“To see if you could resist opening the frame.”
“The owner is tied to a chair in his wine cellar wearing only his golf socks,” Miss Lexa said, standing. She moved like a panther with a headache. “I know. I watched you on the thermal feed from my car. Lovely technique with the lockpick, by the way. Very theatrical.”
“Mr. Diamond,” a voice purred from the shadows of the leather sofa. “You’re holding that painting like it’s a woman you’re about to disappoint.” chris diamond miss lexa
She reached into her jacket and pulled out a second card. Identical. “This is a duplicate. I want you to take it, walk out the front door, and lead Vane’s men on a merry chase through the city. You’ll be the decoy. I’ll take the real painting—the real card—out through the service elevator.”
“That’s leverage,” Lexa corrected. “And I’m selling it to the highest bidder tomorrow night at the Biltmore. But I have a problem. A rival collector—a man named Silas Vane—knows I have the card. He’s sent a team to intercept it before the auction.” “To see if you could resist opening the frame
Chris Diamond had one rule: never work for someone smarter than you. But as he slipped the duplicate card into his pocket and watched Lexa slide the real Monet into a cylindrical case, he realized he’d already broken it.
The elevator doors opened. She stepped inside, and just before they closed, she added, “Oh, and Chris? The tracker in your shoe? I was lying about that. The real tracker is in your watch. Vane’s men already know where you are.” I watched you on the thermal feed from my car
Chris whistled low. “That’s not theft. That’s treason.”