The Icon Thief by Alec Nevala-Lee

Author:Alec Nevala-Lee [Nevala-Lee, Alec]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Thriller, Mystery
ISBN: 9780451236203
Google: i3lQ74-SWrMC
Amazon: B006LU1MPA
Barnesnoble: B006LU1MPA
Goodreads: 16441328
Publisher: Signet
Published: 2012-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

32

Standing before the counter of the hardware store, Ilya accepted a bag from the cashier. Inside were a pair of needle-nose pliers, a ball of nylon cord, and a roll of plastic sheeting, the kind used by painters to lay down drop cloths. In a second bag at his side, he already had a travel umbrella and a pair of shipping tubes, one two inches in diameter, the other slightly wider.

Outside, in Herald Square, the day was warm. He quickly covered the three blocks to his hotel, the bag thumping against one leg. Since returning to the city, he had cut and tinted his hair, and a pair of reading glasses from a drugstore display rack was pushed up on the bridge of his nose.

Passing through the revolving doors, he entered the lobby. Because of its location, the hotel drew throngs of tourists, making it a convenient place to disappear. All the same, his situation was far from secure. The day before, when he had asked if he could pay for his room in cash, the clerk had requested identification. When Ilya had handed over the driver’s license, the clerk had barely glanced at it, taking it into the rear office for a photocopy before giving it back.

Obtaining this license had been the weekend’s most challenging task. On Sunday, he had taken a train into the city. Upon his arrival, he had immediately gone to Central Park. Positioning himself on a bench across from the boathouse, he had watched it for several hours, keeping a close eye on the station in the parking lot where tourists rented bicycles. When the station attendant had ducked out for a bathroom break, Ilya had forced the lock and slipped into the empty kiosk.

Forty bikes had been out, the renters required to leave a driver’s license and credit card. The licenses had been filed in an expanding folder. Closing the door behind him, Ilya had swiftly rifled through the cards. Half of the renters had been women, while half of the remaining possibilities could be discarded at once for differences of race or age. Of the remaining ten licenses, Ilya had chosen one that was close to his own coloring and build. He had slipped it into his pocket and left the station, emerging only seconds before the attendant returned.

Looking back on this adventure, it seemed to him that he had taken considerable risk for a limited payoff. When he examined the license with a cooler head, its resemblance to him was less than impressive. The man’s nose was longer, his eyes set farther apart, his stated height three inches shorter than Ilya’s own. The haircut, tint, and reading glasses made the impersonation slightly more convincing, but Ilya knew that he could not rely on it for long.

When the elevator arrived at his floor, Ilya went down the hall, using a key card to enter his room. Inside, the cramped, dingy space was very warm. Before leaving, he had made sure to turn off the air-conditioning and close the windows, despite the heat of the day outside.

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