Page 35 of The Picasso Heist

He started to hand over the binoculars but got waved off by his partner, Agent Sigma.

He remained staring at his phone, reading a Bleacher Report post about a possible trade between the Knicks and the Chicago Bulls.

“Seriously,” said Sigma without looking up from his phone, “are you going to ask about every brunette in her twenties?”

Agent Tau peered through the binoculars again, slightly adjusting the diopter. “It sure looks like her.”

“That’s a horrible trade,” said Sigma, thumb-scrolling. “The Knicks should just trade their owner.”

“Or maybe I could trade my partner,” Tau muttered under his breath.

“I heard that,” said Sigma, eyes still down.

“Oh, now you’re listening.” Tau lowered the binoculars. “I said, it sure looks like her.”

“It’s not.” Sigma hadn’t even bothered to look over the ledge of the roof.

“How do you know?”

“Is she alone?” asked Sigma.

“Yeah.”

“Is it the side entrance?”

“No,” said Tau.

“That’s how I know,” said Sigma. “When she comes out, it will be the side entrance, and she won’t be alone.”

“What kind of a hoity-toity name is Halston anyway?” asked Tau.

“I don’t know,” said Sigma. “What kind of guy actually goes around saying hoity-toity?”

“You’re just pissed because you choked that putt on the eighteenth yesterday.”

“I didn’t choke. I just misread the break.”

“Either way, you still owe me a hundred.”

“Put it on the Underhill tab.”

“Funny,” said Tau, back to the binoculars again.

Sigma was done reading about the possible Knicks trade. He was done with this whole damn assignment. There was something about it he didn’t like, something that didn’t sit right, although he couldn’t put his finger on what. Just a gut feeling.

For sure he didn’t like baking in the hot sun on the rooftop across from the Echelon building. He hated stakeouts. The waiting. And waiting… and waiting…

Working with his longtime partner made it bearable, but he’d much rather be losing to him on the golf course than doing this.

Sigma cleared his throat and spoke, his voice dropping an octave so he sounded like a late-night-TV infomercial host. “Are you looking for excitement? Do you crave a life on the cutting edge? If so, look no further than the FBI. All the glitz, all the glamour, and all while carrying a Glock. That’s right, the FBI: Fun Beyond Imagination. Sign up today!”

Tau always laughed no matter how many times he heard Sigma do his FBI-promotional-brochure routine. That’s what partners did. The expected. The great partners, at least. The ones who always had each other’s backs.

But Tau didn’t laugh this time because he was still looking through his binoculars, and at that very moment, he saw her. He was sure of it. She was coming out the side entrance and she wasn’t alone.

“Hey, it’s her. It’s definitely her,” he said, tapping Sigma on the shoulder. “Get ready to shoot.”