Page 120 of The Prize
Within ten minutes I’d dressed in a black tracksuit and a T-shirt and pulled on well-fitting sports shoes. Then I headed off to the kitchen. I took several bites out of a cheese and tomato sandwich that I found in the fridge, while brewing a pot of coffee. I carried our two mugs into Tobias’s workshop.
He was in the room with the satellite tracking on and had brought up the map of New York. He turned and gave me a big grin as he accepted his mug. “Thank you.”
“Careful, it’s hot. Do you need a painkiller?”
“Already on it.” He stretched and tried to hide the pain.
I could see he’d been beaten up, and was glad I’d caught him in time from leaving on his own. Was that relief I was seeing in his expression? Pride, maybe? Either way he seemed to have come round to me working with him.
I dare to believe I’m doing my bit to balance out the evil in the world.
These words felt like a sacred mantra that he’d once spoken to me and I was proud to be part of this.
“Okay, this is where we’re going.” He turned a dial and zoomed in to Manhattan, and the image closed in on an old building. The large rotunda was like the one belonging to the Burells’ home in Amboise, France. The same one Wilder had broken into when he’d seen my paintings. He’d come out of there with more than just a Titian. He’d left with the truth of what they were hiding within their dark chamber. He’d left Amboise with more than hope, Tobias had left with a link that would lead him all the way to me.
He pointed to the screen. “The signal for our GPS on ourMona Lisais coming from here.”
“Where is it?”
“Right under our noses. Cloisters, it overlooks the Hudson River. Don’t be fooled by the ancient architecture, this place will be challenging to infiltrate.”
“Dear God, let the paintings be with ourMona Lisa. Let this be worth it.”
“You still have an out, Zara.” He turned to face me. “I’ve got this.”
“Tell me what we’re up against?”
“I’ve researched the security. Though we need to get in there to see what we’re looking at. Elliot Burell’s place in Arizona was fucked up, so something tells me this will be too. When I hacked into the company email there was an interesting revelation.”
“Oh?”
“When you don’t want an email to be traced, you write it and leave it in Drafts. It never leaves the email. It looks like a member of the Burell family gave a contractor his password for this email address so he could access the messages. It was an order of a large shipment of steel. I’m trying to imagine why he’d need so much steel going into Cloisters.”
“A steel door?”
“And a lot left over.” He turned to the screen. “This is going to be my most challenging job yet.”
I rested my hands on my hips. “Do we have all the equipment we’ll need?”
“The best money can buy. We must be prepared for anything. The Burells are merciless.”
“How long will it take?”
“An hour, maybe. Zara, it could be a trap for Icon.” He set his mug down. “I want you to promise me that if we get in there—”
“If either of us are in danger we leave.”
“That’s the plan.”
“This is a good day. I’m getting my paintings back and you get to expose this family for what they are.”
He drew in a deep sigh. “I want to whisk you away afterward to a private beach on a deserted island. We’ll kick off the celebrations for our new life together.”
I wrapped my arms around his chest. “Hold that thought.”
That flinch reminded me of his bruises.
He tapped my back for me to step away and pointed to the screen. “I’m going to show you what we have ahead of us.”
