I throw the canvas in the bin next to my studio table.
My gaze wanders over the desk with the plans for the one thing I have been working on this entire time.
Soon,I say in my mind and look up at the sky.
2
REID
PLAYLIST: THE BOMB – PIGEON JOHN
“Reid!” shouts my colleague and friend, Rachel, through the entire level so loud I hear it through my closed door. We met at our training in Quantico and instantly matched. “You gotta see this!”
“What happened?” I ask as I open the door. Some of the older colleagues look slightly disturbed at me, but I don’t care. I am aware they disapprove of me, but I know how capable I am and that I didn’t land here by accident.
“Avery Zayne,” she says, and the moment she does, everyone is wide awake. That woman has been such a pain in all our asses that I can’t wait for the day I finally catch her.
“What did she do this time?” I ask with a groan as I make my way to her desk.
“It’s gold,” says Rachel, and turns her screen so I can see.
“She did not,” I say as my eyes flash over the screen.
“She did,” says Rachel, almost proud. I know she admires her. She was obsessed with her since we took over the case after Zayne stole a Rodin Bronze from a Russian oligarch and his twelve bodyguards on his plane at Teterboro airport. “They’re gonna study her at Quantico next year after we caught her.”
“You are very optimistic,” I say, knowing we, as much as my predecessors, haven’t caught her for years. It is my deepest desire to catch her, and I will not rest until I get her.
I stare at the screen with the news that the Mona Lisa has been stolen from the Louvré. The OCBC is clueless; the only thing they found was a black feather.
Black feather. Avery Zayne's signature.
Gods, that woman has now bounds.
I hate, and by hate I mean I despise and disgust everyone who disobeys rules. And Avery Zayne breaks every single one of them. She steals, lies, obstructs, and destroys.
“I wonder what she wants with it,” I say. “The Mona Lisa is unsellable. She would be hunted by every other thief on the planet, let alone have the entire French executive against her.”
“It’s a whole new level,” says Rachel. “Look at the progression,” she adds, pulling up a list of all the pieces she has stolen.
I know that list by heart. I probably know that woman better than myself, which is why I get suspicious. The most valuable she has stolen so far has been a Van Gogh, but nothing in the League of the Mona Lisa.
The Mona Lisa.That painting is highly surveilled, protected by armored glass.
“How did she get it out?” I ask.
“Controlled blasting of the wall, complete blackout, a fire in a different part of the Louver, and a mass panic. She did it in broad daylight.”
“While it was open?” I ask incredulously.
“Uh-huh,” says Rachel.
“Fuck me,” I scoff out and turn away.
“Are you offering?” asks Rachel with a chuckle.
“Rach,” I say, drawing up an eyebrow.
“I know,” she says, “The ball was too perfect.”
