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Hopefully, it would be the last, but in my gut, I knew that probably wasn’t true.
And it raised the stakes for this op considerably.
A few minutes later, Dimitri exited the gallery. His skin was pale and his eyes wide, and even from where we were hiding, I could tell his hand was shaking as he opened the door and slid into the car, burying his head in his hands.
“Dasselaar killed the driver right in front of him.” Cal’s jaw was set as he ground out the words.
“Likely to illustrate what would happen if Dimitri didn’t keep doing what he was told.”
My mate took a deep breath and blew it out on a long exhale. “Jack, I don’t care if we figure out the deal with the painting or not. We get the kid out.”
I nodded. “I promise.”
Dasselaar emerged from the gallery, tucking the same envelope he’d given the truck driver back into his jacket, but this time there was a suspicious dark stain on it. He leaned against his car and waited until his men came out of the gallery carrying a shipping crate that they loaded into the truck before climbing into the cab, starting the engine, and disappearing into the night.
Dasselaar set the alarm and double-checked that the gallery was secure before getting into his own car again and speeding off into the night.
Fuck. “We have a problem.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know how he did it, but Dasselaar changed the code. We’re going to have to go in old-school.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
CAL
It was almostfour when Jack and I packed up our gear and climbed down to the alley. Despite Jack’s feeling, we needed concrete evidence that Dasselaar hadThe Evolution of Manin his possession, and there was only one way to get it. We needed to get inside the gallery.
Good thing Jack and I had the skills to make that happen.
Jack had set up a loop on the cameras, but it would only buy us limited time, and this new complication meant the clock was ticking extra loud.
I kept watch while Jack unscrewed the exterior panel for the electrical service to the gallery building and connected a small device to one of the wires. He screwed the panel back into place, then came back to the keypad for the alarm system.
“I cut the power on the security override so I can work from the keypad directly.”
“I don’t need the play-by-play as long as you can get us in before they figure out the security footage is looping.”
Jack nodded and put his flashlight between his teeth while he separated wires behind the keypad and connected them to a handheld device. Red numbers scrolled across the screen untilthe device beeped and flashed green, the automatic lock on the door disengaging with a soft snick.
He disconnected the wires, stuffed everything back into the wall, and resecured the keypad.
“After you.” He gestured to the door.
I pulled a flashlight from my pocket and Betty from her holster on my hip and set my finger on the trigger. There shouldn’t be anyone else in the building, but I wasn’t taking any chances. With Dimitri being held hostage, it was time to shoot first and ask questions later if it came down to that.
Stepping over the threshold, I swept the storage room quickly. “Clear.”
Jack shut the door behind him and flipped on his own flashlight.
The gallery was much larger than it looked from the street, and now, standing in the storage area, it was obvious Dasselaar had divided the building into thirds—the public gallery up front, the private collection in the middle, and a large storage area at the back. Crates, boxes, and shipping containers filled the space, but it took only seconds to locate the one we wanted.
The final container had been left in pride of place at the center of the room with a clear walkway all around it. There was no way this wasn’t the painting we’d been looking for.
Jack kneeled on the floor next to the crate. “If it were me, I would have installed a pressure-sensitive biometric lock on this box.”
