Page 41 of The Picasso Heist
“No,” said Tau.
“That’s how I know,” said Sigma. “When she comes out, it will be the side entrance, and she won’t be alone.”
“What kind of a hoity-toity name is Halston anyway?” asked Tau.
“I don’t know,” said Sigma. “What kind of guy actually goes around sayinghoity-toity?”
“You’re just pissed because you choked that putt on the eighteenth yesterday.”
“I didn’t choke. I just misread the break.”
“Either way, you still owe me a hundred.”
“Put it on the Underhill tab.”
“Funny,” said Tau, back to the binoculars again.
Sigma was done reading about the possible Knicks trade. He was done with this whole damn assignment. There was something about it he didn’t like, something that didn’t sit right, although he couldn’t put his finger on what. Just a gut feeling.
For sure he didn’t like baking in the hot sun on the rooftop across from the Echelon building. He hated stakeouts. The waiting. And waiting… and waiting…
Working with his longtime partner made it bearable, but he’d much rather be losing to him on the golf course than doing this.
Sigma cleared his throat and spoke, his voice dropping an octave so he sounded like a late-night-TV infomercial host. “Are you lookingfor excitement? Do you crave a life on the cutting edge? If so, look no further than the FBI. All the glitz, all the glamour, and all while carrying a Glock. That’s right, the FBI: Fun Beyond Imagination. Sign up today!”
Tau always laughed no matter how many times he heard Sigma do his FBI-promotional-brochure routine. That’s what partners did. The expected. The great partners, at least. The ones who always had each other’s backs.
But Tau didn’t laugh this time because he was still looking through his binoculars, and at that very moment, he saw her. He was sure of it. She was coming out the side entrance and she wasn’t alone.
“Hey, it’s her. It’s definitely her,” he said, tapping Sigma on the shoulder. “Get ready to shoot.”
CHAPTER36
AGENT SIGMA WASN’Tsure how he ended up being the designated photographer, although of the “Two Greeks,” as everyone in the New York field office called them—though neither one was actually Greek—Sigma was viewed as the more tech-savvy. He knew it wasn’t necessarily true, but his partner, Tau, still used a flip phone, so there was no convincing anyone otherwise.
Whatever.
Sigma picked up the Sony Cyber-Shot RX10 resting on the camera case by his feet and raised it to his right eye. “Yeah. That’s her, all right,” he said. “Hellooooo, Halston.”Click, click, click.
Tau spoke the names of the people with Halston as if taking attendance, his eyes going back and forth from the binoculars to the cheat sheet of headshots arranged on the inside of a manila folder like a family tree. “The Frenchman, Dejarnette,” he said. “Walking next to her.”
“Got him,” said Sigma.Click, click, click.
“Waxman, behind them. The CEO.”
“Yep.”Click, click, click.“Man, that’s some slick-looking hair.”
“What’s he got on there, shoe polish?” asked Tau.
“More like Valvoline.”
Tau jerked his head, shifted the binoculars. “Next to Waxman. You see him, right? Bergamo?”
“Hard to miss.”Click, click, click.“Jesus, buddy, don’t trip.”
Sigma zoomed in tighter on the padded case Bergamo was gripping with both hands and snapped a few more shots. He barely had to move his long-range lens to include Echelon’s security guard, who was practically joined at the hip with Bergamo.
“Anyone missing?” asked Tau.
