Diamond Thieves Face Off and also there will be sex Today: 435
"I know who you are," Theo said smugly. "You're the Ghost."
Clayton was gobsmacked, yet again. The newspapers had started calling him that back in 2004, when the news of his first big heist had hit the headlines. Clayton had walked out of a jewellery store in New York with six million dollars in precious stones in his pockets, and the theft hadn't been detected until two days later when the store opened after a long weekend. Five years later, a job Clayton pulled at a bank in Paris had been attributed to the Ghost. INTERPOL had put together a few clues and patterns and rightfully given him credit for yet another job, this time at a hotel in Zurich. But his real name had never been linked, and Clayton had enjoyed all the fame without any of the misfortune.
Apparently he had a fan. Time to bluff.
"You don't know that," he said. "What's to stop me right now from going downstairs and alerting the security? I walked in here and found you with the safe open, buddy; my word against yours. You might be the Ghost. How am I supposed to know?"
Theo raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Bullshit," he said. "Am I supposed to believe you'd rather give a statement to the police tonight than let me get away with this stone? What if they fingerprint you?"
"No problem," Clayton said. "I never leave prints."
"You did in Rome."
Another moment of shock. Rome had been a small job, an opportunistic domestic robbery with almost no pre-meditation. He'd known at the time it was stupid, and he was luckier than he had any right to be. It hadn't even made international news. But the haul had been good: heirloom pieces he'd fenced in Munich for two million Euros.
"Motherfucker," he said again.
"I should have known you'd have a dirty mouth," Theo said with a smirk.