I slinked around the rear of the gallery until I reached the enlarged shaft of light projected onto the back wall from the fluorescent tubes above the guard desk in the foyer. The ten-foot wide beam of cold, white light exposed me as they came into view around the corner. Both of their backs were to me as they watched the small flickering screen. The street traffic was visible between the elephants beyond the glass doors. Two quick steps would have easily taken me across the gulf and back into darkness, but I hesitated and hovered in the bathing light, emboldened for a moment by the sense of vulnerability. It seemed if I lingered long enough, I might even the odds. Several dark rats, enlarged with shadow, braved the breach along with me. I stepped back into the cloaking dark on the other side and glided over to the waiting portrait.

Stooping to one knee, I unzipped the pack and, one at a time, laid the tools out on the floor; the razor knife, the thin wire noose, the small flashlight, the weight, the hammer, and the gun. I stood up slowly and approached the painting, noose in hand. Vermeer's incredible attention to detail was apparent even in the dim darkness. I turned to search for the back door, visualizing a path of escape through the slumbering statues, then opened the noose and draped it over the top of the frame. The wire slipped behind it effortlessly, catching on the alarmed mount a third of the way down. I remained motionless for a tense moment, easing my head around toward the lit hallway in search of alerted guards that never came. Cautiously, I maneuvered the rest of the noose over the gilded frame until it hung in a thin line under the center of the portrait. The curious rats investigating my tools scattered as I reached for the weight. I adjusted my stance so that I faced the shaft of light as I placed the hook of the weight onto the wire. Then slightly, ever so slightly, I lowered my hand, incrementally burdening the wire until it hung free. And still, there was no shadow or sound of stirring from the guard desk. Every square inch of my skin tingled with excitement; with that same intoxicating mixture of danger, guilt and power that a child feels the first time he steals or disobeys, when he ventures out onto the thin ice of his own morality for the first time. For a lucky few, it's like that every time.

Standing up, I placed both hands gently on the frame and slipped my fingers in behind it. I looked at Samas' smirking face and exhaled deeply before gently lifting. It was light and came up easily off the mount. I held it in my hands, two million dollars. Almost there.