by Gillian Taber

Created on: June 14, 2009

"Miss Sanders, so good to see you. Your key."

Mel fought to cover her panic, stuffing the incriminating package into her coat pocket. The night porter advanced, smiling and offering a swipe key. Melheld her ground with difficulty, every instinct telling her to run and keep running. She forced a smile to her lips and offered her black gloved hand.

"Thanks."

Keep it brief, never expand, keep it simple and you won't get caught in a lie. Words her grandfather had taught her that stood her in good stead now.

"I've told you before" the elderly man favored her with an indulgent wink, "It's fine to wake me if you get back late. You may not believe this but I was also young once."

"Of course. I'll try to remember."

"You say that every time"

He chuckled and turned back to the elevator, lifting his hand in a brief wave as the doors closed and he disappeared from view. Mel turned the key over in her hand and stared along the corridor, left and right. How the hell had he known she was up here?

There were no cameras on the penthouse floor. The Sanders family valued their privacy. She should know. She'd spent enough hours researching their every move, every scrap of information about their security measures. Was it possible that she'd missed something?

She suddenly realized that the porter would wonder what she was doing, if he indeed had some form of monitoring equipment. Mel was pretty sure that Emilia Sanders didn't spend five minutes blankly staring at her door before opening it. Too late now. Mel stuck the keycard into the lock and heard the click that usually meant her work was halfway to done. Normally that was a moment of quiet pride but tonight she was seriously rattled and would rather have been able to walk away.

Instead she slipped around the door, closed it behind her and leaned against it for a moment, allowing her eyes to adjust to the gloom within. This really was ridiculous. Possibly the easiest robbery she had ever committed, the key literally handed to her and yet it was the worst moment of her life. She knew that the apartment held a safe which contained well over three million in jewellery and at this moment it was hers for the taking. She knew the codes for the alarms and for the safe and nothing stood in her way... except getting out.

If the porter really was watching all night, and research told her he was there from twilight to dawn when the shifts changed, how the hell was she supposed to explain 'Miss Sanders' leaving again in the dead

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