"Okay."
"Collector of anything with a provenance," Viper went on. "It's going down at a charity gala. Mid-Wilshire. Castellano wants it made public. Great PR for both."
I could hear Viper clicking through tabs as he talked. "Security will be tight."
"Can we tap in their system?" I asked.
"Piece of cake, boss."
"Castellano's endgame?"
"Show it off, then park it in his vault. Possibly until the value triples. Occasionally, he does lend his toys to museums." Viper's voice shifted, all sarcasm gone. "Or maybe use it as collateral for something nastier. Don't have a full dossier on Castellano yet. In any case, target's going to make a killing on this. If it works."
"Anything else I should know?"
There was a brief pause, probably Viper taking a drink of whatever energy poison he lived on. "Castellano is obsessive about two things—his image and his privacy. He'll have every inch of that gallery under lockdown since the painting is moving the night before the gala. They'll have it in their basement vault until the reveal."
I already had a plan forming. "How tight is the schedule around the vault?"
Viper whistled. "Dodger Stadium game day parking lottight. The crew responsible for the vault are all pros. But I've got an RFID sniff on their badges. You'll get pinged when they are within a hundred feet."
"How hard is it to access the vault?"
"You'd need a science fiction limited series blowtorch and six hours to get through. Or you could just paint your own, if you're feeling artistic.Will be easier to crack." I heard the smile in his voice. "You ever painted, Seven?"
"No."
"Yeah, me neither. I know a dude who does. He's pretty damn good at it too. Cool hobby if you ask me."
"Well, I didn't. Ask."
"Anyway, after the gala, the painting will be in Castellano's private collection. Basically, forget it. It's in the wind."
"Castellano's not our problem."
"True that, boss. Unless someone pays us to poke at him. But they haven't. So he's just a collateral damage in this one."
Getting the Picasso before Castellano had his hands on it was the goal. The wordfakewas suddenly at the forefront of my mind and I had an idea flowing. "Viper, can you get me schematics on that vault?"
"I sure can, boss. Just give me a couple of hours. Are you going to try and break the baby anyway?"
"Maybe."
"Gonna be a tough one."
"Yeah you said that. Science fiction shit."
"Did you just make a joke?"
"Fuck off."
Viper laughed, then asked, "You want me to keep digging in case this plan you're cooking up is a bust and we need a backup option?"
I flexed my hands, cracking the knuckles one by one. "No. I can work with this."
I could work with five grams of air if I needed to. But I never told this to anyone. I liked when people underestimated me.
A few days later, I walked through the service corridor of the venue that would host the gala. I kept my head down, baseball cap shadowing my eyes, face downcast even with the N95 respirator over my nose and mouth.
