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Sterling crossed one leg over the other and nestled a notepad in his lap. The middle-aged woman across the table smiled. She might have agreed to the conversation, but she won’t start it.
He’d had less trouble than he’d expected getting her to sit down like this. A mention of statutes of limitations running, unless she’d murdered anyone of course. She couldn’t still be active in her mid-fifties, and he had some things he wanted to clear up. Personal curiosity, not professional. He showed her his retirement letter. She asked him about the journalism job. He coughed. She offered to buy him a coffee.
She was no longer young. There were deep wrinkles around her eyes and smile lines around her mouth, and she looked to have put on some weight. Not enough for most people to notice, but he’d been watching her flit on the edges of security cameras for decades now. He suspected Spencer was quite proud.
Her hair was short, graying in places, and pulled back in a neat bun. She wore a pair of reading glasses with a glass beaded chain draped around her shoulders. A present from Hardison no doubt- the faint glow at the corner gave away the small screen. He waved at the cleverly concealed camera, the lens coated in a thin frost that made it blend with the rest of the frame.
Parker’s smile crooked upward a hair and she turned her head from side-to-side. Either showing off that she was not wearing a comms unit, or showing off that Hardision had made them smaller, he wasn’t quite sure.
He’d brought his laptop, in case she mentioned something he’d have to look up. He didn’t want her to see his phone, not with those glasses, and not with that memory of hers. He’d be hearing no end of teasing from the band of former criminals if she caught sight of a texted cat picture. A recorder sat on table, red light shining steadily.
They began as abruptly as they always did, though this time he was not yanking her out of an air duct or pulling her off a belay.
“So, what did you want to know?” she asked.
“Tell me how you did it.”
Parker didn’t ask what he meant. She grinned, and dove in. She started with what she called the fun things, the rope configurations, the glass cutters, the lock picks. She told him about how some people might think the world is a stage, but really the world is a puzzle. With the right twists and leaps, it can always be solved by those willing to really see it.
To his surprise, he found he knew most of this. He’d seen it, or its aftermath.
Sometimes he prodded her. Did you use that when- And she always answered quickly, yes, yes, and this other time too-
He knew about her gear. He knew about Nate's schemes, he'd half-invented some while they were still solving cases together. He knew quite a lot about her. He’d hired nearly half a dozen experts over the years to explain to him and to police how this woman contorts herself the way she does to slip into tight places like a shadow. Hyperflexibility, some say. Missing a rib or two, say others. Sterling personally believes she’s been blessed, by some angel or saint of thieves, but he’s too wise in the ways of the world to put that theory on record.
He asked questions, when she slowed in her exuberant speech. Mostly specific things. Some more general. He knew of her legendary sleight of hand, he’d seen it more times than he could count, but it’s always so fleeting. It’s usually bold too, right in the middle of a crowd. “How did you do it? How did you make things just- just, disappear , when people are watching you? Like that time in-”
She cut him off. “Well, did you see that?”
He looked around. Nothing in the coffee shop seemed out of the ordinary. No familiar faces. No bird nesting in the rafters, no blender exploding with too much soy caramel latte. He turned back to her. “See what?”
She smiled. He frowned. This was starting to feel familiar. Too familiar for his tastes. He set the notepad on the table, next to the recorder, red light still on. He felt the lid of his coffee, not taking his eyes off her and that damned smile. The lid was securely attached and took a moment to pop off. The coffee inside smelled strongly, just like when he last drank from it, but colder. He set it down and patted his pockets. Wallet, phone, car keys, all still there and warm.
“Parker. See what? ”
One hand went behind her back. She shifted side to side, as if the chair was uncomfortable. His laptop was deposited on the table.
He stared at it. It was like a magic trick. It is a magic trick, he thought, recalling street magicians and their disappearing cards. Sleight of hand . Utter mastery of it. He clasped his hands together and rested his chin on them. “Again. Show me.”
She did. It’s quick, fast as a blink, a heartbeat. The laptop is there, the laptop is gone. She only used one hand to do it. She moved away, then back, the same motion she’d made to retrieve it. Sterling nodded. “One more time. Slower.”
This time she refused. “I can’t do it slower.” At his raised eyebrow, she explained. “With something small, sure. For something heavier,” she tapped the laptop, on the table once again, “It has to be fast, or I’ll drop it.”
She mimed swiping the computer again, slowly, while leaving it where it lay. He watched her hands, and noticed that it would be only the pads of her fingers touching it. He quickly worked out the physics. “Momentum?”
She nodded, evidently pleased he’d caught on. He gave a thoughtful hum. A simple truth occurred to him. “You really think everyone can do this.”
“Everyone can.” She thought about it. “If they know what they’re doing.”
“That’s an awfully big ‘if.’”
She shrugged. He sat in silence, staring at the former thief. He was less sure now than he was at the beginning of this conversation that she is, indeed, a former thief. He pushed away from the table and moved to throw his coffee away. “Thank you, Ms. Parker, this has truly been an enlightening conversation.”
She handed him his laptop and recorder. “Same time next week?”
He took the two items and paused. He hadn’t really planned on meeting her again. She offered him his car keys and a smile, and he agreed.