Page 128 of The Prize

This was art and science coming together just as Leonardo da Vinci had intended, and this was us, a symbiotic relationship that would have received his blessing.

Tobias stared at me.

I let out a laugh of relief and joy and wished with all my heart my father could see this, see me here, now, doing what had to be done and reclaiming our legacy.

Tobias ran at me and pulled me into a leisurely kiss and I melted in his arms as though we weren’t midway through a heist, and time dissolved as I went with this spontaneous show of love.

The drones floated into the gallery one after the other, all fifteen of them, and Tobias and I worked fast to attach two paintings to each drone. Securing the frames to them, two arms on either side that held our precious cargo. The vision of them floating off outside in a convoy was mesmerizing. Each drone rose above the trees, making their way toward the van.

“Zara, go. I’ll take care of the others.” Tobias pointed to the paintings from Boston’s Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum. “We can’t leave them.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Get to Coops. Help him stack the paintings.” He pulled me into a hug. “I run faster.”

“Be careful.” I gave the room one final last glance and then grabbed ourMona Lisaoff the wall and followed the drones out into the night.

I quickly made it to Coops and helped him stack the rest of the paintings in the van. Coops sent three drones back to Wilder.

“What happened in there with Burell?” he asked breathlessly.

“He tried to shoot Tobias.” I raised my hand quickly. “He’s fine.”

“Does he need me?”

“He’s right behind me.”

The sound of a helicopter flying overhead startled us and we watched it bank left and disappear into the clouds above the Hudson River. I’d never get used to this.

“I’ll go back,” I said.

“Wait.” Coops grabbed my arm. “There’s a car.”

We slammed shut the van door and pretended to be talking, though at this hour we’d look suspicious no matter what we did. Coops’s eyes widened and I turned to see what he was looking at. A drone was making its way over the tree line with two paintings in its grasp. Coops ran to the front right wheel and pretended to be looking at it.

The Toyota slowed to a stop and the driver’s side window lowered, revealing the friendly face of a young man.

I peered in at the couple. “Hi.”

“Are you okay?” the young woman asked.

“We’re fine. Thank you.”

Coops tapped the wheel. “Changed the flat. All good now. Thanks, guys.”

I tried to keep my gaze on their faces and not be drawn to the vision hovering three feet above their car. It took all my willpower not to look at the striking 1880Chez Tortoniby Édouard Manet. The portrait depicted a man wearing a top hat, and he appeared to pause for a moment from writing a letter to look up. A thin glass of beer before him.

They drove off down the street.

My shoulders slumped and I turned to face the van. I tried to fathom the miracle of what we’d pulled off.

Not yet...

Tobias ran into the opening of trees with the last drone hovering above him. Two more miracles saved, the firstThe Concertby Vermeer andLandscape with an Obeliskby Govert Flinck, and the visual of those floating paintings in a drone’s clutches looked surreal.

I let out a deep breath when Tobias leaped over the wall and landed smoothly. He hurried over to us and swept me up and twirled me. “Told you it would be fun.”

I slapped his chest playfully. “You and I have different ideas of fun.”