The Hypnotist

SIXTY-FIVE

Lucian stepped forward and spoke directly to the ringleader. “No hostages,” he said with an air of authority. “We’ll help you but only after you get those belts off all these women, now.”

The blue-jeaned man laughed, turned his back on Lucian, motioned to his men and carved a slash mark in the air. One of the team stayed with the group of captive women. The other three marauders approached the exhibition.

So they were going to steal the paintings. The thought infuriated Lucian. So many people had worked so hard and risked so much to bring them here, only to have them taken, now, like this.

But none of them touched the paintings. The men surrounded Hypnos and were manipulating the sculpture onto a ready dolly.

Hypnos? Was it possible? Who was behind this? Malachai? Wouldn’t Elgin Barindra have picked up on something about this? Wasn’t it too fast for Malachai to have planned it? The answers mattered but not now, not as much as the more crucial issue: how to get the suicide belts off the hostages and get all these people out of here before anything went wrong. Because things always did go wrong, even when no one wanted them to. Situations like this escalated. The police wouldn’t wait on the perimeter for long. Someone would get anxious and push too far, too fast. And it was going to happen any second. He had to do something now.

“There’s a problem,” Lucian said, trying not to taunt the leader as much as engage him.

“Your only problem is that you need to shut the fuck up.”

“How do you know that’s the sculpture you want?” Lucian asked.

Marie Grimshaw held back a gasp. Deborah Mitchell looked up, startled. Tyler Weil clenched his fists.

“What the fuck?” Talbot asked, his mouth twisted into a mean, angry snarl.

“There are two identical pieces of that sculpture in the museum. One is the original. The other is an almost perfect copy. And there’s no guarantee which one this is. How do you know the museum didn’t put the copy on display, since it was the copy that was instrumental in recapturing the paintings?”

“This is the sculpture I want, and you know it.”

“I don’t, and you can’t. And no one is going tell you which is which unless you take the explosives off those women and get these people out of here.” He gestured to the crowd behind him.

Talbot looked at Weil. “Is this sculpture the real deal?”

“It is.”

“Can you be sure he’s not lying to you?” Lucian asked earnestly. “Don’t you think the director of the museum would lie to you if he could so that you’d take the wrong piece? His priority isn’t these people. He only wants to protect his art,” Lucian said derisively. “I can prove which is the real Hypnos.”

Weil cursed under his breath.

Lucian ignored him and continued. “Think about what your boss will do to you if you bring them the wrong sculpture.”

The terrorist was fully engaged now-angry, confused and focused on Lucian, which was just how the agent wanted it. “Take off the belts.” Lucian gestured at Emeline and the others. “And I’ll tell you if this is the right piece or not.”

“I’m not bargaining with you,” Talbot said. “I’ll take all of you out if I want to.”

“It’s a known fact the original has ivory hands and feet. The copy doesn’t, because it’s now illegal to buy ivory.”

“Is this ivory?” The ringleader reached out and touched the god’s left hand.

“I don’t know but there’s a simple test we can do to see if it is.”

“Do it, and fast.”

“Take off the belts.”

“I told you, no bargaining.”

Lucian knew the man was feeling the stress; he could see a flicker of worry in his eyes.

“To find out if the ivory is real…” Lucian pulled out the lighter that he still carried to prove his willpower was stronger than his desire, and flicked it on. “Take off the belts and I’ll show you how you can tell if this is the original or the fake.”