The Chameleons

Jag ska nu delge er en prolog till min andra bok. Den är inte helt färdig därför jag fick sådan lust att skriva en annan historia. Nu har jag alltså två projekt på gång samtidigt. Inspirationen till "The Chameleons" Fick jag när jag för något år sedan såg ett avsnitt av den engelska serien Svindlarna. Min bok handlar om tvillingparet Maria och Peter och deras kusin Karl. De är alla spioner från det gamla öststatblocket, men nu bor de alla i London och använder sina yrkeskunskaper till att försnilla pengar från mer eller mindre ljusskygga karaktärer.

The Chameleons

Prologue

The red brick mansion in Richmond, London was only noticeable due to the lights on the garden paths. Two figures completely dressed in black were scurrying through the big garden towards the house. They seemed to be familiar with the garden and they were unusually silent. The two figures wore special shoes with soft soles and they treaded carefully on the gravel close to the house. A big rose bush on the left side of the mansion was their destined hiding place. Even though they had been moving fast none of them were out of breath.

“Are you sure you fixed the pressure alarm in the garden? Otherwise we are toast.” One of them said in a hushed voice.
“Give me some credit. I know the guy, whose company installed it. I was even here when they did it.” The other one retorted a bit testily. “We have done this a million times. Why are you so jumpy just tonight?”
“I don’t know. It is just a feeling I have.” He answered apologetically.
“It is that Russian blood running through your veins.” The other man said.
“Spare me, Karl! You belong to the same family and you have that Russian blood too.”
“I have never been bitten by the same bug as you, Peter. Perhaps my mother slept with the postman.”
“We can have this conversation about blood and relations in a more suitable place. It is time to open up this treasure chest.”

In well-rehearsed motions they moved as one. The bigger of them stood facing the wall, his feet spread wide apart. The other, somewhat leaner man crawled up and stood on his shoulders. Peter felt the crevices between the bricks in the wall and then started climbing towards a window on the second floor of the house. Just beneath the windows was a stone ledge that ran around the whole house. He rested his feet on the ledge and looked at the almost not noticeable box in the top left hand corner of the window. He had a set of tools around his waist inside his jumpsuit. With one hand he unzipped an opening at the waist and reached for a small, sharp, Swiss army knife. With the help of his teeth he got the knife out. He pressed his body close to the wall, stood tiptoe on the ledge and pried up the outer shell of the box. Inside were a multitude of wires and a small light flashing red. He knew exactly what to do since he had been studying the system and the house for hours. He took a set of pliers and cut a blue wire and the light switched colour from red to green. After that he cut two black wires and now it was actually safe. He made a sign to Karl below who started climbing as Peter opened the window and slid inside. Peter had entered the upstairs library and put on his night vision goggles. He surveyed the quite large room, which walls were lined with books and in the middle of the room were a table and a group of couches. As Karl silently entered through the window he saw Peter standing by a section of books that were behind glass doors. Peter was an avid reader and had a nice collection of rare books. Karl walked up behind him and said.
“Not this time, cousin. We can come back for your beloved books another time.”
“You and your big mouth. Thank God I switched off the cameras and the sound recording system.”
“Are you sure that the system detected nothing?”
“Positive! I helped design it, remember?”
“It is quite hard not to considering how many times you keep reminding me.” Karl said sardonically.
“The painting is in Lady Marches’s bedroom.” Peter said and pointed towards a big double door on the right.
“How thoughtful of the lord- and ladyship to go to their house in Marbella just now when we needed it the most.” Karl mused.
“And how thoughtful of your security friend to let you in on the information.” Peter continued.
They moved towards the doors, opened them and on the far wall of Lady Marches’s bedroom they saw the painting. The room was in darkness but a small light shone above the landscape by Van Gogh.
“Magnificent!” Karl said slowly with lots of feeling.
“The first part has been easy. Now we come to the tricky part. There is a detection system in the floor just by the painting, which we can’t disconnect and a set of laser beams but those we can handle.”
Peter went to the queen size bed and crawled underneath it. The box that operated the laser beams was under the bed by the wall. After a few minutes he eased himself out from under the bed.
“The ladyship should keep better control of her staff. I breathed in gallons of dust under there.”
“Good help IS hard to find these days.” Karl retorted.
“Come on, let’s get to it.”
“How far out on the floor does the pressure system work?”
“Two feet to be exact.” Peter answered.

Karl positioned himself with his back to the painting. He tensed his well-muscled legs and carefully leaned backwards resting his hands against the wall just beneath the painting. Peter climbed up on Karl’s rock hard body, sat across his chest and squeezed his legs firmly against Karl. He picked up his knife and cut into the canvas around the edges of the frame. Peter thanked the higher powers that it wasn’t one of Van Gogh’s bigger pieces. When he had cut the painting free he rolled it tight and slid off Karl’s body. Karl returned to a standing position and stretched out his somewhat aching muscles as Peter put the rolled up painting in a small container on his right thigh.
“The deed is done and the thrill is as good as ever.” Peter said and felt the energy rush through his veins.
“Yes, but next time you do the lifting and carrying.” Karl told him.
“Sure thing.”
“Are we selling the Van Gogh through Mr Nelson as usual?” Karl wanted to know.
“Who said anything about selling it?” Peter said and grinned widely.
“Are you pulling my leg?! You can’t tell me we did this just for kicks!?”
“No, not for kicks. It is going to be a birthday present for Maria. You know how much she loves Van Gogh and this piece is going to look great on her bedroom wall.”
“Heaven help us!” Karl exclaimed. “One of these days I am going to kill you, blood relative or not.”

//H