Mona Lisa, Men Have Named You

The Louvre stood in its ancient glory, daring the man before it to enter and do his best against its seemingly insurmountable defenses. One of the greatest art treasures in the world waited inside. A beautiful lady waited inside, her demure features and subtle hint of a grin looking down at the tourists and art lovers. She truly waited for Roland, waited to feel his caress. It would come.

As he sat among the throngs of visitors, tourists and residents alike, Roland pondered what Slate had expected of him. He imagined that some sort of spy novel business was the kind of action expected. Lots of sneaking about and dodging lasers and such. It wasn't out of his capacity to do so, but there were so many easier ways of doing things. Easy money was the best kind, regardless of what hard working people thought. They were jealous.

He mused on the idea further as he waited for his Parisian contact. Perhaps when he was younger, he would have gone in there, flipping and dodging. It just seemed so silly to do what was expected of him. The guards, the sensors, the alarms, they all waited for such a bold maneuver. Why break in just to steal a fake?

Yes, the lady looking down at the snapping camera lenses was a brilliant and clever forgery. The real lady was in the sub basement of the museum, being restored. Roland had found this out using his old contacts from his past life. He called himself a friend of a friend, but the voices on the other ends of phones had known exactly who they were speaking to.