Page 40 of The Picasso Heist
“Pierre told me he introduced you to Mr. Bergamo at the auction.”
“That’s right, yes. I asked him to.”
“Pierre told me that as well. Then he mentioned that Mr. Bergamo seemingly took quite a shine to you.”
Do people really still use that expression?I stare at him blankly. “A shine?”
“Mr. Bergamo is under the impression that you are being deprived of your growth potential here. I believe it has something to do with the new security measure that you’re not privy to.”
“I wouldn’t expect to be privy to it at my level,” I say, trying to get ahead of the story.
“Well, good, because we’re not letting clients dictate how we handle things in-house.”
“Of course not. And it’s not as if—”
“Not as if you discussed any of this with Mr. Bergamo? Yes, I understand that. But nonetheless, he is still a valued client, so in the interest of appearances, I’d like you to be present as we escort the painting into his possession after the party here.”
“That’s really not necessary.”
“No, it isn’t,” he says. “But it’s going to happen, and Mr. Fashion Designer is going to see that it’s happening because, again, he seems a bit taken with you.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. Not sorry.
“May I give you a piece of advice, Halston? There are no shortcuts here at Echelon, and we trade only on our talent and professionalism. Anything other than that is, in a word, unprofessional. Is that understood?”
I nod at Terrance Willinghoff, resisting the overwhelming temptation bubbling up inside me to rip that smug, self-satisfied smile off his face and kick him in the balls.
But that’s the beauty of guys like him. They go through lifethinking that women get ahead in the workplace only by sleeping their way to the top. Terrance Willinghoff is a fool, a simp, a misogynist.
But he’s also the one thing I need him to be today.
A mark.
CHAPTER35
“IS THAT HER?”asked Agent Tau, scanning the area with his Steiner M80 binoculars. “Main entrance, two o’clock?”
He started to hand over the binoculars but got waved off by his partner, Agent Sigma. He remained staring at his phone, reading aBleacher Reportpost about a possible trade between the Knicks and the Chicago Bulls. “Seriously,” said Sigma without looking up from his phone, “are you going to ask about every brunette in her twenties?”
Agent Tau peered through the binoculars again, slightly adjusting the diopter. “It sure looks like her.”
“That’s a horrible trade,” said Sigma, thumb-scrolling. “The Knicks should just trade their owner.”
“Or maybe I could trade my partner,” Tau muttered under his breath.
“I heard that,” said Sigma, eyes still down.
“Oh, now you’re listening.” Tau lowered the binoculars. “I said, it sure looks like her.”
“It’s not.” Sigma hadn’t even bothered to look over the ledge of the roof.
“How do you know?”
“Is she alone?” asked Sigma.
“Yeah.”
“Is it the side entrance?”
