by Gigi Pandian
“Such an active imagination you have. I’m simply an art dealer with humble beginnings.”
I stared at him, from his perfect hair down to his fashionable wingtips. “You really are, aren’t you?”
“Why yes.” He flashed me a charming smile. “I knew you were a smart one. Not smart enough to stay clear of Lane, though.”
“I’d like some time to myself.”
North frowned. “Look, I really am sorry—”
“Please.”
With a silent nod, North respected my wishes and left. In some ways, that was worse. Confused about what to think of both Lane and North, I didn’t know where to direct my anger. I had no idea who I could trust.
I didn’t have much time alone with my own thoughts. By the time I’d sucked down a second cup of coffee, Lane burst through the door, followed by North, Marius, and Dante.
“I’m telling you,” Lane was saying, “he’s not answering any of his numbers. We have to call this off.”
“Not an option,” North said.
“What’s going on?” I demanded.
“I was afraid something like this would happen,” North said. “Lane has been out of the game for long enough that his contacts aren’t the most up-to-date. One of them has decided not to participate.”
“So you’re postponing things?” I asked, wondering if I was relieved or scared. How long would I have to stay a prisoner in Paris?
“No,” North said. “Everything goes on as planned. All this means is that we go with a back-up plan.”
“I don’t have a back-up plan,” Lane said. “You didn’t leave me enough time—”
“Who said you were the one with the back-up?”
“If you didn’t need me in the first place—”
“Oh, we needed you,” North said. “You’re the one who came up with the plan, and you’re the one who’s going to pull it off. It’s your people who are replaceable.”
“It’s Sig,” Lane said tentatively, “who’s fallen off the grid.”
“The generalist.” North drummed his fingers together. “Jaya, it’s your lucky day.”
A heavy feeling told me it was quite the opposite.
“What are you saying?” Lane asked.
“All Sig had to do was deliver the box. It’s essential, but by far the least skilled job. It requires no special training. It only needs someone who functions well under stress. After learning about her exploits in Scotland and India, I’d say we have our third man to help you: Jaya.”
Lane stared at him. Were his neck muscles bulging? “Are you crazy? Absolutely not.”
“She wanted to help from the start,” North pointed out.
“I’m right here,” I said.
North grinned. “What do you say, Jaya?”
My thudding heart gave way to a serene calmness. “I’m your back-up plan,” I repeated softly.
“Yes,” North said at the same time Lane said, “No.”
“This means you need me to pull this off,” I stated.
“Why can’t it be Marius?” Lane asked.
North shook his head. “No. It can’t be Marius or Dante. Jaya will come through.”
“I will,” I said. “But only after you give me half an hour alone with Lane—at a location with nobody listening.”
“I hardly think—”
“If I’m wrong that you need me...” I let my voice trail off.
North’s nostrils flared. “Very well. A few minutes can’t hurt. You’ve got ten. You know what I’ll do to you both if you don’t come through for me.”
The air froze my cheeks as we walked along the Eiffel Tower promenade. It was too cold to stay still. The sky remained clear, but the wind reminded me it was winter. I pulled my hat down over my ears and tugged my coat more tightly around me.
Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Marius and Dante fifty yards behind us.
“Sorry this had to be outside,” Lane said, wrapping his own jacket more closely around him. “But it’s the best way to be sure they can’t hear us. Are you all right? What’s so urgent we needed to talk before we’re free of North forever in a few hours?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.
His eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “Tell you what?”
“That you’ve done this before—stolen from the Louvre before?
Lane stopped short. “That’s what this is about?”
“Stealing priceless art from a cultural institution isn’t what I thought—” I couldn’t continue. I looked down at the ground, feeling foolish for convincing myself Lane was what I wanted him to be.
Lane groaned. “I knew my youthful cockiness would come back to bite me.”
My attention snapped back to his face. “So you admit it?”
“No, that’s not what I mean. I was good at what I did, and it’s true I did some stupid, stupid things when I was young. But I never stole anything of cultural significance. Not on purpose, at least. Jewelry primarily, and sometimes art, but from private collections. You know all that. But several years ago...”
“What?”
“There was a theft from the Louvre that was attributed to me.” He watched my expression carefully as he spoke.
I squinted at him in the cold, bright sunlight, the silhouette of the Eiffel Tower behind him.
“I never,” he continued, “set the record straight. At the time, it was good for my reputation to let people think I’d pulled off something like that. By the time I thought better of it, it was too late.”
“Wait. That means North has confidence in your ability to steal from the Louvre that’s based on a lie.”
“I can do this, Jones.” His breath was visible in the cold air between us. “I didn’t want you to be involved, but the role you have to play isn’t big. Technically, you’re not even doing anything illegal.”
“Besides conspiring,” I pointed out.
“Well, there’s that. But it doesn’t matter. I’ll give you a disguise so you won’t look like you, and there won’t be any way for any of this to be traced to you. I’ll make sure of that. Only—”
“Only what?”
“Nothing.”
“You can’t start saying something like that and then—”
“I was wondering,” Lane said, “whether North planned all along for you to be involved. Then he’ll have a hold over you, like he does with me. But it’s a stupid thought. That’s not his style.”
“After what happened to Hugo, how can we trust North? Are you sure we should go through with this at all?”
“We don’t have any good choices.” Lane shook his head. “I’ve learned to trust my instincts. North sticks to his word. It’s not a matter of trust. If he didn’t, his reputation would be destroyed. He’d be ruined. If North killed him, Hugo must have given him no choice.”
“How can you say that?”
“I’m not excusing what North might have done. I’m saying why our situation is different. Hugo had more of a conflicted conscience than anyone I’ve ever worked with. If he decided to take North down—”
“Then any gentleman’s agreement would go out the window.”
“I think Hugo was trying to do exactly that. He was trying to tell me something at the museum. You picked up on it, too. That’s why you went to see him, wasn’t it?”
I nodded, my face numb from the cold.
“I couldn’t ask you about it while North was there, but that was dumb, Jaya.”
“I’m the only reason we found the blood—” The words caught in my throat.
“It doesn’t change what we do today. Today, we get out of the Louvre without handcuffs, and free from the threat of North destroying our lives. Once we’ve lived up to our end of the bargain, then we can se
e if we can find out the truth about what happened to Hugo. All right?”
My attention shifted to two approaching figures. Marius and Dante strode toward us, their coats billowing in the wind. “They’re coming for us, Lane.”
CHAPTER 16
Two hours until show time.
My part in the plan was easy. That didn’t stop my whole body from tingling as Lane applied my disguise, or my foot from tapping nervously as I watched Lane speaking on his cell phone to his—our—conspirators.
I was to deliver a folded cardboard box to a man carrying a painting. The box would be tucked inside a shopping bag with other purchases, so as not to arouse suspicion. It was the timing that was important. I had to wait until he walked by an appointed spot, then drop the bag where he could pick it up. It was easy—in theory.
If things went right, there was no need for me to be in disguise. It was only a precaution, Lane said. Why not be careful?
While Lane transformed my appearance with a skillful hand, the impact of what I was doing caught up with me. I was supposed to be saving history, not destroying it. Stealing from the Louvre was the exact opposite of what I’d dedicated my life to do. Lane had promised the painting would be returned, but still refused to reveal the details of the plan beyond what I needed to know to play my part. There was no time left to argue. I trusted him. That had to be enough. It had to be.
I expected to get a wig, and perhaps a pillow wrapped around my waist. But the ways in which Lane altered my looks were much more subtle. My disguise was more of a non-disguise. My hair that usually fell at my shoulders was pulled into a bun, and a white scarf wrapped around my hairline. Tooth caps shifted the shape of my mouth and affected my speech. Lane put three pairs of glasses on my face before settling on pink cat-eye frames. He sat back and nodded as he appraised me.
“That’s it?” I asked.
“The simple route is almost always the best one,” Lane said as he handed me the final touch: bright pink lipstick.
“Lipstick? You think this garish shade of pink will make a difference?”
“Trust me.”
I applied the lipstick, then walked over to a mirror. My pink lips parted in surprise. Though not much had been done, I was a different person.
Lane came up behind me and held up a fluffy white cashmere sweater and pink jeans. “Put these on, and your transformation will be complete. You’ll be the anti-Jaya.”
That almost got a smile out of me. I only wear subtle, dark colors. After growing up with my hippie father who believed tie-dye was meant for every possible fabric from clothing to curtains to bedspreads, I’d had a lifetime’s worth of bright clothing by the time I left home at sixteen.
My gaze stayed fixed on the mirror, looking between the stranger in front of me whose reflection mirrored my own, and the strange man behind me who looked nothing like the real Lane Peters.
Like my own transformation, Lane’s had been subtle, yet he was a completely different person. His dark blond wavy hair was now slicked back, a subtle reddish tint showing under the lights. Blue contact lenses covered his hazel eyes, replacing his glasses. Freckles dotted his nose and cheeks. A fitted set of teeth, covering his own, changed both the shape of his mouth and did more to lessen the impact of his angular cheek bones than I would have thought possible.
“Where’s everyone else?” I asked, turning around from the mirror and taking the white and pink clothes from Lane. “Don’t we have to go soon?”
“Everyone is arriving separately.”
“You and I aren’t going together?”
Lane shook his head. “Just remember, in a little over an hour, this will be over.”
When I was done changing into the cute, fluffy clothing, Lane was gone, North there in his place, holding two coats and a shopping bag from the department store Le Bon Marché.
“Very nice,” he said, looking me up and down. “Lane would have been superb in Hollywood.” He shook his head. “If only he’d had different mentors.”
“Why aren’t you ready?” I asked.
“Whatever are you talking about?” He held up the coats and bag in his hands. “The pink coat is yours, as you may have gathered.”
“But you look like yourself.”
He blinked at me. “I’m merely a respectable art dealer visiting the Louvre. I have no part to play in whatever madness is about to take place at the museum.”
I grumbled and grabbed the pink coat.
Riding the elevator down into the lobby of the Louvre, I felt like I was descending into the belly of the beast. Throngs of tourists swarmed over every inch of the lobby. My chest tightened. This was a very bad idea. What was I thinking, going along with this?
“Thirty minutes,” North said, shrugging out of his coat. “You have time to join me for coffee.”
“I don’t want any.”
“Don’t you want to see what’s going on?” He held up his phone. On the screen was a video. The camera bounced around from person to person, going in and out of focus. I caught a glimpse of one of the sculptures I’d seen on my earlier tour of the museum. This was a video feed from inside the museum.
“Lane,” I whispered, watching the jerky movements of the video feed. It wasn’t the type of view I’d expect from a hand-held camera. From the height of the camera, I wondered if it was a cell phone sticking out of Lane’s shirt pocket.
“A lapel pin camera,” North said. “Now, let me get you that coffee.”
The museum had several cafés. North selected the most central location, the Pyramid Cafeteria on the first floor, overlooking the lobby on the ground floor. Only a handful of tables were placed in the outer areas of the cafeteria, which gave a better view of the crowds. The self-service tables were full when we arrived. North strode confidently up to a family at one of the tables. Not just any table, but the one at the end that both had the best view and the most privacy as it was only next to one other table.
The family sitting at the table consisted of a frazzled man, a gaunt woman who sat with perfect posture, and two sullen children, one of whom was pleading with his father. I couldn’t tell what he was saying, because it was in German, but I had the distinct impression that the museum was not a hit.
With a wide smile, North shook the man’s hand, and a few moments later they were all laughing together. North handed something to the dad in the family and they happily stood up and left. North motioned me over to the table.
“What did you say to them?”
“I happened to have extra all-expenses pre-paid passes to Disneyland Paris that I couldn’t use because my kids came down with the flu. They looked like such a nice family.”
“What would you have done if the table you wanted didn’t have a family?”
“I also have box seats to an opera matinee, and also—”
“I get the picture.”
“I’m always prepared.”
Dante brought us coffees and pastries, then departed. North propped the phone up on the table. Based on our vantage point, the two of us could see the screen, but nobody else could. I looked up and saw another reason he liked this particular table. It wasn’t close to any surveillance cameras.
My heart beat faster. Even though I’d barely slept, I didn’t think I could stomach any coffee. The next thing I saw on the video screen nearly made me knock over the tray of coffee on the table.
The hands of the person with the lapel camera came into view. It wasn’t Lane. “Who are we watching?”
“Oh, I see,” North said with a flash of annoyance.
“I don’t see.”
“Look at the cuffs of the jacket. Really, I thought you had an eye for detail.”
“It’s a museum uniform,” I said. The thief—whoever he was—was pretending to be a guard or a docent. Or maybe he really was one?
Could he have been bribed? It must be one of the men who were part of the plan. But where was Lane?
“I don’t understand what I’m seeing,” I said, my heart pounding in my throat.
“My goodness.” North’s eyes sparkled.
“What?”
“You think it’s exciting.” North’s annoyance from the moment before was replaced with a wide grin. His nose scrunched with amusement.
“That’s not how I would describe what I’m feeling.”
“I can see your pupils expanding, and how quickly you’re breathing. That’s adrenaline. Excitement. I knew you’d be perfect.”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re kind of creepy?”
“Only in a charming way.” North tapped the edge of the phone screen showing a clock. “It’s time.” He handed me the Bon Marché bag with the flattened cardboard box tucked in between two winter sweaters.
With sweating hands, I picked up the bag and stepped into the crowd.
CHAPTER 17
I followed the instructions perfectly. I didn’t dare lose my concentration.
As I made my way through the dense crowds, I was overcome by the most unexpected feeling. My hand that gripped the shopping bag stopped sweating. The claustrophobia I felt while sitting with North was replaced by a powerful sense of control. The multilingual chatter died away as I focused single-mindedly on my goal.
As I walked through the Sully wing to the room where the heist would go down, I watched my surroundings through the pink glasses, feeling as if the clear glass had given me x-ray vision. The paintings on the walls were more vibrant than I remembered, and the sculptures more formidable. Though I was shorter than most of the people surrounding me, I felt taller today. More powerful. My shoulders squared, I strode into the room where I’d be taking action in five minutes.
Several docents and guards milled around with the museum guests. I had no way of knowing which one was part of the plan, until he acted.