Page 122 of Brushed By Moonlight

It was so dark, I touched my face to check whether my eyes were open. Finally, a sliver of light appeared above and expanded.

Then,thump!The dumbwaiter hit its upper limit and swayed. I cringed, praying it wouldn’t collapse into the shaft below. Would the fall kill me, or would I lie trapped for hours before dying in misery?

Not dying,I barked at myself. Not tonight anyway.

I listened for a moment, then pushed at the double doors outlined by slivers of dim light.

Nothing.

I pushed harder. Still nothing.

I shimmied around to raise my foot and push harder. Crap. Was the door locked from the office side?

I pushed again, then kicked, then—

With a cry and a crash, I tumbled out onto a carpeted floor. I froze, convinced I would open my eyes to a ring of armed gunmen.

But, whew. Nobody there.

Getting to my hands and knees, I glanced around. Double whew. I’d emerged in the deserted office beside the library. The twin, floor-to-ceiling windows on the north wall were shuttered, but a little light filtered in from the adjacent loading area.

I tiptoed over to the library door and listened. Nothing there, but a scuffle sounded outside the windows, followed by a muffled thump. I froze again, listening.

At first, nothing happened. Then,whoosh!Fire roared, illuminating the night and casting flickering shadows over the walls.

Then,boom!Something exploded.

I ducked as the windows rattled. Not too far away, glass shattered. The distant sounds of the party stopped, interrupted by cries.

“Hurry!” Roux’s muffled warning sounded from the dumbwaiter shaft.

I stared at the windows, then hustled over to the dumbwaiter. “What was that?”

His voice was clearer there — clear enough for me to catch his sigh. “Marius’s idea of a diversion.”

I stared at the flames outside the windows. The fire was somewhere farther along the building, but still too close for comfort.

“Hurry!” Roux propelled me into motion.

I listened briefly, then eased open the door to the library.

I froze, spotting a figure there. One lone sentry left to guard the room after our heist attempt backfired.

Shit, shit, shit.

He was all the way over by the far door, talking into a headpiece. So, whew. He hadn’t noticed me.

I eased back into the office and stood still, my heart pounding.

Now what? The Van Gogh wasn’t far, but I couldn’t walk in there under the sentry’s nose and grab it unnoticed.

Unless…

My breath caught as the boldest — craziest? — plan of my life popped into my mind.

Shadow-walking.

I discarded the thought immediately. Shadow-walking in a sequined dress? Good luck. Also, shadow-walking required maintaining a false image of myself in one location while sneaking over to another. Misdirecting, in other words, the way an amateur magician did. The key was to give your audience a false target to focus on, but I couldn’t reveal myself to the sentry.