Prologue | Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III
CHAPTER IV
Laila sat in the her office, surrounded by dress form mannequins, a sewing machine, and colourful bolts of fabric. Her heist plans were hidden between sketchbooks. The specs for the Minerva 2400 were pulled up on her laptop.
She wasn’t paying attention to any of it. Instead, she was looking at an enlarged photograph on her computer screen. A black-and-white image of her parents before time had drawn lines on their faces, dimmed the light in their eyes, and tore them apart. Before whatever happened between them turned their wide smiles into faces worse than frowns: faces that refused to show anything at all. They were holding each other, both facing the camera. I wonder who took the photograph. A diamond twinkled on Dr. Croft’s left hand—they were, at one point, officially engaged. They were so young, so happy. Laila half-expected them to grab her hand through the screen and pull her into their celebration. Her father’s words echoed in her head: “When I saw that there was a chance for all three of us to be together… maybe we could all try being a family.”
But those people were long gone. Small vestiges of them remained: Laila’s father still wore the same watch. In the photograph’s background, her mother’s desk was just as neat and orderly as the one in the Museum: she even had her trademark X’s ticking off each calendar square. I wonder how long the engagement lasted, and how long after that I was born. In the picture, it looked like it was the Fourth of April. Laila was born in February. She tried formulating a chronology in her head, but eventually ended up clearing space off her desk to write everything out. If dad didn’t know mum was pregnant, it makes sense for their engagement to be almost a year before I was born. And then the fallout had to be sometime in the next three months—right? Laila wasn’t sure at what point an expectant mother began ballooning up.
As Laila tried to fill the timeline, she realised how little she actually knew about her mother’s pre-academic career. Decades of expeditions, fieldwork, and looting of tombs and temples around the world—it was all kept in the shadows. She’s tried asking about it but was met with either silence or dodgy answers. How much of this did mum do while pregnant? Did she tell anyone about me before I was born?
Laila looked up at the clock. She had given herself an hour’s break from safecracking research. She ended up spending most of it staring at this stupid photo and the rest of it crying. Laila shook her head and went back to studying the Minerva’s security specs. Another hour passed, and Laila minimised the manual’s pdf on her desktop. Dinnertime, she thought excitedly. Not that anything particularly great was on the menu. Laila simply enjoyed eating, especially when she actually felt hungry.
After making dinner, she sat back down at her computer with a steaming hot bowl of Curry Laksa. As she decided what to watch on Netflix, she allowed herself one more glance at her parents’ photo. This is the last time I look at it before I steal the Kohinoor—no more distractions. After dinner, of course.
Suddenly, she dropped her spoon on the floor. Hot soup fell in her lap. She screamed, scaring the cat underneath a table (good, stay hidden). Laila opened the manual again and took out her notebook. I think I’ve got it!
The next morning at 9:30am, Laila saw the Kohinoor arrive on livestream. Her father and one (lightly) armed guard brought the jewel to the curator’s office. They both waited outside as Laila’s mum loaded the diamond in the secret safe. Dr. Croft stole one lingering glance at the diamond before she locked it away. After the diamond was safely hidden, the two gentlemen were allowed to re-enter the office. Laila’s parents barely exchanged three words during the entire ordeal. Some papers were signed, and then Dr. Croft ushered them both outside. Closing the door behind her, she went back to examining yesterday’s ancient rubbish with her trusty magnifying glass.
It’s time. Laila triple-checked her mother’s schedule to ensure that her office would be empty for at least 30 minutes this time. No more surprises. Today, Dr. Croft scheduled lunch with another curator across town. Even if she left early by storming out angrily or escaping via loo window, it would take her at least 25 minutes to come back to the museum.
After watching her mother work for two and a half hours (yawn), Laila saw Dr. Croft leave for lunch. Laila stuffed her laptop and the ball of gym socks holding the Kohinoor replica in her bag. Sitting in the Tube, she couldn’t believe that today, the most valuable diamond in the world would be stolen.
I knew this was too easy, Laila thought as she saw her father loitering near the office door. The one time I don’t want to see him, he decides to show up.
“Laila!”
“Hey, dad”
“Have you seen your mum?”
“The ex-intelligence operator needs my help finding someone?” Laila asked with a laugh. Her father smiled.
“Your mother’s gotten wise to my tricks,” he replied with a grin. “After that stint I pulled at the V&A she’s been extra hard to pin down”
“Well, I happen to know where she’s gone off too,” Laila said mischievously. “I’ve had to keep a record of her whereabouts since secondary school. Just to know when a good time to make some trouble would be.”
She wasn’t sure why she wanted to help her father right then, especially considering how her mum felt. There was something genuine about the way he’d acted since coming here. She couldn’t help but feel that they wanted the same thing. Plus, a relationship with her mother was difficult to navigate, even after so many years. Laila often wished someone had helped her out: growing up, it was just the two of them. They’d often speak at each other, rather than to and with one another. It’s gotten better now, of course, but they’re still not perfect.
Of course Laila would like to see her parents together again. If they still loved each other. Maybe they did, and it was just that those feelings took different forms. That for her mother, it hurt too much to do anything but walk away; and that for her father, it would hurt too much to stop trying.
“Let me know how I can repay you for your kindness,” her father said as Laila confirmed the address of her mother’s lunch appointment.
“Dad, there is one thing,” she said as he was turning away to leave. She pulled the necklace out from underneath her sweater, the one her father gave her all those years ago. “What was the meaning of this?”
“I got that the day I met your mother,” he replied. “We prevented a small act of terror at the British Museum. At the time, your mother was an Oxford visiting scholar, working in the archives. We helped improve the museum’s security system. M16 is still very involved so nothing like that could happen again.” Shit. Stealing the Kohinoor would probably qualify as more than a small act of terror. Especially if the jewel was sent back to India. At least I know now how to get into the safe without having to totally destroy it. Or set off any alarms. I hope I can just—
“Laila?” Her father’s words snapped her back to the present moment.
“Oh, sorry I was just thinking about what you guys must’ve been like at that age,” The picture of her happy, twenty-something year old parents flashed in her head. “You and mum.”
“Hopefully, you’ll see us as we once were, Laila,” her father said, kissing her on the head. She watched him jog away, waving goodbye as he chased after her mother, yet again.
The kiss burned on her head, as if it was packed with all the sentiment of every single one she missed while growing up. Laila tried to shake off the feeling and focus. She looked at her watch. A conservative estimate put Dr. Croft 45 minutes from re-entering her office. By then, Laila needed to break into the safe, switch the diamonds, and be far far away from the British Museum.
Laila closed the door behind her, returning back to the secret panel. She pressed it, and the trapdoor swung open. Laila, with a gloved hand, entered in the date of her parents’ engagement: 04 04 1988. Eight numbers, all keys with her mothers’ fingerprints. The numbers and this date couldn’t be a coincidence. Her mother jeopardised the safety of some of the world’s most valuable objects, including the Kohinoor, because of love? Ridiculous.
But nobody would even think of that date as a possible combination. Their engagement didn’t end in marriage; 4th April, 1988 was a date significant to only two people. This is as simple a security plan as it gets: a date burned into the most tender parts of your brain. A combination you’d never forget and never share with anyone else.
And, Laila couldn’t afford to be wrong. She had no idea what kind of security she’d trigger if she was. She took a deep breath and pushed the “Enter” key. Something whirred, clicked, and the safe… it opened. Laila felt sweat come out of pores she didn’t even know had. It was an unfortunate day to choose wool. Her cheeks flushed as she moved around various objects: a few bracelets, a bronze knife, a bundle of cash (weird), some pottery pieces. A few official-looking documents and museum display cards.
After a few more moments of searching the safe for the diamond, the truth hit her: The Kohinoor wasn’t here.
The next few moments feel like she’s moving through gelatin. She spends a good amount of time just staring at the space where the Kohinoor should be—but wasn’t.
Suddenly, Laila hears the clicking of her mother’s shoes, a sound classically conditioned over two decades to trigger a sharp elevation in heart rate and profuse sweating. It hasn’t even been fifteen minutes since dad left! Laila experiences a profound sense of déja vû as she once again scrambles to close up the safe and the trapdoor, rip her gloves off and stuff them into her back pockets. While wiping her sweaty palms on her pants, she made her way back to the bookshelf, and grabbed a random volume.
The door opens, and Dr. Croft enters.
“Laila, is everything alright? You look horrid”
“I just…” she shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t count on her mother to leave early again. Maybe she caught wind that her father was on the way to surprise her and left, posthaste.
“I take it you found what I’ve been hiding,” Dr. Croft said with a small smile. The thousand-kilo lump in Laila’s throat fell straight through the pit of her stomach, feeling like a penalty kick in the guts. Is this how it’s going to end? Caught by my bloody mother?
Laila’s mum sighed.
“I suppose now that you’ve met your father, the truth was bound to come out,” What? As Dr. Croft continued talking, Laila glanced at the book she slid off the shelf. The oldest volume, falling apart at the seams. “… and that was an important time in my life, but I ended that engagement for a reason.” A pause. “And maybe someday, I’ll explain it to you. But now, your father seems keen on getting to know you. And I don’t want to get in the way of it, or to be a part of it at all.” A pause. “Just… be mindful. Of how quickly and deeply you trust him.”
It took some time for Laila’s breathing to return back to normal. At least she had something to pin her guilty look on. With the barrage of thoughts flying through her head, ranging from the jewel (Where is the Kohinoor? Did the team take it for fitting already? Was this all just some sort of joke?) to her parents (Is dad staying around now? Will mum ever take him back? Will we ever even be able to have tea together? Maybe if mum sneaks some whiskey in her teacup…”), all she could manage to choke out right then was:
“All right.”
This Week’s Top 3
- Carrie Soto is Back 🎾 – The latest from Book Tok phenom Taylor Jenkins Reid. Different from anything she’s written before because it is a sports drama—and it happens to be a sport I actually know something about.
- BeReal 📸 – I like seeing what my friends are up to. I don’t like doom scrolling or SnapChat.
- Hamentashen 🥠 – These cookies are named after a villain associated with Purim. They’re shaped like his hat. It seems odd to name something so delicious after someone terrible, like how doctors that discover diseases often name them after themselves. The cookies are delicious, though.