The lady gives a low hum of thought as Fujiko speaks. Obviously letting the professional thief speak her mind and her concerns. So the lady takes a moment before she answers the given inquiries. “You’ll find it ironic when I tell you who it is that told me about you. But it just so happened to be one dapper grumpy man in a fedora and who smokes like a chimney. Said smokes usually as bent out of shape as his sullen serious moods. But we’ve enjoyed several games of billiards as well as a couple boxing matches. I’ve even had him compete in skeet shooting at a club to then enjoy watching him sweep the competition in totality. We both won good money. Him the reward money. Me for my bets on him.”
Obviously, the lady speaks of this contact with utmost favor and amusement. Her gaze looking over to the men in the corner for a brief moment before she moves to remove something from her purse that’s been at her side. Soon placing a tiny red silk bag onto the table. Inside the bag being a beautiful antique ruby ring. Freshly polished to glisten in the light. Authentication papers neatly folded into the bag as well for Fujiko to look over.
The lady let’s Fujiko take her time in examining the ring to simply take a drink of her honeyed mead. Looking to the other woman with those striking blue eyes. Her words warm yet serious. “This is the first half of your payment. One ruby ring that I received as payment for supplying a mobster’s niece with the finest flowers for her wedding. He was especially pleased with the plum cake I added to congratulate the happy couple. It’s been authenticated by a fine jeweler in Germany last year. But the broadsword is worth more to me.”
The lady ends up frowning when she continues speaking. Looking obviously upset as she turns her drink of mead in both gloved hands. “My mum and da were not wealthy. We lived by both the ocean and the forests in Ireland. My childhood was of learning the bow and how to garden. When I wasn’t sprinting through the woods and going diving in the ocean to come home filthy yet happy. I competed in sword competitions during festivals and would help my mum bake for the pie competitions. When I turned ten, my mum and da passed away. So my da’s cousin adopted me. We moved to Ostend, Germany. There I lived in the wealthy home of Freiin Eugene Currier. Or the better known title of Baron would be more recognized. What jewelry and luxuries I’ve enjoyed were dwarfed by the love and good memories I made with my second father. So even though I have been blessed with a good life, I am still a passionate archer and still compete in sword competitions. The ones that took my broadsword are with the Irish mafia. A nephew of the current head. He’s a real lecherous reprobate. But he’s proven to his uncle he’s not fit to take over the business. You get me back my broadsword from one Seamus Roland Dempsey, he will lose what standing he has left with the more respectful and stoic Patrick Ian Dempsey. As the second half of your payment, I am more than willing to part with my one and only motorcycle. A Kawasaki Z1000 model done in red. Would that be acceptable?”
And suddenly, everything made sense. From the job, to the payment, to even the woman’s self-assured attitude. Fujiko listened with only a sip left to her martini, causing the thief to idly fiddle with the cocktail straw. She went on about her new ‘friend’ in such a way that, to the brunette, she intended to have her potential contract employee be impressed by her social skills.
But that was nothing compared to how she intended to pay her. Fujiko watched her, from how she sipped her mead, to how she placed the silk bag on the table as if it held the rarest of diamonds. The same sort of self-importance rang through her explanation as well, how she’d received the trinket from a crime family due to her oh-so-kind generosity. She chose not to interject at this point, her brown eyes drifting from her to the ruby ring. Holding it in her palm, even the dim lighting of the bar was more than enough for her to assess the quality before gently placing it back into the bag.
She wished, almost, that she had another drink in her hand before the woman continued with her spiel. But that one she’d likely have to pay for, and Fujiko didn’t have faith that even her burgundy cocktail dress, with its halter straps and high hemline, would be enough to swindle another free drink out of the bartender without throwing in at least a makeout session in return, if not getting him off entirely. The guy had clearly seen his fair share of women try to drink for free, so when he’d shooed away a birthday party comprised of eager university girls to pay up or get out, the brunette knew she didn’t want to ruin a good thing when she had it. It was a decent enough bar anyway, though it was without the prestige of a proper lounge. And no good music to speak of.
Not that Fujiko would be entranced by soft jazz at this point. She was still technically meeting a client, one who still droned on about her past, painting a heart-wrenching story about how her hardworking parents died, she was taken in by other family, and her precious sword ended up in the world of organized crime. And so forth and so on.
But sob stories were always best told by those, well, actually sobbing. And even better when they had a sense of urgency about them, as if someone’s entire world, their entire happiness, hinged on the generosity of others. Any decent panhandler had figured that one out. And this woman was no beggar.
A silence settled between them when she finally finished, Fujiko stirring the last swallow of her martini before delicately removing the straw from her glass and drinking down the last few drops. Until then, she’d worn a contemplative, respectful expression, lips pursed in thought and gaze slightly downcast with a sense of gravitas.
So it was a surprise, to the bartender, to the young professionals on her opposite side, even the group of men who all had slowly glanced up her form from heels to face as soon as she’d taken her seat at the bar, when Fujiko tossed her head back and laughed. It started as a chuckle, but then she couldn’t help herself: God, Jigen must have really made an effort convincing this one!
“I should apologize...but that was rather spectacular, really!” She finally uttered through giggles, her burst of excitement finally settling down as she smoothed a lock of deep chocolate-colored hair out of her eyes. “Let me guess, you earnestly asked him for the recommendation of a thief and he suggested me. Depending on his mood, he probably either hesitated, thinking you couldn’t afford me, or readily offered my contact information?”
For the first time that night, Fujiko truly smiled, shaking her head still in disbelief she’d let the whole charade go on as long as she did. But the woman’s commitment to her social prowess and traumatic past was just too amusing. “I guess I can tell you now,” She smirked, resting her chin on her hand. “Jigen and I play a game when we’re not teaming up: which one of us will be desperate enough to take a risky heist that’s hardly worth the reward. We choose potential clients to send to the other, entirely at random so we never expect it. I guess he thought he had a real winner with you!”
With a satisfied sigh, she continued, pushing the glass back towards the bartender to signal that she was done with her drink and her non-existent tab. “Word of advice, though? If you want someone to piss off the Irish Mob, you may want to get someone a bit more green than I am. Offering the equivalent of fifteen thousand euros, give or take, is a fool’s errand to infiltrate one of the deadliest groups of organized crime in Europe.” For the way the woman had spoken, Fujiko had half-expected a diamond of at least ten carats, probably closer to fifteen. Rubies, even antique ones at that size, never fetched more than five thousand euros or so, even if they were flocked by tiny diamonds each way less than one karat. Not to mention the MSRP of a Kawasaki Z1000 was hardly confidential information.
She was one of the best thieves in the world, often touted in the papers as Lupin’s feminine equal. She barely got out of bed for anything less than two million, and her interest became genuine at around five. Everything else she stole? That was purely for fun.
“Try the darkweb, or any connections you’ve got in the black market,” She advised, hopping off her barstool and gathering her purse. “You’ll find some new blood on there. You may even find someone eager to take a cheaper deal on the reward because they’re ex-Mob and have the personal vengeance thing going for them. Good luck! And tell Jigen he finally picked a candidate that made me laugh if you see him, okay?”
With a wave, she sauntered towards the door, still chuckling. Fine, she thought, I owe him a homemade meal during our next heist.
