A brilliant cut diamond necklace nestled safely inside the material. The camouflage, if you will. If the bespoke titanium thread polymer the hidden pouch is made from allows for the gems inside to be detected, there will be a genuine diamond necklace and other pieces ready to be shown to whoever demands it.
The necklace is one of my own, legitimate only in as far as I stole it for myself rather than someone else. It wasn’t a job or a play. The Hennell necklace is a work of art, something I took for the sheer beauty of it. A smile from the memory of when I first laid eyes on the piece lifts my mood.
I slide my earrings out of the velvet pouch tucked in the case and then pick open the seam of the case. A fine mesh encases the cut diamonds, and I pour the stones out onto the small table in front of me. Carefully, I place each stone inside the small pouch and seal them in by knotting the ties.
Next, I tear open the bags and grab the first bikini I find. I slip my legs into the briefs and tie the barely-there material around my chest. My case is prepped with some seemingly usual items to carry in hand luggage. Hairpins, a mini manicure set, complete with nail file, the end of which doubles as a very useful lockpick. I grab it. It won’t help get me into an actual safe, but if a door is locked, it won’t stand in my way.
With the small pouch tightly in my hand, I take the steps from the terrace down into the water.
The ocean laps at my ankles as I dip further into the sea. The warmth of the sea is invigorating. Either that or what I’m about to do is. I let the ripples still around me as I submerge my body up to my shoulders and my senses adjust to my surroundings. The sky isn’t nearly as close to midnight blue as I first thought. Outlines and shadows stand out against the sky and the sea.
I listen for voices, but it’s silent. I dip under the surface, submerging my body, and swim out towards the adjacent branch of bungalows. The moonlight glistens on the water as I pull my body through the current. The only sound is the gentle swoosh my body makes. With a few strokes left between me and the neighbouring bungalow, I ease up and wait, hidden next to the steps leading to the terrace. No movement from inside. The lights are off, and I guess that they are either asleep or, my more optimistic option, it’s empty.
As the ripples settle around my body, I slowly ease my foot onto the first step and rise out of the sea, waiting and listening. Still nothing. I move forward, climbing one by one until I’m on the terrace. I shrink my body back against the outside seating and creep up to the door. The fine organza drapes prevent me from seeing anything inside the bungalow, but I’ve heard nothing and seen no sign of life.
Still, I wait. The drops of water start to cease and the footprints from my feet start to dry so I won’t leave a trail when I enter.
A coolness descends over me as I breathe through the rising anxiety that always hits right before crunch point. The brass handle is cool against my palm as I hold it, nail file ready for action, before my wrist twists.
Chica con suerte.Luckily for me, it’s unlocked.
The click is soft, and I hold the door for a moment before slipping inside and pulling it shut. My eyes have adjusted to the dark, but there’s even less light in the room.
It’s immaculate. Nothing is out of place, no luggage or signs of it being in use. The balls of my feet dance across the floor to the identical bamboo shoot decoration.
My stomach lurches at the thought of what could go wrong if I lose these gems, but my rational head forces logic into play. Nobody will be looking for cut diamonds amongst the pebbles in their holiday bungalow.
I loosen the knot of the drawstring and tip the little fragments of beauty into the palm of my hand, then place the stones in the middle vase. Without wanting to put any lights on, I use the light from the face of my digital watch to check if the diamonds are visible. They’ve disappeared in the water. Hidden in plain sight.
Without wanting to outstay my welcome, I turn and exit the way I came in. I’ve managed to maintain my heart rate until the stones are safe. Now, all the tension and strain from the last few days hits me like a wall of ice.
My lungs pull in deep breaths as I try to regulate my pounding heart. The steady hands that I rely on time and time again shake as I reach for the handle of the door that leads to my escape.
The air hits me, and I taste relief on the salty wind as I sink into the water and let it embrace me like the comforting arms of a mother. At least, it’s what I always think a mother’s embrace would feel like.
My arms pull against the tide, propelling me back to the safety and isolation of my villa. Tomorrow, I’ll scope out the island and investigate just who my neighbours are or will be.
But for now—sleep.
I slip out of the bikini, letting it fall onto the deck before I even make it back inside the bungalow. The soft lighting I enter to isn’t enough to disturb me, and I collapse onto the bed. My eyes close and darkness sinks me into unconsciousness before I can even pull the sheet over me.
* * *
A noise stirs me from slumber. I spin over on the bed, twisting my body amongst the sheets before bolting upright to come face to face with the steward who showed me to the villa last night.
“I’m sorry, mademoiselle, breakfast.” She raises a tray before setting it on the wooden coffee table in the sitting area. Beyond it lies a perfect view of the water in front of me.
I yank the sheet higher to cover my chest. “Thank you. I’m sorry. You startled me.”
“Breakfast is included in your package. You can phone reception to change the times or request something different.”
“It’s fine. I expected to have to find it myself, that’s all.”
“Oh no. You don’t need to lift a finger here. We are here to ensure a blissful stay.” She makes a little bow before scurrying out. My body gives out and flops back onto the bed. I can only have had six, maybe seven hours sleep, and coming off of what felt like a week of action, I’m still exhausted.
But I’m awake. And a cup of coffee would be delicious. After grabbing the dressing gown hanging in the bathroom, I throw open the shutter doors to the terrace and breathe in the mild air. A sense of peace and tranquillity falls over me as I gaze out at the cerulean sea. Paranoia creeps up on me and I scan the horizon and the water around me. Nobody. Everything is still and quiet, but that doesn’t stop me from looking.
The smell of coffee breaks my thoughts, and I pour a cup, grab the bowl of exotic fruits, and take both out into the fresh air. I sit on the deck and dangle my feet below. The crystal, clear water twinkles back at me like it’s personally inviting me to come and play. I raise my eyes and search out the bungalow across the lagoon where my brother’s payment hides.
