Page 59 of Alex Cross Must Die

CHAPTER 62

THAT NIGHT, LUKAFranke rode up in his building’s padded freight elevator with a satisfied smile on his face. The gallery theft could not have gone off any smoother. The Swiss couple had started a spat so convincing that the staff convened to usher them out onto the sidewalk. Franke made a note to wire them a bonus.

As he and the other faux guards closed the security curtain in front of the Picasso during the ruckus, Franke himself had opened the case and made the switch. The alarms had been temporarily disabled. For that same interval, the video surveillance record would show only black.

As Franke entered his apartment, the sensors automatically brought the lights up to a warm, flattering glow. He set the case down on the sofa and opened the lid.

And there it was.

Even in the dim light, the Picasso was stunning. Franke took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Relieved. Proud. Triumphant.

Then it hit him. Subtle but distinctive.

The smell of stale tea.

Rising from the case.

Franke felt a swell of nausea. Sweat prickled his scalp. He lifted the painting out of the case and turned it over. He bent down and pressed his nose close to the wooden frame. No question. A subtle tell. Wet tea bags had been recently applied to the pine. A shortcut to simulate aging. Not every thief would recognize the trick. But Franke did. He’d learned it from his father.

He reached for a remote and dialed the ceiling lights up to full. The room lit up like a stage set. Franke opened a small drawer and pulled out a jeweler’s loupe. He placed the glass over the canvas and peered through the round eyepiece.

Goddamnit!

He let the loupe drop onto the floor.

The artwork was superb. Nearly flawless. Which made Franke even more furious. Whoever had painted this canvas was a technical master.

But it wasn’t Pablo Picasso.

Franke looked up. He sensed rustling outside in the hallway. Then he heard three loud pounds on his door—like hammer blows.

“Police!”

CHAPTER 63

FOR THE FIRSTtime in two days, Virginia was alone in the office. Her three bosses were out. So was Detective Grey. The rest of the task force had been called out for support on a drug raid. It had taken her an hour to make the place presentable again. Like cleaning up after a frat party. It was way past time to go home.

She made one last pass through the space, picking up fast-food containers and scraps of paper. As she walked back to her desk, she heard a soft rustle from the rear of the office.

“Annabel?”

Now there was something else.

An aroma.

Molasses?

Virginia walked over and opened the microwave. Empty. Same with the oven.

The sound came again. More defined.

Like shoes shuffling on a stone floor.

Virginia looked toward the back wall, lined with black metal file cabinets. She felt a tingle shoot through her and heard her pulse throbbing in her ears.

“Hello? Anybody there?”

As Virginia stepped away from the last desk, she found herself about ten feet from the back wall. Then she heard the sound again. Somebody walking.

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