Previously: Having gotten away from the Kessler Museum and the Big Apple Corps, Twain was about to tell Digger about their next job. And now…
â€œReady for what exactly?â€ Digger asked.
Twain held up the crystal cup he had stolen from the Kessler Museum. It wasnâ€™t much to look at. It was fairly small–Diggerâ€™s first thought was of a finger bowl, for some reason–and made ofÂ milky-white crystal with fine cracks running through it. â€œDoesnâ€™t look like much, does it?â€
â€œAre you going to tell me thatâ€™s the Holy Grail or something?â€ Digger asked.
â€œOr something,â€ Twain answered. He turned the cup over to show Digger the underside. The bottom was much thicker than the rest of the cup, and in the center, there was a depression, like a doughnut hole that didnâ€™t quite go all the way through. â€œOr it will be once we find the piece that goes in here.â€
â€œWhat will it do then?â€ Digger asked.
â€œSolve all your problems,â€ Twain said. He grabbed a clean shirt.
Two hours later, they were standing in a wooded area by a creek in a very rich neighborhood in Fairfield. They had left the van by the side of the road a mile back and hiked up the creek to this point. The sun had just set, and while the sky was still pink in the west, it was dark and cool under the trees. Twain looked through binoculars at a darkened mansion over a hundred yards away beyond a chain link fence.
â€œHouse is deserted,â€ Twain said. He tossed a black canvas duffel bag over the fence. â€œWe can go. Boost me over.â€
â€œCanâ€™t you climb it?â€ Digger asked.
â€œWe canâ€™t touch the fence,â€ Twain said. â€œBoost me over, then jump.â€
Digger linked his fingers together. Twain stepped in his linked hands, and Digger tossed him over. Twain rolled on the grassy lawn and sprang to his feet as Digger landed softly beside him. Twain picked up his bag, and together, they headed toward the house.
â€œThis isnâ€™t a museum,â€ Digger said.
â€œNo, the piece we want is held by a private collector,â€ Twain said as they reached the rear patio. Twain consulted a small print-out that bore a house plan. â€œWait here, and Iâ€™ll get us in.â€
Digger tried sitting on one of the deck chairs while he waited. Like almost everything else he could see, it was both very expensive and very uncomfortable. Digger couldnâ€™t understand why someone would spend so much money on something that was a pain to sit on. If he ever got enough money to afford a house with a deck, heâ€™d have recliners out there. Every chair in the house would be a recliner. Hell, heâ€™d have a reclining toilet if he could get away with it.
Although he wasnâ€™t sure exactly how that would work. He was still trying to picture it when the French doors opened and Twain beckoned him in. â€œCome on.â€
Digger entered and followed Twain through a series of darkened rooms. â€œYou took care of the alarms, right?â€
Twain hesitated. â€œNot entirely.â€
â€œWait, what does â€˜not entirelyâ€™ mean?â€ Digger asked.
What does ‘not entirely mean?’ Find out tomorrow in our next exciting episode!
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