He tried pulling a corner at a time, then pushing. When he leaned into the bottom corner, the panel shifted slightly. Applying more pressure, the bottom leaned in, and the top of the panel tipped outward, toward him.
Maurice shined his light into the space created. Then he reached down and dragged out what appeared to be a leatherbound map case with a strap. Without turning, he held it in the air.
Steps sounded on the spiral staircase.
“He found it,” Amelie called out, her gaze on Maurice and the map case. She couldn’t wait to see the Monet, a painting that had been lost for decades.
Maurice slid the strap over his shoulder and turned slowly on the beam. When he glanced up briefly, his eyes widened. “Amelie!”
Amelie spun on the narrow step. Four steps below her, two men wearing black face masks and baseball caps appeared around the curve of the spiral staircase. The one in the lead held a pistol in his hand. “Don’t move,” he said, “or I’ll shoot you, then I’ll shoot him.”
Amelie raised her hands. She couldn’t step to the side to place herself between the gunman and Maurice.
The man with the gun waved it toward Maurice. “Toss the case to your girlfriend. Make it good. If she misses or drops it, I’ll shoot you, then I’ll shoot her.”
Maurice slipped the strap off his shoulder. “If the case falls, it could shatter and destroy what’s inside.”
“Then you better hope she catches it.” He jerked the gun. “Do it. I don’t have all day.”
“I don’t know,” she said, making her voice shake. That part wasn’t hard as her entire body was shaking. “I don’t think I can catch it. What if it knocks me over? It’ll fall all the way to the bottom. We can’t let that happen.”
“Then catch it,” the gunman gritted out.
“You need someone with bigger hands,” she said. “Do you know what’s inside? Do you have any idea how much money is at stake?”
The guy behind the gunman nudged him. “Ask her.”
“Shut up,” the gunman hissed.
The guy behind him leaned around his partner. “How much?”
“Hundreds of thousands. Maybe four-hundred-thousand or more.”
“What’s so special that it’s worth that much?” the guy behind the gunman asked.
“Shut the fuck up, asshole. We’re getting paid to get it and get out.” He focused on Maurice again. “Throw it now.”
“Please,” Amelie begged. “It’s a famous painting by one of the greatest artists of all time. I’d rather you took it than have it be destroyed.”
“I’ll catch it,” the masked man in the back pushed past the gunman and came to stand two steps down from her. “Okay, throw it.”
Amelie, her hands still in the air, glanced at the watch on her wrist. Any second now, the bells would ring, giving her the distraction she needed.
“Go ahead and throw it,” she yelled to Maurice. “He’s going to catch it.”
Maurice’s eye narrowed.
“Do you want him to shoot me?” she demanded. “Throw it. Now!”
Maurice bunched his muscles, bent and thrust the map case into the air.
Bong! Bong! Bong!
While the man’s attention was on the map case, his hands reaching into the air, Amelie slammed her foot as hard as she could into the man’s shoulder, sending him flying down the spiral staircase into his partner.
Amelie immediately pivoted, flung her hand in the air and snagged the strap in the crook of her arm. The weight of the case, plus its momentum, pulled it down. The strap on her arm arrested its downward trajectory so fast it snapped back and hit her in the face.
She slammed into the stair rail, hitting it low on her hip.
