locking system, recognizing the multiple bar system instantly as something Nathaniel had begun to design all those years ago. She edged closer, counting the number of tiny bronze bars that interchanged in the lock system. There were ten in all, and though they weren’t numbered, Rose knew they would be counted off as zero to nine. Each bar had to be taken out in a sequence that would have been personalized to its owner.
But what sequence?
Who had set the sequence? The Pasha Star belonged to the royal family of Zarrenburg. Surely they would have set the sequence?
Or Nathan?
The Nathan she knew of years ago had been strong willed, determined, and exact with his work, always seeing it through to the very end.
She only hoped, he’d held true in this circumstance.
Scraping her teeth across her bottom lip, she eyed the casement. A date. A lucky number. Something.
Then she remembered it. A special day in Nathaniel’s life. The end of his apprenticeship.
“It’s time you learned a lesson, Nathan Hawk!” For a moment, she hesitated, then wiped her damp palm down her baggy trousers. She reached for the first bar. Zero. It slid out easily.
Could she be right? Could it be this easy?
She steeled her nerves and her shaking fingers, then pulled out bar six. Zero six for the month of June.
So far so good, though Nathan certainly wasn’t going to be happy.
“Tough luck.”
Her fingertips slid around bar one and gently tugged at it.
It didn’t budge.
She tried again, tugging a little harder this time.
Still it didn’t move.
Easing back on the balls of her feet, frustration riding every nerve, she stemmed her desire to yank harder.
But that wouldn’t help.
Rose remembered Nathaniel talking to her father about a lock system he wanted to design.
This lock.
It was a trick lock. The person trying to open it would think it was working, only to find that halfway through, it froze up, unless they had the correct sequence.
However, it seemed Nathan had not chosen his apprenticeship day.
She tried other combinations, panic rising as each one initially worked, then, on the third bar, the locking mechanism froze.
In the distance, she heard several cocks crow, their screeches reaching through the opened glass louvered high up in the towering ceiling. The moon too had shifted across the sky and now hung low in the west. Soon dawn would arrive, and she would fail—again.
“No. That is not going to happen.” Gritting her teeth, she swiped the back of her palm across her brow, aware of the sticky trail of sweat down her back and between her breasts. Again she scrubbed her hands down her sides, and then leaned into the lock, grateful for the last rays of moonlight from above.
There was one date left. Heart hammering a frantic tattoo, she pulled the first bar, the second, and then the third bar.
She waited.
Nothing happened. It didn’t freeze. “Thank God.”
He chose that date!
Something inside tugged at her heart.
The sound of footsteps and voices suffocated any whimsy, and she quickly pulled the other bars out in perfect sequence. They all slid easily. Relieved, she exhaled.
More voices, and no more time.
One minute, her heart seemed to want to beat out of her chest; now, as she clasped the latch to the Pasha Star’s security case, her heartbeat ceased.
Rose tugged at the latch, surprised again at the ease with which it slid open. And there was the diamond, resplendent on a black velvet backdrop. Perfection.
“No time to gawk, Rose.” She reached into her pocket and withdrew the leather pouch, retrieving its contents. She unraveled the cloth and knew instantly which diamond she would choose. Rose held the Pasha Star up to the remaining light, bringing her paste diamond next to it. “It can’t be. Can’t be.” Oh dear God, she was too late.
The voices echoed ever closer. She had to get out of there now.
She placed the paste diamond in the display case, then quickly locked the plate-glass-and-wire-mesh