Free Hot Ice by Cherry Adair Page A

it. She had apparently failed to notice. First of all, because the cases were intentionally spread the full length of the exhibit hall. The logistics alone would prohibit her from successfully breaking into seven secured display cases set fifty feet apart.
    Second, in addition to the extra security of alarms, sensors, and infrared, there were pressure-sensitive pads surrounding each polycarbon column containing the jewelry and loose stones. If the polycarbon was touched, an alarm went off. If the stones or jewelry were lifted from their own pressure-sensitive pads deep inside one of the clear poly tubes, the alarms would sound.
    No, she wasn't going to be able to pull this one off. But it would be interesting to watch her try.
    And then he'd have her.
    He couldn't fault her on her timing. He glanced off to the left. The security guards inside the vast room were as far from her now as they were going to get. She had a grand total of five minutes fourteen seconds to get in and get out.
    Wasn't going to happen.
    He turned his gaze back to the doorway.
    She was gone.
     
    Taylor drew in a cleansing breath as she rapidly walked toward exhibit number seventeen, hugging the wall. It was always so much more interesting when the guards' routine wasn't carefully timed. The good thing about these two was that they were pals, and one had recently returned from his two-week vacation. They had a lot to talk about. And they walked slowly. The hum of their low voices was a nice counterpoint to the steady beat of her heart.
    She'd given herself four minutes to get the necklace and earrings and be gone. The gems had been reset but, fortunately, not recut. And the collection she wanted was conveniently all in the same display case. Number seventeen.
    Taylor had retrieved their original exquisite and very distinctive platinum setting from the fence in Holland a year ago, before it could be melted or sold.
    By tomorrow the sapphires, in their original setting, would be reunited, and back where they belonged.
    Her slippered feet moved soundlessly as she started running lightly across the marble floor. She'd counted the steps from the wall to the pedestal as she'd polished the floor earlier.
    She'd also managed to stick a piece of chewing gum directly over the eye of the motion detector on the pedestal holding her target. She couldn't see the invisible infrared grid, but she knew where it was supposed to be from the rough drawing she'd lifted from the guard's station two days ago.
    Warm air from the un-air-conditioned room fanned her face as she ran, picking up speed. The slick black bodysuit hugged her every curve, covering her from head to toe. Only her eyes were exposed.
    The marble floor had an intricate geometric design of alternating squares of black and cream, with a wide black band bordering the room. Inside that black band, and bisecting the three-foot-tall, black marble bases of the eight-foot-high, clear polycarbon tubes, was the infrared grid. All she had to do was go up and over it. Up three feet, over twelve.
    When Taylor's toes touched the inner edge of that border she exhaled, then launched herself high in the air, like a trapeze artist, without the trapeze. A double tuck midair and she landed as light as thistledown on the outer edge of the square base supporting the number-seventeen polycarbon display tube. Three minutes eleven seconds to go, she counted off mentally. Plenty of time.
    She did a deep knee bend, sliding her torso down the outside circumference of the tube. There was a button under the lip of the base… Ah. There . She turned off the microwave detector she hadn't had time to deactivate earlier, then paused before standing upright. Alert to the smallest sound, she held her breath and listened.
    Nothing but the indistinct voices at the other end of the hall. Still, an icy shiver raced up her back like a premonition.
    A couple of weeks ago in Chicago she'd sensed someone following her. She hadn't seen anyone, and it had