The Sacred Art of Stealing

Let us prey …

The press tend to talk about bank robberies as being daring, ingenious and audacious. They don’t describe many as Dadaist, even the ones who know what ‘Dadaist’ means. But how else does one explain choreographed dancing gunmen in Buchanan Street, or the surreal methods they use to stay one step ahead of the cops?

Angelique de Xavia is no art critic, but she is a connoisseur of crooks, and she’s sure that the heist she got caught up in wasn’t the work of the usual sawn-offs-and-black-tights practitioners indigenous to the parish. She knows she’s dealing with a unique species of thief, and it’s her job to hunt him to extinction – though the fact that it’s not just his m.o. that’s cute might prove a distraction.

This thief, however, has greater concerns than his own safety, and a secret agenda more valuable than anything he might steal. He can afford to play cat and mouse with the female cop who’s on his tail; it might even arguably be necessary. What he can’t afford to do is to let her get too close; he could end up in jail, which holds terrors enough; but even more scary, he could end up in love.

Honesty is a virtue. Deceit is a talent. Theft is an art form.

The Sacred Art Of Stealing: prepare to be misled.