The Prisoner's Gold

27

Hector Garcia lifted a succulent slice of Neapolitan pizza out of the box and savored the aroma. The team was staying in a small hotel just down the street from one of the best pizzerias in all of Italy, a charming restaurant called La Grotta di Leo on the via della Scala. More importantly, the hotel was just a mile away from the Uffizi Gallery.

They had checked into the hotel the previous night, and now Sarah and Maggie sat on the bed as Garcia took a moment to eat while going over last-minute details. Cobb and McNutt were already out in the city, ready to begin their respective parts of the plan.

The museum sat in the heart of the crowded central district of Florence. The massive building was several stories in height, and the closed end of the U-shaped structure looked out over the scenic Arno River. Housing artwork from Michelangelo, Raphael, Rembrandt, Caravaggio, and Botticelli, the Uffizi was one of the most famous museums in Europe.

Thankfully, the guard’s journal hadn’t been recognized by historians as having anything to do with Marco Polo; if it had, it would have been a featured attraction. Instead, it was a small part of a ‘slice of life’ exhibit showcasing random artifacts from thirteenth-century Italy. Since there were no items of considerable value, the collection was displayed on a glass-covered desk the size of a dinner table in one of the hallways between two marble statues.

Most tourists ignored the display completely.

Maggie had cased the gallery earlier in the day, following directions that Sarah had fed to her through an earpiece. Sarah would have preferred to do the legwork herself, but she couldn’t risk being spotted on security cameras the day of the heist.

Although photography was strictly forbidden in the museum, Maggie filmed everything with a pair of Garcia’s high-tech glasses. She paused briefly in front of the journal itself, hoping to glean information about Polo, but the book was opened to a page that had nothing to do with him. She also pretended to examine the statues across the hallway from the display while slipping a small magnet next to a contact switch at the base of a nearby window. Garcia had given her the device and said it would prevent an alarm, even if the circuit were disrupted.

‘Let’s go through this one more time,’ he said before blowing on the piping hot pizza that was about to ravage the roof of his mouth.

Sarah nodded. ‘The plan is ridiculously simple for a museum of this caliber. Their security is relatively lax in the hallway because the most valuable items — the paintings and such — are inside the well-guarded galleries. The floor in the hall has no pressure plates, or lasers, or cages. Just the cameras, which you’ll cut right before I go in. Maggie already placed the magnet, so I should be able to break the case, grab the book, slip out the window, and run to the river.’

‘And if anything goes wrong …’ Maggie said.

Sarah finished the thought. ‘I go up.’

Four hours later, just after sunset, Sarah slipped along the crowded alleys toward the Uffizi. She wore a brunette wig and a locally purchased, leopard-spotted coat-and-scarf combination that made her look like any number of Italian women in the area.

She passed some graffiti on an alleyway wall that loosely translated to: Italy. Go. Fuck. Party. She smiled at the message, thinking of the drunken locals who were already starting their revelry despite the fact that it was barely dark on a weekday.

That type of chaos would only aid her escape.

Under her wig and scarf, Sarah had an earpiece that allowed her to communicate with the rest of the team. ‘Approaching the gallery now.’

‘Copy that,’ Garcia said as he adjusted her feed.

The museum would be open for an extra two hours to accommodate Dr Maria Pelati, a guest lecturer who would be talking about her recent discoveries in Orvieto, Italy, and Cholula, Mexico. Though her family was very well known in the region, she rarely made local appearances, so the gallery was expecting a huge crowd.

The fortified stone walls of the building gave the appearance of strength, but the outside plaza located between the wings of the building was designed to attract visitors, not scare them away. Each side of the building had terraced steps up to numerous doors and lit windows. Sarah could see that the hallways behind them were no longer packed, but they were still flowing with tourists who would be attending the lecture.

It wasn’t the only thing she noticed.

A construction crane being used to restore the terracotta tiles that covered the building’s roof had been parked near the closed end of the U-shaped plaza. The broad, bright orange base of the vehicle was surrounded by a six-foot-high chain-link fence that had been hastily erected around it. Two of the sandbags that anchored the fence in place were ripped open and leaking damp sand onto the cobblestones.

On the river side of the building was a fluorescent-yellow debris chute that ran up to the roof. Sarah wondered how long the roof repair had been going on. She mused that if she had needed to get into one of the more heavily guarded exhibits, the construction crane provided a ludicrous amount of exposure to the building’s roof. For the time being, she hoped they hadn’t increased security on the roof to counter that flaw.

‘Ready,’ she whispered.

A second later, she heard Cobb’s voice. ‘I’m good.’

Then McNutt’s. ‘I’m better.’

Then Maggie’s. ‘All clear.’

Garcia spoke last. ‘Just say the word, and I’ll kill the cameras.’

Sarah nodded and stepped inside the museum.