Free Cloak Games: Thief Trap by Jonathan Moeller Page A

unknown variable was whatever waited behind that vault door in the library. The plans for the vault were not in the mansion’s blueprints. Bypassing the door would be easy enough – Morvilind had taught me a great deal about the magic of releasing locks – but I had no idea what waited behind the vault door. 
    The second unknown variable was the strange man with no shadow. I had my suspicions, but I didn’t know who or what he was. He seemed to think that I had been following him. That was absurd – I had enough trouble without asking for more. Yet that made me wonder if he had business of his own in McCade’s mansion.
    Maybe someone else had hired him to steal the tablet. 
    That could be dicey. 
    I would just have to keep my wits about me.
     
    ###
     
    At last Conquest Day came.
    It rained all morning and most of the afternoon, the sort of heavy, hard summer rain that made everything smell like a gym locker. It slowed to a drizzle by the time I parked my old Duluth Car Company sedan a few blocks from the Duncan Catering building. I walked to the building, sweating a little in the humidity. If anyone asked, I would claim that I had taken the bus to work. I wanted to keep the sedan nearby in case I had to make a quick escape. I had already made arrangements for an escape vehicle near McCade’s mansion, but a backup never hurt. 
    The other servers and I changed into our formal uniforms, white shirts, slender black ties, black slacks, and shiny black shoes. At least they were flats, thank God. I pretended to tie my shoe just long enough to make sure my little duffle bag was still taped to the bottom of the van, and then I joined the others. Once we were ready, we loaded the food into the van, climbed in, and drove across Milwaukee to McCade’s mansion.
    We got to McCade’s mansion at half past six, parking the van in its usual spot in the utility garage. The security men stood guard at the doors, and subjected us to the customary weapons scan and search. I made sure not to bring a phone, so they didn’t confiscate it. The less evidence I left behind, the better. It took a dozen trips to bring everything up to the mansion’s kitchen, a vast expanse of gleaming white tile and polished steel about six times the size of my apartment. It took us the better part of an hour to get everything set up, and another twenty minutes to get the food properly heated. 
    Then it was almost eight o’clock, which meant it was time to serve hors d’oeuvres to McCade’s guests. 
    I put on my friendliest smile, picked up a tray loaded with shrimp puffs, and walked with the others to meet the wealthiest and the most powerful of the Midwest. 
    Already a substantial crowd had gathered in the glassed-in courtyard. Pale silver and blue mood lighting played over everything, and a hidden projector threw a scene onto the glass, an image of the High Queen’s banner rippling in the breeze, an American flag flying below it. I had to admit it made for an impressive sight. Already men in expensive black suits and women in sleek black dresses and high heels stood talking. Here and there I saw a man in the blue officer’s uniform of Homeland Security, and a few in the black-trimmed red uniform of the Wizards’ Legion. I recognized several men as ambassadors from the various client states of the European Union and others from the Chinese Imperium. I suppose McCade’s meat products had fans overseas. There were even a few minor Elven nobles already, mostly knights and barons from the United States and the European Union, standing aloof and cold from the human guests, their gaunt, pale faces masks of hauteur. The Elven men wore long blue coats that hung to their knees, their ornamented red cloaks thrown back, while the women wore shimmering gowns of green and blue. Two of the Elven nobles were Knights of the Inquisition, stark in their long black coats with silver lightning bolts upon their collars, and even the other Elves avoided the