“I could, yes, but triggering multiple alarms would scream sabotage. One piece, the centerpiece, looks like bad luck instead of an attack,” Jules said.
“So we’re just hoping Blackwell raises the alarm? What if she doesn’t? What if she does and then gets blamed for overreacting?” Lucia asked.
“It’s her job to protect the paintings. She can’t ignore the humidity alarm,” Jules said. “And I’m pretty sure they’d rather overreact than risk damage, especially with loaned pieces. They’ll be even more cautious.”
“Jules is right,” Francesca said. “If half the wing had tripped readings, Montgomery would lock down the whole museum. Subtlety buys us time. Still, this new version carries different risks, and some of them also depend on Blackwell. Before, she was the wild card because we needed her leaning toward removalduringthe ball.”
“I don’t see how this changes anything. We still need Blackwell to say the painting needs to go to the Conservation Lab and stay there,” Lucia said.
“If we’d triggered the spike during the ball, Blackwell only had to say the word, and the painting would’ve been taken down in a panic. Now we need more from her.” Francesca tapped herfingers against her glass. “We’re causing the issue days early. That means the staff might stabilize the vitrine or switch the case entirely. But if Blackwell insists the risk is still unresolved? They’ll keep it in the lab through the gala.”
“They’d do that?” Lucia asked.
“She’s the head conservator. If she flags a risk, no one’s going to override her. Insurance underwriters are notorious—nobody wants that headache. If she sounds the alarm, the painting goes off display and stays locked down,” Francesca said.
“All right, but I don’t see how I can steer her there. Not without raising suspicion,” Lucia said.
“I told you she’d mess this up,” Skye grumbled.
“Oh, shut it, Skye. As if you saw this coming.”
“No, but you should have, considering you painted both and there’s an obvious connection between them that makes it more likely to pair them during an exhibit. Didn’t think of that?”
“Once again, time was of the essence, and—”
“It’s not that big of a deal. This might even be better. It extends our window to get the painting.” Jules said.
“There’s that.” Francesca adjusted the angle of the folder in front of her, lining it up with the edge of the table as if precision there might force order everywhere else.
“What about the exact timing, though?” Lucia asked. “Do we know how long the humidity reading has to hold?”
“Why don’t you ask Blackwell?” Skye suggested.
“What? Like, ‘Oh, what’s your protocol for rushing art back to the lab if there’s an issue with the case?’ And then the exact thing happens with one of their major pieces? That’s not suspicious at all.”
Skye rolled her eyes. “Finesse, as I said. Something you lack.”
Lucia shot her a look, biting back the instinct to respond. Her pulse ticked hard in her throat. Once upon a time, that smirk would’ve made her smile. Now it just grated.
“Enough,” Francesca snapped. “I don’t care what issue you two are nursing. Solve it on your own time, or not. But I won’t allow your childish bickering to jeopardize this mission.” She leveled a hard glare at Skye, who ducked her head, then Lucia, whose gaze drifted to her hands on the tabletop.
“Am I making myself clear?”
“Yes,” both Skye and Lucia said at the same time.
“Lucia, squeeze out what you can. We don’t have room for another mistake.” Francesca turned to Jules. “Now, about the delivery of the fakeMadonna.”
Jules cleared her throat, tucking a strand of her light hair behind her ear as her pale face lit up with the glow of the laptop screen. The quiet hum of the machine filled the room. Her fingers flew over her keyboard before she projected something against the huge screen on one of the office walls.
“These are the blueprints of the Meridian. Right next to here…” Jules pointed with a laser pen at a section on the screen. “There’s a supply closet beside the Conservation Lab, so it would be on your way in, Lucia.”
“And what about me?” Skye asked.
“I’ll generate a fake work order and a matching slip. You’ll deliver the unframed canvas in a portfolio case and hand the slip to staff at the front desk. Afterward, I’ll scrub the corresponding entry from their system. When they try to reconcile the paperwork later, it’ll look like a clerical error from a busy week.”
Skye tilted her head. “And if you don’t get to it in time?”
“Then the discrepancy shows up in real time, not later,” Jules said flatly. “That’s the difference between harmless mess and instant red flag. So once you hand it over, I need to know right away. The sooner I pull the entry, the less chance anyone cross-checks it.”
