Singh learned everything he could through the Internet, libraries, and old books purchased and delivered to him through intermediaries. He sought out professors well versed in the Fabergé legends, men that had devoted life and lectures to the old family up to 1918 when they were forced out of Russia. The history was fascinating.
Every egg was unique and contained a surprise. Out of the fifty imperial Easter eggs, Nicholas II presented twenty to his wife and thirty to his mother. They became famous. Fabergé was commissioned to make eggs for private clients such as the Duchess of Marlborough and the Rothschild family. Of the fifty imperial Easter eggs, forty-three survived.
Seven were lost.
Singh’s brain latched on to this fact and wouldn’t let go. Lost, not destroyed. The wording was interesting. That was all it took, and Singh was captivated. Today, it is known where many of the original eggs are—people such as Viktor Vekelsberg, Albert of Monaco and the British royal family owned many. Others were kept at the Kremlin, the Hillwood Museum in Washington DC and the Fabergé Museum in Germany. Some had been taken out of all knowledge, stored by private collectors, and one lived in Qatar. Singh made heartfelt but huge financial offers to as many of these owners as he could find. It took time, it took persistence, but his collection grew.
And as it grew, he searched for the lost eggs.
Singh became obsessed, finding the old drive and channeling it into the new search. At least some of those seven lost eggs were abroad in the world and Singh wanted to find them.
Always, he was conscious that the greatest and largest display of eggs ever to be seen in public totaled nine. It was assembled by Malcolm Forbes, the publisher of Forbes Magazine, and shown in New York City.
I know I can beat that, but I want my display to be something special.
Singh strived for four years, living and breathing the lost eggs, chasing down false lead after lead, climbing every imaginary mountain and crossing every literal sea. It reminded him of the battle of his youth, continually pushing for success. He was motivated again, feeling young again. This purpose, this legacy, would hopefully outlive him and give the world something to marvel at. To remember him by. If looking at his collection made them happy, then he had won at life.
With seven lost eggs to find, he was confident he would succeed.
* * *
Now, Singh turned on the lights of his suite on the penthouse floor of the Las Vegas Azure hotel and casino. It was the first time he’d been in the lavish set of rooms and it was late. Singh hated social functions but had braced himself for this one through months of preparation. He turned to the black-haired woman who’d accompanied him.
“Thank you so much for your help. Again.”
“It’s my pleasure, Mr. Singh. I hope I have helped.”
“Are you kidding?” He laughed. “I wouldn’t be here without you. At least, not in this state of mind.” He gave another quick laugh. “Your social coaching has given me the confidence to survive Thursday to Thursday in Las Vegas. What more could I ask?”
“I’m happy that it has given you the confidence to speak in public,” she said. “Since that is what I’m paid to do.”
“Yes, yes,” he said, eager to see what the construction crews were concocting in his suite of rooms. It was unusual for a hotel to redesign their rooms for a simple display, but everything about this event was unusual. Unique. Once in a lifetime.
“I am confident I can get through the events I have to participate in. The speaking parts.” He was distracted now. “I have to. I started all this. I must finish it.”
But it would all be worth it.
The Fabergé collection was worth it.
The Singh collection, he amended silently.
“I’ll leave you alone now.”
“Thank you. I will see you in the morning.”
He closed the door behind her. He wasn’t alone. The designers were still working, creating the perfect podiums on which to present his incredible collection. The TV crews were setting up. Hotel management was here too, overseeing everything. He crossed the lounge and walked along a short corridor to an oversized, ostentatious bedroom. It had been deemed large and lavish enough to house the collection. He heard a fusion of voices as he approached, men and women trying to get their jobs done.
It’s okay. We have tonight, Friday and even Saturday morning to finish before the big event.
Everything had to be ready for Saturday afternoon. The cameras would roll at 6 p.m. Once the unveiling was complete, the display would remain in situ for one week, whereupon it would be visited by some well-known and wealthy figures that had helped him in his quest.
His quest to bring something special to the world—to exhibit the best spectacle, the largest collection, the most incredible array of Fabergé eggs ever assembled.
With a secret.
The main event wasn’t the fifteen eggs he’d managed to buy over the last decade. It was the four lost eggs he’d found.
Singh felt a rush of pride. On Saturday night the world would see something that had been lost for over one hundred years. Something it had never expected to see again.
He crossed over to the casino owner.
“Mr. Martel. Thank you for accommodating me.”
“It’s a historical milestone, Mr. Singh. The Azure is proud to be part of it.”
“Well, I’m still grateful. I understand my requests were somewhat challenging.”
“And that is our forte. Fulfilling the desires of our clients.”
Singh drifted away, spying the head of security standing over by the window. The man looked harassed.
“Is everything okay, Mr. Coulson?”
“As well as can be, sir.”
Coulson was known for his blunt, straight-talking attitude. He was also known as a world-class security expert.
“Is there a problem?”
“There are many, sir. Fifteen to start—all those famous eggs. Then four more—the lost eggs. And then one more—you.”
“Me?” Singh was startled.
“You don’t think you’re a target? You are.”
Singh made the mistake of looking left and right, an act which made Coulson chuckle.
“Sorry, sir, they won’t be that obvious. If they come, you won’t see them.”
“Well, I certainly hope you can keep us safe, Mr. Coulson. And by that I mean the eggs, and me.”
Singh turned away. His eggs were being unboxed with great care. It was one of the proudest moments of his life.
I can’t wait for Saturday, he thought. My dream fulfilled. What more could I ask for?
CHAPTER TEN
It was Friday morning. Drake sat with Alicia and his team in the foyer of a huge, nondescript hotel somewhere in Middle America.
When they’d arrived, Alicia had let out a bloodcurdling shriek. “What? Are you kidding me? No way am I staying in this bloody place!”
Drake was used to her occasional protests, but they usually involved insects, Japanese Ninjas or French assassins. He saw nothing like that out of the car window.
“What the bloody hell is it now?”
“You don’t see it? It’s the bloody Shining hotel. Let me out right now.”
Drake stared at the bleak, looming hotel ahead and had to admit she had a point. Still, they couldn’t turn around now.
“Pretty sure the Shining hotel was in Colorado.”
“Well, where the hell are we then?”
“Utah.”
“Fuck off, Drakey. No way is that a real place.”
“Just trust me, Alicia.”
“Oh, sure. The last time I trusted you—when you took me out to dinner in London—we ended up destroying the poor Hard Rock Café and half of America’s Parisian embassy.”
“That may be true, but it won’t happen again.”
“Really?”
Alicia accompanied him into the hotel against her will, but soon lightened up when they got to meet their old friends again. Drake was gla
d to see Hayden and Kinimaka, Mai and Luther, Kenzie and Dallas. He was pleased that Karin and Dino were along.
Most of all he was happy to see Torsten Dahl, although the two men shared little more than a gruff greeting.
“Didn’t think you’d make it, mate,” he offered.
“You know GPS was one of my many specialties for the Swedish Special Forces,” Dahl growled.
“Oh aye, that’s why I’m shocked you made it.”
Dahl clapped him a little too hard on the back. Drake shook it off, trying to hide a smile. Hayden directed them to the lobby where a buffet was laid out; the entire area cordoned off.
“I didn’t want to be disturbed,” Hayden said with a smile. “Our first time together for over three months.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Alicia said, staring around. “I think the axe murderer got all the other guests.”
Hayden frowned.
Drake waved it off. “Ignore her,” he said. “She’s being paranoid.”
“That’s what all victims say.” Alicia sat down in a leather armchair, back to the window, facing the width of the lobby.
Kinimaka sat next to her. “You’re thinking what I’m thinking, aren’t you?”
“Shining?”
“Shining.”
Drake and Hayden rubbed their eyes at the same time, both feeling bemused. Karin reintroduced Dino, not that she needed to, and Kenzie decided to re-establish Dallas’s credentials. Molokai arrived last, dusting his robes off and placing them over the back of a chair.
“Wow,” Karin said. “How’s everyone been?”
Twenty minutes of chatter followed. Everyone except Dahl and Molokai spoke up, but no one felt they had to. They learned about each other’s exploits in various parts of the world, about Kenzie’s new role and Drake’s previously unrealized jet-skiing skills.
It was a quick twenty minutes, and Drake found himself thinking he hadn’t really learned anything new when it was over. Mai and Luther sat close, looking easy together, but hadn’t revealed if they were a couple. Likewise with Karin and Dino. Hayden and Kinimaka were clearly together again, the big Hawaiian couldn’t hide anything.
But it was Dahl they looked to when they had finished. “Sorry to hear about the divorce, mate,” Drake said.
Dahl nodded, staring into space.
“If there’s anything we can do . . .” Hayden let the sentence hang. Drake was sure the Swede would take the offer on board but would handle the situation himself. He wasn’t the kind of man to ask for help.
“They’re still in DC,” Dahl said after a minute. “It’s not so bad. Johanna’s looking for a new place in Stockholm.”
He didn’t have to say anymore. Your wife moving away was one thing, but if she took the
children too . . .
Drake noticed Kenzie watching Dahl, saying nothing. He wondered what was going on in the Israeli’s mind. He wondered if Dahl might end up fighting alongside her in Egypt.
Two waiters appeared and proceeded to carry several trays to the table. It was hot food. There was another half hour of idle chit-chat and eating.
“I visited Lauren and Smyth’s graves a few days ago,” Dahl said. “Took some flowers for Lauren. A medal for Smyth they sent from home. Tidied up a bit. Explained what we were up to now.” He nodded to himself, saying no more.
Drake coughed to hide a surge of emotion. Everyone had visited the graves at some point during the last three months. It was a different experience for them all.
“How’s Yorgi?” Alicia tried to keep it upbeat after a long silence.
“Finally spoke to him yesterday,” Hayden said. “He hasn’t called in a while because he’s been feeling down. He wanted to join us. The hospital recommended otherwise, and I had to go with their advice. A shame, really, as he could be useful for this job.”
Drake raised an eyebrow as everyone sat forward.
“What job?”
“But first, I have to ask . . .” Dahl said. “Why did you pass up all the other jobs?”
Hayden looked surprised. “Because you all needed some time away.”
Dahl grimaced. Drake and Alicia shook their heads. Molokai looked ready to protest, but Hayden cut right across all of them.
“Don’t give me your bullshit. Your army waffle. If you don’t know that you needed rest. If you don’t know that you needed to take at least two months out then there’s something seriously wrong with you. We’ve been fighting for four years. Did you know that? Since Odin. There’s been barely any downtime in between. We can’t keep doing that and hope to stay sane, let alone alive.”
“Yeah,” Kinimaka said as she took a breath. “Deal with it.”
His light-hearted words cut across any sharpness Hayden’s tone may have held. It made Dahl smile and Drake grin. It made Alicia snort. Hayden found she didn’t have to continue as the team shook any discontent off.
“And before we get into the meat of it,” Hayden said. “I have to say this. Despite the efforts of hundreds of men and women all over the world, there have been no sightings of either the Blood King or the Devil. It’s known that the Devil was last seen in America, where he threatened Johanna—” she nodded at Dahl “—and it’s assumed he’s still there. Somewhere. Some of the mercs we rounded up after Devil’s Island spoke of a plan to rebuild his domain somewhere in the US. They said he’d been developing it a while. But, whatever he’s doing, he’s doing it very quietly.”
“That’s his forte,” Drake said. “It’s why he’s the world’s most terrible contract killer. He plans and waits before he acts. It won’t take him long to get set up.”
“No, well, I’m sure we’ll hear something. Now, as for the Blood King . . . Luka Kovalenko has dropped off the face of the earth. We know he has the nineteen low-yield nukes; we know their radiation signatures should be locatable. It would appear he’s shielding them, probably behind lead-lined walls.”
“He’s been planning this too,” Drake said. “We know that much. Probably as long as he was planning to kidnap the President and take us out. It’s the next step that’s bothering me.”
Dahl grimaced. “Look internal,” he said. “Both Kovalenkos have shown the same patterns. They buy or persuade government employees to do their bidding by any means possible. I’ll bet there’s a plan already in place for the nukes, and it’s ongoing right now.”
“I don’t know,” Hayden said. “He got hit pretty bad in Paris and London. Left with his tail between his legs. Even spent some time at Devil’s Island. Like his father, his arrogance beat him just as badly as we did. He refused to see how he could lose. I think he’s been rebuilding, proving he’s not been weakened to all the sharks that circle his father’s old empire. The nuke plan has been put on hold.”
“Or . . .” Mai said. “It’s for the future. Or maybe he intends to sell them one by one. My point is, we don’t know.”
“One thing I do like,” Luther said, leaning forward. “Is that the Devil is gunning for the Blood King now. I bet old Luka’s shitting himself.”
Quiet laughter broke out. Alicia stretched. “I personally can’t wait to meet that Russian prick again,” she said. “But Hayden, how about making all our dreams come true. Tell us about the next job.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Right,” Hayden said. “Well, I think you’ll like this. There are rumors that the greatest heist of all time is about to go down in Las Vegas.”
Excitement coursed through the room. Everyone sat forward in their seats. Alicia couldn’t help herself, blurting out: “Is George Clooney involved?”
Drake rolled his eyes. “Just ignore her.”
“I doubt he’s part of the heist,” Hayden played along. “But we’ll be in the right place to meet a celeb.”
“Perfect.” Alicia nodded. “Maybe I can cross a few off my bucket list.”
Drake turned to her. “Who the hell’s on your—”
“Will you two shut up,” Dahl broke in. “Hayden, continue.”
/> “I thought you might like this one. It’s different than usual, but don’t worry. There’ll be danger and probably some action if this thing goes down.”
“A heist isn’t exactly world threatening,” Mai said. “Why us?”
“Well, the Strike Force objective isn’t only to deal with world threats. It’s managing conspiracies, individuals and other complications that might cause great harm. The heist alone would cause incredible shockwaves. And when the wealth gained from it hit any market, it could destabilize an economy. It has far-reaching implications.”
“But it’s just a rumor,” Dino said.
“Everything’s a rumor until it happens. You want to be on top of this or chasing its tail?”
“On top, I guess.”
“Good. To be truthful the Las Vegas police are convinced something’s gonna happen. It’s the last thing their city needs too with the new stadium and football team opening in 2020. I wouldn’t say they’re panicking, but the mayor’s more than alarmed.”
“I’m guessing this isn’t just a robbery,” Drake said. “There are people more qualified than us to address that kind of thing.”
“You’re right. The robbery is rumored to be the work of the best heist team the world has ever known. They’re called the One Percenters. In twelve years, they’ve done the biggest jobs, and have never been caught. Hardly even seen.”
“So that’s what’s got everyone jumping.” Alicia nodded her understanding. “They don’t think they can stop it.”
Hayden nodded. “Correct. And the One Percenters have become violent of late. There’s a theory that they’re coming apart. This could be their last ever job. And they might go out with a bang.”
“My favorite expression,” Alicia agreed. “Words I’ve lived my life by.”
“What do we know?” Luther asked.
“My info comes direct from the FBI, who got it from the LVMPD. Someone has been buying special explosives and glass cutting tools. Industrial ones. Someone has been accessing plans to the Azure Casino, the sealed ones that nobody sees. These essentially show all the security protocols and procedures. One snitch overheard the name Kushner, supposedly the best thief in the world and a member of the One Percenters. The other members are a guy called Jax and two women, called Faye and Cara, and that’s all we know. They’ve only ever been photographed once, and the prints are grainy. They never leave prints and have never left a crime scene anything but pristine.”
The Faberge Heist Page 6