The Prize

by Vanessa Fewings

  Tobias stepped closer. “Leonardo da Vinci’s dying words were ‘I have offended God and mankind because my work did not reach the quality it should have.’”

  “That’s modesty.”

  “Unlike Crazy-head here.”

  “It doesn’t make any sense. The wheel in Arizona was simple. Rudimentary in design. If Eli is advancing this would have taken longer to create.”

  “This is his dad.”

  “Elliot Burell’s design?”

  Tobias shot me a wary look as he realized. “Shit.”

  A small blue light came onto my headset directly before my left eye. Then snapped off.

  The sound of clapping from behind us.

  I turned to see Elliot Burell wearing a smug look on his face. He was dressed in a tailored suit and yet it did nothing to hide the monster wearing it. He reached into his jacket and removed a handgun and pointed it at us.

  “The FBI know we’re here,” I said.

  Burell gave a sly smile. “Let’s have that chat you’ve been hankering after.”

  “Well this is cozy,” said Wilder. “Love the contraption. Very Freudian. Looks like karma to me.”

  Elliot’s gaze swept from Tobias and back to me. “Have a grudge, Wilder?”

  Tobias shrugged. “There’s just so many of us out there.”

  “Is it because I have the biggest collection of Leonardo da Vinci artwork and unique pieces ever collected?” Burell looked triumphant. “You always were jealous.”

  Tobias’s back stiffened. “That’s not it at all.”

  “I thought to myself how threatening can a nine-year-old be? After that unfortunate crash of your parents’ plane I assumed you’d be kept occupied by a lifetime of therapy.”

  “I found my own way of getting over what you did to my family.” Tobias drew in a sharp breath. “So far it’s been quite the success.”

  “Ah, yes, your entrepreneurial exploits are quite the inspiration. Love the keyboard-in-the-air thing. Though I’ll be sticking to a conservative approach. What a waste of time.”

  “You never did have any vision.”

  “That is my finest work.” He gestured to the Rube Goldberg.

  “Look,” I said. “I just want my paintings back. The ones you stole and exchanged for fakes so my dad wouldn’t notice.”

  “He knew.” Elliot Burell closed his eyes for a second and it looked like pride. “Bertram couldn’t prove it. He chose the insurance money so you wouldn’t be thrown into poverty trying to fight a case he couldn’t win.”

  I hated being this close to him and knowing the kind of pain he’d caused.

  “You can have your paintings.” He gestured to the structure. “If you can get to them.”

  There was another way. We just had to find it. This man of seventy wasn’t ever getting on that thing.

  “How did you discover this place?” Elliot asked.

  “I stuck a GPS on a fake Mona Lisa,” Tobias said flatly. “Eli was stupid enough to steal it and generous enough to lead us here.”

  “Masterful job, Wilder.”

  “Integrity is important. Well, to me, anyway.”

  Elliot was unfazed. “I think we’re probably both relieved this is over.”

  “Let Zara go.”

  “You’ve compromised my privacy.”

  “And you might want to revisit your online security. I’m willing to send the message to our accomplice to delete the files I copied off your hard drive. If you let us go.”

  “Files?”

  “I hacked into your computer and gathered all the intel detailing your illegal activities in the Middle East. Namely, breaking the Geneva Convention.”

  “I bend the rules. It’s the kind of specialty that requires a steady hand and the ability to do what must be done.”

  “You profit from war, Burell,” Tobias snapped. “Children are dying beneath the rubble of houses your planes bomb.”

  “Collateral damage.”

  “Let us go,” said Tobias.

  “And why would I do that?”

  “If you murder us the feds will know.”

  “I will bury you both so deep not even the worms will find you.” He pointed his gun at me.

  “I’m really hot.” Tobias turned to face me. “Are you?”

  I shook my head; my body was too encased in fear.

  Tobias ripped open his shirt and I stared in horror at the wire attached to his bare chest. It looked like the one Abby had stuck on me in the Plaza hotel room.

  “The FBI is listening in,” said Tobias. “Hearing every word.”

  Elliot’s jaw tightened. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “You just admitted taking down my parents’ plane in Australia. You also admitted to burning down Zara’s home after stealing her paintings, and then admitted dead children are collateral damage. I imagine the FBI’s popping the champagne as we speak. Think of all those cold cases connected to you they’ll be able to close. Probably half their workload, considering the damage you’ve left as your legacy.”

  “And you are Icon,” said Elliot. “You wouldn’t be so damn stupid.”

  “If I was I’d be proud of it.”

  I was terrified Wilder was about to confess to being Icon and alter the trajectory of our future.

  He tightened the strap of his rucksack. “Icon returned the paintings you stole. He reversed the damage.”

  Elliot waved his gun at us. “Move.”

  I backed up, terrified of what was behind us. Three more steps and we’d be on a path that would lead to a catastrophic fall.

  Elliot wielded his gun back on Wilder. “Off you go now.”

  Tobias grabbed my hand and pulled me into a hug. Elliot’s gun shot off, barely missing Tobias. He ducked and covered his left ear, where the bullet had flown by, and at the same time shielded me.

  “Now!” Tobias yelled.

  We turned and leaped onto the Rube Goldberg.

  “Hold on tight,” Tobias shouted.

  The device tipped and we dropped with it—

  If I was going to die it would be with him beside me. I was comforted by the vague thought that if anything happened to us the feds would at least find the paintings.

  But what if they didn’t...

  Hurtling downward—

  The air caught in my throat as I was flung forward and bashed my forehead against the railing when we bounced to a stop, and there came a jolt of pain in my hands and knees. Reaching out, I had a white-knuckle grip on the edge and felt a pinch to my back where Wilder had grabbed a fistful of my shirt to hold on to me.

  Squeezing my eyes shut so not to see the cavern below, sucking in a desperate breath, I said, “What’s that noise?” I refused to look.

  “Let’s pick up the pace.”

  We were on our feet and running down the bouncing frame.

  “Hook your carabiner onto the rail. We have to jump.” Wilder hooked his carabiner and I did the same. The gate closed on my silver mechanism and I gave it a tug to check that it would take my weight.

  “Now!” he yelled.

  I glimpsed a blur of movement as that enormous ball barreled toward us with blinding speed. We leaped into the air and there came a jolt through my body of being caught by my rope, and I swung beneath the rail, tethered beneath the bar—then came a rumbling overhead as that ball rolled within feet above us and continued fast down the track, setting off a chain reaction.

  Dangling midair, we swapped a glance of relief that we’d missed it.

  Following Tobias’s lead, I lowered myself to the level beneath and the frame bounced again when we found our footing. I unhooked the other end of my carabiner and grabbed another one from my belt to make ready if we needed to leap again. We hurried downward, knowing the unpredictability of another threat that could
catch up with us.

  Ducking when a wood panel swung round and nearly took our heads with it. Tobias led the way to a large chrome stand and we landed on it with a thud. It took us up and over to another level. We navigated the series of steps taking us down.

  “This way.” Tobias gestured ahead.

  When we made it to firm ground, I managed a quick glance up toward where we’d left Elliot Burell and saw he was no longer there. A shudder of cold ran down my spine.

  Against the brick wall was set a metal ladder leading up into the darkness and it reached all the way to a dizzying height of at least five hundred feet. This was how far we’d fallen.

  My body trembled; my breaths raspy as I tried to grasp what we’d faced.

  “Well done, Leighton.” He shook his head and his voice softened. “Zara.”

  I turned to face him. “Yes?”

  “You’re fucking amazing. You know that, right?”

  “I’m not leaving without them,” I said firmly.

  Up was the only way out. I went ahead and Tobias followed me onto the metal ladder. Halfway up the arduous trek my palms were raw from the tension of each bar I gripped with fading strength.

  Eventually, we made it to the same level where we’d been standing. This was the other side.

  Tobias set to work on the door. A trickle of sweat stained the back of his shirt but other than that he continued to exude the calmness I knew him for. Even after that threatening shot from Burell’s gun Tobias was self-assured. Waiting for him to decipher the combination to the large chrome door felt like a lifetime.

  He stuck a small flat square against the keypad and threw me a smile. “How are you doing?”

  “You’re wearing a wire?”

  He lowered his voice. “Coops is recording everything. Just in case.”

  “Not the feds?”

  Tobias looked amused. “No. They’d slow us down.” He nodded to the room. “The GPS is pinging from in here. This is it.”

  I wanted him to open the door right now.

  No, that was a lie, I didn’t want him to open the door, because if my paintings weren’t in there we’d risked our lives for nothing. And I loved this man with all my heart and nearly lost him—

  “Zara?” Tobias had gone on and was standing inside the open doorway and he was holding his hand out to me.

  My heart sensed them before I even turned the corner, this invisible thread tugging me ever closer to those paintings.

  Here now, seeing them again for the first time in years I comprehended their profoundness, their sheer existence validating everything Tobias had told me.

  As I pivoted around and around, my gaze found each painting, each masterpiece: the Degas, the Rembrandt, the Picasso and more, like old friends from my past. These were the paintings my family had risked their lives to save, the paintings my father had given up on to protect me. The paintings that deserved to be enjoyed by many. Over there was our fake Mona Lisa hanging on the wall and staring back with her subtle smile as though approving of us having used her to find this lost treasure.

  There were other paintings here too.

  My soul sang out when I set eyes on the others stolen from Boston’s Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, their Rembrandt, a Vermeer, a Manet and sketches by Degas.

  “There’s too many,” I realized.

  “Help me stack them.” Tobias snapped the order. “Take them off the wall and rest them against it. Line them up ready. Hurry, Zara.”

  There was the delicate Renoir that Daddy had kept in his office... She reminds me of you, little one, he’d once told me.

  “Zara!”

  I rose out of my daydreaming and tried to fathom how Tobias was going to get them out of here.

  “Coops,” Tobias spoke into his watch. “This is our location. Send in the drones.”

  From here I could see the text appear on Wilder’s watch in reply, and Tobias’s nod confirmed Coops had gotten the message.

  With all the paintings secured at one end of the room, I watched Tobias head over to another door. He turned to me. “We have about ten minutes when I cut the power.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Open the door. We’ll secure two paintings to each drone.”

  I wondered how strong the drones were for this feat and then remembered they could manage someone of Wilder’s weight or mine.

  “This is insane.” I couldn’t help but say it. “The guards will see the paintings on the security cameras.”

  “I’m cutting the power. I’ve got a security breach set for the Egyptian exhibit. That’ll keep them busy. The police will be notified of the alarm and will respond all the way at the other end. We’ll be cutting it tight. Coops is ready to receive the paintings and stack them in the back of the van.”

  “Burell didn’t call the police on us?”

  “He’s probably heading for his plane. That shit I have on him will put him away for life.”

  “Tobias.” I looked at him with awe.

  This was art and science coming together just as Leonardo da Vinci had intended, and this was us, a symbiotic relationship that would have received his blessing.

  Tobias stared at me.

  I let out a laugh of relief and joy and wished with all my heart my father could see this, see me here, now, doing what had to be done and reclaiming our legacy.

  Tobias ran at me and pulled me into a leisurely kiss and I melted in his arms as though we weren’t midway through a heist, and time dissolved as I went with this spontaneous show of love.

  The drones floated into the gallery one after the other, all fifteen of them, and Tobias and I worked fast to attach two paintings to each drone. Securing the frames to them, two arms on either side that held our precious cargo. The vision of them floating off outside in a convoy was mesmerizing. Each drone rose above the trees, making their way toward the van.

  “Zara, go. I’ll take care of the others.” Tobias pointed to the paintings from Boston’s Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum. “We can’t leave them.”

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  “Get to Coops. Help him stack the paintings.” He pulled me into a hug. “I run faster.”

  “Be careful.” I gave the room one final last glance and then grabbed our Mona Lisa off the wall and followed the drones out into the night.

  I quickly made it to Coops and helped him stack the rest of the paintings in the van. Coops sent three drones back to Wilder.

  “What happened in there with Burell?” he asked breathlessly.

  “He tried to shoot Tobias.” I raised my hand quickly. “He’s fine.”

  “Does he need me?”

  “He’s right behind me.”

  The sound of a helicopter flying overhead startled us and we watched it bank left and disappear into the clouds above the Hudson River. I’d never get used to this.

  “I’ll go back,” I said.

  “Wait.” Coops grabbed my arm. “There’s a car.”

  We slammed shut the van door and pretended to be talking, though at this hour we’d look suspicious no matter what we did. Coops’s eyes widened and I turned to see what he was looking at. A drone was making its way over the tree line with two paintings in its grasp. Coops ran to the front right wheel and pretended to be looking at it.

  The Toyota slowed to a stop and the driver’s side window lowered, revealing the friendly face of a young man.

  I peered in at the couple. “Hi.”

  “Are you okay?” the young woman asked.

  “We’re fine. Thank you.”

  Coops tapped the wheel. “Changed the flat. All good now. Thanks, guys.”

  I tried to keep my gaze on their faces and not be drawn to the vision hovering three feet above their car. It took all my willpower not to look at the striking 1880 Chez Tortoni by É
douard Manet. The portrait depicted a man wearing a top hat, and he appeared to pause for a moment from writing a letter to look up. A thin glass of beer before him.

  They drove off down the street.

  My shoulders slumped and I turned to face the van. I tried to fathom the miracle of what we’d pulled off.

  Not yet...

  Tobias ran into the opening of trees with the last drone hovering above him. Two more miracles saved, the first The Concert by Vermeer and Landscape with an Obelisk by Govert Flinck, and the visual of those floating paintings in a drone’s clutches looked surreal.

  I let out a deep breath when Tobias leaped over the wall and landed smoothly. He hurried over to us and swept me up and twirled me. “Told you it would be fun.”

  I slapped his chest playfully. “You and I have different ideas of fun.”

  Tobias broke away and gave Coops a grateful hug. He climbed onto his bicycle and with a wave he sped off.

  “I hope you pay him well.” I watched him go.

  “I do but you can’t pay for that kind of loyalty, Zara.” He winked. “Let’s get these back to the house and prep them to fly to England.”

  I reached out and grasped his forearm. “I have another idea.”

  “We’ll talk on the way.” He opened the passenger door for me and I heard him check the back was secure before he climbed into the driver’s seat.

  He navigated the van away from the curb and back toward Harlem River Drive.

  When we’d put enough distance between Cloisters and our van and I felt confident we weren’t being followed, I allowed myself to dream of seeing those paintings showcased in an art gallery where they’d be enjoyed by so many.

  Tobias reached out and squeezed my hand. “Zara?”

  Perhaps he’d guessed where my thoughts had carried me. “If I’m going to be living here I want them near me. I want their home to be The Wilder.”

  Wonder swept over Tobias’s face. “We’d be honored to host your collection. But I’d insist on having you to watch over them as my senior curator. This is what you meant, right? By being near them?” He dragged his gaze from the road to look at me.

  “Isn’t Maria Perez your senior curator?”

  “She’s retiring. So we have an opening.”

  Senior curator sounded so much like me. I’d be finally taking that leap of faith, upending my life and leaving a job I loved with the prospect of transporting myself to a country I hardly knew.