Free Drawn in Blood by Andrea Kane Page A

hand. He and his two accomplices shoved their hostages toward the inner room that contained the two most valuable paintings: the Van Gogh and the Seurat.
    As they were about to enter the room, one of the captured guards yel ed out, “Halt!” The three guards protecting the inner sanctum instantly hit the floor facedown, as they’d been trained to do in a hostage situation. Crouched behind metal and glass display cases marking the entrance to the exhibit, two other security guards began firing handguns at the masked thieves.
    They were no match for the MP5Ks.
    Al three gunmen opened fire. Their bul ets hammered the guards and annihilated the tops of the display cases, sending shards of glass flying everywhere. Without pausing to assess the damage, they each loaded another clip into their weapons and continued firing.
    The silence that fol owed was abrupt and eerie. The wal s behind each case were splattered with blood, bul et holes, and glass fragments.
    The leader motioned one of his accomplices to check the guards. The first guard was dead. A short burst of gunfire finished off the second. A quick wave signaled that the path was clear.
    Without the slightest hesitation, the leader pounded the three prone guards with bul ets, leaving them dead in rivers of their own blood.
    The tal est gunman had been hit in the shoulder. Relieving him of the Renoir and the Sisley, the leader motioned for the other gunman to get the Van Gogh and the Seurat.
    Less than two minutes later, their goal was achieved.
    With the leader helping the injured gunman, and the third member of the team carrying al four paintings, they hurried downstairs, went through a fire exit in the rear of the museum, and rushed toward the waiting BMW.
    The paintings were quickly wrapped in blankets. The sedan lurched from the curb, speeding down Gabelsbergerstrasse. The driver eased onto the Oskar-von-Mil er-Ring, and around the center of Munich, en route to A-8 and the Austrian border.
    Final destination: Budapest.

    Inside SSA Tony Sanchez’s office, a closed-door meeting was going on.
    Tony, Derek, and Rich Wil iams were gathered around Tony’s desk, reviewing the various pieces of the C-6 case against Xiao Long, and how it might factor into the shady provenance surrounding the genuine Rothberg.
    “Al nine of the recent burglaries on the Upper East Side are tied to Xiao Long,” Derek told Rich. “One break-in every two or three weeks. He’s got a great scheme going. A nephew of his, Eric Hu, a bright kid who graduated from MIT a few years ago, has a start-up computer support company—oh, and an addiction to crack, which is an easy get for Xiao Long. Turns out Hu’s company serviced the computer systems of eight of the nine burglarized apartments. Also turns out al the owners of those apartments are affluent, with lots of expensive jewelry, electronic equipment, and artwork.”
    “Hu’s computer support team scopes out the apartments and their owners’ routines,” Rich surmised. “They take note of where al the valuables are, and where the lady of the house keeps her jewelry. They probably take pictures with their cel phones. That way, Xiao Long’s guys know just where to go to get as much as they can, as fast as they can.”
    “Right.” Tony tapped his pen against his leg. “We’ve been onto this part of Xiao Long’s business for almost six months—since he started it. He’s coming up in the world. He used to deal in just gambling, drugs, and prostitutes. Now he’s graduated to fencing top-dol ar goods.”
    “And finding wil ing buyers for the artwork,” Rich noted. “Keeping that under the radar is easy, unless any of the pieces are col ectors’ items or famous masterpieces. Which, judging from the partial list you rattled by me, they’re primarily not.” A glance at Derek. “You said eight of the nine burglaries fit the profile. The ninth, I assume, is Matthew Burbank’s apartment.”
    Derek gave a tight nod. “Burbank’s not