Page 19 of Booked for Theft (Vigilante Magical Librarians #3)

NINETEEN

I chuckled at her hesitancy to discuss my health situation.

Armed with a bank card Mr. Tawnlen delivered early on Saturday morning, I logged some overtime along with Beatrice and Mickey, and we went on a rampage through every used bookstore within a mile of our branch, all of which had been approved with the bank for purchases of any amount. We loaned Mickey our family car and I drove my SUV, and we braved the city streets in search of treasure.

Parking proved to be an adventure as always, and Bradley made use of his connections, contacted someone at the Met, and received permission to use their loading zone to drop off our collection. Not only did they give us full usage of their loading zone, but they located recruits who were willing to haul carts between the Met and our branch.

Then, in true New York fashion, random passersby discovered what we were doing and joined our cause, resulting in a parade of books and unintended publicity. On our fourth such venture, I opted to stay at the Met and help with the latest trip to the branch, commandeering one of the carts and filling it to its maximum capacity for some exercise. A reporter, a woman I’d seen on television a few times, joined me in organizing the books so they could be transported efficiently. “May I ask some questions, Janette?”

I appreciated when reporters remembered my name, and I grinned at the woman. “Sure, just please remind me of your name. I have book titles and author names crammed into my head right now. I called my own fiancé ‘hey, you’ earlier, as even his name escaped.”

She laughed. “I’m Kaley. I went to the St. Patrick Cathedral website yesterday and noticed there was a TBD registration for your wedding ceremony. Is there anything you can tell me about that?”

Huh. The cathedral had posted the event? Puzzled, I paused my work to fetch my phone, went to the website, and found their page for special events. Sure enough, tucked under the heading for future events, the cathedral had made an announcement they would be hosting our ceremony. “Oh! They really did. I hadn’t thought they would. The clergy have been gracious and kind to us, and they made the offer to Bradley to host our official marriage ceremony, which he accepted. I’ve always loved the cathedral. It’s such an important part of the city’s history, and it’s such a beautiful place. They also do such good outreach work in our area.” Smiling over the whole thing, I dumped my phone to my pocket before returning to checking over my cart so no books would be damaged during transit. “Thank you for letting me know. I knew he’d accepted the offer and it was part of our plans, but I hadn’t realized the cathedral had put it on their website.”

“Are you part of the parish?”

I shook my head. “We’ll be attending services starting next week, but we are honorary guests rather than members of their storied establishment. We’re quite private people when it comes to our beliefs, but I guess word about how much I love the cathedral got spread around, and the clergy believe in actions as much as they do their religious texts and words. I appreciate that deeply. I love helping my community, and we share that common cause.”

Kaley joined me in smiling. “That’s wonderful. What is going on here today? There is nothing in the public records about an event at the Met. Is there anything you can tell us?”

I regarded the books, struggling to keep smiling at the edge of grief that crept in. “Senator Thaddens, may he rest in peace, loved old books and history.” I pointed in the direction of the branch. “We were given permission to transform one of our empty floors into a history wing, which we will be dedicating in his honor. Acquisition of non-fiction historical books from the AD era is the first phase of our project. I was gifted with some treasures, which I will be having duplicated so that the library can have a copy. I’ll also be offering a copy to the Met for display, and I will consider loaning the originals for limited periods and special events. Senator Thaddens, before his death, gave me a pair of codices that depict Emperor Hadrian’s architectural exploits. It’s a jewel of knowledge, and I want to share it with the community. I’m going to make a scale model of a villa pictured within. It’s absolutely stunning.”

The reporter bowed her head and made a gesture crossing her heart, something I recognized from the Catholic church. “May he rest in peace. I was under the impression that you worked weekdays?”

“I do. I’m putting in some overtime because Saturday is prime bookstore shopping time, and I didn’t want to lose primary hours on shopping ventures. Unlike standard acquisitions, which are done through current publishers, we’re seeking original historical titles, most of which have been long out of print. We’ll have a section for AD printings and MR printings, so patrons will be able to browse modern and historic sources for information. As the project is being specially funded through private donors, we have a lot of leeway. Funds from the government are used under strict guidelines so there are no fiscal abuses within the library system.” As the cart passed my scrutiny, I unlocked the wheels and began the process of shoving it down the street, grunting at its weight. “Private donors can tell us what they want the money to be spent on, and we do our best to respect that. Should we exceed our budget for their specific contribution, we put it in holding until it’s needed. AD books tend to have a higher price tag than normal acquisitions, so I expect to use every penny of the acquisition funds filling the floor.” To spare myself from having to cross streets more than necessary, I stayed on the Met and park side of the road until we got close to the branch, huffing and puffing away.

The reporter followed along, and we ended up taking turns pushing my prizes towards their new home. “If it isn’t an issue, may I ask how your foot is doing?”

I chuckled at her hesitancy to discuss my health situation, something I failed to understand. “It’ll be a little sore tonight, but I’ll soak it, and if it doesn’t feel normal, I’ll visit my doctor again. But so far, so good. I’ve recovered well. I haven’t tried running or anything energetic with it yet, though. I’m sure that’s coming. For the moment, I’m to walk around a lot to build strength back. If my doctor had her way, she’d have me walking two hours a day. Fortunately, being a librarian involves a lot of moving around, so I have managed to keep her appeased. I pace around at home a lot, too.”

As I had no idea who would watch the interview, as the reporter’s cameraman followed us around recording every moment, I would not be informing the woman I walked to work.

Then again, the fact I walked without pain had, a year ago, seemed more like a pipe dream rather than a possible reality. The consequences of my former disability would remain for the rest of my life, and I held some hope I might be able to better the lives of those who wore the same shoes with no hope of improvement.

Accidents could happen to anyone, and all it took was a poor choice and a split second to go from healthy to disabled. I wouldn’t remind the reporter of that, as the last thing I wanted to do was relive my painful past and the circumstances that had cost me so much.

Those same circumstances had won me a great deal as well, and I refused to question if Bradley was worth the price.

He had been worth every sacrifice then.

He was worth every sacrifice now.

“When do you think the new wing of your branch will open?”

Worrying about work beat a trip down memory lane, and I took a moment to consider my answer. “That’s a good question,” I confessed. “It depends on how quickly we can source books, get the shelving units installed, and organize the new collection. We might be able to tentatively open the section in a few weeks.” I gave the cart a pat and smiled. “This is just the very beginning of the collection. It truly depends on the acquisition process. We’ve only started, and we made our initial purchases at local used shops. I’m afraid that we cleared out all my favorite stores of their AD stock that met our base requirements for the collection.”

Kaley giggled. “Is it possible for people to donate books to the library for this collection?”

“Yes, it is.” I detailed how interested patrons might be able to donate books, the requirements for the books to be added to the collection, and how to contact the library with the list of potential books. “Books that do not make it into the collection will either be returned to the original owner or passed along to other libraries working on similar projects. Ideally, we’ll confirm if the books can be included in the collection before they’re donated, as we have rules we have to follow before a book can be added.”

We made it to the library, and after exchanging pleasantries, the reporter thanked me for my time before letting me resume my work. I retrieved a cart from inside and ferried everything up the steps.

Our location couldn’t fit a ramp even if we wanted one.

Historic buildings tended to suffer from accessibility issues, although the main branch had undergone a great deal of work to install a ramp while preserving the building’s exterior and interior. Patrons with disabilities requiring elevator access had to go to a specific wing to access the upper floors, but their ramp into the building worked well.

Our branch didn’t have the ability to install a safe ramp without completely removing sidewalk access.

The weekend staff, who did scattered shifts across the week to maintain full-time hours, stared at the incoming books with resigned expressions. As all of them were my seniors, I managed a sheepish expression while dragging my haul inside. “If you find a corner to tuck it all out of the way, I’ll force the elevator to cooperate.” Fortunately for us, the building did have an elevator, an ancient one that we only used when we had patrons who couldn’t handle the staircases. Unlike modern elevators, one of the librarians with training, myself included, needed to operate it. As such, we usually took the stairs and liked it. Then, aware we had a budget for modernization updates, I added, “I’ll see if we can get an exemption for the historic building rules to replace the elevator with a modern one—and install a wheelchair lift on the steps.”

Henrietta, who was a few years shy of retiring, grinned at me. “We’ll stack the books by the elevator and make sure nobody bothers them until Monday. That’s simple enough. Honestly, you’re giving us something to do. It’s been slow today.”

That I could believe. Saturdays and Sundays were either dead or madhouses. “I walked from the Met to here with a reporter. I might need to be detoxed. Decontaminated.” I regarded the older woman with wide eyes. “Am I going to make it?”

“You’ll be fine. As long as you didn’t scare the reporter or give a demonstration of your ability, I’m sure you’ll recover.”

“I gave a speech about how to donate books to specific programs to the library, the requirements for their age, condition, and content we’re looking for. Does that count as scaring the reporter?”

My co-workers shook their heads. Henrietta confiscated the cart and said, “Please tell me you asked them to contact us first before bringing the books.”

“I did, unless the book was written before 1900 AD, in which case, I wanted them to just bring it in for evaluation. I’m going to send the fiction books over to the main branch and get our grubby hands on every legitimate non-fiction book we otherwise can.”

“I’ll warn the boss,” she muttered before shooing me away. “I give it three hours after that airs for the branch to become a madhouse.”

“But our numbers will be a thing of beauty , Henrietta!”

“Our numbers will evoke fear within all librarians in the entire system. We’ll be able to rein them all in with a warning we might talk about them next.”

Laughing all the way, I headed outside to retrieve the Met’s cart and return to the museum for another round of exercise and public scrutiny.

Due to the ridiculous number of books we managed to buy, we all worked until an hour before we were scheduled to head off to begin our bright new careers as thieving arsonists. Rather than stick with our original plan, an illusionist stowed away in each of our vehicles, and they began their work from the instant we left the library.

According to the plan, Bradley and I would go to the condo, and the illusionist accompanying us would trick the cameras into believing we had gone inside. After he finished, under another illusion that erased our presence to the perception of everyone and everything, we would go to the garage and wait by the doors until someone came in, where we would sneak out, head a block away, and join Bradley’s parents, who were likewise being escorted by an illusionist.

Beatrice and Mickey would work with a third illusionist and one of the security personnel who would be assisting with the arson portion of the venture.

I drove my SUV, hidden with magic, while an illusionary version of me also drove, mimicking my motions. The entire thing disconcerted me, and by the time we reached the garage, my skin crawled. We parked, and the illusions did everything we did, and the fake me dragged her feet on the way to our condo. Bradley’s illusion had more pep in his step.

That tracked, as little revved my fiancé’s engine more than shopping sprees at bookstores, even when he didn’t get to keep any of the purchases.

We made the journey to the condo, and the illusionary copy of Bradley went through the motions of opening the door and going inside, leaving the illusionary version of me to follow him in. Then, as we had no way of seeing each other, the illusionist took my hand while I held on to Bradley, guiding us back to the parking garage and hitching a lift on the elevator that Ren likely summoned.

Sure enough, once the elevator reached the parking garage, the bodyguard and secretary dropped his keys and cussed, which gave us the chance to escape without any chance of running into him.

The hard part involved standing and waiting at the garage entrance for another vehicle to come in. Fortune favored us, and within twenty minutes, one of our neighbors, who lived a floor down from us and liked to shop on the weekends, drove in.

We left the building, walked a block, and met Bradley’s parents, who were parked on the street and had their SUV’s back door open while they searched for something.

Once we were inside, with the pair of illusionists taking the back seats, they found what they were looking for, got in, and left.

We drove for ten minutes before Bradley’s father asked, “Any problems?”

“None, sir,” Zachariah reported. “Our contact in security has confirmed the magic is working on the cameras as intended.”

Bradley’s father had access to the building’s security footage? “How did you get access to that, Mr. Hampton?”

“We’re doing some training exercises; we entered an agreement to work as supplementary staff if they have an unexpected absence. I keep a selection of staff at various offices who fill in as temps. I sent some of my more trusted staff with instructions to monitor the cameras—and, if needed, to open the garage door if you were waiting for longer than forty minutes. As my baby boy lives in the building now, I put in a lucrative offer for them, as it lets me spy without being obvious about it.”

One day, I might be as smart and cunning as Bradley’s father. “Are we going to be able to pull this off?”

“I didn’t pay five of my illusionists excessive bonuses and overtime to have this fail at this stage, Janette. Try to relax a little. I know worrying is a skill you have mastered, but you gave me an entire day to work with to set this up. The security company for the warehouse probably doesn’t even have active monitoring installed, although we’ll be running illusions just in case they do. We have a truck for all the paperwork, plenty of bankers boxes, and fake government documents to switch out. We printed every last copy of every bill to be done over the past fifty years, double sided, to fill the boxes with, so if any of the pages do survive, they’ll see appropriate material. We also printed the tax code, the budget for the past twenty years, and some other gems from the government’s website. With luck, everything will be sufficiently destroyed as part of the blaze.”

The whole situation would worry me. “And the fire?”

“We have three pyros on hand who will be able to contain the blaze until it’s time for us to bail—and when we bail, it will be starting to die down. The fire station is three minutes away from here, so there’ll be little chance of spread. We’re taking steps.” Bradley’s father waited for a stop light to twist in his seat and shoot me a glare. “Worry less. Your job is to do preliminary sorting of paperwork. You’ll work with Bradley and the wife while everyone else ferries what you’ve sorted to the truck. We have a sorting system already designed, so all you have to do is a rough evaluation of each box’s contents. Our plan is to evaluate, dump into a new box, dump our fakes into the old box, and restore the stacks to the state they were in when we arrived. It should work.”

“The should is what worries me,” I replied.

Bradley took hold of my hand and gave a squeeze. “It’s a good plan. We’re moving fast enough that we might get away with it—and we’re using the tricks the government likely wishes belonged only to them. Really, all we have to do once we’re done with this is play stupid. I know pretending to be ignorant is not one of your strengths, but think about it this way: we’re spiting the government. I’m sure you can handle a little ignorance when you get to indulge in copious amounts of spite.”

I leaned over and whispered to him, “You are paying for that tomorrow night, and you will be naked when you do so.”

“I think I’ll manage to pay without complaint and on time. I recommend charging interest in this case.”

I snickered. “I think I’ll be all right. If I can handle you, I can handle some government cronies.”

“You’re not just handling some cronies,” he whispered back with laughter in his voice. “You’re handling the entire government. But I can accept being that troublesome and will self-assign some additional payments to make it worth your while.”

“Children,” Bradley’s mother scolded. “Please behave. We have felonies to commit tonight. Save your flirtations for another time.”

“Spoilsport,” I muttered before settling down and doing as told.

All I could do was hope that we’d strike gold and turn our theft into the salvation of the American people.