Hellenistic Heist

The holes of the terracotta mask judged me from behind the display case I cleaned as if it knew something. Its gaping frown seemed to shout a silent warning, but I smiled back quietly and left it.

Museum workers and visitors moved away from my cleaning cart as naturally as oil repelled by water. People generally avoided custodians and maids. Only one woman flicked her eyes towards me, and I smiled politely while passing into the adjoining Hellenistic room.

Only cameras saw her abruptly break into a fight with the woman beside her like wildcats. Security guards rushed forward, but they moved too late to stop the women from flinging themselves into a tall, roped off amphora.

Witnesses cried out, extending hands as if to catch the rocking amphora, then clapped those hands over their ears against the deafening crash of terracotta instead. The shrieking alarms tripped by the fight added to the chaos, but nobody heard glass shatter within the adjoining room.

Nobody saw me tossing a hammer and Hellenistic armlets into my cart's trashcan either. The crowd between the cameras and me didn't notice a custodian walking by. They were busy wondering how the fighting women had vanished.