Diaper Heist (Illustrated) (Part 3 - Complete)

This is a semi sequel to “The Art Ghost”. You don’t need to have read that short story to enjoy this one, but it reuses a couple characters!

This is a three part story - Part 2 is already up on my Patreon, and will be here in a week. Part 3 comes out on Patreon on February 6th, and here, publicly, on February 13th.

It also includes an illustration, which I put at the end of this post!

Irene DaLier wore blue and white on the evening of the ball.

The blue, a stunning cocktail dress, one that shimmered in the dim light of the dance hall, one that would make any woman jealous of her tailor, and of her body.

The white, a diaper hidden beneath her dress, puffy and crinkling.

Standing at the edge of the room, Irene watched, straightening out her dress. She saw no sign of her guest. She’ll be here. She promised. Heck, she could be here now. For all Irene knew, she was already inside, flitting about with the other guests in the banquet room. She had no way of knowing without an obvious tell; she’d never seen the Ghost before.

“That’s a lovely outfit,” a woman said, making Irene twitch in surprise. She hadn’t heard the woman come up behind her.

Turning, Irene’s gaze was caught by the woman’s ruby red lips, and the expression that played across them. She was smiling like she had just seen something funny, but was waiting for the right time to mention it.

Irene swallowed. “Thank you. It was a gift.”

“A gift that we’re all grateful for,” her smile widened. “Those of us with an appreciation for beauty, that is.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You shouldn’t be. I…” Her cadence hitched, just for a moment, glancing past Irene before resuming. “I was only wondering if you’d consider joining me in the next dance.”

Following her eyeline, Irene looked over her shoulder. She’d been glancing at the entrance, clearly, and at the moment Irene looked, only one person was coming in. Another lady that Irene didn’t know - Dark skin, searching eyes, and a vibrant yellow dress that didn’t quite fit her naturally. Store bought, most likely. Walking in, she started scanning the ballroom, purpose in her gaze.

Turning back, Irene tried to place the woman in front of her. She wasn’t local, certainly - She was too pale to have spent much time out in the sun, certainly, and her accent was foreign. American, maybe? “And why would I dance with you?”

“Because you had already asked to meet me .”

Irene’s eyes went wide in surprise. “You’re the g-”

“A guest,” the Ghost finished, as the band finished one song, and started playing another, strings backing up a sultry piano medley. “Now, dance with me?”

Biting her lip, Irene looked back over her shoulder, for the lady in the yellow dress. She wasn’t by the entrance any more. “Who was she?”

“An inconsequential detail,” the Ghost replied, reaching out and taking Irene’s hand. “Now or never, darling. I’m certain you know the steps.”

Irene did. She knew her way around a high society event, even if the crinkling padding between her thighs put a slight toddle in her step. “Did you have any trouble getting in?”

“Irene, please.” The Ghost shook her head, raising her hand and pressing her palm against Irene’s own, circling each other, slowly. “Don’t worry about me. Let’s talk about you.”

“I never told you my name,” Irene said.

“When the baroness’s daughter asks my help, I know,” the Ghost said. “No matter what she does to keep that a secret.”

Turning, Irene lowered her hand, speaking softly as she turned, so that the Ghost could put a hand on her waist as they moved around another pair of dancers. “How?”

The Ghost ignored her, hand slipping lower to feel the top of Irene’s diaper, through her dress. “I see you wore what I asked.”

“You said you wouldn’t meet me if I didn’t,” Irene said. “I know you wouldn’t make an idle demand like that.”

“I also said I was retired,” the Ghost said, turning around in a slow spin. “That hasn’t changed.”

Then, they parted, the dance separating them as they turned to face different partners.

Irene was suddenly face to face with the woman in the yellow dress.

“You can’t trust her,” the woman said.

Irene frowned, as they touched hands, slowly circling. “Who are you?”

“My name is Cassandra, but that’s unimportant,” she said, stepping the wrong way, almost kicking Irene in the shins until Irene moved to compensate. “That woman you were just speaking to. Whatever she’s promising you, don’t believe it, she’s just trying to rob you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Irene lied, as they weaved between two other dancers.

“Trust me,” Cassandra said. “She’ll play like she’s your friend, then empty your pockets the minute you turn around.”

“I was just talking to her about fashion,” Irene said. “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Then why are you wearing a diaper?”

It was Irene’s turn to stumble. She hadn’t thought it was visible. As they moved around each other, though, she put her hand to Cassandra’s waist and felt a telltale rustle beneath the store bought yellow dress. “Who are you?”

“Help me bring her to justice. Please.”

Then, they separated, broken apart by the dance. Irene was matched with a stranger, and played her part pleasantly.

On the other side of the ballroom floor, Cassandra and the Ghost touched hands.

“I swore I’d track you down,” Cassandra hissed.

The Ghost smiled. “And you did, little baby. It’s a shame you have no evidence that I am who you say I am.”

Cassandra gritted her teeth. “Even if I did, Ruthlos doesn’t have an extradition policy for art theft.”

“A lovely island, isn’t it? Mind your step, you seem a little inexperienced on the floor and I’d hate to see you humiliated.” They moved through the steps of the dance, with the Ghost leading. “How’s your potty training coming, by the way? I was so delighted to hear that you kept playing even after my whole bottle of special pills was emptied. Can you even tell when you’re about to have an accident?”

Glowering, Cassandra said, “I can still expose you. Plenty of people hold a grudge. If I put your location out, you’ll have enemies coming after you for a bit of revenge.”

“You can’t, can you?” the Ghost smiled. “No warning at all before you make a stinky diaper? That must be humiliating for a little baby like you.”

They turned, as the dance began to circle the way it came. “And if I find out you’ve done anything amiss here, I’ll get your ass shipped back to whatever court has the harshest sentence, and I’ll pin you to the wall with so many charges you’ll never get out.”

The Ghost laughed, quietly, and said, “The best part is, I can tell. Your nose gets all scrunched up and your knees bend, just slightly.”

“Hmm?” Cassandra frowned, sniffed, and then turned bright red.

“You should go attend to that, baby,” the Ghost smirked. “Before anyone can smell what you did to your diaper.”

“I will catch you,” she hissed, her brow knitting furiously.

“Maybe after a change. Ta-ta.” Spinning off to her next dance partner, the Ghost smiled as she found herself back with Irene. “Now, where were we?”

“You said you were retired, but I haven’t told you the job, yet,” Irene said. “Here me out.”

“I’m listening.”

They spun around each other. “A packet of sensitive documents was stolen, three days ago. The contents can’t be allowed to be released to the public.”

“And what do you expect me to do?” The Ghost raised an eyebrow. “In my experience, once documents go missing, eliminating all the copies from the internet becomes impossible.”

“They haven’t been copied, I’m certain of it,” Irene assured her. “They… it’s a complicated situation, and it involves national security. They’re in a safety deposit box at the central bank. I need to get them back before the person who stole them can get to the box and start making copies. I have the box number. I need someone to get them out.”

“That sounds like a job for law enforcement,” the Ghost said, as the song ended.

Irene shook her head, stepping back and curtsying with the end of the dance. “Law enforcement means a public record. This can’t go public, or I’d be personally on the hook.”

“What got stolen, exactly?” the Ghost raised an eyebrow.


“Documents of what?”

Irene glanced away. “Can you help?”

“I’m still retired,” the Ghost said, shaking her head as the music picked up again. She turned to walk away. “And I’m not risking myself to solve your political drama. Goodbye, Irene.”

Reaching out, Irene caught her hand. The Ghost turned, facing her, and Irene bit her lip. “One more song. Hear me out.”

She raised an eyebrow, considering the offer. “One more.”

“I can pay you, well,” Irene said, as they stepped back onto the dance floor, hands on each other’s hips.

The Ghost continued to lead. “I don’t need money.”

“Not money. The national museum has more than a couple artifacts you would be interested in seeing sent home. I have the sway to get them returned to their countries of origin,” Irene promised her. “Legally, and with proper documentation. There won’t be any objections, no need for secrecy.”

That caught the Ghost’s interest, as they clasped hands and stalked across the floor in tandem. “I’m listening.”

“You’ll prevent a diplomatic disaster,” Irene continued. “And I’d be in your debt, personally.”

The Ghost nodded, considering it. “I’ll need a team. I won’t need payment, but they might.”

“I can come up with money. How much are we talking?”

“You want to break into a national bank. I’ll need three people, plus myself. I have a colleague who can fly in on short notice. She’ll do it for fifty thousand, plus expenses.”

Irene did the math in her head, and nodded. “That’s fine. Who’s the other two people?”

“I’ve got a local contact, but they’ll work for free.”

“Okay. Who else?”

“You,” the Ghost smirked. “You’ll be with us every step of the way. And, to prove your conviction, you’ll do something for me before the job.”

Blinking, Irene looked around the room, as though she was suddenly worried that someone would start listening in. “What? I can’t get the art moved until-”

“Not the art.” The Ghost looked down, one finger tracing the edge of Irene’s diaper. “Tomorrow, at six PM, I’ll send you a message with an address. You’ll arrive within half an hour for our planning session. Until then, you won’t change your diaper.”

Irene turned pink. “What? Why?”

“Because I think you’re pretty when you blush,” the Ghost replied. “And if I’m doing this, you’re going to make the job properly fun. If you’re so concerned about your dignity, you can find someone else.”

Chewing her lip, Irene thought about the question. “Why do you need me?”

“You’ve got a long standing account with the bank. That’ll get us information we couldn’t easily get otherwise.” The Ghost tilted her head. “I’m still piecing the plan together, but you’ll be integral, and you’ll be in diapers, because I want it that way.”

Irene knew she didn’t have a choice. She could go along with the Ghost, or she could give up on ever getting back the- “I’ll do it.”

“Don’t try and cheat,” the Ghost whispered. “I’ll know. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

She stepped away, bowed slightly, and then drifted away across the dance floor, vanishing through the exit.

Irene swallowed. What am I getting myself into?

Cassandra was furious as she wiped herself up, leaning against the wall in the restroom stall. She hated changing in public. She hated that she was this good at changing in public, that she’d had enough experience wiping up her own dirty diapers in the past six months that she’d gotten used to it.

Her dress was hanging on the stall door, to make sure it stayed clean while she changed. As she taped on her fresh diaper, she heard bathroom door swing open, and paused.

Footsteps approached her stall, and a wire slipped between the door and the frame, flipping the lock open.

The Ghost pushed open the door. “I’ve got a proposition for you.”

Leaning against the wall in just her bra and a diaper, Cassandra turned pink. “You- What?!”

“Not like that,” the Ghost rolled her eyes. “You want to take me in? I’ll put on handcuffs and fly with you to any country you want. First, though, I need you to do something for me.”

If you enjoyed this, consider supporting me over on Patreon! You can read part two to this story a week early, and also you help me afford stuff like food and diapers! :smiley:


Art by SnowPowder



This is a three part story. Part 3 will be up on Patreon on March 6th, and publicly on March 13th.

Irene sat behind the wheel of her car, parked in her garage, waiting for her phone to buzz.

‘Am I really doing this?’

She looked down at her skirt, trying to gauge if the bulge of her swollen diaper was visible. The car windows were rolled down and the fan was on so she wouldn’t be stewing in the smell, but even so, it wasn’t all daisies and chocolate in the air. Almost twenty four hours was longer than she’d been able to hold it.

‘I already did the worst part,’ she thought, trying not to focus too much on the memory of losing control and filling her diaper with an outpouring of mush. ‘Just stick with it. You’ve got to.’

Even so, she wanted to back out, take a shower, and find another way. It was too much of a risk.

Her phone buzzed. She checked it, and saw a message from the unlisted number. ‘We’re in your kitchen.’

Irene blinked, took the keys out of the ignition, and got out of her car. Walking as fast as she could without squelching the contents of her diaper around, she waddled through the garage door, took a few steps down the hall, and found the Ghost sitting at her kitchen table, typing at a solid, heavy-duty laptop, sitting with another guest.

“So kind of you to join us,” the woman, who had nut-brown skin and a Spanish accent, said. Gesturing to Irene’s own coffee maker, which was actively percolating. “Coffee?”

“I- Who are you?”

“You can call me Bell.” The woman smiled, but she didn’t get up.

The Ghost cleared her throat, then deliberately sniffed and quirked up her lips in a smile. “Good to see - or, rather, smell - that you didn’t ignore my instructions. Are you developing a rash?”

“I- No, not really,” Irene said.

“Good. Then you can change in… we’ll say, an hour. I’ll enjoy having you squirm through the planning discussion.”

Cheeks turning pink, Irene had to concede that the Ghost’s descriptor would be accurate - she couldn’t get comfortable in her full diaper, no matter how much she tried to ignore it. Changing subjects, she asked, “Bell is our second person, I take it?”

The Ghost nodded. “I’ve worked with her on more than my share of jobs. She’s solid. Sit down, Irene, and we can go over the plan to get your documents back.”

Irene blushed and sat down with a squelch, looking between the two women. “So you can get them?”

“I can,” the Ghost said. “I’ll need the safety deposit box number, so that Bell can go get into position tonight. We’ll extract the documents tomorrow afternoon.”

“It’s box number four hundred and sixty,” Irene said. “But the bank is open tomorrow afternoon.”

“I’m aware,” the Ghost nodded. “And that’s where you come in.”

11:30 PM

Bell checked her earpiece. “Testing, testing. Can you hear me?”

“Coming loud and through, Stinkerbell,” the Ghost replied in her ear. “I’ve got the feed on my end.”

There was nobody around to see it, but Bell’s cheeks turned pink anyways. “I told you not to use that nickname.”

“After Bali, I think you proved that the name suits you plenty,” the Ghost replied. “Now, cut the chatter and get into place. I’ve got eyes on the night guard, he won’t be around to your position for another six minutes.”

“On it.” Bell went over the status of her equipment one last time. Her earpiece was working and fully charged. Her decryption probe was tucked away and ready to use. Her diaper was dry.

It was time to move.

Crouching by the external duct exhaust, she started removing vent screws, one at a time, with a ratchet screwdriver. It took only a couple seconds for each screw, but there were a dozen to remove, and it took her most of a minute to get them all.

Now, the tricky part. Pulling adhesive strips from a belt pouch, she held them in one hand and popped the vent free. Peeling the silicon release film from the strips, she stuck them on the inside of the vent, clambered into the duct, and stuck the vent back in place.

A keen observer would notice the missing screws, but unless someone inspected it up close, that would likely be overlooked. The vent was where it belonged, and she was in.

Now, it was a matter of being silent. The ducts would rattle and shake at the slightest motion, and though she wasn’t at risk of being seen, there were four guards on a rotating patrol that could still hear her. Slipping deeper into the ductwork, she started shimmying forward on her elbows and knees, a centimeter at a time.

It was slow, painstaking work, but she had all night to get into place. Safety mattered more than speed. As long as she arrived in place with enough time to use a magnet and unscrew the grate on the other end, she’d be fine.


Cassandra, Irene, and the Ghost all arrived at the bank at separate times. They knew the plan. It had been discussed, fussed over, and generally worked to a fine point, and then repeated until they had it memorized. Nothing could go wrong, so long as they all did their part.

And when it was over, Cassandra would finally get the Ghost once and for all.

She reminded herself that as she arrived, promptly upon the bank’s opening. It was important that she didn’t dilly dally, so she walked right up to the teller desk, smiling, and said, “I’m considering getting a safe deposit box here. Is there someone I could talk to about that?”

8:01 AM

Bell watched as the security guard took one last look at the cameras, pursed his lips, and shrugged. All was, to him at least, as it should be.

Getting up to his feet, he stretched, yawned, and left, going to take a coffee break.

It was go time. Bell pushed open the metal vent, wincing as the four screws that had held it in place all tinkled to the ground.

She hesitated, holding her breath. Seconds passed. Nobody came.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Bell crawled out of the vent, dropped silently to the floor, and let out her own sigh of relief. It felt good not to be crammed into a tiny duct. She could finally stretch, a bit.

Sitting down in the guard’s seat, she felt her diaper squelch and ignored it as she got to work, taking out her decryption tool and plugging it into the security computer. She had two jobs, and they would both be done before anyone came back around.

“Ghost, can you hear me?”

8:04 AM

Ghost didn’t visibly react, but she responded. “How are you?”

Bell’s voice came through loud and clear. “I just wiped their recording software. It’ll look like there was corruption on the hard drive, everything from this morning will be nothing but static.”

You don’t have to explain it, Ghost thought. “How soon will I have video?”

“Sending that… now.”

As she said it, Ghost’s smartphone buzzed in her pocket, and she took it out to see a ‘Signal found’ notification. Opening the app, she saw a half dozen camera feed thumbnails, showing her everything that the bank could see.

“I’ve got eyes,” she said. “Good work, Stinkerbell. Now get out of sight.”

“Already moving.”

Cassandra nodded through her conversation with the bank man as he explained their various options and rates for a safe deposit box. This was largely immaterial, and she ultimately cut it short. “What I’d really like is to just see the boxes. I’m bad at picturing size in my head, so telling me it’s ‘fourteen centimeters wide and twenty five long’ doesn’t really mean anything to me.”

“Of course, that can be arranged. Come with me?”

Getting to his feet, he waited for Cassandra. She shouldered her purse and got up, leaving his office and walking straight to the main vault. It consisted of two main layers of security, first there was an exterior room that served both as the manager’s office and as a first line of defense against anyone seeking to intrude, and then a heavy steel vault door.

“Top of the line, of course,” he said, rapping a hand on the vault door. Turning so that his body shielded the combination, he entered the five digits and then turned the heavy duty handle, swinging the whole vault door open.

They went inside, together. To the left was a barred steel door, with stacks of cash and gold visible beyond. To the right, another identical door, with walls of safe deposit boxes tucked away.

Eyes widening, Cassandra stepped up to the door hiding the cash. “That’s… I don’t know if I’ve ever seen that much money in one place in my life.”

“We’re the largest bank in Ruthlos,” the man nodded. “And the safest.”

She lingered for a moment, putting a hand on the door and taking a breath. “I suppose if you can keep this secure, then I shouldn’t have anything to worry about.”

“Absolutely.” He smiled and then turned, putting his body between her and a pin pad as he entered a code by the other door. “There are two layers of security before you even need your own key.”

It didn’t matter if she couldn’t see the code now. The micro camera she’d just planted inside the door would pick it up just fine next time he entered it.

Irene tried not to look distressed as she walked into the bank, but it was proving difficult to keep a straight face. She really had to pee. Desperate, mortifying, hard-to-walk-straight had to pee.

A few people looked at her as she walked in, which probably - probably - had more to do with her appearance than her walk. She’d dressed as fashionably as she could, with white pants and an expensive, chic leather jacket. She wanted people to know that she was a wealthy customer.

A wealthy customer who really has to pee.

It was according to the plan. Ghost had been insistent.

Keeping her legs straight and everything clenched up, she looked around the bank, spotting Ghost interacting with an ATM. She didn’t say anything - Ghost had promised that she wouldn’t need a cue or any indicator, and if she said so, then Irene trusted it.

Instead, she walked right up to the manager’s office and walked inside. “William, are you busy?”

She knew him on a first name basis. This was her bank, after all, and she was an important enough member to deserve special consideration. He glanced up from his computer, and then over at the sealed bank vault. “I can make time for one of our best patrons. How are you, Irene?”

“Alright,” Irene said, still standing in the doorway. She was worried that if she sat down, she wouldn’t be able to stand up without losing control, and having an accident in the bank manager’s office would undermine the whole operation.

William hesitated. “Well, how can I help you?”

“I’m thinking about shifting some of my… er,” she paused, blushing, then shook her head.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, I’m… Never mind, I’ll take care of it after we’ve spoken,” she said. “Like I was saying, shifting some of my investments around, possibly liquidating some things to cash. The market’s been unstable lately, as I’m sure you know, and I’d rather play it safe in turbulent times.”

“Unstable? But we’re in a major upswing,” William frowned. “Where did you hear that it was unstable?”

“Well I don’t mean unstable, ” Irene paused. “I just… Maybe I should start over, and- Okay, I’m sorry. I really need the washroom, do you mind excusing me for a moment?”

“Oh, of course. You know where it is?”

“I do,” Irene said.

Ugh. I can’t believe I agreed to this.

Opening the office door behind her, she took three steps, put her foot down wrong, slipped, and pinwheeled her arms. Flailing for balance, she all but screamed in alarm before falling to the ground, landing on her butt with a noisy ‘Thud’. Half the eyes in the bank fell on her.

She was supposed to pee, then. That wasn’t a problem, because her body decided to go before her conscious brain could even weigh in on the subject. The flood gates burst, and she wet her crisp white pants right there in the middle of the bank, a huge, yellow stain forming at the crotch and quickly spreading out into a puddle.

Irene blushed, red creeping up her face and burning hot. She knew it would be humiliating, but it felt like everyone was staring at her, at the rich, fashionable women who’d just thoroughly wet her pants.

As much as she’d needed to go, the puddle was enormous, and it kept dribbling out for most of a minute. By the time she could cut it off, William had hurried over, tentatively reached out to help her up, noticed the growing splash zone, and hesitantly stepped back.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

It was a stupid question.

Facing him, Irene didn’t have to fake a pleading tone. “I- Please, is there somewhere I can get cleaned up?”

“The employee bathrooms have a shower,” he said, finally offering that hand and gingerly stepping over the large yellow puddle. “Someone on the staff will get this coned off in a moment.”

He helped her up, and she loudly said, “Nobody look at me!” as they walked away, trying in vain to cover her face with one hand and her badly yellowed pants with the other.

That was the worst thing to say for privacy, as it ensured that anyone not already staring at Irene turned to look at her, watching the display as she waddled towards the back of the bank, leaving a dribbling yellow trail in her wake.

Nobody even noticed the two women who slipped into William’s office during the commotion.

The Ghost and Cassandra were inside.

Illustration by Rinonno: https://www.deviantart.com/rinonno

Enjoy my writing? Consider supporting me over on Patreon! Among a bunch of other perks, you’ll get access to this month’s Patreon Exclusive story, “Dalliance with a Diapered Demoness”, a story about a romantic encounter with an AB/DL Succubus!



Sorry this is late. Life is kind of extremely hectic right now!

Chapter 3

“How are we looking?” the Ghost asked, as she stepped up to the vault door that separated them from the interior vault.

Inside the manager’s office, they were isolated from the guards, patrons, and bank staff, but that isolation went both ways. They couldn’t see in, but the Ghost and Cassandra couldn’t see out.

That’s why they had Bell.

The radio in Cassandra’s purse chirped. “You’re clear. They’ve coned off the puddle outside the door, and the manager’s in the break room with Irene.”

“How long?” Cassandra asked.

Bell’s tone was more amused than concerned. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you know when you’ve got to move.”

“I want an idea of how long we have. If we run out of time without realizing-”

“Jeez, Ghost. Was this chick a hall monitor in her past life or something?”

The Ghost smirked, but didn’t say anything. Her ear was pressed to the vault door as she slowly spun the lock mechanism, listening with the intense concentration of a master working at her craft.

Cassandra swallowed. If the Ghost couldn’t get through that vault door before someone came around, they’d both be trapped with no escape route.

“Oh my god,” Irene stammered, her face bright red as they got to the back room. “I don’t know- I-”

She wasn’t acting. Even if it had been her intent, the extremely public accident she’d just had was mortifying. Hopefully no paparazzi had been around to snap a candid photograph of the scene, but even without photo evidence, there’d still be tabloid stories by tomorrow.

“I’m afraid I don’t have any clothes in your size,” the bank manager said, “But we could send someone. I’m sure it wouldn’t be any trouble to fetch something from a local shop.”

Irene blushed and shook her head. “No, I- I can call someone, William. Just let me use the shower, and I’ll be okay.”

William nodded, giving her a bit of privacy to wash up.

Stepping into the employee washroom, Irene took out her phone and sent a text. ‘We’re ready for pickup.’

Bell checked her wireless video feed as she stood up from the office chair. She had a solid connection - all the security cameras were sending their transmission straight to the small monitor on her wrist.

To the actual recording on the security computer, it was getting sent a recycled feed from the week prior. It wasn’t a perfect disguise, any audit would notice the discrepancy, but at a glance it’d be unnoticed, and more importantly, if anyone did suspect foul play, they wouldn’t have any proof of who was involved.

With the screws in the vent back in place, all Bell had to do was meet the van that was coming to pick her up out back, while watching to make sure that the Ghost wouldn’t be ambushed. For her, the coast was clear, and she could slip to the broom closet near the exit without being seen.

For the Ghost, though…

“You’ve got a janitor headed your way.”

Cassandra frowned. “No problem, right? He’s just going to clean up outside the office.”

“He’s got his keys out,” Bell replied, over the radio. “Get out of sight.”

“Crap,” Cassandra whispered. “We’ve got to move, Ghost.”

“I’ve almost… got… it,” the Ghost replied, listening quietly for ticks. “If we leave now, I’ll have to start over.”

“Then hurry up.”

The radio piped up again. “You’ve got ten seconds.”

“Just… about…” the Ghost said.

The vault door popped and swung open. Without a moment to spare, they both hurried inside, pulling it almost shut behind them, leaving just a crack available to let them back through later.

Cassandra spoke quietly into the radio. “We made it in.”

“Great. I’ll meet you at the pickup point.”

While she was talking, the Ghost retrieved the camera that Cassandra had planted, plugging it into a small LCD display. “Come on…”

“Did it get what you need?” Cassandra asked.

A few breathless seconds passed before the Ghost nodded in affirmation. “He wasn’t so careful with the password when the room was empty. I got it.” Turning to the pin pad, she punched it in, stepping through the barred door and into the safe deposit room.

Now was the simple part. She just had to pick the lock, grab the documents, and get out of there. “Cassandra, tell Bell-”


The sound of the barred door shutting rang out behind the Ghost and she turned, raising her eyebrows when she saw Cassandra on the other side, grinning maliciously.

“You thought that I’d just go along with your plan, didn’t you?” Cassandra asked, gloating. “Like I believed that you didn’t have some plot to slip out of custody before I could get you into jail. Well, newsflash: I’m not as stupid as you think. I’m putting as many miles between here and myself, then I’m calling the authorities to tell them that an international thief is stuck in a bank vault.”

The Ghost’s eyes flashed with anger. “We had a deal-”

“Kiss my ass,” Cassandra replied, walking out the vault door and slamming it solidly shut behind her. It locked, leaving the Ghost trapped.

The Ghost stared for a moment, blinking. “Huh.”

The courier van pulled up around back, and the driver got out, carrying a tailored dress. Knocking on the back door, they waited for a bank employee to let them in, so they could deliver the set of clean clothes to Irene.

Nobody noticed the black-clad Bell sneak out and slip into the back of the van while the coast was clear.

“Thank you, so much,” Irene said. Her wet clothes stuffed into a bag, she adjusted her new, dry, dress. She once again looked like the stately woman that she was.

“Of course,” William said. “Now, what was that business you wanted to attend to?”

“I…” Irene started. “I don’t think I want to handle that today. This has all been a bit much, and I’d rather just go home and talk about this some other time.”

The manager wasn’t about to say no to her, not after what was obviously a humiliating accident. “Of course. Have a lovely day.”

Irene nodded, shook his hand, and walked out of the bank through the staff entrance, hurrying to get to the rendezvous point to meet with the Ghost and get her documents back.

William, glad that the mess outside his office was finally clean, flicked on the light switch and walked back to his desk.

It had been an odd day. A few strange customers, the whole debacle with Irene - he just wanted to get back to work. Just as he sat down, though, his phone rang.


“Hi, this is Cassandra. We spoke earlier about a safety deposit box?”

William blinked.He remembered her, of course, but her voice sounded… off. Just a little different. “Yes, I remember. Is everything alright?”

“I think I left my purse in the vault,” she said. “I can’t find it anywhere! I need my inhaler, it’s in the purse, and I’m starting to have trouble breathing. Could you please check if it’s in there for me?”

A customer having an asthma attack was no laughing matter. Getting to his feet, William said, “Of course, though I don’t think it’s in there. I’ll check right away, to be certain.”

“Thank you!”

He walked swiftly to the vault, entering the combination and throwing open the vault door.

There wasn’t even a moment to see the rag before it got shoved into his face. The Ghost supported his head as he reflexively sucked in a breath, getting a whiff of some kind of chemical.

“Does this smell like chloroform to you?” the Ghost asked, lowering him to the ground. “Sorry about this, but I needed the door open.”

He was too bleary to understand, and in a second, he was passed out on the ground.

Without Cassandra on the radio, the Ghost had no way of knowing if the coast was clear outside the office. She’d just have to cause a little chaos. Walking to the fire alarm on the wall, she yanked it, sending an alarm blaring and kicking on sprinklers.

She scowled as she walked to the door, opened it a crack, and peered out. This was a mess, and not the fun kind - she hadn’t had a job go this poorly in years.

At least she had the documents. Waiting for her opening, she slipped through the office door and, feigning panic and the fire, ran to the exit.

She was out.

“You could have just told me.”

Irene yelped at the sound, turning to see that the Ghost had somehow gotten into the hotel room they’d set as a rendezvous point, without making a sound. “Told you what?”

“What was really in the documents,” the Ghost said. “Who did the rope work?”

Frowning, Irene said, “You weren’t supposed to look.”

“You’ve got a lovely body,” the Ghost replied, giving a slight, sultry smile. “If you ever want someone to tie you up properly, well, you know who to call. And what to wear.”

Irene blushed, answering the first question instead of the comment. “My ex. He said he was going to send the pictures to the tabloids if I didn’t give him back the necklace he bought me for our anniversary.”

“You still care about him?” The ghost raised an eyebrow.

“No,” Irene said.

The Ghost nodded. “Then why keep the necklace? I’m sure you could afford to replace it.”

Irene responded plainly. “Because fuck him. He doesn’t get to dump me and then tell me what to do.”

Smiling, the ghost turned to leave. “I didn’t make any copies. You’re out, clean. I’ll be leaving the city for the near future, in case someone happened to see my face, but if you need anything else… you should know how to get in touch with me.”



“Thank you.”

Cassandra scowled at the news report, describing confusion at the bank. No mention of an arrest, which meant that the Ghost had gotten out. She’d go free, again.

She’d have to keep looking. The Ghost could be anywhere, but justice would find her, sooner or later.

As she finished the article, her phone buzzed with a message.

‘We had a deal.’ Unlisted number, but Cassandra knew who it was from.

She sent back, ‘You got lucky, getting out of there.’

‘I’ll make you another one.’

Cassandra frowned. What’s she talking about? Typing back, she sent, ‘What sort of deal?’

‘I’ll give you a week’s headstart. Run. Because you’re going to regret breaking your promise when I catch you.’

The End.