Kearns rolled his sleeves and looked over the sheets and paper spread in front of him. The gallery’s layout, a blueprint of the building, a map of the neighbourhood and another, hand drawn, of their escape route. Harvey emerged from the darkened kitchen, cradling five cans on beer in his arms. He handed them out to the other three men seated at the folding table set up in the dining room
“The buyer only wants those three paintings,” he said, offering the last can to Kearns, and pointing at the red circles on the layout. “Are you in?”
Prompt courtesy of the Daily Post.