Page 108 of The Picasso Heist

“Whether or not it works,” she says. “Because it’s my ass on the line if it doesn’t.”

It’s my turn to laugh in her face. “Your ass?Yourass? If this plan doesn’t work, I’m as good as dead,” I say. “Literally.”

“So let’s make sure that doesn’t happen,” says Skip.

Joyce picks up the printout sitting on her desk and holds it like it’s a live grenade. “I’ve changed my mind. I need to know how you’re able to intercept Nikolov’s calls,” she says.

“No, your first instinct was right,” says Skip. “The less you know—”

“Yeah, I get it. Plausible deniability.” She stares at the transcript. “But still.”

“I showed you how we could track Nikolov’s movements by his phone,” says Skip. “Let’s just say, once that trapdoor is open, the possibilities are near endless.”

“In other words,” says Joyce, “it’s military software and you’re not about to give me details.”

Skip grins. “Something like that.”

“Speaking of military,” she says.

“There’ll be a team of two staked out at the warehouse in Jersey,” says Skip. “They’re both former SEALs, private contractors now.”

“Will they be enough?” asks Joyce. “Only two?”

“You’re footing the bill, you tell me,” he says.

“You won’t know what you’re walking into. What if Nikolov has a dozen of his guys in that warehouse?”

Skip points at me. “To kill one skinny little girl?”

“That’s real funny,” I say.

“Seriously, though,” says Joyce. “You could easily be outnumbered.”

“Outnumbered, maybe, but not outmanned,” says Skip. “My guys and I will be just fine.”

“It’s not you she’s worried about,” I say. “In fact, you never worry about anyone other than yourself, do you?”

“You’ll have to forgive my sister—”

“No, she’s right,” says Joyce without even a hint of shame. “This is just a transaction. A deal. You’re getting me what I want, and in return you get what you want. Your father.”

“No, that was our last deal,” I say. “What you’re doing now is extortion.”

“Call it whatever you want,” she says. “Ask me if I give a shit.”

I’m shooting daggers. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

“And you’re just pissed off because you’re not the smartest chick in the room,” says Joyce.

I’ve got a thousand comebacks but I leave them all unsaid. After all, I know what she knows—or at least what she thinks. Releasing my father from prison is entirely her call.

So I sit there and take it.

Of course I do.

CHAPTER91

I THINK Iread this in a Malcolm Gladwell book. No, wait. On second thought, it might have been a fortune cookie.