Page 101 of Sticky Fingers
Not this time.
Hidden by the smoke, I dash across the gallery unseen.
I know that the fire detector in the gallery has been wired not to react to smoke immediately, since the sprinklers might damage the paintings. But that’s not a problem—even though the smoke grenades haven’t set off the fire detector, they provide the perfect cover for what I have to do next.
See, on the wall opposite the one where I was standing, there’s a red panel labeled Fire Alarm - Use Only in Case of Emergency.
Without thinking twice about it, I open the panel and pull the red lever.
A split second later, the loud blare of an alarm fills the whole room, and I hear as the sprinklers on the ceiling come alive.
“The paintings!”
“Is there a fire?”
“OH GOD!”
“Run!”
Everyone’s panicking now, the anxiety in the room almost palpable.
When the first drop of water hits my face, I can’t help but smile.
It’s time the Picasso returns home.
