Nick grabbed for his phone, but inadvertently knocked it off the seat instead. Cursing to himself, he reached down to pick it up. He’d been expecting the text and had purposely kept his phone handy, but the chime that signaled the incoming message had still startled him. That’s what happens when calls (or texts) come in the middle of the night, he thought; it doesn’t matter that you know it’s coming, or expect it at any moment—when it comes, the call still takes you by surprise.
So the text came in. “So far, so good. Now just waiting.” Simple enough. It told him what he needed to know. And yet... it didn’t tell him what he wanted to know. Did everything go as they’d planned? Did Gina have any trouble hiding out in the storage room? Or with the moths? Did she remember to move the camera back as best she could? How long had the motion sensors stayed off-line?
So many details he wanted to know. He almost wished he’d been there with her. Well, no, he didn’t really wish that, as he admitted he would probably have only gotten in the way. To which she would emphatically agree, damn her eyes.
Nick thought back to his visit to the Langham Museum, and remembered the North American Pathways room, as well as the Growing Technologies for a Growing World room next door. He tried to envision what Gina had done: sneaking around a building equipped with security cameras and sensors, and trying to either work around or neutralize them. From experience Nick knew that while the presence of the moths was likely to result in the motion sensors being turned off, it didn’t guarantee they’d be off for any specific amount of time, much less the rest of the night.
He had impressed upon Gina that once the sensors were deactivated, she couldn’t afford to waste any time in working on the next steps, with the camera. The security company could decide at any time to turn the motion sensors back on, moths or no moths—and if that happened while she was still in the North American Pathways room.... it was Game Over. She’d be detected. Worse, she probably wouldn’t even realize it. With her attention focused on getting to the bowl, she wouldn’t notice the lights on the sensors flicking back on. And the sensors were tied in to a silent alarm, so the security company and the police would be notified of her presence while she was still blithely going about her (illegal) business, totally unaware of the danger.
That was the only scenario that Gina acknowledged might warrant him accompanying her inside. And yet it didn’t outweigh the disadvantages.
Even though they agreed that it didn’t make sense for him to be in the museum with her, they had still argued about his role during this time. He wanted to be nearby in case anything went wrong, possibly parked close to the museum, listening via their usual ear-bud communications.
Gina had nixed the idea on the grounds that he wouldn’t be any more helpful outside on the street than he would be inside the building. If things went well, he’d miss a good night’s sleep for nothing. If things went south and she became locked in or otherwise discovered, there wouldn’t be anything he could do... and his proximity would certainly be discovered, needlessly putting him in as much trouble as she was in. Who would that help?, she pointed out.
In fact, she even ruled out wearing the ear-piece. “The last thing I need is your voice in my head,” she told him. “I know what I have to do, and I know how to do it, and you yammering in my ear isn’t going to help me get it done. Not to mention it’ll distract me from being able to focus. So no, it’s not gonna happen. I’ll text you when I’m done.”
So he had to be satisfied with that. Well, he wasn’t satisfied with it, but he’d agreed and reconciled himself to it. And now that she sent the text, he knew that she’d taken the Woodland Bowl, so her major activities for the evening were over with. Now she had to do some tedious waiting.
“You OK?” he texted back. He was sure he already knew her answer, but he couldn’t not ask.
His phone chimed again seconds later. “Peachy. Go back to sleep.”
During his visit to the museum, Nick had gotten a glimpse of the employee break-room as he’d wandered around in places he probably shouldn’t have been. It wasn’t a large room, but it served its purpose. There were the usual kitchen-type counters and cabinets on the right-hand wall, including a small sink, and a refrigerator on the back wall. A round table ringed by ugly plastic chairs was in the center of the room, and that was pretty much all there was to see, if memory served. Most importantly for their purposes, there were no cameras in the “employees only” refuge.
That was the room in which Gina would spend the next five-plus hours.
Assuming, of course, they hadn’t missed something in their research and preparation for the job. Assuming that some unanticipated silent alarm hadn’t been triggered. Assuming that the police weren’t racing to the museum at this very moment to surround it and apprehend her.
Looking up from his phone, Nick glanced out the window. The street was quiet and still, as streets should be at this hour in the middle of the night. He was probably the only idiot crazy enough to let his imagination run wild and ruin a perfectly nice night. Glancing around, his was certainly the only car visible within three blocks of the museum. And, from his spot tucked into a narrow alley between two office buildings, he could see that the museum itself was dark and silent.
Just as it should be.
