Page 3 of Factory Thief

I consider his proposal. Supermax prisons are not exactly places you can just waltz into. It’s damn near an impossible mission, and I sure ain’t Tom Cruise.

“And if I say no?”

Andrew’s lips become a thin, tight line. His silence scares me more than any threat he could have made. Maybe I’m being over dramatic, but I’ve never heard of anyone refusing to pay theirFavorand getting away with it. They’ve lost their fortune or their reputation…My most precious possession is my life. What does the tinge of regret in his eye means? That he would be the one to carry out my death?

“Fine. I’ll do it.”

Andrew smiles, relief flooding his face. “Thank goodness. Turn around, I’ll get those cuffs off. Welcome back to the fold.”

“Piss off!”

Andrew laughed. “That’s as good a way to start as any.”

VICTORIA

An odd sense of relief descends over me after I accept the Factory assignment. Though they want me to do something almost impossible, at least the hammer has finally fallen. I no longer have to look over my shoulder constantly—not for them, at least.

After I see my fence and drop off the Rembrandt, I make the long drive back to my home in Greenwich. One of the reasons I took the painting job was because I didn’t even have to travel out of state to do it. I have a nice, modestly sized house right on Long Island Sound. When I walk in the front door, the first thing I think is how nice that tapestry would have looked hanging in my living room.

Oh well, I’ve got enough money to buy myself a very nice one. And, now that I think of it, Wilson’s was probably stolen. The last thing I need is stolen property in my house.

Acquiring a map of Sandpiper Cove State Prison is my first order of business. Thing is, I don’t have the type of contacts who can provide me with the schematics of a prison. I’m a burglar, not an idiot.

I put out some feelers and wait. While I wait for a return on my investment, I utilize the internet to do as much recon as I can. Google Earth shows a great view of the facility from above. The iconic white X shaped building is the solitary confinement, where Mr. Granny slayer is incarcerated.

Further surfing leads me to a bleeding-heart news special where they talk about inhumane conditions at Sandpiper Cove. It turns out to be a great source of information. I take notes in a pad as I watch, adding sketches of the facility’s interior and creating a miniature map on a piece of graph paper.

The news footage displays how the cell doors work, and it’s quite dismaying. A guard in the station tower—who has full view of every hallway in his purview—uses a control console to open cell doors. It’s all done electronically, no keys, no locks to pick. Just mechanical precision.

I wouldn’t be a good thief if I couldn’t deal with electronic locks, but it requires specialized equipment hard to smuggle in.

By the time my contact comes through with the prison schematics—and a guard handbook, very nice—I’ve already got a pretty good idea of the layout. It’s not going to be easy, but I see a way in and a way out.

I print out the schematics and spread them out on my kitchen table. A saltshaker becomes a guard tower, a pencil the tree line. I add bits and pieces as I go, building my model. A pink eraser shaped like a cat represents Smiling Jack. I slide a black rhinestone around the map, which represents myself.

“Nice place you’ve got here.”

I dive beneath the table and grab the .38 I have hidden in a custom notch beneath. I squirm on my belly to the other side and rear up, exposing only enough of myself to take aim and shoot.

“Relax, Tori. I’m friend, not foe.” Andrew stands in my kitchen.

How in the hell did he get in without me hearing? I remind myself he taught me how to Roach.

“Though if you are going to shoot me, I commend you on your choice of weaponry. The good old Saturday Night Special won’t let you down. Got a hair trigger, though, so if you aren’t going to shoot me, maybe you could…?”

He gestures vaguely in the air. I sigh and set the gun down.

“Now, isn’t this better?” He seats himself in the chair opposite my own and goes over my plans. “Just two old friends having a chat, no guns needed.”

“We’re not friends.”

Andrew frowns. “That’s hurtful. I was thinking of us as equals…” He sighs. “You’re all grown up; I can’t see myself as your mentor anymore.”

He waits a second and looks at me. Watching my closed expression, I’m sure he understands he won’t get anything out of me acknowledging the special bond we use to have.

“Well, anyway, show me what you’ve got so far.”

I heave a sigh. “Andrew, my specialty is not jailbreaks, it’s robbery.”

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