“Where will I find him?” Lee asked, his voice tight.
I shook my head. “You can’t kill him, Lee. He’s the head of the Council, and if you kill him, it brings hell down on all of our heads. We aren’t ready for that yet. We just need another couple of months and then he won’t bother us anymore.”
“I don’t like politics, Zoey,” Lee growled. “I don’t want my hands tied because your husband would rather let you get assaulted than handle his business.”
“Daniel doesn’t know and he’s not going to,” I stated implacably. “I understand that it’s your job to protect me, but this is not negotiable. If you can’t allow me to handle this then you need to go back to Nevada. You won’t have to worry about politics again. I’ll find someone else to guard me.”
Marcus watched the two of us. “I believe, wolf, that if you had been with her Marini would have found it difficult to assault her. They made a mistake sending her in without a dedicated guard. It’s too easy to separate her from Devinshea. He must play the political game. And Zoey is right to keep this from Daniel. He would likely behave poorly. Daniel might not be ready for this fight, but neither is Louis. If you stay at her side Louis may still corner her, but he will find it difficult to force himself on her.”
Lee stared, obviously unhappy with his choices, but he finally relented. “Fine. You don’t go into a place like that again without me. He gets anywhere near you and you give me a 9-1-1. I’ll be there before he can sink his fangs in. Is that understood?”
I nodded. “I’ll call you, but Lee, you have to understand that this is the nature of the game we’re playing. It’s too important. It’s not like we’re doing this for fun. Our lives are on the line and so is the freedom of every wolf you know. If I need to sacrifice to keep us all free then that’s what I’ll do.”
“I believe you, and that’s why I’ll protect you,” Lee replied. “Now go make us some sandwiches because it’s thirty damn miles to Fort Worth and I’m hungry.”
I started toward the kitchen. “You’re a crappy employee, Lee.”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “But I’ll be damn good at keeping you alive.”
Chapter Fifteen
Having really good intelligence is important to any job but crucial when it comes to being a thief. While a guy robbing a random house might be comfortable picking up anything that catches his eye, the real professionals want to know exactly where the object of their desire is kept and how much crap they’re going to have to get through to get it.
Casing a place you intend to rob is completely necessary, though there are certain precautions you should take. When entering an establishment ripe with security measures, a modest disguise is called for. It doesn’t have to be anything along the lines of Mission Impossible. A hat will do to hide the color of one’s hair, and it is easy enough to make sure your face doesn’t get caught on camera. In most places, the security measures are out in the open. They’re meant to deter the casual thief and, in the case of an art museum, to discourage patrons from getting too close to the masterworks. This open security is a big mistake when dealing with someone like me. It just lets me know exactly what I need to take out in order to get my prize.
I entered the Kimbell Art Museum, sweeping my hair forward in an attempt to partially cover my face. A throng of visiting tourists surrounded me and it was easy to get lost in the midst of art lovers, harried parents, and teens who paid way more attention to their cell phones than the masterpieces on the walls. The first floor held a portion of the standing collection and the offices of museum employees. Directly to the back, behind the front desk, were the stairs that led to the second floor and the primary exhibit spaces. Right now, the choice space was taken up with an exhibit of Italian Renaissance masters.
Glancing around, it was easy to see that the museum relied on cameras and human security. There was a small camera in every corner and, mounted slightly below it, a motion detector for nighttime security. Both would be so easy to take out it was ridiculous. Getting in would be the hard part. I glanced above me and was impressed by the thick concrete overhead. No ceiling access for this thief. If I wanted in, I would have to use a door, and those would be heavily guarded.
On the drive over in Marcus’s rented BMW convertible, I decided that the best plan of action was to find out when the exhibit was being moved into its new home. Hijacking a truck might be easier than tackling the museum. I nodded at Marcus as we entered the building with its scalloped arches. He approached the front desk and knew exactly what to do.
“Hello, I’m Marcus Vorenus.” Marcus didn’t bother with an alias because after he was gone, no one would quite be able to remember what he looked like or exactly what he’d said. Vampire persuasion was a remarkable tool. “I believe you’ll find I have an appointment with your director.”
He didn’t, but sure enough when Suzy Receptionist studied her empty schedule, it was right there for her eyes only. She smiled up at the immaculate Italian and promised her director would be with him in a moment.
“I don’t get all this painting stuff,” Lee said as he walked past some of the world’s masterworks. He stopped at a Matisse. “I could do that.”
“I doubt it.” I studied the Gauguin next to the Matisse and found myself drawn into the self-portrait.
“Don’t look too long, cara,” Marcus warned, walking up behind me. “Paul was a bit of a wizard. He liked to place pieces of his soul in his self-portraits. See, he’s winking at you.”
Sure enough, those black eyes blinked. If Marcus hadn’t pointed it out, I would have thought it was a trick of the light. Now I stepped back, slightly disturbed at the thought.
“Hello, Paul.” Marcus waved at the painting. “I was never so happy to be a daywalker as the time I spent in Tahiti with Gauguin. He knew how to party, as you would say.”
“See, that’s just creepy.” Lee studied the painting like it was something about to attack. “I always liked that one of the dogs playing poker though.”
I sidestepped the issue of Lee’s taste in art as I inspected the gallery and wondered what the other paintings were doing. There are times that knowledge isn’t power, it’s just scary.
“Mr. Vorenus.” A small-statured man with a slight potbelly and wire-framed glasses came through the glass doors leading to the business offices. “I apologize, but I have no record of an appointment with you. Do you mind my asking what this is about?”
“Of course you remember, Stanley,” Marcus said reassuringly, pushing his persuasion directly at the smaller man. We had tracked down the director’s name on the Internet.
Stanley smiled widely and put his hand out for Marcus to shake. “How silly of me to have forgotten. It’s good to see you, Marcus. Come on back to my office and we can catch up.”
We were led through the corridors and into the cool confines of the museum director’s office. I kept my face as forward as possible so no one would be able to remember me when we left. Once the door closed behind us, Marcus dropped the happy pretenses and got down to some serious persuasion. One minute our new friend was smiling and happy, and the next his face was a complete blank and the room was filled with pulsing talent.
I glanced up at Marcus, and his eyes were dark and large as he worked his magic. “You can ask him your questions now, cara. He’ll answer honestly and forget you were ever here.”
“Have you seen the Treasures of Ancient Rome exhibit?” It had already shown in New York and Chicago.
The director’s voice held no emotion as he answered. “Yes. I saw it in Chicago. We had already negotiated to bring it here, and I wanted to get a team up there to figure out how to design the space for the exhibit. We spent several days with the artifacts.”
“Was there anything at all unusual about the artifacts?”
“They’re very old,” he replied. “They date from the Roman Republic and the Empire periods. The collection consists of mostly statuary, sculptures, housewares, and jewelry. Some of the textiles are extremely fragile. We’ll have to keep an eye on the humidity to preserve them.”
I would have to be more specific. “Did anyone in your group notice any of the artifacts for odd reasons? Anything stand out as more intriguing than the rest? Did anyone mention that one of the artifacts made them uncomfortable or perhaps called to them in a way?”
Often with truly arcane objects, the item itself gives off a specific energy that even humans can feel. It can call to the human or repulse them, depending on what the object is supposed to do.
“There was one item. Brandy commented on it,” he said in that monotone. “It was a sculpture. She didn’t like it. I didn’t understand because it was a wonderful example of the time period. She said the eyes bothered her. She refused to be in the room with it after a while.”
“Was it of a wolf?” Marcus asked.
“Yes,” came the reply. “It was a wolf in marble. The wolf is devouring a woman.”
That was what I needed. Now I needed the wheres and hows. It took time to set up an exhibit, so the pieces were coming to Fort Worth weeks before the actual opening date. It was a simple thing to get the director to print off all the arrangements the museum had made with the security company that would transport the exhibit to Fort Worth. I knew all the contact information, the dates of transfer, the name of the driver who would be in charge, and the time the shipment was expected to arrive at each checkpoint. I would steal the artifact before it ever made it to the museum, long before Halfer had planned to get his hands on it.