Horror flickers through her eyes as she flaps her hand in front of her mouth.
I only laugh.
“Let’s get outta here,” I say, and brush over her cheeks as I pick up the transportation back. “We’ll figure out the rest when it’s time.”
I walk her to the elevator.
“How did you do it?” she asks me when we walk through the garage.
“Do what?”
“We’re walking through surveilled areas?—“
I point at the man who is currently repairing the garage gate.
She follows my gaze.
“Rossi,” she says.
“Uh-huh,” I say.
“That’s how you did them all?”
“The complicated ones, yes.”
We get into the car and drive past Rossi. When we stop, I open the door and slip him the small model of De Lumieres that I took from the penthouse.
“What was that?” Shaw asks immediately.
“Payment,” I say.
She rolls her eyes.
“Let’s get home,” I say when she turns onto the road.
“We’re not driving around with that canvas in the car,” she says.
“What canvas?” I ask as innocently as possible.
She spins round, only to find it isn’t there.
“Where did you put it?” she shouts at me in a rage I haven’t seen.
“Relax,” I say, “It’s on its way to where it belongs.”
“Are you out of your fucking mind?!”
“No,” I say. I mean, I anticipated the reaction. “I gave that quite a thought.”
“What were you thinking?” she says, heavily groaning.
“I made a deal with the French authorities. If I get them the Mona Lisa, they will drop all charges against me,” I say. “I made deals with every country I am wanted in. The Mona Lisa was the last one.”
She opens her mouth.
Brakes hard, stopping in the middle of the road.
She wants to say something, but no words come out of her mouth.
