he couldn’t see it, he could sense the particles of dust swirling around in the large room. The air felt thick and heavy, as though no one had been here for a long, long time. Another thief might have begun to doubt, but the professional had done his research. He knew that it was here.
He walked across the vast rug, stepping over the swirling pattern. If he’d been more observant, he might have noticed that the undulations of the pattern were unusually random. The tip of every swirl had a yellow circle embroidered on it, completed with a black strip of thread down the centre. It had the uncanny effect of making it appear as though the rug was always watching whoever walked across it.
The man’s attention was elsewhere. Next to a grand piano made from flawless ebony, an ornate walnut table stood proudly next to it. There, at the centre of the table, was the priceless Serpentine Emerald.
He moistened his lips again and strangely felt rather scornful. The gem he had poured so much of his patience into stealing was left out on a table, like a common ornament. He reasoned that it could be there to deliberately mislead the casual thief, who might overlook it as a shiny rock. Or perhaps the owners of the emerald believed the stories about the jewel being cursed. He nearly chuckled aloud. They were fools like everyone else if that was the case.
Ever since the term ‘treasure’ was coined, he reckoned that the stories of terrible curses attached to such items had existed. People liked to believe that there was some magical power at work that kept shiny things in the hands of their rightful owners, and brought the wrath of hell down on those who dared to steal. His moustache twitched up as his lips curved into a rare smile.
They were all wrong. The only real curse was that of a poor thief who got caught and sought to blame his incompetence on a piece of jewellery. It did make for some a good stories though, he allowed, as he stretched out his hand and plucked the jewel out of its stand. His fingers spasmed for a moment and he only just avoided dropping it. A dull pain throbbed in his wrist and he was reminded of his ever advancing years. It was just as well that this was his last job. Turn the emerald over to his unscrupulous buyer and a wealthy retirement beckoned.
A narrow stream of light suddenly showed beneath a small door in the far corner of the room and the man felt a jolt of raw panic snap through him. How could he have been so careless to stand around mooning at the emerald, contemplating his retirement? Hadn’t he always said that it was celebrating success too soon which got good thieves caught? Now he was about to fall prey to the same flaw he’d criticised.
By the time the door swung open, the man in black was already concealed within the heavy, velvet drapes. If he were a child, playing hide and seek, he would be caught in seconds. All he could hold onto was the hope that no one was looking for him. He tightened his grip on the large emerald and prayed that its disappearance would also be overlooked at this late hour.
That was a more dangerous roll of the dice.
His heartbeat seemed to double and then treble as he listened to the sound of footsteps walking around the room. Sometimes they came so close, he was sure they were only inches away, separated by the luxe fabric. Were they toying with him? He wondered, as sweat started to pour from his brow. He was really panicking now and he knew it. Behind the heavy velvet curtains it got harder to breathe every minute and there was a strange metallic tang in his mouth. Any moment now he would pass out and fall to the ground, revealing himself and the emerald to whomever had interrupted him.
And then they were gone.
The man in black wasted no time breathing a sigh of relief. As soon as the light had faded and the footsteps were no longer audible, he slid out from behind the drapes. His normally light footsteps felt strangely sluggish as he stepped back across the unusual rug and eased himself back through the double doors. Back in the silent darkness, his heart continued to race. Another bead of sweat joined the steady stream running down his temples and he tried to shake himself out of it. He’d nearly been caught. So what? It had happened to him a thousand times. Admittedly, not recently, but he could forgive a little drama on his last ever job. It would be something to tell the kids about. Or it would have been if he’d ever found another human tolerable enough to spend long enough with to warrant children.
It was only when he was once more in front of the small oak servant’s door that he finally admitted to himself that something was wrong. His limbs were shaking uncontrollably. It was a supreme effort just to keep the emerald fixed in his slippery palm, but he never took his eye off the prize until the job was done. Too many riches fell from pockets during hasty exits.
I must be coming down with something, he thought as he stumbled through the door. He hardly winced as it banged against the stone wall - a mistake he would normally have found unforgivable. He didn’t care anymore. All he wanted to do was get home and get to bed, so he could ride out whatever this thing was.
The black spots started appearing in front of his eyes when he was only a quarter of the way down the garden. The man who’d slid from shadow to shadow now staggered across the lawn like a local drunk. His heartbeat kicked up another gear and he felt certain it was simply going to explode any second now. He fell to his knees as the black spots turned to arctic white and he lost vision, collapsing onto the dew-kissed grass.
He barely heard the laughter of the man who walked towards him. He felt the kick though, swift and painful to his left ribs.
“There are always thieves who want to try their luck with the Serpentine Emerald. Don’t you know it’s cursed?” He said.
The man on the floor moaned. It was the only sound left to him.
“Now, I’m sure you think you’re a smart man. You don’t believe in curses, but you should have believed in this one.” He knelt down and listened for a moment to the strains of increasingly laboured breathing. “The curse is real you know, but it doesn’t have a thing to do with the emerald.” He grabbed hold of the man’s legs and dragged him, semi-conscious, across to the centre of the lawn, directly beneath the imposing glare of Dracondia. “And everything to do with me,” he finished.
With one swift movement, he kicked the dying man off the ledge and into the circular pit. Far below, the black mambas hissed and struck at the unwelcome new addition. Their fangs pierced skin, injecting their deadly venom straight into the veins of their victim. The thief made no move to fight back. He was already dead.
Lord Snidely pulled a handkerchief from his pocket before he bent down and picked up the Serpentine Emerald. One side of his mouth twitched up as he listened to the enraged hissing that emanated from the pit of snakes. It sounded like scalding water spilling out from an overheated pot.
“I really must get around to fencing that off, one of these days. It’s just an accident waiting to happen.”
More Books in the series:
The Silence of the Snakes
Murder is a Monkey's Game
Lions and the Living Dead
The Peacock's Poison
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