A Bernard and Melody Story
On the Subjectivity of Value
A successful pilfer — or not, depending on who you ask
Four hundred thousand dollars, Bernard reminded himself. He stretched toes and fingers to the max and clipped the carabiner to the base of the railing above his head. Fourteenth floor. Seven left. Piece of cake. Emerald cake.
Bartholomew Livingston Crampton, blowhard billionaire CEO, owner of the famed Mongoose Emerald, would rub D.C. society’s nose in his gem at a gala this evening. An envious underling, charged with security, had engaged Bernard and his lovely wife Melody to disappear the rock before the party. This climb up Crampton’s flagship hotel was, incredibly, the easiest way to pilfer it.
Bernard unhooked from the railing he stood on, hauled himself up a floor, flopped over the iron, panted, mounted it, hooked onto the next. His vision blurry from exertion, he gingerly clambered onto the railing just as the sliding door banged open and Melody called, “I got it, Bernie!”
Bernard yelped and toppled. The rope jerked taught. Melody, wearing a tight red dress, peered down. “You went the wrong way.”
“No kidding.” He swayed in the wind. “What do you mean, you got it?”
