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“Speaking only for myself,” the chief said, “I may stay over a few extra days.”
Szabo stared at the chief, whose face had taken on a look of massive innocence. “Well, fuck me dead,” Szabo said. “Are you serious? How the fuck did you find pussy in a fucking museum?”
Bledsoe’s smirk returned to his face. “Pussy everywhere. You just have to know how to find it.”
“And in your case, you have to be willing to fuck some stuff that does not actually look human.”
“As long as the important parts work,” Bledsoe said.
“That’s pure Navy all the way,” Szabo said.
“Hoo-YAH, sir!”
Both men chuckled. “So you willing to share this girl?”
“Aw, she’s way too ugly for an officer,” Bledsoe said.
“Selfish bastard,” Szabo said.
The two paused at the door to the exhibition hall. “Hey, you’re gonna be here when we’re gone—let me show you how all this stuff works,” Bledsoe said.
“Absolutely,” Szabo said.
Bledsoe took his old commander’s arm and pulled him through the door, bellowing as he did, “Officer on deck!”
CHAPTER
27
It was just before dawn. The day of the gala opening had come. And with it, the Crown Jewels of Iran came, too.
The jewels had been waiting for this moment, in a remarkably secure vault at the Iranian Permanent Mission to the UN. It would take brass balls and a low IQ to try for them there. And now the jewels were on the streets of New York, headed for the Eberhardt Museum.
The Iranians were pretty sure nobody would try for the jewels while they were en route, either. I agreed with t
hem. I wouldn’t try it. Not without knowing the route, the timetable, the security—too many variables. And with a platoon of Revolutionary Guards riding with the jewels, you’d need a full company of veteran assault troops and a couple of tanks. Maybe air support, too.
No, nobody was going to hit the Iranian convoy. Not while it traveled through the streets of New York. But some overoptimistic idiot might be watching to make a stab at it when they were most vulnerable—when they arrived at the museum. It wouldn’t be a whole lot easier, but you never know. The guards would be ready for it in any case.
So would I. I watched from the roof across the street. I hadn’t seen anybody else watching, not on the roof or the street or from any neighboring building. I might have missed somebody, but I didn’t think so. I didn’t care. Nobody was going to get the jewels tonight. And after tonight, nobody else was going to get them. Just me.
So I was watching mostly from curiosity. I don’t know why I chose to watch from a roof. There were plenty of places to stand and look once I found out when the jewels would arrive. But I picked the roof. Maybe because it made me feel powerful, invisible—shit, who knows? I’m not a shrink.
And who cares? I chose the roof. I liked it. I felt like Spider-Man up there, watching and waiting for Doc Ock to do something heinous. I’d been standing up there for twenty minutes, and so far nothing heinous had happened. But it was going to happen, and soon. That’s me: Captain Heinous, Sticky-Fingered Superhero.
In the meantime, I watched the traffic. It was light at this hour, just before dawn. That’s one reason it was happening now. And there was a definite chill in the air, so any people out on the streets walked a little faster to keep warm. I couldn’t wait any faster, so I was getting cold. But I knew it would happen soon, and I thought warm thoughts and waited.
A black SUV turned the corner and drove toward the museum. It was followed by another black SUV, an armored car, and then two more black SUVs. The first two SUVs split up. One turned down the alley that led to the museum’s loading dock; the other one parked at the mouth of the alley. Six bearded guys in dark suits jumped out. They were carrying automatic weapons, and they looked like they were going into combat—you know, eyes wide, hyperalert, looking for something to shoot. They fanned out fluidly, like they’d done this kind of thing before, and watched while the armored car turned down the alley.
No doubt about it. This was it.
The other two SUVs pulled onto the sidewalk and spat out their passengers, carbon copies of the bunch from the first SUV. All eighteen of them spread out, scanning the street, the alley, the nearby buildings.
And the rooftops, of course. I crouched down behind a chimney. I didn’t want to show a profile. The guys in the street with the weapons were Revolutionary Guards. They would be well trained, and they’d be looking for any kind of silhouette that didn’t belong on top of a building. I could still see around the chimney, and I watched for a little longer. Just curiosity. I’d seen all I needed to see. The jewels had arrived.
No more waiting. It was all going to happen now. Everything I had sweated my ass off to knock into place was about to click into action, like one of those Rube Goldberg machines. All the little pieces were about to move, nudge the others, and finally push the payoff out the last little door and into my hands.
I shivered. I don’t think it was the cold. I think it was because this was really fucking it. I felt something that was in between excitement and raw terror. I knew it was going to work—and at the same time I knew just as surely that there were a million things that could go wrong, and almost all of them were bad news for me. And I couldn’t tell which was more exciting: thinking of the payoff or knowing I was stepping into deep and dangerous shit. I just know I had this feeling, like a kind of rising tide of adrenaline and anticipation. I got it every time I made my play, and I loved it.
