Chapter 5
The Thief, the Wealthy Son and the Secretary
In a small apartment unit with a small living room with sunlight shining in through a small window, the Thief sat on a worn-out black couch staring at the pearl that sat on a small pillow on a small, glass coffee table.
"I really did it this time," he muttered to himself.
No doubt what he pilfered was extremely valuable. It was a pearl, a really big, perfectly round one about the size of a baseball. And it had a mystical shine to it. It was probably worth millions in U.S. dollars, to say nothing of the Chinese Yuan amount.
"But now what am I going to do with it?" he wondered aloud.
It wasn't like he could just sell it on the internet. That'd just get him caught right away. And it wasn't like he's ever had business in the so-called Black Market before either. In other words, despite how much money it could sell for, it was essentially worthless to the Thief.
But that was, of course, only because the Thief did not realize the pearl's true nature yet.
"Achoo!"
The Thief sniffed snot back up his nose. "Maybe I set the air conditioner on too high . . . Ow!"
As he stood up to go adjust the temperature, he accidentally hit his shin against the table edge. The impact caused the table to jerk and make a screech noise as its legs scraped against the floor, shaking the pearl loose of its cushion and roll off the table. It hit the floor with a thud before travelling all the way to the wall beneath the window.
The Thief crouched low, hissing between his teeth as he tried to rapidly rub the pain away from his shin. Once the pain became an endurable ache, he gingerly limped over to retrieve the pearl. He bent down to pick it up and happened to glance out the window with a clear view of the street below where he spotted a rather expensive-looking car parked in front of a small shop across the street. It stuck out like a sore thumb, the way it glittered like a diamond.
Now what's a beauty like that doing in a place like this? The Thief wondered as he pressed face against the glass for a better look.
As soon as he saw who stepped out of the car, he gasped and quickly ducked down, heart pounding hard against his chest.
"Oh shoot! Oh shoot! Oh shoot!" He risked a quick peak just to double check he didn't make a mistake and then ducked back down, hissing curses.
A man and a woman had gotten out from the front seats of the car, both dressed in black business attire. The Thief recognized them from his time casing the joint of his latest escapade.
First, the man. He's the son of the Wealthy Man who owned the building and the pearl clutched in the Thief's hand. The Thief had seen the Wealthy Son go in and out of the building all the time. According to the intel the Thief had gathered, the Wealthy Son had an office in the building thanks to his leadership role in the company.
As for the lady with the Wealthy Son, she was the Wealthy Man's secretary. Not much to say about her. The Thief always thought she was just a normal secretary doing normal secretary things while always by the Wealthy Man's side.
What are they doing here? He wondered. On a date? As if! It'd be too much of a coincidence, if that was the case. No, there could only be one reason they'd show up here and with this timing: they were here for the Thief.
"But how'd they find me so fast?" he wondered aloud.
**********
Outside, the summer heat was sweltering. But both the Wealthy Son and the Secretary didn't appear affected, despite their stifling-looking clothes. That was because, thanks to sorcery taught to them by the Wealthy Man, they could change the temperature around themselves to more comfortable levels.
The Wealthy Son took a look around and wrinkled his nose.
So this is where the Pearl of Fate is supposed to be, he thought.
He glanced down at his smartphone which had a compass on the screen spinning round and round. The app itself was just an ordinary piece of computer programming he downloaded off the internet, but it was more than enough to be the core of the magic spell to find the Pearl.
The digital compass stopped and pointed at a building across the street where the Wealthy Son noted a traditional apothecary at the base with a set of stairs beside it leading to apartment units at the upper levels. He doubted the Thief would be dumb enough to bring something as attention-grabbing as a huge, mystical pearl while on a milk tea run, which means he's probably in one of those apartments upstairs.
And sure enough, the Wealthy Son spotted a head of black hair quickly drop out of sight from the second-floor window.
He gave the Secretary a glance. She was listening intently to a bird chirping on her finger before meeting the Wealthy Son's gaze and answered with a nod. It was more confirmation they had found the right place.
Together, they marched up the stairs to take back what was theirs.
**********
"Gotta hurry, gotta hurry, gotta hurry!"
The Thief frantically stuffed his black backpack with all the essentials: food (a mix of breakfast and candy bars), bottled water (three from a box), money (whatever he had stored in a food tin), his tools, his phone, an electronic tablet, and of course, the pearl. He just dumped everything unceremoniously into the main compartment and then zipped it up. After slinging the backpack over his shoulders, he rushed over to the front door and slipped on a pair of sandals before rushing out.
Sandals probably weren't ideal for running away, but it wasn't like he had time to tie shoelaces.
Slap-slap-slap!
The Thief ran down the hall while his sandals slapped on the old, white floor tiles. When he reached the staircase, at the same time, the Secretary appeared round the turn.
"Ah!" The Thief jumped back in fright.
The Secretary was also startled by the Thief's high pitch yelp. But then her eyes narrowed as she quickly realized who she had just run into.
Crap! Thought the Thief. And then he took off running up the stairs with the Secretary close at his heels.
The Wealthy Son was still halfway up the stairs when he saw the Secretary suddenly sprint away and quickly joined the chase.
Normally, when one thinks of running up the stairs, they believe it's a bad move because there's just a roof up top, and absolute dead end. But not the Thief. He was a cautious one and knew that one day he would be found out. That's why he had an escape route prepared.
After reaching the roof, the Thief slammed the steel door shut and bolted it. He had added the bolt himself in secret one night and no one ever questioned its addition. Without wasting any time, he grabbed a thick and long wood board that was leaning beside the door and headed over to the edge of the roof. He threw the board down, creating a primitive bridge to the other building.
While he was halfway across the makeshift bridge, the steel door flew off its hinges and the Secretary stormed out. She rushed towards the bridge, but she was too late. Once on the other side, the Thief yanked the board and hurriedly dragged it away from the edge.
He straightened up and looked back while panting for air. The Secretary glared back at him as Wealthy Son soon appeared beside her.
The Thief grinned from ear to ear in triumph and then stuck his tongue out at his pursuers while stretching his mouth further wide open with his fingers.
"Bleeeeh!"
He thought he had as good as gotten away. But then the unexpected, unbelievable happened. Right before his very eyes, the Secretary transformed into a falcon. And not just any falcon, an impossibly big one about as tall as a double decker bus.
The formerly human Secretary spread her wings and took to the skies before diving back down onto the roof that the Thief stood on. She landed with a mighty flap of her wings that sent out a gust of wind strong enough to sweep the Thief off his feet and hit the stained dark pavement with his bottom.
He scrambled backwards away from the giant bird in fright but stopped when he bumped into something behind him, which turned out to be the Wealthy Son's legs.
The Wealthy Son looked down into the eyes of the Thief. In his hand, he held a ball of black fire. "You have something that belongs to me," he said.
"Eh heh heh." The Thief chuckled nervously. "Why, whatever do you mean? I don't remember taking anything from you."
"Technically, you took from my father," said the Wealthy Son. "But whatever's his will eventually be mine."
"Not sure that's a nice thing to say, to be honest," said the Thief.
The Wealthy Son's wicked smile turned into an irritated scowl and then hoisted the Thief up with his free hand.
"Eh heh heh heh heh heh." The Thief chuckled nervously some more. "You know, you're a lot stronger than you look. And what's with that fireball? And that transformation your girlfriend did? Some kind of magic trick?"
"Enough!" snapped the Wealth Son. "Where is the pearl? Tell me now, unless you want to be turned into roast pork!"
The ball of black fire flared up to the size of a soccer ball.
"That . . . would be bad," the Thief said. "I probably wouldn't taste very good."
"Shut up!"
"Well, which is it?" asked the Thief. "Do you want me to tell you where the pearl is? Or do you want me to shut up? I can't do both, you know."
The Wealthy Son brought the fireball closer to the Thief's left cheek. Heat from the black flames stung the Thief's cheeks, feeling like a knife had cut into his skin.
"Okay-okay-okay! I'll talk! I'll talk!"
The Wealthy Son pulled the fireball away but still kept it pretty close to the Thief's head.
"It's in my bag," the Thief conceded.
The Wealthy Son let the Thief drop to the floor and said, "Thank you. Now good-bye."
"Huh? Wait! WAIT!" The Thief cried out and raised his hands over his face.
The Wealthy Son didn't listen and held the fireball over his head, prepared to throw the inferno into the Thief's face.
Meanwhile, down below, at a small store that sold snacks and drinks, there was a man with a bit of a shaggy face giving the elderly clerk a hard time. For no good reason at all, he snapped at the clerk, spitting out bad words and insults and then slammed an inadequate amount of money onto the checkout counter before walking away with his "purchase".
Up on the third floor, a little toddler hobbled over to the veranda while carrying a cup of water he grabbed off the coffee table and spilled everything out through the railing bars. The water hit the ground and made a puddle right in front of the store entrance.
When the rude, shaggy faced man stepped outside, his foot slipped on the puddle, and he fell into a newspaper rack. The newspaper rack tipped over and scattered issues of today's news all over the sidewalk. A strong wind current blew over the area and sent several sheets of the spilled news flying into the air. Most of those sheets went up and up, and up to the rooftops and hit both the Wealthy Son and the ginormous falcon square in their faces.
Suddenly blinded, they struggled to tear the paper off their faces. For the bird though, that was impossible since she no longer had fingers. The Wealthy Son managed to pull some off only for more to smack over his eyes.
The Thief couldn't believe his luck and he was not going to let this chance go to waste. While the Wealthy Son and the monster bird were distracted, the Thief crawled away and then grabbed his wood board which he used to scurry over to another rooftop. He retreated inside and abandoned his trusty board by the entryway before fleeing down the stairs and out the back exit.
Meanwhile, in a fit of rage, the Wealthy Son roared and intense heat burst out of his skin that disintegrated the newspaper on his face. His clothes remained untouched. More issues flew his way, but he burned them all into nothing with a wave of his hand.
"You go high, I go low!" he barked to the Secretary.
The giant falcon nodded and shrank down to a normal size before taking to the skies while the Wealthy Son went back down.
Once outside, the Wealthy Son looked right and left. He saw no sign of the Thief and then pulled out his phone. The compass spun round and round, but never stopped. After half a minute, the Wealthy Son lost patience and stuffed the phone back into his pocket.
When the falcon dropped down and perched on a trash bin, he asked her, "Did you find him?"
But the falcon shook her head, "No." The Thief had gotten away.
"Rah!" The Wealthy Son's frustration boiled over again and he slammed his fist against the lamppost.
A few feet away, a man with a slight shaggy face was being grilled by the police who had been called to the scene after an elderly store clerk made a report over the phone. Needless to say, the shaggy faced man's day was going to get really, really bad.
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