It was evening and Michael was sitting alone in his apartment. The television was switched on, but his mind was elsewhere. In his mind, he was replaying moments from earlier in the day. He remembered how the three of them had reached David’s house and asked Simon if he had called to request for Dick’s services but, as they had suspected, the man was completely unaware of what had happened. Jefferson had informed the owner of their theory as to how the crime had been committed and in response, David had spoken the original line which was spoken by every victim of theft – “I want my property back!” Sam had proceeded to inform the businessman that they were very well aware of his desire, even though it was quite “unusual”. This remark seemed to have snubbed David, as he had cut short the conversation.
Michael stood up and went over to a side table, on this table a tray was placed with a bottle of alcohol and beside it was a bottle of water. Michael walked up to the table and took the bottle of water. He looked at the other bottle once, just once, and then turned his back away. His throat felt parched as he poured himself a glass of water and drained it. There were various aspects to the case which were quite unusual, that might stick out. He tried to make some connection between these points but was unable to do so, nothing came up that might point him in the right direction. He picked up his mobile from the side table and decided to call his sister, Mary, she always succeeded in lifting his spirits.
Mary received the call on the third ring. “Hello Michael, what’s up?”
“Did you watch the news?”
“Yes, I did, I suppose you are working on the case.”
“I am.”
“Found any leads yet?”
“Yes, but they just seem to confirm that the thief is quite smart.”
“Don’t praise him too much. Everyone can make mistakes if they are not careful, and that means you need to be alert and look out for the mistakes.”
“I feel as though this is too much for me.”
“Don’t you dare doubt my brother, I know him better than anyone, nothing is too much for him.”
Michael smiled. “Thanks, sis.”
“Anytime, bro. Now, I need to go, have some business to attend to.”
“What sort of business?”
“Some clients say that they are not satisfied with the products”
“Tell them they dare not doubt my sister. She’s the best at everything she does.”
“Thanks bro.”
Michael smiled and said, “Anytime, sis.”
After Michael had hung up, he continued to stare at the television and did not even realize when he fell asleep. Unfortunately, he was jolted awake only two minutes later as his phone buzzed. There was a text message from an unidentified number, instructing him to open his door. Puzzled but quite fearless, Michael got up and opened his front door. He was ready for any situation, or so he thought, as he was taken aback when he opened the door. There was no one at the door, rather, there was a small package on the doorstep. Michael picked it up gingerly and went back in. He carefully placed the package on the table and decided to inspect it. He was an FBI agent, and always being on the alert was an occupational necessity. After forty minutes of rigorous inspection which involved prodding the package with a long stick and even tapping it with a small hammer, Michael concluded that it was safe to finally satisfy his curiosity as to what was contained within it. He opened the package and inside was a small wooden box, and within the box was something that puzzled Michael even more. Within the box, there was a single chit of paper and on this chit, two words were printed in bold – Hello Michael.
(II)
Sam was sitting in a bar. His fingers were curled around a glass of chilled beer, but he was uncomfortable while drinking it. There are times when we do not realize the risks of some actions or the depth of certain problems until we have seen someone else suffer from the consequences, and that was exactly what was happening to Sam. He had always been aware of Michael’s case, but now that he was working with him and was able to see how miserable he was, he looked at the glass of alcohol in his hand in an apprehensive way. Finally, he decided not to drink, it was easier than spending the entire night awake, pondering the question – was he in control?
He got up and exited the bar. A little shiver went down his spine, but he attributed it to the events of the day so far. He had been involved in active investigations before, but this was different, their opponents were bolder and apparently, smarter than the ones he had encountered in the past. As he got into a cab, Sam could not help but think what the thieves would be doing at the moment, planning, perhaps. After all, they knew they had one of the best agents on their track, one mistake from their side could result in a catastrophe for them. He tried to think what Jefferson would do next, he had told them that he was going to inform Harold Williamson, but Sam felt that he had something else on his mind.
Sam was soon standing outside the door of his own apartment. Upon opening the door, he froze. It was dark, and it was not supposed to be dark. With great courage he switched on the flashlight of his mobile and stepped in. He switched on the light and let out a sigh of relief. He looked up at the bulb which he always left on when leaving his house. The switch was on, but the bulb was not emitting any light. Sam sighed again and shook his head. No one other than his parents knew that he was afraid of the dark and that the intensity of his fear was just a notch below what most people would call a phobia. It had never gotten in the way of a case, yet, but Sam was sure that it was just a matter of time when he would have to either face his fear or compromise a case. He took a deep breath and switched off the light once again. Everything was fine for two seconds. Then Sam’s heart rate elevated, and his hands went cold, he was on the verge of starting hyperventilating when he switched on the light again. I will do it some other time, thought Sam, not today, not today…
(III)
Jefferson was sitting alone in his living room. His wife was in the kitchen and their daughter, Penny, was drawing in her room. A few years ago, his wife had made him start meditating. She had said it was good for him, as the cases he was working on had too much impact on his day-to-day life. Little did she know that even while meditating Jefferson thought about the cases. His wife was constantly worrying about his health, and that meant she was constantly lecturing him about how he should not be working all the time. Jefferson knew that he should listen to what she said, but he just couldn’t get his mind to shift focus from the cases, especially not from the one he was currently investigating. Today, an idea had crept into his mind. An idea which, if executed, could either give them a serious advantage over the thieves or it could be disastrous. Jefferson was not the man who would doubt himself. He knew what was right and what was wrong, but this time he had no idea if he was right or wrong.
The only other person in his life whom he considered to be in possession of a perfect moral compass was his wife. She was one of the people who had been gifted with the ability to guide the ones who were lost. Now, he was waiting for his wife to join him to discuss the matter with her. Ten minutes passed, fifteen and then twenty. Just as Jefferson was about to get up, his wife entered the living room. She sat down on the sofa beside him and gazed at the framed newspaper articles that were hung on the wall of the living room. They were the headlines of some of Jefferson’s most famous cases. Jefferson’s eyes went over each of the headlines and he realized, with delight, that he remembered each detail of all the cases perfectly. Martha was also smiling, although her smile had a different reason altogether. She was a journalist, and it was with immense pride that she wrote about the successful career of her husband. While it was true that she was the author of some of the articles on the wall, she was not one of the people who exaggerated the facts, even for someone they loved. While she was writing, Martha was just a journalist, nothing more, but nothing less than the best. In fact, her passion for her career was one of the things that had attracted Jefferson to her and till this day, he admired this quality of his wife.
Jefferson said, “Martha, I need your opinion on something.”
“Work related or related to what you’re going to wear to Penny’s annual function?” asked Martha with a smile.
“It’s work,” said Jefferson without a smile.
Martha sensed the gravity of the situation instantly. She knew when her husband was troubled. “What is it?”
“I have a case, there has been a robbery at David Wood’s place, as you might know.”
“Might know?” asked Martha with disbelief “I wrote an article on that myself, the thief is quite skilled.”
Jefferson nodded and said, “Yes, but there is something else, today the thief staged a scene for us, a false lead.”
“You mean that apartment where the FBI has sent a team?”
“How did you know about that?” asked Jefferson with a raised eyebrow.
“I have my sources. But I never knew that it was the thief who had sent you there.”
Jefferson looked at his wife and said, “Martha there are some things, certain pieces of evidence that have not been made available to anyone, not even the media and to get your opinion, I will have to share those with you, but as you know, it will…”
“… be in complete confidence,” completed Martha. “I know, you don’t have to tell me that. I would never write about anything confidential that you share with me. When you share such things with me it is with the trust that I am your wife, and I will never even think of betraying that.”
Jefferson gave his wife a grateful smile and took out his mobile. He showed Martha an image and the latter’s eyes widened.
“But that’s the sign left behind by the ring thieves!” exclaimed Martha.
“Correct, and I found it at the crime scene.”
“So do you think it’s copycat?” asked Martha “That would explain why he sent you the chit, telling you when the robbery would be committed, he wanted to get your attention.”
“That’s what I thought. But that is not all. Earlier today, at the flat, the thief had not just called us to humiliate us, he left a message for me.”
“What message?”
In response, Jefferson showed his wife an image of the piece of paper which the thief had left behind for him. After inspecting the image for almost thirty seconds, Martha looked at her husband with a glint in her eyes.
She said, “This is good, he has made a mistake. Owing to his overconfidence, he has given you a chance to catch him.”
“Be that as it may, I don’t want to fail this time. The man has already made the bureau look bad twice, I cannot risk that happening again.”
“So, what do you have in mind?” asked Martha with a puzzled expression on her face.
“That is what I wanted to talk to you about, I think I have found a way to make sure that we have an upper hand.”
“And what is it?”
“I will get them out of prison,” said Jefferson in a grave manner.
“Get who out of prison?”
“The thieves, the original ones.”
An uncomfortable silence prevailed in the room after this statement. The reason behind this silence was not just the fact that Jefferson was talking about getting two cunning criminals out of prison, or that this might give them a chance to escape, it was more about how it felt. Jefferson had made a lot of effort to get the thieves behind bars and getting them out felt as though he was being forced to go against what he had worked so hard to achieve. Martha understood what her husband must be feeling, further, she was of a practical turn of mind and the second thought that came to her mind, after the concern for her husband, was what the negative effects of this step might be.
Martha gently laid a hand on her husband’s arm and said, “Have you given it enough thought? I mean, there is some risk involved.”
“Considerable risk,” agreed Jefferson. “But we will be monitoring them at all times.”
“But why would they do it? They hate you, that much is evident.”
“Since my proposal has been approved on my guarantee that they will not escape my custody, I can offer them a deal for their services. Also, to them this whole thing is a game, the robberies, the risk, everything. They hate me because I won, but if I give them another chance, they will be more than willing to go all in.”
“But in what way would they help you?” asked Martha.
“Well, the copycat thieves had the benefit of making the first move, they took their time to act, but we don’t have enough time to think and react. As far as I can see, the only ones who can predict what they are planning or what their aim is, are the original ones. Further, it may have a psychological effect on the thieves which might be quite useful for us. You see, they idolize the ring thieves, and if they find out that they are the ones who have been pitted against them, they will suffer a setback, to say the least.”
“They?” asked Martha.
“What?”
“You just referred to the thief you are after, but instead of singular, you used plural, why?”
“I said they because we’re not sure of the gender.”
“But you meant plural, it was evident from your tone. I understand you better than anyone.”
Jefferson was silent. Without even realizing he had formed a theory and had unintentionally voiced it as well.
“I just think that it’s not a one-man job,” said Jefferson.
Martha nodded and was silent for a few moments. Then she said, “And is it necessary to get them both out of prison?”
Jefferson tried to keep himself in the shoes of the thieves to find the answer to Martha’s question. Within an instant, the answer was obvious to him.
“Yes, it is. I would try my best to get only one of them out, but I don’t think I would succeed. They will not help otherwise; they’ve always been an inseparable team.”
Martha nodded her head in understanding. Had she faced this situation in the early years of their marriage, she would have been concerned, even troubled, by what her husband was proposing to do. But now, she knew better. She knew that she could always trust him and his ability to handle any situation.
She voiced what she felt perfectly as she said, “Do what you think is right. I trust you.”
These were the very words that Jefferson needed to hear. He took a deep breath and took out his phone. He needed to make some calls, he needed to get two prisoners back into society.
Aurum Regium 