Black Diamond by Leah (best novels to read to improve english TXT) 📖

A scream split the deadly, soundless night, "We've been robbed!" A large man in thick pajamas ran out of a nearby museum. "We've been robbed!"
He was the museum guard and often spent the night in his office on the second floor. It was his job to make sure no one got passed security, more importantly it was his job to hide...it.
A man sitting at a nearby stop light that seemed to be frozen red, was watching the man with interest. He looked down at his watch, one passed twelve. Interesting.
He got out of the car and walked over to the guard. "What happened?" he asked casually.
"I've been robbed! Someone snuck into the museum and took it!" He was hyperventilating, sweat trickled down the side of his face.
"What did they take?"
The man hesitated, suspicion clouded his vision. When he spoke he chose his words carefully. "They took a valuable artifact."
"Oh, and what was that?"
"Nothing. I need to go report to the police if you'll excuse me." He whipped sweat for his brow and trotted away.
The man watched him leave, smiling to himself. He knew there was nothing incredibly important on display at the museum. He did know that there was something incredibly important hidden in a safe behind the guard on the second floor.
He walked back to his car, glad to see the light had turned green. He swerved left headed for the museum. He slipped around the back of the museum and stopped when he detected movement.
"You are one minuet behind schedule." He said with a smile.
A voice sounded from the shadows, "I got lost in the Nature Section." A young girl dressed all in black emerged from her hiding spot. The man knew she was joking, though her voice showed no emotion.
He smile and held out a hand, "The jewel."
"Not so fast. Where is my three million?" She crossed her arms. He knew not to underestimate her, yet he did.
"Ah, of course." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. "Here you are. Now give me the jewel."
She handed over a small necklace alined with diamonds. She knew the necklace was of no importance to him, he only wanted the center ruby.
"Pleasure doing business with you." He said turning to leave.
"My three million." The girl repeated.
"My dear, I assure you, the money is all there."
She held up the stash and shook her head, "I only counted one million five hundred. Exactly half of three." Again she shook her head, "You shouldn't have done that."
The man stopped dead, "Done what?"
Those were his last words.

The necklace was all over the news. It was a story about how a man ended up dead by the scene of the crime and how he held a fake ruby in his hands. There was, of course, a small note in this fake jewel.

*I have stolen the necklace and killed this man against my better will. I am, in fact, sorry to say that you precious necklace is sitting at the bottom of the Mariana Trench off the coast of Japan. My reason for doing such a thing. I cannot say. Let's just say it was all in good business.*

No one knows if this letter is true or not, but the people of America are worried sick. They had underwater vehicles searching for their lost item. The item they will never find.

I was young, twenty four to be exact. That was when I had my first assignment. I had lost everything.
I was told it would be simple. Kill the girl get the money. I was told not to think of it. Not to get personal with target, I didn't even know her name. They couldn't afford mistakes, so everthing was hush-hush.
I did my job, but that was my first mistake. I came home meaner and nastier than ever. I felt nothing, not even the love for my husband and kids. Soon my husband accused me of being different form the woman he married and divorced me. He took my two girls with him and whipped me clean of money.
I was heart broken, desperate. The company took me in, they tuaght me how to fight and kill. I had become lethal. My emotions vanished into thin air. I didn't smile for years. I began to...take care of the companie's problems more and more. I did this for five years straight.

Just two days ago I was offered a job. A man, nicknamed Venom, came to me asking me to steal a necklace. I told the company and the responded with, "Kill the man; hide the ruby." I did as I was told, only this time I ran into a surprise.
On my way to hide the precious ruby at one of the safest most obvious places in the world, I meet a young man. I was walking down the streets of downtown New York City when I was ambushed by a couple of drunken alcoholics.
Three men came out of the nearby bar. I assumed they were looking for trouble and tried to take advantage of the only person they could find wandering the streets at midnight. I walked into a nearby ally and was corned instantly. I set the small bag containing the ruby on the floor and prepared to attack.
The first attacker was big and ugly. He had short brown hair covered in mud. He had a wicked yellow smile and his breath smelt of smoke and beer. He lashed out with a hand two sizes bigger than my own.
I ducked and swept his leg, causing him to fall to the floor with a crash. The second man was shorter and much faster. I jumped to my feet, only to be thrown back several inches by a forceful punch in the gut. I felt blood; hot and sticky arise in my mouth. I frowned and reacted quickly. I spun and landed a round kick to the attacker’s chest. A look of pure surprise was etched into his face as he was thrown backward.
The third man, presumably the leader, grabbed me by the neck and lifted me off my feet. I tried kicking him and biting him, but nothing worked. Black splotches appeared, blocking my vision. Suddenly, the man released his grip, allowing me to fall to the floor drinking in air like a whale. I gasped and fell to the floor; the last thing I remember was a smiling figure, silhouetted in the moonlight.

The building was labeled Mordrid Building Co., but for anyone who knew it, they knew it wasn’t just a packaging company. Hidden inside was a criminal organization known as The Company. The Mordrid Building Co. was placed around the world, filled with criminals and contract killers.
There was call to a specific Mordrid Building Co. outside of London. I was walking down a narrow alleyway compacted with the smell of trash and wet dog. An arch revealed an old building with a dusty, faded sign that kept pedestrians out. On the front door warned not to enter due to constant packaging. I walked in without a second look.
Inside was a rusty convertor belt pilling with different sized boxes. In the very back of the room was an old stair case that takes you up to the second and third floors. Next to it was an old closet overflowing with cobwebs and boxes. I walked inside and shut the door.
The darkness soon vanished due to a handprint and a touch pad filled with numbers from one to ten that light up green. I set my hand on the screen and watched as a dark green line scanned my hand. There was a small buzz, okaying the four letter code and finger print.
Light poured out of an elevator stored at the back of the room. I stepped inside as the doors slid shut. There wasn’t a sound