Taken by the Con (15 page)

Cash didn’t want to discuss the con that had landed him in prison in front of Lucia. He introduced her and then moved the conversation to the purpose of his visit.

“I need a copy of Copley’s
Mrs. George Watson
dry and ready to go by Thursday.”

Franco laughed. “Impossible. My work log is booked for months.”

“I’ll make it worth your while.”

“My fees make every job worth my while,” Franco said.

“Ten times your normal fee. Seventy-five percent up-front. The rest when it’s finished to my liking. We’ll supply whatever mediums you need. No mistakes.”

Franco’s eye glittered at the proposal. He enjoyed a challenge and likely the prospect of good, fast money. “I don’t make mistakes. Having the oil dry and the work look authentic require highly specialized skills. But you’re lucky. I have that skill. You’re a big fan of Copley? Last I heard, you were more of a Renoir connoisseur.”

Franco was digging around for Cash’s reasons for wanting the piece. He kept it simple. “I need it for a job.”

Franco looked at Lucia. “It goes without saying that my copies, as perfect as they are, are copies. I am not selling you canvases with the intention to mislead anyone by selling it as authentic. My work is for private enjoyment.”

Cash laughed. “I don’t need the disclaimer and neither does Lucy. You and I have known each other a long time. We’re paying for your discretion and expertise in this matter. After you hand over the painting, I want you to say it’s authentic.”

Franco looked at him sideways. “You want me to pretend it’s the real thing? When? At your next dinner party?”

“If you are questioned, I want you to stand behind the skill of your work,” Cash said.

“What are you playing at, Cash? I thought you got out of the game. The incident with your son was a one-off.”

“What incident with your son?” Lucia asked.

Cash didn’t want to bring his son anywhere near this. His son was safe and his son was staying out of this lifestyle. He ignored Lucia’s question. “This is a job I need to do.”

Franco returned to his canvas. He looked at it and then back at Cash. “I’ll do it if you tell me more about who you’re planning to con.”

The word
con
smarted. It was a word he hated being associated with. “Clifton Anderson.”

Franco whistled. “Wow. Just wow. Talk about going for the throat.”

“You said you’d do it if I told you who it was.” He wouldn’t let Franco back out.

“What will I do when he figures it out and comes looking for me? Pretend I don’t recognize my work?”

“He won’t figure it out. You’re his expert and when you tell him it’s authentic, he’ll believe you.”

Franco rocked back on his heels. “I’ll do it, but if he calls my bluff, I’m turning him loose on you.”

Cash grinned. “When has anyone called your bluff? You’re a one of a kind, Franco.” Artist, genius, liar.

Franco brought his hand to his chest. “You flatter me, but I don’t need flattery. I just need my paycheck.”

* * *

“Do you know everyone in the art world?” Lucia asked, following Cash into the office of the chief curator of the Smithsonian American Art Museum. His connections were endless.

“Elizabeth and I go back to our high school days. She’s an old friend. She was talented back then and I’m not even a little surprised how far she’s come in her career.”

Lucia wondered if Elizabeth was a criminal, but it didn’t fit. The woman’s résumé was long and robust, no hint of criminal activity. Would she be willing to help the FBI with a con of Clifton Anderson and the public?

Elizabeth Romano was waiting for Cash when they entered the office. The short, slim redhead greeted Cash with a hug and then clasped his hands, kissing each of his cheeks. Lucia picked up on something between Elizabeth and Cash immediately. Cash had a flirtatious manner with most women, but the look in Elizabeth’s eyes made her intention clear. She liked Cash, maybe even as someone who wanted to date him.

“It’s been too long,” Elizabeth said. “I heard what happened to you and the whole thing sounded unfair.”

Lucia wondered about Elizabeth’s comment. She wasn’t the first person to comment on the injustice of Cash’s jail time. Lucia felt as if she was missing part of the story. She made a note to ask Cash about it later. Whenever she’d brought it up in the past, he’d hedged.

Lucia fell back a step, not wanting the intimacy she’d shared with Cash to seep into their work and put Elizabeth off. They needed her help and a huge favor. Lucia half expected Elizabeth to turn them down. Lucia was letting Cash take the lead on this for certain.

“Please tell me how I can help you. You said the matter was urgent,” Elizabeth said.

Cash remained close to Elizabeth, his full attention on her. “I need an enormous favor and what I’m about to ask you must stay between us.”

Elizabeth took a deep breath. She held up her hand. “Before you say anything Cash, I need to tell you that I won’t commit a crime to help you. I’ll do almost anything else. But not that.”

Cash winced. “I’m with the good guys.”

Lucia took out her badge. “I’m with the FBI. This request is fully sanctioned by the United States Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

Elizabeth’s shoulders relaxed. “Wow, I must have sounded really presumptuous. I know with your father and the jail time, it’s hard.” She fluttered her hands as if waving away her thoughts. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need you to replace Copley’s
Mrs. George Watson
with a replica that we’ll provide. Then I need you to help me break in to steal the replica.”

Elizabeth looked at Lucia and Cash. “That makes no sense. Why do you want to steal a fake that you already have?”

“We need it to look like the original was taken,” Lucia said. “We want the media to know and the staff to gossip about it. You’ll be one of the few people who know that the real painting is safe and secure.”

Elizabeth sat in her chair. “When that painting is stolen, if I pretend it’s the real one, I’ll be in the middle of a storm. The paperwork, the insurance and my bosses will be up in arms. There will be a thorough investigation and someone will figure out I was involved.”

Lucia felt she was about to say no. “It will be for a short period of time. As soon as possible, we’ll let everyone know the real painting has been recovered and we’ll make any explanation we need for you,” Lucia said.

“How long?” Elizabeth said. “I don’t know how well I’ll stand up to questioning.”

Elizabeth was smart and talented, but she wasn’t a natural liar. Her thoughts and emotions played out plain on her face.

“We will contact the secretary of the Smithsonian Institution to alert him to our plan. We can ask him to use whatever control he has over the investigation to keep you out of it. Maybe you can even stay busy with something else for a few weeks.”

Elizabeth seemed to perk up at the idea. “I have some vacation time coming up. Maybe I could take a vacation.”

It might come across as suspicious, but with any luck, the investigation would be wrapped up within a few weeks. Once Anderson was in custody, Elizabeth wouldn’t need to keep up the charade or dodge questions.

* * *

“What are you wearing?” Cash asked.

Lucia looked down at her clothes. “Black.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “I tried to pick an outfit that would blend. I figured this makes me disappear into the shadows better.”

Cash gave her a long look up and down. “You look a little like an emo teenager.”

“I thought I looked like an art student.”

“Have you ever taken an art class?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I majored in psychology with a minor in criminal justice. No art classes.”

She would be better in something more natural. “Just don’t put on a black ski mask and we should be okay.”

“Aren’t we planning to hide our faces?” she asked.

“We sure are. But we’ll wait until we’re closer to the museum.” If someone saw them walking on the street in ski masks, he’d expect the police would be called in a hurry.

Lucia took another clip from the counter and twisted her hair up, securing the ends. “Are you sure this will work?”

Cash nodded. “It has to work. Mitchell gave us a short deadline. If we fail, it will be in the news. Botched art theft.” Anderson wouldn’t give him another chance. Cash was already getting more than he expected based on his con of the senator’s real estate company.

They parked several blocks from the museum. Before they got out of the car, Cash kissed her. “Good luck.” If this worked, he’d get in the habit of kissing her more, whenever he needed luck. Or maybe even if he didn’t. Kissing Lucia had enormous appeal.

“You, too.” She touched her lips with her fingertips.

He might have caused a distraction. Was she thinking about the night they’d spent together in her bed? Maybe he shouldn’t have kissed her, but adrenaline and anxiety were reverberating around his nerves.

They had their plan and timing was tight. Even with the inside information Elizabeth had provided, it was a two-person job with little room for obstacles or surprises. The theft had to go flawlessly.

The stakes were high with any con. This was his most risky.

When they were close to the museum, they pulled on their hats and masks. It would take Cash at least two minutes to disable the video monitoring and black out their movements to reach the Copley painting. It would take Lucia four minutes to get to the electrical box in the basement and turn off the electricity. When the museum’s backup generators kicked on after seven minutes, Cash and Lucia would be long gone.

Using a fake employee ID card that Elizabeth had supplied and couldn’t be traced to her, they entered the master PIN to unlock the entrance to the restoration area. The restoration area was closed to the public and had fewer video surveillance devices. It was dark and quiet.

They slipped inside the museum. They were unarmed. Cash had insisted the theft play out without weapons. He wouldn’t carry a gun unless he had the intention of using it and he wouldn’t kill a guard over a painting.

Cash took the stairs to the main lobby security desk and Lucia fled to the basement.

They would encounter anywhere from one to three night-shift guards. The museum mandated that one guard remain at the security desk and the other two patrol the galleries.

Cash stepped behind the desk. “Stand up, put your hands on your head. This is the DC police. I have a warrant for your arrest.”

The guard half turned, but Cash put his hands on the smaller man’s shoulders to prevent him from looking.

“I haven’t done anything wrong! What warrant for my arrest?”

Few people jumped to the worst possible conclusion right away, in this case, that a robbery was in progress. Denial was a good defense mechanism. “Hands behind your back.”

He didn’t have handcuffs. He had duct tape. He wrapped the guard’s hands behind his back and secured his legs. Then he covered his mouth so he couldn’t call for help.

Cash laid the man on the ground. “This is a robbery. Don’t do anything stupid and it will be over in three minutes.”

The guard watched him, but made no noise.

Cash turned to the main console and used the credentials Elizabeth had supplied to disable the alarm in the gallery where the Copley was hung.

He looked at his watch. His first tasks were complete with three seconds to spare. The lights turned off and the video monitors went dark. Cash crawled under the desk and removed the cords running from the wireless receiver to the recording device that captured the feeds from the galleries’ cameras.

By now, Lucia should be en route to the replica Copley that Elizabeth had swapped into place earlier that night.

When Cash arrived at the gallery, Lucia had it half out of the frame. Cash stepped in to help her. No alarms blared. No police sirens in the distance. No shouting for help. Silence was a good sign.

An alarm sounded and Lucia looked at Cash in panic. The alarm ringing meant one of the guards must have returned to the security desk. Had they reconnected the surveillance devices? Cash had memorized the blackout spots in the room, but keeping to them would cost time. The alarms would summon the police and they had a two-minute response time.

Cash removed the Copley and rolled it. He slid it into the case on his back and gestured for Lucia to follow him. Keeping to the dark, he pulled Lucia into the corner to wait for the sweep of the camera through the room.

The guards might not immediately notice the Copley missing from the frame. In the darkened room, shadows were hard to interpret.

“What now?” Lucia asked. She was pressed against him and breathing hard.

He hugged her, wanting to provide some comfort. “I’ll get us out. Stay close to me. Do not leave my side.”

Cash watched the camera in the room swivel away and then they ran. Darting down the hallway, through galleries, he could see the restoration area door ahead.

“Stop! Put your hands in air.”

Cash turned to see one of the security guards pointing a Taser in his direction. “Go,” he said to Lucia.

Another shouted a warning.

Cash would take his chances that the guard was a lousy shot. They fled into the restoration area and Cash locked the door.

He heard the guards calling after him, but he and Lucia raced outside before the guards opened the door.

Following their path, they ran and didn’t stop until they’d reached the Dumpster where they removed a black trash bag they’d planted earlier, took their change of clothes from it and filled it with their masks and clothes. Cash opened the bottle of lighter fluid and dumped it inside the bag. He threw the bag into the mostly empty Dumpster and lit the bag on fire. They pulled on their new clothes.

Benjamin pulled up, and Cash and Lucia climbed into the car.

“Nice work,” he said. “You had about fifteen seconds to spare. I heard over the police scanner that the five-oh are seconds away from surrounding the museum.”

Cash breathed a sigh of relief. Lucia appeared in shock.

“I’ve never been on that end of a crime before. It was unsettling. Scary,” Lucia said. Her hands were shaking as she jammed them through her hair.