Page 100 of The Picasso Heist
“How long did Bergamo mull it over?” I ask.
“Two seconds. Three, tops,” says Skip.
“And that fifteen-hundred-dollar-an-hour attorney of his?”
“I think the guy used the phrasesuicide missionbut Bergamo didn’t care. So now we’re waiting for the paperwork, just like you thought. The attorney insisted.”
“I told you,” I say. “No one does a deal with Elise Joyce on a handshake. Always get it in writing. Although a lot of good that did us, right?”
“Again, just like you thought, sis.”
“Wow, that’s the secondsisin two minutes, brother.”
“Don’t get cocky, metalhead.”
“It was so predictable, though, right? I knew Joyce would use Dad as a hostage if we gave her the chance.”
“And now she thinks she owns me,” he says. “So, are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
“I don’t like that you’re doing this part alone.”
“It’s the only way, and you know it.”
“Yeah, but I still don’t like it.”
“I’ll be fine,” I say.
“Where’s he now?”
“Hold on, let me check.” I swipe over to the tracking software. Courtesy of Nikolov’s own cell phone, we’ve known where he is every minute from the first time I met him. The GPS is accurate to a hundred feet. “He’s either in Macy’s, Starbucks, or a Sunglass Hut.”
“Are you serious? He’s in a mall?”
“Yep. The Mall at Short Hills in Millburn.”
“That’s actually good. It’s near his home,” says Skip. “Now you just have to get him back there.”
“That’s the plan,” I say.
But it’s the way I say it, with the kind of tone that only my brother can pick up on.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he says.
“No, you don’t,” I say. “You definitely don’t.”
“You want to see the expression on his face.”
Damn. “Okay, maybe you do.”
“Don’t do it,” says Skip. “Do you hear me? Stay in the car.”
“You’re starting to break up on me,” I say, making some static noises.
“I’m serious.”
“And I’m touched. But don’t worry about my end, just take care of yours, okay? How much more time do you need?”
