“Nope,” she said to herself.

  She abandoned the dress on the floor near her bed, and chose another one. A bit longer than the first one, this dress was of a brownish red. Its soft fabric felt comfortable and nice. And yet, the mirror wasn’t any more impressed than before. Too long, too dark, too ugly.

  “Ugh, why am I even trying?”

  At last, Farrell took out a pair of dark blue jeans from her closet. She pulled on a tight green top with no sleeves. And this time finally, the mirror reflected the picture of a sexy young woman. Satisfied, she put on her high-heeled black leather boots, randomly picked up a purse, and left.

  Luckily, Farrell was able to get into the first cab she saw. She was late. Again. She hoped her friends wouldn’t mind; they were probably used to it. She defended herself by saying she was the only one living so far from the pub. And it wasn’t even a lie. When she arrived, she waved at the group of people waiting for her, but walked toward the counter instead.

  “Hey, honey,” López said. “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

  “Well, what can I say, I missed you,” she said with a smile.

  “Really?” He spoke in an inviting tone which matched his look.

  “No, not really. And don’t look at me like that. Anyway,” Farrell sighed. She looked at her friends and caught a glimpse of the pale blue eyes watching her. “Who’s that guy over there?” she asked López.

  “Friend of mine,” was the answer.

  Farrell didn’t ask more. She headed for the table where her friends were waiting for her.

  On the next day, Farrell had some difficulty coming out of her hangover. She had a cold shower and drank five glasses of water. She had breakfast. Then she went back to bed. She slept until early afternoon. When she got up, she still had a headache. After having drunk four more glasses of water and eaten pasta, she had another cold shower.

  Farrell walked naked around her flat, looking for her cellphone. Water dripped from her hair, leaving slippery stains on the floor. Her place was a mess. The night before, she’d left her boots near the entrance, and her clothes were scattered across the living room, between the bathroom and bedroom doors. She finally found her purse, got the phone out and called her friend to say she’d be late.

  Farrell chose her favorite clothes: blue jeans and thin leather top. She took several minutes to dry her long rebellious hair. After that, she combed it as well as she could. She put dark make-up on her eyelids, and red lipstick. Before leaving, Farrell tidied her flat a little. She picked up the clothes from the floor and slipped into her boots. After checking she hadn’t forgotten anything, she left.

  Luckily, her friend didn’t live far from her place, so Farrell didn’t have to wait for a taxi. She walked down the busy streets of New York, her steps resounding because of her high heels. After a while, she turned into Union Avenue and met Sarah who was waiting for her outside the building.

  When they were finally sitting in a cafe, Farrell casually asked her friend about her work. Sarah had been working as a hostess in Spears Art Gallery for a bit less than a year. She had befriended almost of all her colleagues and got along just fine with her boss, Mr Spears himself.

  “I’ve actually never been to the gallery,” Farrell said. “What’s it like?”

  “Huge!” her friend answered enthusiastically. “It’s basically separated into two parts. Half of the hall—or actually a bit more than half—is dedicated to the permanent collection.”

  “Oh, and what’s that collection?”

  “A mix of loads of different things. Most of them by unknown artists,” Sarah laughed, “I guess that’s why people only come when there are special exhibitions, like next week.”

  “Right, I’ve seen that on TV. A ruby, I think?” Farrell asked, faining ignorance.

  “Yes, you should see that thing. It’s enormous, at least two inches large. And the details of the flower are really precise.”

  “Oh really? They didn’t look so sharp on TV.” Farrell was trying to sound casual and not interested, but she was internally exulting.

  “Yeah, I know, but it’s really more beautiful when you’re looking at it directly rather than on TV.”

  “Hm, well maybe I’ll go to the gallery next week.”

  “I know you will,” Sarah said with a wink. “You love jewels too much to resist.”

  Farrell laughed. “You know me so well.” She sipped on her coffee, and looked away. She was thinking about the best way to ask about the architecture of the building. “I bet that front door will be crowded as hell,” she said.

  “You can always get in through the side door, it’s usually less crowded.”

  “There are several doors?”

  “Just the two. The second door is on the eastern side of the building.”

  “And you use that one, I guess, so you don’t need to walk through the mass of people…”

  “No, I use the back door. We call it the artists’ entrance. It’s always locked, but each of us has a key.”

  Farrell smiled. An unknown back door. That was exactly what she needed. The two friends went on speaking of men, books, the new restaurant at the crossroads, and so on. When they got up to head home, Farrell managed to steal her friend’s keys. She might be crossing her famous line, but she knew Sarah wouldn’t suffer from it. They parted, but Farrell remained near the entrance of the cafe while her friend walked away. She had a quick look at the keys. One of them was a bit smaller than the others and rustier. There was a rough inscription on it: SAG. Farrell took it off the keyring. She then yelled at Sarah who hadn’t reached the end of the street yet.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “You forgot your keys,” Farrell said, handing back the keyring.

  “Oh thanks! I’m so clumsy sometimes.”

  Later, at home, Farrell googled Spears Art Gallery. She found out that the back door was on the north side of the building. She hoped it wouldn’t be heavily guarded. Dumping sentinels was always a bit of a pain in the ass. She put the key in her wallet, where it would be safe. Now, she could do no more than wait for the week to pass.

  At last, the day of the exhibition arrived. Farrell was excited as though it was her very first visit to any art gallery. She certainly wouldn’t wear her comfortable blue jeans today. She walked into her closet and stood in between her dresses. After having hesitated for quite a while between long or short, dark or light, she eventually chose a long dark red dress. She wore black high-heeled shoes, and a black leather purse containing nothing but cellphone, wallet, and keys. She would come back for her tools later, when she knew exactly how the ruby was protected.

  As Farrell walked in the street, heads turned toward her and people whispered comments. It was annoying. Luckily, it wasn’t long before she could get into a cab.

  “Spears Art Gallery,” she said. “If you could take me to the eastern side of the building, that would be nice.”

  “Sure thing, ma’am.”

  The drive wasn’t long, but as a lot of people were going to the same place, the roads were messy. That is, even more than usual. Farrell finally managed to enter the museum. She paid her ticket, and tried to wrestle her way through the crowd. She spotted a famous animator along with his cameraman, talking to Spears himself. Farrell walked around them, so that she wouldn’t be seen on television. Publicity is not what thieves like best.

  After a few more minutes, Farrell was standing in front of the ruby. The gem was showcased in a transparent plastic box, which stood on a stone pillar. It was about two or three feet from the wall, and surrounded by blue cords supposed to prevent people from getting too close.

  Farrell was surprised at how cheap the installation was. It looked as though one could just lift the plastic, snatch the ruby, and walk away. She was studying the slow movements of the CCTV cameras, when she noticed a man standing on her left.

  “Quite a nice sculpture,” he said.

  “A beautiful jewel, you mean,” she answered, internally wishing him to leave.

  “Women see the jewel, men see the art,” he said defiantly.

  She turned to face him. It took no more than a second for her to recognize the man from the pub. He was dressed more elegantly, yet still had the same cold and somewhat challenging look—which was, at the moment, fixed on her breasts.

  “Women see the eyes, men see the flesh,” she said, annoyed.

  He instantly lifted his eyes to meet hers. He didn’t look embarrassed, but rather satisfied that she’d noticed his stare. His lips didn’t smile, although there was the shadow of a smile in his blue eyes.

  “Have a nice day, mister.”

  “Carter,” he said, but she was already gone.

  The Art Gallery

  Carter spent the whole afternoon wandering about in the art gallery. He went from picture to painting to sculpture, checking his watch every two minutes. He eventually walked toward the bathrooms, conveniently situated next to the mysterious place he had spotted while studying the maps.

  He noticed a door a few feet on the right marked RESTRICTED AREA. It was almost too easy. One could have honestly mistaken one door for the other. He opened it without hesitation. There was no one in the room. Two lines of gray metallic lockers faced each other, separated by a long bench which looked cold and uncomfortable.

  Carter inspected the lockers. Two of them weren’t secured. Carter laughed sarcastically to himself. This art gallery was really just a joke. It looked as though they actually wanted him to steal the ruby.

  He peered into one of the lockers. An overused khaki jacket hung from a broken hanger. A cap of the same color lay in the bottom of the locker. Carter looked for a name tag on the jacket, but all he could find was a notice saying concierge. The other locker contained a pair of high-heeled shoes and a make-up bag.

  Suddenly, the door opened. Carter quickly slipped the khaki jacket on and lowered his head. There was no noise coming from the hall, so he figured that all customers had left. A tall man entered and looked at him bitterly. Carter recognized him from the TV show.

  “Who are you?” Spears asked.

  Carter didn’t say a word. Instead, he pointed at the tag on his chest.

  “The new concierge? Oh, I thought you were only arriving after the Duval exhibition.”

  “Well, I changed my plans,” Carter improvised.

  “That’s… unexpected.” Spears sounded astonished and tired, which made an odd mixture. “Lock the door on your way out.”

  “I wasn’t given a key.”

  “Oh… well, here, take mine,” Spears said before he left through the door leading into the back street.

  Carter breathed a little more easily after Spears had walked away. He left the door unlocked in case he would have to make a quick escape. Everything had gone so perfectly well until now. Something seemed wrong, and it made Carter feel uneasy. He liked it better when there was some challenge; a difficult way in, or counted time.

  He walked to the door and peered carefully into the hall. All the lights were out, except at the main entrance. He could barely see the black jacket with yellow stripes of the guard walking about the front door. From where Carter stood, he couldn’t see the side entrance, but he guessed that another sentinel was placed there. He waited a little longer, observing the man’s pattern of movements. The guard walked to and fro for a minute and then sat down near the cash desk.

  Carter dropped the khaki jacket; his own dark shirt would offer a better camouflage. Looking into the hall once more, he spotted the CCTV cameras, one at each corner. He reached into his pocket and took out an electronic device a friend had made for him. Carter didn’t really know how it worked, but he didn’t care. He aimed at the first camera from the door. The device made a little beep and a red light glowed on its tiny screen.

  At this exact moment, Carter thought he heard a noise behind him. He crouched and walked silently toward the nearest sculpture. All the sculptures, apart form the ruby, were conveniently placed upon long and dark structures. Carter hid in between two of them. From there, he disabled the other two cameras which could show him sneaking in. He stayed hidden for a minute. He couldn’t make out what the earlier noise had been. The sentinel was still sitting with his back to him, so he started for the ruby.

  After having made a quick stop at home to change her dress for black jeans and boots, Farrell got back to the museum. She arrived as the doors were being closed and locked for the night. She quickly hid in the by-street when she saw Spears himself step out of the building. When she was sure to be out of his sight, she resumed her walk. She reached the door in less than a minute. The key she had stolen was ready at hand, but she didn’t have to use it. Surprisingly enough, Spears hadn’t locked the door.

  Farrell stepped inside. She closed the door behind her, careful not to make any noise. She took off her shoes; walking with high heels on a cement floor wasn’t the most silent thing to do. She placed the boots near the door. Then she tied her hair very tightly, and put her mask on. Dressed entirely in black and with her identity hidden, she suddenly felt like Catwoman.

  From what she had observed in the afternoon, the only dangerous things were the three CCTV cameras looking toward the ruby. She would have to be fast if she didn’t want to be spotted by the guards. Guards which she hoped were not walking around the hall.

  Farrell opened the door just enough to peer through it. What was her surprise when she saw a tall man walking stealthily but rapidly away from her. She concealed herself in the shadows against the door. Farrell quickly recognized the man from the bar. He had a strange device in his hand and was apparently aiming for the CCTV cameras with it. Farrell was fast to understand what the device was for: disabling the cameras. While he was looking the other way, she moved, as discreet as a black panther, toward the ruby.

  The first thing Farrell noticed were the little red and green beams at the bottom of the pillar where the ruby lay. Those were movement detectors. If anything moved within the zone they covered, the alarm would go off. Farrell further noticed that they were conveniently about one foot apart. With her legs and feet together, she could stand in between the two detectors without making them sound. But she couldn’t move an inch.

  Farrell breathed slowly and deeply. She concentrated, stepped over the blue cord and took her position. She was about to inspect the glass—which was actually plastic—when she heard a voice behind her.

  “Just what do you think you’re doing?” Carter asked in a furious whisper.

  “Shhh,” Farrell said without moving, “you’ll attract the guards.”

  Carter couldn’t believe it. Yet, he’d somehow expected something like that to happen. No robbery was easy, and this one had been only too perfect until now. He looked at her feet. She was standing as immobile as a statue, and with no shoes.

  Carter also noticed the red and green lights from the detectors. He carefully stepped over the cord to face her. As he was larger and taller than her, he couldn’t stand entirely within the cords. She thus had the advantage of being not only more comfortable, but closer to the ruby. She turned her head toward him and he instantly recognized her deep black eyes.

  “You?” he gasped.

  “Yes, me,” she said ironically.

  Carter almost smiled. “You should go back home, little girl,” he said with cold sarcasm. “This is not your business.”

  “Oh, how cute,” Farrell answered on the same tone, “he talks as if to protect me.”

  “You should have kept your nice dress on.”

  Farrell smiled. Carter seemed to think himself so superior that it was actually pathetic. “You’re right,” she said. “It would have been easier to distract you with that huge plunging neckline.”

  Just as she expected, he looked embarrassed for half a second and then angry at himself for being unable to answer. Farrell redirected her attention to the ruby. She tried lifting the plastic. It was heavier than it looked. She examined its base. A thin metal wire was attached to two corners of the box.

  “I wouldn’t lift it too high if I were you,” Carter said.

  “Why, what’s it gonna do?” she asked.

  “You’re poorly informed.” Carter noticed.

  “Well, teach me then. I’ll allow you that pleasure.”

  Carter almost smiled again. “The other end of that wire is attached to a weight. And that weight bears a tiny detector which will start howling if it’s removed from its place.”

  “Thanks for the info,” Farrell said. She produced a small knife from her pocket, and a piece of gum. She chewed the gum while cutting the wire. Then she glued the wire with the gum to maintain the detector in place. Finally, she slid her hand under the plastic, snatched the ruby, and put the box in its former place. Carter looked at her with an opened mouth.

  “Impressed?” she asked triumphantly.

  “Absolutely not,” he lied.

  “Goodbye, mister Carter,” she said while stepping back to the other side of the cord.

  “Oh no, you don’t,” he mumbled. He consciously moved his foot so the alarm would go off.

  As the guards were starting from their place, Carter outran Farrell to the back door. He blocked her way, but she was smart and fast. She held the ruby as far from him as she could. While he stretched over her head to reach it, she made a slight cut through his shirt and skin right below his arm.

  “Fuck! That hurt,” he yelled.

  Farrell walked passed him and into the locker room. He followed her. She grabbed her boots and sprang into the street. Carter was about to do the same thing when he heard footsteps getting dangerously close behind him. He looked around, saw the concierge jacket. As the guards made a bursting entrance, Carter was lying on the ground by the door.

  “Help,” he said. “The thief, she went that way.”

  One of the sentinels ran outside. The other one leaned over Carter.

  “Are you okay, sir?”

  “Yes, fine,” Carter answered in his perpetually cold and sarcastic tone. He knocked the guard down, abandoned the khaki jacket, and got out. There was no sign of Farrell, and the sentinel who’d went after her was standing at the end of the street, making a phone call. Carter ran in the other direction. He was determined to get the ruby along with his revenge on Farrell.

 

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