Haddon sat down, still staring at the clergyman. He had worked with Lu Bradey for the past ten profitable years. Bradey was the best art thief in the business, and, what was more important, he had never been caught, and had no police record. Apart from his expertise with any lock, he was a master of disguise. To look at him now: fat, benign, elderly, no one would imagine he was only thirty-five years of age, and as thin as a stick of asparagus. His facial skin was like rubber: a few pads inside his mouth and his lean face turned to fat. By wearing a padded waistcoat, he appeared solid. A wig, made by himself, gave him baldness and wispy white hair. Haddon had seen him in various disguises, but none of them as successful as this: an elderly, fat, kindly man of the church.
“Lu, you are a marvel,” Haddon said. “I mean it!”
“Sure. I know I am. We go ahead?”
“Yes. Kendrick has found a buyer.”
Bradey grimaced.
“That fat fag? Why not Abe? I like working with Abe.”
“Abe’s run out of money. There’s a problem with Kendrick, but we’ll get to that.”
“I have problems too,” Bradey said. “I spent yesterday morning at the museum. The security there is tighter than a mouse’s ass hole.”
Haddon eyed him.
“Worry you?”
“Look, Ed, this is easily the toughest operation we have pulled. I’m relying on you. The museum is swarming with cops, guards, and worse, five bastards from the KGB. I went there in another disguise. I had to go through a scanner. The scanner picked up my car keys: it’s that sensitive. There was a goddamn queue of people who had to leave everything they were carrying in the lobby: bags, umbrellas, canes, briefcases and so on. It took time. All this high security doesn’t stop them from going: it adds to the excitement. Now, this icon you want. It’s in a glass case and electrically wired. Touch the damn case and an alarm goes off. There is a heavy cord around it, keeping the gawpers back two feet. Touch the cord and a guard moves in. Pretending I wanted a closer look, I pressed against the cord and two tough guards snarled at me. Believe me, this is a tough one.”
“Suppose there was no alarm and no guards, Lu, could you open the glass case?”
Lu chuckled.
“The lock is for the birds. Of course I could.”
“So, we cut off the alarm. I’ve got that fixed. We do the job on Tuesday. Fifteen minutes before you arrive, two City electricians will be on the job. I have them lined up. The electrical feed-in wires are in the grounds of the museum. All these two have to do is to lift a trap and cut a cable. With the crowd going into the museum, who’s going to bother with a couple of electricians in uniform? Okay, suppose one of the guards gets nosey? My two men can handle him. They are smooth operators and will have a forged permit. So, the alarm is out of action. Okay, so far?”
“If you say so, Ed, it is so.”
“Right. These Vietnamese? Have you got them lined up?”
“Yes: thirty-five refugees are arriving by coach to see the wonders of the Hermitage exhibition,” Bradey said with a sly smile. “Me, as the Reverend Samuel Hardcastle, bought the tickets, alerted the museum creeps and hired a coach... no problem there.”
Haddon took from his briefcase a flat object.
“I’ve spent money getting this made, Lu. It’s a smoke bomb, made of plastic. It’ll go through the scanner without trouble. There’s a switch. All you have to do is push the switch and you’ll get a hell of a lot of smoke: enough smoke to blot out the first floor of the gallery. Now, imagine: the gallery gets filled with smoke. There will be a panic. Guards rushing here and there, people screaming and rushing for the exits. While this is going on, you get the glass case open and grab the icon. I’m getting you a replica. You replace the icon with the replica, relock the case, and you’re home.”
Bradey leaned back in his chair while he thought.
Finally, he said, “No. Sorry, Ed, this won’t do. First, the bomb. These security creeps are right on the ball. This bomb is bulky. I can’t put it in my pocket. It would be spotted at once. Then the replica: someone carrying it would also be spotted. Someone carrying out the original would again be spotted even if there was a panic on. No, I don’t like it.”
Haddon smiled.
“Of course, but you haven’t thought of a factor I have thought of. Smart as you are, I am smarter. Now, tell me what is the most sacred thing men, including security guards, respect?”
Bradey shrugged.
“I’d say a bottle of Scotch.”
“You are wrong. The answer is a pregnant woman: a lovely looking woman about to give birth to a lovely, bouncing baby.”
Bradey stiffened.
“Have you gone out of your mind, Ed?”
“You remember Joey Luck?”
“Sure. He was the best dip in the business. I hear he’s retired.”
“Right. I’m borrowing a trick of his. His daughter used to strap an egg shaped wicker basket on her tummy and put on a maternity gown. Joe and she then went to some self-service store and filched. She filled the basket with food. It was a beautiful idea and it never failed. So, in your party, you will want two nice-looking girls who appear to be pregnant: one of them will carry the smoke bomb, the other the replica, in baskets strapped to their turns. The original icon will go out the same way... like it?”
Bradey closed his eyes and thought. Haddon watched him, smiling. Then Bradey opened his eyes and grinned.
“Ed!” he said, keeping his voice low. “Goddamn it! You’re a genius! I love it!”
“Okay. How about the girls? They’ll have to be in on this. Any ideas?”
“No problem. Among the party are two Viet whores who would slit their mothers’ throats if the money was big enough.” Bradey regarded Haddon. “This is going to cost, Ed. I’ll have to bribe them with five grand apiece.”
“So, okay. I’m not quibbling about costs. This is the big deal. Now, let’s look at Kendrick’s problem. He has to deliver the icon in Zurich, Switzerland.”
Bradey flinched.
“That’s his problem... and what a goddamn problem! Once the icon goes missing...”
“I know all that, and so does he. To get the icon into Switzerland is a big, big problem. No icon in Zurich, no money for him, nor you, nor me. That’s it, Lu, so we’ll have to help him. He’s smart and he’s working on it. If he doesn’t come up with a safe idea, the operation is off.”
Bradey shook his head.
“He can’t do it, Ed. We might as well call it off now. Mind you, if we can sit on the icon for six months until the heat cools off...”
“It has to be delivered ten days after the steal.”
Bradey shrugged.
“That’s not possible. The security...”
“I know, but Kendrick may come up with an idea. He’s a smart cookie. Let us assume he does. I want you to be in Zurich to take delivery of the money. Two million for me: one for you. Okay?”
“Man! He’ll have to come up with a very smart idea, but, if he does, the deal is fine with me.”
“Right. Now let us assume we can get the icon to Zurich, so we’ll now go into details.” Haddon dipped into his briefcase and produced a plan of the first floor of the Fine Arts museum where the Hermitage exhibition was on display.
The two men moved closer as they began to study the plan.
For the past years, Carroll Lepski often paused outside Maverick, the best and most fashionable couturier in the city. She would spend some time looking enviously at the display of elegant dresses and furs in the windows, then like Lepski staring at the display of choice cuts at Eddies, she would sigh and pass on.
But this morning, Carroll had money to spend, and she walked into the shop, her heart racing with excitement.
She found herself in a large room, furnished with antiques, with tapestry-covered chairs and several modern paintings of considerable value on the walls. At a large antique desk sat a middle-aged woman so elegantly dressed that Carroll paused.