The Valor of Thieves

It was a bright early morning in Paris. I could feel the suns rays poking into my back searing my clothes and skin. The sunlight was reflecting a gentle glow from the window in front of me; peering downward, I saw Jules and Lucien, waiting patiently in their construction garb next to their motor scooters. As I steadied myself and the angle saw on the balcony, my friend Jacques looked me in the eye with his Balaclava on.

“Guillaume, you ready?”

I nodded. There wasn’t much to say, and the longer we waited the more my nerves began leaning towards the edge. I briefly glanced at the window in front of me, knowing it was the last time I or anyone else would see it so. The angle saw whirred to life and I began breaking an opening through the window of the Louvre.

The screeching and scraping of the cutter on the glass pierced through my eardrums. I couldn’t tell if my arm was shaking from the saw, or merely myself from nervousness, yet I pressed onward. Eventually, I had cut open a hole where both I and Jacques could get through with ease. At this point the Louvre’s alarm was blaring, and the guards were moving towards us, “Merde,” I muttered to myself. Then, I revved the angle saw and stared directly at one of the guards; sinking my eyes slightly downward, and cranking my head to the side. There were few qualms I had regarding them; they failed to do their job of being security, much less proactively securing the place. The guards, realizing they lacked any real equipment to protect the jewels, resorted to ensuring patrons were not to approach.

After the kerfuffle, Jacques and I wasted no time on pondering where they went; moving quickly towards the most precious Jewels I began to cut open the glass container holding them prison. The sun, now piercing fully through the broken window landed directly on them; the glitz and glimmer emanating from these jewels was intoxicating.

“Jacques, once I crack open this one, you go ahead and take care of the other one, compris?”

“Oui.”

As the cutter finished slicing through the solid glass holding these crown jewels captive, I passed Jacques the angle saw, grabbed the Tiara, Bodice, and Crown of Empress Eugénie then pocketed them in our bag; their majesty hidden away, probably forever.

As I did so, I heard the whirr of the angle saw from Jacques, shredding through the air, CRACK, whirrrr, CRACK, whirrr. I looked over at Jacques, hammering the saw against the glass fixture; every time he lifted the saw, an elephant stepped on my chest. The pit of my stomach boiled, my hands rolled themselves into fists, and I heard a sharp rip as I saw him tear through the glass barrier. I rushed over to the exit without Jacques. I jumped onto the lift, and started it’s slow descent; upon which Jacques dove into the lift. I stared at him, fire behind my eyes.

“What the hell was that?!”

“Huh?”

“Jacques, I thought you said you knew how to use an angle saw?” Jacques stared at me expressionless.

“I do know how? I just, uh, got a little bit nervous. That’s all.”

I glared at him, for all the prep-work we had done, this is what he had to show for it. I was able to reassure myself slightly, as we still had the jewels we were after, but it did little to tame the fury that had already settled in my bones. We then found ourselves off to the side of the louvre, and I grabbed the and quickly moved towards our getaway.

“Jules, Lucien, let’s go.”

They both nodded. I got on the back of Lucien’s motor scooter, while Jacques did likewise with Jules, and just as he was moving beyond the point of no return, the Crown of Empress Eugénie fell out of my bag through a hole that had ripped earlier. I grabbed my bag by the edge of the hole, and held it close to stop it from dropping the rest.

The hum of the motor scooters along the banks of the Seine was all I could feel. My mind, still; a beach is unperturbed in the minutes before a tidal wave.

“Hey-”

“WHAT?” I yelled, the wave crashing over me. The thoughts once racing so fast that all that I could feel was static, now slowed to a crawl. Lucien stayed silent, dealing a blow more deafening than my rage. Minutes passed, the serene Seine banks became the boisterous Boulevard Périphérique. As we bobbed and weaved through the traffic, between trucks and lorries, cars and vans, I slowly, felt the water finally recede from the beach.

“Hey Luci-”

“I’m fine.”

“But I-”

“We can talk later,” his head remained glued to what was ahead.

The humdrum of the motor scooters and the incessant stirring of traffic was all that was said between us. I sighed drearily; staring off into the skyline of Paris.