Read Online Thieves Till We Die by Stephen Cole - Free Book Online Page B

shrugged. ‘How should I know? Just thought I should ask. I doubt there’s a hard-copy of the client list.’
    Con stopped outside a hefty wooden door carved with skulls, swords and shields. Two large locks were crafted into the design.
    â€˜Bollocks,’ said Patch. ‘Got us a pair of tubulars.’
    â€˜They’re hard to pick?’
    â€˜God, yeah. The pins are placed all the way round the edge of the cylinder plug.’
    â€˜I love our little talks, Patch.’
    He lifted up his eyepatch, teased out the glass ball inside and unscrewed it at the middle. Inside nestled a collection of extendible picks and a telescopic tension wrench. He grabbed the wrench, selected a pick and got to work. ‘Easy, now …’ He listened to the softclick of the pins as he probed with the pick, analysing them, trying to predict the way they should rise and fall.
    There was a loud click as the first bolt gave way, and Patch beamed at her. ‘How’s that, then?’
    â€˜Not bad.’ Con smiled back, put her hands on her hips. ‘Crack the second one inside twenty seconds and I’ll show you my bra.’
    â€˜Deal!’ Patch pounced on the next lock, let the tools in his fingers twist and cajole and lightly spring until … ‘Yes!’ he hissed, as with a satisfying clunk the second bolt eased back. Patch opened the door and they both pushed inside a small, drab office. Con raced over to an intricately carved desk and started rifling through the drawers while Patch stood guard.
    â€˜Come on, then,’ he said, looking back at her over his shoulder. ‘That was loads less than twenty seconds. What about the bra!’
    She smiled like an angel. ‘I’m not wearing a bra today, Patch.’
    With a tortured sigh, Patch turned back to the chink in the door and kept his eye on the empty landing while Con started up Kabacra’s computer. ‘If Scarface comes out of that room and finds we’ve gone,’ he whispered, ‘do you realise how dead we are? Why’d you think Coldhardt even wants this sword so much?’
    â€˜It must be worth a fortune.’
    â€˜I reckon it’s more than that. It’s like he needs it for something. Something we don’t know about.’ Her fingers clicked over the computer keyboard – then she swore. ‘There’s only room for eight characters in thepassword field. “We tie you up” is ten characters, doesn’t fit. The guard must have heard wrong.’
    Patch joined her by the computer keyboard. He’d never understood why they didn’t put all the letters in alphabetical order. A-B-C made a lot more sense than Q-W-E-R …
    â€˜Qwertyuiop,’ Patch read the top line of keys aloud, and some of the letters leaped out at him. ‘Wer Ty. Where Tye?’ He sighed. It was a good question, even if the spelling was bad.
    Hang on a sec …
    â€˜Wer Ty U Iop.’ Patch stared at Con. ‘That’s almost the password, innit?’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜The guards ain’t English, right?’ Patch hissed. ‘So what if the password’s just letters from the top line of keys, and they’re saying it as it sounds!’
    â€˜Kabacra’s being funny, you mean?’ Con typed in W-E-T-Y-U-U-P and hit return.
    INVALID PASSWORD.
    Patch sighed. ‘Stick to lock-breaking, shall I?’
    â€˜Wait.’ Con tried again, but this time changed U-P to
O
-P. ‘That way it’s spelled with all different letters but still in sequence along the line of keys, yes?’
    â€˜You sound like Jonah.’
    â€˜Pity
you
don’t look like him.’ She smiled sweetly and hit return.
    And this time, they were in.
    â€˜Yes!’ breathed Con, eyes glittering.
    â€˜You can snog me to say thanks if you want,’ said Patch, before flinching at the look she gave him. ‘How’re you gonna find the client list?’
    â€˜I’m