To Catch a Thief by Christina Skye

and Smith. I want to know every step they take.”

    N ELL DUCKED down an alley behind a rusting Dumpster and closed her eyes, breathing hard. Only twenty-four hours ago she’d been safe in her quiet workshop cleaning the last corner of Saint George and the Dragon , worrying about nothing more important than refilling her pigments and meeting the increase in her next commercial lease. Her life hadn’t lacked challenges, but they had been manageable and contained.
    Until now .
    Now she was huddled beneath a torn plastic poncho, her hair a wreck and her life in shreds.
    She heard a sound across the alley. Silently she wedged her body back into the space behind the Dumpster, trying not to think about the rats or the layers of unnamed garbage surrounding her.
    But she couldn’t stay here for long. She had to keep moving. Dakota wouldn’t be far behind.

    A CROSS THE STREET in a dusty white van, Izzy Teague slid his headphones into place and touched a sleek metal track pad.
    A red light flashed on the street map that came up on his laptop screen. The surveillance op had been ordered at the highest levels, and Ryker and his superiors were taking no chances on a screwup.
    Right on Market.
    She was on the move again. Probably headed to the Bart stop at Montgomery Street.
    He zoomed in on the screen and checked every possible form of transportation in and out of the area. Nell MacInnes didn’t have a car nearby, so her choices were limited unless she hailed a cab.
    He frowned at her sudden change in direction. She’d stopped at a bookstore near Market that had just opened. She was going inside.
    A small digital clock clicked out passing seconds at the bottom of his laptop screen. The missing art had to be located and recovered before it vanished into the shadow world where international crime merged with political terrorism. That wasn’t going to happen on Izzy’s watch.
    He tapped a button. “Smith, you have her?”
    â€œI’m headed around to the back. Is she still inside?”
    â€œI’m picking up conversations and the sound of a phone ringing. She’s in there somewhere.”
    â€œStay on the front door. I’ll give her two minutes to make contact with her father again. Then I’m going in.”
    â€œCopy.” Izzy listened to the sound of muffled conversations and laughter. He heard the creak of a chair sliding out. The bookshop had a café, according to his quick online research.
    A blue button lit up his screen.
    Call in progress.
    The phone number belonged to her father, but no one answered. Seconds later a new call was initiated, but the number wasn’t one that Izzy recognized.
    He tapped in a query and frowned.
    Sussex, England?
    Izzy knew that Nell made frequent trips to England to meet clients and acquire pigments and paper. During those trips, she used a GSM cell phone, which was enabled for European calls. Quickly he tapped the phone number into his commercial database.
    No luck.
    Frowning, he keyed into the huge, secure system that was housed in Maryland. As the cursor blinked, he drummed his fingers impatiently, glancing up to monitor the bookstore’s front door. Who in the hell was Nell MacInness calling in Sussex, England?
    A voice came over the line, cool and polite and decidedly aristocratic. “May I help you?”
    The hell of it was, something about the voice was familiar. Izzy waited, suddenly uneasy. Where had he heard that aristocratic pronunciation before?
    â€œThank God. It’s Nell.” She sounded tired and at the edge of panic, breathing hard. “I’ve got to see you.”

    D AKOTA STOOD to the left of the bookstore’s rear entrance, watching a tired employee toss trash and empty book boxes into the garbage.
    He didn’t think about Nell’s face when she’d learned of her father’s illness. He shoved the thought of her despair out of his mind.
    Not your problem, pal. Do the job. Nail her