Page 67 of The Picasso Heist
Shen chuckles. “Is that what you really think? That what you’re doing here will be only about money to them?”
The distance between Shen and their guns shortens. He’s pissed both of them off. “Are you threatening us?”
“No,” says Shen. “I’m trying to do you a favor.”
“Is that so?”
“You don’t have to do this. The two of you can turn around and go back to wherever it is you came from, no questions asked.”
“That’s your idea of a favor?”
“No,” says Shen. “Letting you live is the favor.”
“You have a strange idea of leverage, old man.”
“It’s not leverage,” says Shen. “Do you really think this is the first time I’ve had a gun pointed at me?”
“Keep it up. Might just be your last.”
I take a step forward, palms raised. “Let’s all calm down a bit, shall we?”
“No one’s talking to you, bitch. In fact, no more talking at all.” He takes another step forward, point-blank range. “All of you, get down on your knees.”
In the movies when people get told that, things don’t usually end well.
“It’s yours, all yours,” says Bergamo, realizing the stakes have suddenly changed. “Just take them. Take everything. There’s no need to—”
“Shut the fuck up.” The first man cocks the gun’s hammer. “I’m only going to say this one more time.Down on your knees.”
I look at Bergamo, pleading with my eyes:Just do what he says.
Shen drops to one knee, then two. I follow suit. Finally Bergamo does the same. We say nothing more as the second guy comes forward and closes the case holding the Picasso. He carries it to the edge of the water and comes back for the two vases in the trunks. After climbing down to Shen’s boat, he speaks for the first time.
“Keys are on board,” he says to the other man.
“In that case, we’re good to go,” says his partner. His arm is slowly bobbing through the air left to right, stopping and starting. He aims at each of us in turn, like eeny, meeny, miny, moe.
“You’ll never get away with it,” says Shen softly.
“I’m sorry. What was that?”
“Shen, please,” I say. “Don’t.”
I know Shen hears me, but he’s not listening. He clears his throat. “I said, you’ll never get away with it.”
The gun’s no longer moving. The arm is straight, locked, aimed at Shen’s chest.
“Maybe we will. Maybe we won’t. But here’s what I know for damn sure, old man. You won’t be around to find out.”
The echo of the shot drowns out my scream as Shen falls forward and hits the ground with a horrific thud.
“Jesus!” Bergamo cries.
“What was that? You’ve got something to say too?”
Bergamo stares at the barrel of the gun now pointed at him. His whole body is shaking. “No,” he says. “Please. No.”
“Yeah. I didn’t think so.” He nods at his partner, who’s been watching from the top of the ladder. The boat’s loaded up. Time to go. He walks past us, stepping over Shen’s lifeless body, and stops next to the now-empty pallet. “I’m going to count to ten,” he says. “If I can still see you, I’ll shoot you.”
