Page 99 of Sticky Fingers
Chapter Thirty-Four
Sonia
I drummy fingers against my thigh, looking across Clarendon Tower’s art gallery as everyone starts gathering here. Just like he promised me, Malcolm set up a meeting with, not just the board association, but everyone living at Clarendon Tower.
And, of course, even Detective Strong’s here.
He’s fidgeting with his phone, and the permanent scowl on his face is there as well. Judging from his frown, I doubt he believes the painting will ever be returned...but he seems hellbent on making that happen, one way or the other.
Well, game on, Detective.
Catch me…if you can.
After Malcom’s last press conference in the lobby, I’m actually surprised everyone showed up again. You’d think that people would grow tired of these things, but what do you know?
Everyone loves some drama and spectacle, especially when it involves a multimillion dollar painting and someone like Malcolm Push.
“Are you sure about this?” Kathy whispers into my ear, and I simply smile at her.
I know she’s nervous as hell, but I know this is the right thing to do. She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose with two fingers, then rubs her temples as if she could feel a headache already brewing there.
“It’ll be fine,” I reply, gently laying one hand on her right shoulder and squeezing it. “It’s time for this story to end.”
“Just promise me you won’t get caught. Don’t throw your life away, Sonia,” she asks me, and I can see the fear in her eyes. “We’ve came so far, and I don’t want everything to go up in flames.”
“Don’t worry. The last thing on my mind is being caught.” I smile once more. “And I sure as hell don’t intend to throw my life away, Kathy. This has been fun, but it’s time to put an end to this chapter in our lives.”
With one final nod, I turn on my heels and leave the art gallery. It’s almost six p.m., the time Malcolm set for the meeting, and almost everyone’s here.
It’s showtime.
Rushing to my apartment, I get rid of the dress I was wearing and change into my black leggings and tight-fitting shirt. after tying my hair into a bun, I then grab the black mask I used when I stole the Picasso and put it over my head. Taking one look at the full body mirror in my bedroom, I take one deep breath and nod at my reflection.
One last performance.
One last stunt.
It feels kind of weird, in a way. This is the first time I’m donning all black and my goal has nothing to do with stealing something. In fact, it’s just the opposite.
That’s love for you—sometimes it can make you do a full one-eighty degree turn.
Now, wearing all black and as confident as ever, I leave the apartment. Making sure no one can see me, I take the service elevator downstairs.
I look at my reflection in the elevator mirror and grin.
“This is goodbye, you little thief,” I tell my reflection with a wink.
It’s only fitting that I’m closing this chapter in my life by doing the craziest stunt ever attempted in the whole history of art theft.
It’s almost like something out of a movie.
Now on the ground floor, I carefully make my way through the maze of service corridors, all conveniently empty.
I know Strong is expectingsomethingto happen, and that he has eyes everywhere. It doesn’t really matter. Kathy made sure I knew all about it beforehand, so there’s no way I’ll be seen.
At the end of one of the corridors, I see a man in a long beige overcoat whispering something to himself as he holds one finger against his ear. One of Strong’s men then. I do a fast right turn, stepping into one of the side corridors as the man turns toward me.
Strong has peppered the whole crowd on the ground floor with undercover cops, but I know the place like the back of my hand.
