Preface
I could say I’m ashamed. I could say that I’m afraid of going to hell—eternal damnation for my sins and all that. Or I could tell the truth. Because if I was being honest, I would say I’m not the least bit ashamed of my occupation, my rough moral code, or my decisions. My teacher is Vick Romero. Twenty years older than me, Vick is—in many people’s opinion—the greatest con-man in history. Vick took me under his wing when I was 16, just a year after my parents died. After running away from the foster home I had been forced into, he was just…there. It was like he was meant to find me.
There are three parts to this story. Mine, the team’s, and Vick’s.
First I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Timothy Krall. I have no vital information to share, but in case you needed to pick me out of a crowd, I’m 6’4”, have black hair from my dad, blue eyes from my mom, and a scar going from my temple, down my cheek and neck, all the way down my chest. I’m 24 years old now. Of course, this information is pointless. I can disappear into a crowd in seconds.
The team was originally two other men besides Vick and myself. Benjamin Fye, who preferred “Benji”, was about my height, tall and thin, and had sandy blonde hair and brown eyes that he told me could make any girl melt within a second. He was my age; younger by 24 days. Samuel Riles, who didn’t answer to anything but “Sam”, was taller than me by a couple inches and had shaggy brown hair that he refused to cut and hazel eyes. He was two years old than me, and never let me forget it. Scruff was eternally on his jaw every time I saw him. He seemed to wake up ready for a magazine ad. Vick was the oldest at 45. Always coordinated, he had brunette hair, coffee colored skin, and brown eyes. He got his hair cut regularly and managed to look…normal, which you wouldn’t expect with his occupation.
Zoey Kass was one of the three people the team adopted over the last year. 27 years old, long black, curly hair that fell to her waist, and eyes always hidden behind sunglasses. When they weren’t, they were always different colors, thanks to many colored contacts she chose to wear. Her skin was pale and I once saw blonde roots peeking out from her head. I imagined she was about 5’2”. I never once saw her without high heels on. Besides her heels, her other favorite accessory was the giant, brown-skinned, hazardous looking man named Markus Vale. Markus appeared to be the big, strong, silent type when you first met him, but everyone who knew him knew that wasn’t true.
Benji was into computers. He could hack anything better than anyone. Sam liked guns. Big ones. Zoey was manipulative and a great distraction. Markus could change identities in the blink of an eye. I was a thief and con-artist. Vick was very assured in his own talents, and he had many. I didn’t think I would ever know all of them. The most important thing about our team was that we knew what we did best.
My part of this story is the only one that really matters, as I’m the only one who actually knows what happened. So that you don’t get into any more trouble because of what you already know, I’m going to keep this short and sweet and try to avoid anything that could put you into any more danger. Basically, I screwed up a job by breaking one of my many rules—never fall in love. The gorgeous thief got to the Faberge Egg before me and I lost an easy quarter million by letting myself be distracted by a pair of amazing legs. Needless to say, my team was less than pleased. But I promised them I’d make it all better—I was going to find her and I was gonna get my egg back…and maybe her phone number while I was at it. But I didn’t need to find her. She found me and shared a little secret with me. She knew exactly who I was and she knew exactly who I worked for. And she wasn’t here for fun and games.
All of that brings us to the moment my mentor… Well, if you’re still interested in finding out what happens—although I discourage you to continue reading—go ahead. But know this; if you turn the page, you’re just as deep into this as I am. And I’m probably not getting out this time.
There are three parts to this story. Mine, the team’s, and Vick’s.
First I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Timothy Krall. I have no vital information to share, but in case you needed to pick me out of a crowd, I’m 6’4”, have black hair from my dad, blue eyes from my mom, and a scar going from my temple, down my cheek and neck, all the way down my chest. I’m 24 years old now. Of course, this information is pointless. I can disappear into a crowd in seconds.
The team was originally two other men besides Vick and myself. Benjamin Fye, who preferred “Benji”, was about my height, tall and thin, and had sandy blonde hair and brown eyes that he told me could make any girl melt within a second. He was my age; younger by 24 days. Samuel Riles, who didn’t answer to anything but “Sam”, was taller than me by a couple inches and had shaggy brown hair that he refused to cut and hazel eyes. He was two years old than me, and never let me forget it. Scruff was eternally on his jaw every time I saw him. He seemed to wake up ready for a magazine ad. Vick was the oldest at 45. Always coordinated, he had brunette hair, coffee colored skin, and brown eyes. He got his hair cut regularly and managed to look…normal, which you wouldn’t expect with his occupation.
Zoey Kass was one of the three people the team adopted over the last year. 27 years old, long black, curly hair that fell to her waist, and eyes always hidden behind sunglasses. When they weren’t, they were always different colors, thanks to many colored contacts she chose to wear. Her skin was pale and I once saw blonde roots peeking out from her head. I imagined she was about 5’2”. I never once saw her without high heels on. Besides her heels, her other favorite accessory was the giant, brown-skinned, hazardous looking man named Markus Vale. Markus appeared to be the big, strong, silent type when you first met him, but everyone who knew him knew that wasn’t true.
Benji was into computers. He could hack anything better than anyone. Sam liked guns. Big ones. Zoey was manipulative and a great distraction. Markus could change identities in the blink of an eye. I was a thief and con-artist. Vick was very assured in his own talents, and he had many. I didn’t think I would ever know all of them. The most important thing about our team was that we knew what we did best.
My part of this story is the only one that really matters, as I’m the only one who actually knows what happened. So that you don’t get into any more trouble because of what you already know, I’m going to keep this short and sweet and try to avoid anything that could put you into any more danger. Basically, I screwed up a job by breaking one of my many rules—never fall in love. The gorgeous thief got to the Faberge Egg before me and I lost an easy quarter million by letting myself be distracted by a pair of amazing legs. Needless to say, my team was less than pleased. But I promised them I’d make it all better—I was going to find her and I was gonna get my egg back…and maybe her phone number while I was at it. But I didn’t need to find her. She found me and shared a little secret with me. She knew exactly who I was and she knew exactly who I worked for. And she wasn’t here for fun and games.
All of that brings us to the moment my mentor… Well, if you’re still interested in finding out what happens—although I discourage you to continue reading—go ahead. But know this; if you turn the page, you’re just as deep into this as I am. And I’m probably not getting out this time.