The Art Thief's Guide To Freedom

6: Step Six: How To Pickpocket A Pickpocketer

"Two signed Damien Hirst works of art worth £33,000 have been stolen from a gallery in London, police have said. The pieces were taken from the Exhibitionist Gallery in Notting Hill, between 3 am and 3.30am on Monday, in what police believe was a raid planned specifically to target the two works. The thief entered the gallery by forcing open the front doors and drove the items away in a dark-colored hatchback-type vehicle towards Ladbroke Grove, Scotland Yard said."

~Haroon Siddique, The Guardian, 11 December 2013

~**~~**~

A sound broke through her consciousness and Nico jolted awake. Her thin metal cot was especially comfortable this morning and she wondered why. It wasn't like the warden had decided to show her special treatment.

She heard her cell door slide open, the sound grating her ears. Surprised that the noise wasn't immediately followed by barking orders or shrill commands, Nico pried open one eye.

A plethora of colors swirled throughout her cell. Visions of red, blue, and green blurred together until she couldn't tell the colors apart.

She closed her one eye, blinking. The blobs started to form recognizable figures as she recognized a pair of boots. A gasp escaped from her mouth and she sat up.

Stars appeared in her sight as dizziness attacked her head. A thud later, she found herself on the concrete floor of her cell.

But since when did her cell have carpeting? Especially a loom-woven one?

Where was she?

Her apartment.

She raised her palm to rub her head, trying to remember how she had gotten here. She remembered a plane ride, a thousand papers to sign, and—

"Ms. Stravos?!" a warm yet concerned voice called out. A second later, a hand wrapped around her forearm and she found herself sitting upright. "Are you alright? I didn't mean to startle you."

Agent Patterson.

The memories came flooding back as Nico dusted the cobwebs from her mind. It wasn't her fault she was so confused. She couldn't remember the last time she had slept soundly without being woken.

Well.

Actually, she could.

It was 418 days ago.

The day before she met Agent Patterson.

It seemed like he was the common denominator in her suffering.

Shaking off the hand on her arm, Nico tried to pull herself together. She could still feel her getaway package cradled against her chest. If she moved too much, the agent would definitely notice it.

That was—if he was looking at her chest.

The guards at the prison hadn't been subtle in their perusals of her. In fact, that was just another reason why she hadn't slept well behind bars. But this agent hadn't given her anything other than a respectful look.

She gave him a side glance. He pointed his chin down at her, a slight smile stretching across his face. In one hand he held a coffee cup and from the looks of the name scrawled on the cardboard surface, it was for her.

"Here you go." He handed the cup to her. "I thought you could use a pick-me-up before we hit the road."

Grateful, Nico clasped the coffee and cradled it on her lap. Heat emanated from the travel cup, warming her palm, and Nico nearly sighed in ecstasy when the swirl of sweet coffee reached her nose.