It was a dark night in a city that knew how to keep it’s secrets. Francis was giddy with anticipation as he stared at the art gallery ahead of him. He knew the place inside and out. Plenty of visits as a viewer and ‘potential patron of the arts’ were the disguise of choice this time. It would be a few moments more until the art within would be his, or more specifically, the easily roll-able and transferable pieces of canvas with paint on them that he could turn into money. He even already had a buyer lined up.

Francis was not a particular lover of ‘high art’ as some people would call it. Sure there were pretty pictures. Some of the older works were fascinating in how much detail could be packed into a single brush stroke. But most of the art he was expecting to take tonight was a thing to brag with and tax dodge of rich people. Something that he would take advantage of tonight.

The gallery was deserted, it was the middle of the night after all. The live security was only there for show during opening hours. There might be a person in a car driving by in three hours, but that seemed to be infrequent during his previous stake outs.

Looking over the tools he had brought, he reminded himself what each thing was for.

“Key, borrowed from the security guard during the day. Needed to be friendly enough for that one to drink themselves unconscious so I could copy the key.” Thought Francis, looking at the standard Schlage house key. “If they’d had upgraded that back door to something more difficult, it would not have made a difference.”

“Lockpick set.” Francis patted his breast pocket. “Get the interior managers office door open. Never leave home without them. Might need them to get back in.” The old joke made him quietly smirk.

Next was a small low power flashlight. “I know that the gallery uses motion activated lights. That and the current mood lighting, but I don’t want those big lights to turn on and alert any nosy neighbours.” Francis grimaced. “get inside, managers office, but move slow enough to stop the motion sensors from turning anything on. Not until I can get at the light switches in that office.”

“Bag of tubes and paper.” Francis’s gaze travelled over the black duffle bag on the passenger seat. “Cut the paintings out of the frames, pad them with the paper to protect them a little. Roll them up and store them in the tubes.”

“And finally, changing up the sleep schedule to work better at night.” Francis felt this was always the last step before completing a job. He was alert, and well rested. Exiting the van, it was time to make an entrance.

Shouldering the duffle bag and stalking to the rear of the building which was down an alley way currently damp with yesterdays rain, Francis made his way to an unlabelled door and applied the copied key to the lock. Slipping inside he quickly moved to the beeping alarm panel. Six quick button presses later, the alarm shut itself off. The code, an additional ‘gift’ from that security guard.

Keeping his movement slow from that moment on. Francis slid at a snails pace towards the back office. Motion activated lights were controlled by a panel in the office, and left perpetually on by the current manager. While it would be possible to move at this glacial pace the whole time, the stress would be much less with them fully off.

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The back office key wasn’t as easily accessible, unfortunately. The manager wasn’t a big drinker. Lock picks were the tool of choice in this case. This lock was an interior door, as such, Francis quickly moved through the five pins inside the tumbler and had the door open in under twelve seconds.

Agonizingly slow, Francis stood up and eased the door open just wide enough to slip his body inside. The small flashlight quickly confirmed the panel location and he started flipping down the switches. He mentally cursed himself as the mood lighting in the building flickered off before resetting that one switch. It wasn’t likely that anyone saw, or cared, that the lights in the gallery flickered, but this was a mistake that could lead to complications.

Time to work quickly and minimize risk. Francis removed the duffle bag of various size tubes he was carrying with him and removed the paper kept inside. Laying the paper on the ground in preparation for what was to come, he turned towards the first piece of tonight's robbery.

There was ‘The Lady on Box’, a lady, very realistically painted, standing on what Francis was assuming was a cube, barely a sketch. “Probably attempting to comment on something like only human feelings matter in this material world. But this is the target of tonight.” He mused as the utility knife blade was pushed out the front. He quickly cut the painting out of it’s frame.

Laying the canvas artwork on a suitably sized paper he covered it with another sheet before moving on to the next piece of art. This one being a man thinking over a piece of cheese? Francis’s desire to get into the mindset of the resident artist was rapidly draining. So the knife made short work of the art, which joined it’s sibling between paper sheets. He assumed that most of these would be in the trash after tonight. The buyer really only cared about ‘The Lady on Box’ for some reason.

Dozens more paintings met similar fates. When the utility knife became even the slightest bit dull Francis snapped off the end section to continue his work. Within the hour he had thick layers of paintings and papers on the floor. Taking as much care as was reasonable, He rolled them up and slotted them into the tubes. Those tubes then returned to his duffle bag which he slung across his back.

It was time to make his escape. There was no doubt that any employee who turned up wouldn’t notice the missing paintings, so Francis didn’t bother with much cleanup on his way out. Gloves took care of fingerprints, the mask took care of any neighbouring building’s cameras, and the general blasé nature of minimum wage security guards took care of the rest for the evening.

Back into the alley, then out to his waiting van. Walking confidently, not like an escaping thief but more like a competent workman on his way home from a job, Francis took a moment to really breathe deep of the midnight air. The recent rain had done wonders and things smelt fresher than usual. Adding to this was the satisfaction of a job well done.

The van opened on the passenger side and Francis gently off loaded the duffle into the vacant seat. Closing the door he hummed tunelessly to himself as he made his way into the drivers seat. A soft purr came from the engine as he started the vehicle and pulled away from the curb.

Continuing to hum, Francis couldn’t help but feel pleased with himself. The job went off without a hitch. Legwork had paid off. Things were where he expected them to be. Even the night itself was perfect. All he had left to do was meet with the buyer in a week or so. Where was the painting they wanted again?

Francis reached over and started to open the duffle bag. Rifling through it he found the marked tube and tried to pop the cap off with one hand. But it was stuck fast.

He let go of the wheel.

The van drifted to the left.

There was a reflection of headlights in a puddle.