Chapter 45

After dropping Stone off at the Centurion lot, Teddy drove to the Duchamp Gallery and used his well-honed skills to break in and disable the alarm.

Thanks to the audio bug in Simon's suite, he'd learned that something was happening at the gallery at two. The obvious assumption being that it would be the time Petry picked up the forgeries.

Teddy spent ten minutes installing microcameras in the gallery's back room, Simon's office, and the showroom. Then, on his way back to the Audi, he placed four more cameras around the parking lot.

Once he'd checked that all the feeds were working, he drove to his house and transformed into Billy Barnett.

Thirty minutes later, he was on the Centurion lot, where he spent the rest of the morning huddled with his assistant, Stacy, going over preparations for tomorrow night's party.

"…and in May of next year, we have three planned releases: Face to Face, directed by Lawrence Johns; Smiling Eyes, directed by Liesel Zhao; and Codes of My Father, directed by Zonnie Turman. There's a chance that—"

The conference room door opened, cutting off Centurion Pictures' VP of production.

Billy stepped in. "Sorry to interrupt. Ben, could I have a moment?"

Ben Bacchetti nodded and said to the room, "We'll take a quick break."

After he and Billy left the room, Dino leaned into Stone. "Twenty bucks says it's about us."

"No bet."

Less than a minute later, Ben and Billy returned.

"There's something that needs my attention," Ben said. "Nothing serious, but it'll take more than a few minutes. If there are no objections, let's reconvene in one hour."

There were no objections.

Billy caught Stone's attention and looked to the door. Stone and Dino followed Billy out and into an office one floor down, where three chairs faced an open laptop.

Once the door was locked and they were all seated, Billy tapped a few keys on the laptop. A grid appeared on the screen showing a dozen different camera feeds.

"I thought you might be interested in watching the handoff of the forgeries."

"You thought right," Stone said.

Billy clicked on a feed covering the back room of Simon's gallery, and the picture increased to a quarter of the screen, while the others shrank to fill the remaining space.

In the center of the room was the box Rudy had made for the forgeries. Simon was pacing a groove in the floor beyond it.

"Looks like it's time." Billy exchanged the enlarged interior feed with one from the parking lot.

A small cube truck had just pulled into the lot. It performed a three-point turn and backed toward the gallery's rear door. When it stopped, two men got out.

"That's not Petry," Stone said.

"Not his lawyer, either," Dino said.

Billy increased the magnification. "Those are the two who delivered the original yesterday."

"I thought they worked for Simon," Stone said.

The scrawnier of the two reached the gallery's door first and pounded on it.

Billy switched back to the interior view in time to see Simon briefly close his eyes before walking to the exit.

Dino grunted. "I can't tell if he's happy they're there or wishes they hadn't come."

As soon as the door opened, the scrawny one stepped inside. "Hello, asshole."

Simon did not respond.

The guy jutted his chin at the box. "That it?"

"Yes. Just take it and get out of here."

"You're acting like you want to get rid of us. That ain't very nice."

"I don't need to be nice."

The guy laughed. "You don't even know how to be nice. Maybe if you did, your brother and I wouldn't have left you."

"Sticks," the man who presumably was Simon's brother said. "Let's get it and go."

Sticks held Simon's gaze for a few more seconds, then chuckled. "Sure. No sense staying someplace we ain't wanted."

Simon's glare turned ice cold as it fell on his brother, but neither said a word.

Sticks circled the box, rapping on the wood several times. "Nice and dry. This will work perfect."

The microphone barely picked up the brother as he whispered, "We should make sure they're inside."

Sticks shot a look at Simon. "Good point. Maybe big bro is pulling a fast one."

"Go ahead," Simon said. "Check."

"We need a crowbar or hammer," the brother said.

Simon didn't move.

Sticks pointed at Simon. "Hey, jerkwad! You heard him."

Simon frowned, then jutted his chin at the worktable. "Toolbox is over there."

The brother retrieved a hammer and opened one end of the box.

Sticks looked inside, then pulled one of the canvases out a few inches, scoffed at it, and pushed it back in. "The things people call art. Garbage, if you ask me."

He motioned for his partner to put the cover back on.

A few feet away, Simon visibly relaxed, though the other two didn't seem to notice.

"Give me that," Sticks said.

Simon's brother, who had just finished closing the box, handed him the hammer.

Sticks examined it, then cocked his arm back like he was going to throw the hammer at Simon. Simon brought his arms up to protect his head and ducked.

Sticks laughed, the hammer still in his hand. "You should see your face." He tossed the hammer at the worktable, and it landed with a loud bang. "Let's roll."

The second the men were gone and the door closed, Simon sagged against the wall.

"Wait." Stone turned to Billy. "Does the truck have a tracker?"

"Don't need one."

"You have someone following it?" Dino asked.

"Don't need that, either."

Billy brought up a map on the computer, upon which a red dot was moving away from the gallery location.

"While Rudy was showing you where he'd hid your mother's originals, I planted a tracker in the box. Unless they rip the thing apart, they'll never find it."

"If it sounded like I doubted you, I apologize," Stone said. "And I will never do so again."