Double-Crossed: A Spies and Thieves Story

Chapter Five

"Cammie's going to be mad she missed this," Macey said to fill the silence.

"Excuse me ?" Hale asked.

"Nothing." She shook her head. "I just...I have a friend who really likes air vents. And dumbwaiter shafts. And laundry chutes. Of course, the last time I was in a laundry chute, Cammie and I fell about a dozen stories...."

"Well, that sounds like fun."

"It was either that or get kidnapped by terrorists, so I guess we got off easy."

Macey glanced back to see Hale's flirty grin. "Somehow I find that very— Wait!" Hale snapped, and grabbed her ankle, held her in place so that she couldn't move another inch.

Macey jerked her head around and saw why Hale had stopped her. Narrow red beams crisscrossed the empty shaft, shin­ing in the darkness.

"Lasers," Hale sighed.

"Lasers," Macey repeated.

They eased away from the red flickering beams that cov­ered the shaft and blocked their way, inching backward until they heard voices below. Through a grate in the ceiling they could see he walked to the door and swung. A minute later the men in the masks were walking inside.

The red laser beams disappeared and Macey glanced back at Hale and said, "Come on."

Even with the power off, the air shafts were hot in the mid­dle of winter, and sweat beaded on Macey's brow and ran down the side of her face as she crawled along ahead of Hale, past the point where the lasers had previously blocked their way.

Inching along, she glanced down through the grates into the room below. It was gorgeous and luxurious with a silk-covered fainting couch and a balcony overlooking the park. But even for the Athenia, it was too nice to be a regular room.

"It's an apartment," Hale said. "Did you know the Athenia had residences?"

Macey nodded. "They do for a few select clients." But then something caught her attention. "Is that..." Macey started. She was staring at a painting on the wall.

"A HIimt ?" Hale filled in, then sighed. "Oh yeah. But don't get your hopes up. It's a copy."

"And you know this because..." Macey drew out the last word and looked at Hale even more skeptically than before.

"I saw the original at the Louvre last summer," he said with a shrug.

"Oh," she said, deflated.

The masked men were right below them, unloading gear and going to work on the opposite side of the opulent room, so Macey and Hale spoke in hushed whispers, pressed together in the tiny space. But Macey didn't feel a charge, a spark. Handsome though he was, there was no doubt that W. W. Hale was otherwise engaged.

When the man in the Reagan mask pulled the HIimt from the wall, she felt Hale go cold and rigid as he studied the space be­hind where the print had been.

"Oh boy," Hale whispered almost to himself.

"What?" Macey asked.

"The safe," Hale said.

Macey looked back at the room, at the big metal box around which the masked men were gathered. "What about it ?" "It's...good," Hale admitted.

"Surely it's not too much for a world-class art thief such as yourself?" Macey tried to tease, but Hale was already backing slowly away.

"No, Macey. It's too good." He shook his head. "Come on. We've got to find whoever lives here and figure out what these guys are after."

"Don't bother," Macey said.