The Theft

"What is up with you two," Hla turned and scowled at them. Philippa covered a giggle, Nick did not know what Philippa found funny.

Hla led them into a vast chamber, high ceilings and colourful lead-glass windows. Philippa didn't look. She focused on the crucifix high above the pulpit. Nick's eyes also went to Jesus nailed to the cross. He closed his eyes, firmly enough to redden. Then shook his head.

"Is there a problem?" whispered Hla.

"The ring is not in there," said Philippa.

"How do you know?"

"I don't know, but he does," said Philippa pointing at Nick, as he wandered, side to side, front to back. Nick strolled the length and breadth of the church once more.

He puts his hands against the cool plasterwork of the walls, shaking his head and moving on. Hla and Philippa, transfixed, were rooted to the spot, occasionally looking at each other and then at Nick.

"Come on." Hla, was checking the time.

A twitch of Nick's lips spread to a grin then a huge smile as he pointed at a statue of Joseph holding a young Jesus. He stabbed his outstretched finger at the small cross topping a blue ball, part of the statue.

"In there," said Philippa. All three faces were plastered with smiles.

No words were spoken, all three knew their tasks.

"Of course, St. Joseph's Cathedral. The ring should be there," said Hla.

"Er, yes, but there are stacks of images of Joseph." Philippa was looking around at statues, oil paintings and stained glass to prove her point.

Nick didn't wait for the females to end their conversation. He was busy stacking boxes of Bibles under the toddler Jesus held by his father. He clambers up and held his hand out like a surgeon expecting a scalpel. Nick's tools were hammer and chisel. He began tapping at the gold-painted cross. Soon the cross powdered to dust, revealing a small metal plate. The chisel was useless in budging it, bouncing and making no impression. Philippa passed up the circular saw, tested its speed. Satisfied with its speed, Nick grabbed it and begun sawing halfway down into the ball. Cement powder clouded around him and Jesus. The top half of the ball with its small metal box was prised away. Nick judged its weight, then tossed it to Hla. Her smile matched a World Cup-winning captain handed the trophy. She sat in a pew with Philippa by her side, began clearing cement dust away from the box. Blowing and wiping the white powder to the floor. Then, holding it high, she passed it to Nick.

"It was your hard work to retrieve it. You should be the one to open it," she said.

Nick grunted and tossed the box to Philippa. She eagerly turned it in all directions, looking for a catch.

It wouldn't open. A solid cube and it would not budge. Philippa looked shocked. She studied the cube again, turning it round and round. She held a perfect lump of metal, drawing back her arm to throw it across the Cathedral. Hla tutted, held out her hand. Philippa cooled and smirked, hoping she would also fail. She did. Again, nothing.

"Does it open? Or all we get is this?"

Nick calmly held his open palm in front of her face. The cube was plonked in it.

With nothing more than a gentle twist, top half against the bottom, it fell in two.

A dull gold ring appeared to be mocking them. Nick held it in front. It was chunky, a worn oval-shaped front, small ring size and with deep scratching, A VIII, engraved deeply, but worn smooth at the edges.

"Aviii, what does that mean?" asked Philippa.

"Pope Alexander the eighth," whispered Nick.

"That is it. That's what we want." Hla sprung up and out of her seat.

Smiles were exchanged all around.

"Grab the box, come on, let's go," Hla said.

They remembered the security light, keeping their pace slow but steady. The puddle of blood had spread across the path. Their tiptoe footprints dotted the concrete.

"Never mind, we'll be gone before they are noticed." Hla hoped that nobody took their dog for a stroll, or was staggering home from the bar.

They all wiped their shoes on the grass by the long, white St. Joseph's wall. Philippa bowed in mock. "Bye Joe and thanks."

They walked back to their room, collecting their bags, and disappeared into the darkness of the early hours. But not before Philippa nudged Nick, smirked, and stroked his hairy ears. Again, Hla didn't see. Still, Nick didn't understand.