The Art Thief's Guide To Freedom

2. Step Two: How to Survive A Backstabbing

"On March 30, 2010, an unknown gang tunneled into the bank vault of Credit Lyonnais on Paris's Avenue de l'Opera, stealing valuables from nearly 200 safety deposit boxes, an estimate of millions of dollars. Covering their tracks, the gang torched the building and escaped. The whereabouts of the stolen items are unknown. Three years later, a similar crime was perpetrated in Germany."

~Henry Samuel, The Telegraph, 30 March 2010

~**~~**~

The elevator doors dinged as they slid open, the metal panels retracting into the wall. Taking a step out, Agent Will Patterson dodged a secretary running down the hall. The continuous bustle of the Bleeding Heart FBI Division of Major Crimes never ceased to amaze him.

Navigating his way through cubicles, around distracted agents, and of course, the ever-so-present stacks of files, Will made his way to the office in the corner. The solid oak door was closed, a golden nameplate hung in the middle.

Will thought about knocking but decided that knocking was for professionals. And he wasn't feeling very professional after the week he just had.

With ease and not a sound, Will entered the room. Three walls of the office were constructed from clear glass. Sunlight streamed into the room, negating the need for any lights during the day. Catty-cornered between the walls was a rustic oak desk. The leather chair behind it was facing away from the door.

Upon hearing the door open, the occupant of the chair swiveled. Clothed in a white dress shirt and blue tie, Commander Jack Rhodes mumbled indistinctly into a phone. His suit jacket was hung on the back of his chair, free from any wrinkles.

Will expected nothing less.

Jack's head was cocked to the side, one hand supporting his head. He glanced up from his phone call and held up one finger to pause Will. From the subtle smile stretching across Jack's face, Will deduced who was on the other side of the phone call.

If it had been a corded phone, Will would've expected Jack to be twirling the spiral cord around one finger absentmindedly. He looked that besotted.

"Tell her I said hi," he whispered at Jack, taking a seat on the other side of the desk.

Jack looked like he was going to hesitate but then relented.

"Will says hi."

He waited for a beat as he listened to the reply and then covered the speaker of the phone. "She says hi back."

Murmuring for a few more seconds, Jack ended the phone call by asking, "Are we still on for lunch? Ferchichi's? Yes, don't worry, I'll pay."

Hanging up, Jack placed the phone on the desk and slid a file in front of him.

Unable to resist, Will leaned forward and knocked casually on the desk. "Ferchichi's, huh? That's pretty fancy for lunch on Tuesday afternoon. Is it for business or pleasure?" He watched as Jack's shoulders hunched and the man's head whipped up. "Or both?!"

Indignantly, his best friend answered abruptly, "Business!" A twist pulled at his lips as he continued, "She's my partner. We. . .we have a case to discuss."

"Hmm—" Will said, not buying his defense. "All I know is that I don't kiss any of my partners. . ."

A scowl slashing his features, Jack acted as if the entire office heard Will's response. Hissing quietly, Jack said, "I tell you one thing! One thing!"

A chuckle escaped Will even though he tried to hold it in. Jack was so insistent in his declaration that Will almost believed him.

Almost.