The Good Thief's Guide to Vegas by Chris Ewan

good. They were wooden and fixed to the rail, and I needed something that could bend. I suppose I could have suggested using the under-wire from one of Victoria’s bras but I somehow doubted she’d be likely to dignify that particular request.
    I would have felt a lot more comfortable if Victoria had been walking alongside me, but she’d taken to following from behind on tiptoes, as if she was in rehearsals for the role of Burglar #2 in a light-hearted play. By the time we reached the door of Suite H, I wouldn’t have been surprised to find that she was wearing a black eye-mask.
    ‘Why don’t you go ahead and check around the corner,’ I said.
    ‘What do I do if I see someone coming?’
    ‘You could tell me. That’d be dandy.’
    ‘But how do I tell you without making it obvious that I’m warning you not to break in?’
    ‘Obvious doesn’t matter. The warning is the key part. Go ahead. See if the coast is clear.’
    As Victoria tippytoed to the end of the corridor, I began to unwind the coat hanger and straighten it out as best I could without breaking it. Once I was satisfied with my handiwork, the wire formed a shape like a capital ‘L’, only with a hook at the top.
    ‘What’s that?’
    ‘Christ.’ I reached for my heart. Victoria was standing right next to me. ‘You almost gave me a stroke.’
    ‘Oops,’ she said. ‘But what have you done to my coat hanger?’
    ‘I’m going to use it to open this door.’
    ‘Why not use one of your picks?’
    ‘This is quicker.’
    ‘If you say so.’
    ‘I do.’ I peered over Victoria’s shoulder. ‘I take it we’re clear.’
    ‘I couldn’t see anyone coming.’
    ‘Right-ho.’ I crouched down towards the base of the door and fed the hook of the coat hanger underneath.
    ‘Shouldn’t we knock first?’
    ‘Ssshh.’
    ‘I’m just saying, in your books you always have Faulks knock on a door before he breaks in.’
    I took a breath. ‘We don’t want to knock if Masters is inside. And keep your voice down, will you?’
    I focused my attention on the hook, feeding it under the door with all the care and precision of a medic performing keyhole surgery. Of course, that would be a really cracking analogy, if only the door had a keyhole in the first place. But, as I’ve already mentioned, the hotel employed a card entry system, which was why I’d resorted to such a makeshift approach.
    Using a coat hanger was damn frustrating. The idea was to hook the door handle from the inside, then tug down on the wire, thus turning the handle and opening the door. Problem was, the procedure was fiddly at the best of times, and it was only made harder with two of my fingers out of commission. Oh, and I had to try not to make too much noise for fear of alerting anyone who happened to be inside the suite. Already, I was becoming annoyed, and that was making me reckless. The wire was scratching around far more than I would have liked.
    ‘You’re making a bit of a racket,’ Victoria told me.
    I scowled up at her from where I was lying with my back on the floor.
    ‘Just trying to help,’ she said.
    I gritted my teeth and did my best to visualise where the hook had ended up.
    Victoria pressed her ear against the door, saying, ‘You’re close.’
    ‘Higher or lower?’
    ‘Higher, I think.’
    ‘There?’
    ‘No, lower.’
    ‘There?’
    ‘Lower still.’
    Christ, this was beginning to sound all too familiar.
    ‘How about there?’
    I heard a clink of metal and saw the door handle flicker. Holding my tongue between my teeth, I very steadily pulled down on the wire. The handle turned, and turned and . . . the door popped open just as the hook slipped free and scratched loudly down the reverse of the door.
    I pushed the door inwards and rolled in out of the corridor. Victoria followed me and closed the door behind us.
    ‘Phew,’ she whispered.
    ‘Indeed.’
    ‘It’s dark in here.’
    ‘We’ll come to that.’
    I set my trusty coat hanger down on the kitchen