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“I thought you said this was a model 573?” Arthur hisses over his shoulder as he works on the lock of the staff entrance.
“It was, two days ago.”
“Yeah, well it’s not now. Lucky for you I’m good.” He holds a box against the pinpad. The door clicks open.
“Three minutes ’til the next guard,” Eames says, his voice muffled by the balaclava.
Arthur shoves the electronic lock-pick back into his bag. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
“You said you wanted a souvenir from the museum.”
“I meant from the gift shop, you idiot, not an original.”
Eames shrugs.
They scurry through the silent galleries, avoiding the guards’ clockwork rotations.
“Told you security was a joke,” Eames says.
“Let’s just do this and get out of here.”
Eames opens his backpack and removes the painting he’d stolen for Arthur two nights previously. He hangs it in the empty spot on the wall — the one with the ‘Temporarily Removed’ sign — and says, “Next time I’ll save myself the trouble and forge you one instead.”
They get out of the country and the museum claims the whole thing was a ‘clerical error’ — confusion about the painting being removed for cleaning. The press has a field day.
A month later, he’s visiting Eames’ flat in Milan and sees a copy of it on the wall. “Guess you liked it enough to forge it anyway, huh?”
Eames smirks. “Something like that. It’s still yours, if you want it. The museum never came looking for it.”
“You asshole,” he says, but he’s more impressed than upset. He reclassifies Eames’ forgery skills as ‘Fucking Incredible’ and adds ‘Unwitting Accomplice in an International Art Heist’ to his own mental resume.