Chapter 18
After one last check of my lockpicks and loaded gun—secreted in my deep coat pockets—I walked the block to Fourteenth and Rhode Island. Within minutes, a streetcar glided to a stop, and I hopped aboard.
I decided to step off at Sixteenth and Lafayette, a block short of the back of the gallery. The cold January evening stung my cheeks and penetrated my gloves. I shoved my hands in my pockets and walked briskly, my heels ringing on the pavement. There wasn’t much foot traffic on such a night, but there were still a few people about. I waited until no one was in view to slip along the shadows of the adjacent building and approach the loading dock and the barred back door of the gallery.
I’d hardly opened my lockpicks case before the sound of carriage wheels approaching sent me s
