The Faberge Heist

by David Leadbeater

  “Yes, sir. All the way.”

  They powered through towns that appeared out of the dark, brightly lit oases in the black night that hurt Drake’s eyes for the few minutes he was blasting by. They passed gas stations and attractions. They wound through the Sierra Nevada. They negotiated roadworks near Halloran Springs and then hustled through Baker and Barstow. Drake recognized Barstow—he’d stopped there a long time ago when working for the British government to use a facilitator called Stitch, a man that paved the road on either side of the law.

  The clock ticked. After Barstow they cut through more and more built-up areas. Drake took another call from Mai.

  “Just a heads-up,” she said. “I’ve been told by the guys in Vegas that the press is sniffing around. Somebody’s leaked something and we don’t know what.”

  Drake cursed. “That’s just gonna complicate the balls off everything.”

  “Exactly. Stay frosty.”

  “Hey,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road. “How’s Alicia doing in the back seat?”

  “I always thought it was her favorite place to be.” Mai’s voice carried an amused tone. “But she’s looking a little sick.”

  Drake laughed and addressed his next comment to Dahl. “And Kenzie? You two okay in there?”

  The Swede’s voice was tight, holding in his emotion. “We’re fine. Just drive.”

  Drake put his foot down as a passing area approached, flicking down the paddle-shift to engage lower gears. The car’s headlights sliced through the night.

  Somewhere ahead was a bus carrying a fortune in Fabergé eggs.

  And one big-ass bomb.

  Drake prayed they’d be in time.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

  In Caesar’s, Hayden grabbed Kinimaka and rounded up the others. She spoke briefly to Paulson, grabbing a radio and exchanging numbers. She told him they’d concentrate on the explosives simply because she already had a lead.

  The street-fighting gang.

  Together, they found a big SUV. Karin, Dino and Molokai climbed in the back. The big man was their explosives expert, but even he couldn’t advise anyone without knowing what its components were.

  “Won’t it be pretty standard stuff?” Dino asked as Hayden roared onto the Strip.

  “You really don’t wanna guess this stuff,” Molokai told him, “even when there’re no civilians involved. That one time you guess, that’s when some asshole will have meddled with the formula. Or used an exotic constituent that changes the mix. Also, if we can determine which trigger mechanisms were used, I can advise them, which will make defusing the bomb much quicker.”

  They drove south, left the Strip and headed back to where they knew the gang lived. Pure, syrupy-thick tension filled the car. Hayden tried not to think about that bus and its driver, and what would happen if just one thing went wrong. An unknown factor that made him turn off the engine.

  Crazy risk.

  But wasn’t that what these people liked? The risk? They thrived on it. Her major goal was identifying the right bus.

  Soon, they approached the ruins of the mansion. Hayden parked up and drew her gun. Molokai and Kinimaka walked alongside her, big semi-automatics cradled in their arms. Karin and Dino carried an assortment of handguns.

  “No messing,” Hayden said. “No mercy. We’re here to save lives.”

  Suddenly they were running, on a vital, dangerous mission for the first time in months. Hayden felt excitement, but bit her lip, forcing the feeling down. It wasn’t right now, with everything that was at risk. It felt wrong.

  Ahead, a figure rose up. “Hey!”

  Molokai bulldozed him to the ground. Hayden heard bones crack. The man didn’t get up.

  They raced to the center of the ruins, where both Alicia and Dahl had fought not so long ago. Hayden fired into the air as the others leveled weapons. Bodies rose and yelled out warnings. People scrabbled for clothing and half-empty bottles, knives and guns. Hayden fired again and yelled out a warning.

  “Police! Don’t anyone fucking move!”

  The area was lit by flitting shadows, thrown by several guttering torches. Hayden strode over to the place she remembered Eastwood sitting. Once more, she fired, this time into a stone ruin.

  “Eastwood,” she said. “Get your mangy ass here.”

  The man was already on his feet, trying to shrug his body into a pair of trousers. Hayden took out a flashlight and illuminated him, much to his embarrassment.

  “Hey, hey, woman. Not fair.”

  “Shut it and get over here before I shoot you.”

  Eastwood fell to his knees, managed to pull the trousers on and shielded his eyes against the light. Hayden checked her perimeter, and saw dozens of gang members approaching.

  “Seriously,” she said. “This time, it’s life-threatening. Stand down, all of you.”

  To his credit, Eastwood waved them away before fixing Hayden with a glare. “What do you want now?”

  “We need to know about the bomb,” she said. “First, who sold this One Percenter the chemicals and second, where does he work?”

  Eastwood took it in, showing no emotion. “Something’s happened?”

  “Not yet.”

  Eastwood swallowed drily. “This guy, if he found out I told you, it’d start a war.”

  Hayden couldn’t help but notice how his eyes flicked over his own people. Eastwood knew he had rats.

  “I feel for you, but this has to happen.”

  “Now.” Molokai backed her up, steadying his gun.

  “There’s a bomb on a bus,” Karin said. “Please help us.”

  It could have gone several different ways. If the gang rushed in, Hayden saw a blood bath ensuing. If they remained at stalemate, she’d have to cart some of them off to a police station. These scenarios only served to put people at risk. Remembering her CIA training and all the missions since she walked right up to Eastwood, lowering her gun.

  “It’s not for me or you. It’s for innocent people. We’ll take this explosives bastard down, I promise you. There won’t be more than a few pieces left for the rats to chew on.”

  “You’re gonna take the whole operation out?” Eastwood studied her. “That’d be interesting.”

  “No mercy,” Hayden said. “No fooling around. We’ll just . . . raze him.”

  Eastwood looked impressed. “Like the sound of that. Tonight?”

  Hayden leaned up close. “Make those you trust help you. Keep everyone here and away from their phones for an hour. He must have no warning. Now—name and address.”

  Eastwood dropped his head so nobody could see his lips and whispered. “Crazy mother called Fuse, ’cause he loves the dynamite. Blew two fingers away years ago so you’ll know him. No hair. Stick thin. Lives over in Whitney.” He gave her an address.

  “That’s his house?”

  “No, his yard.”

  “And he’ll be there now?”

  “Dude lives there. He’s home, trust me.”

  Hayden turned and moved away. Molokai and Kinimaka covered her, but Eastwood was already deploying trusted men to police his own acolytes, shouting for phones and cooperation. Hayden reached the car and jumped in. Kinimaka climbed behind the wheel and started the engine.

  “Where to?”

  Hayden punched it into the satnav. “Drive.”

  They arrived twenty minutes later. Hayden spent the time trying to reach Paulson, but a second in command assured her there were no new developments. The buses hadn’t been identified and were already nearing Los Angeles. She had to hurry.

  Kinimaka pulled up at the curb. Ahead and to the left was a high solid fence and a slatted gate. A concrete drive ran down beyond that, all the way to a shabby looking warehouse at the bottom. All manner of goods littered the yard area around it, from the rusting hulks of cars to a crusher and old dumpsters. Hayden spied one CCTV camera mounted on a tower that covered the entire yard. Nobody was around although they could see a light shining inside the warehouse, its glow
seeping through cracks in the warehouse’s metal walls.

  Without a word the team exited the car. Kinimaka ran on ahead, checking the padlock on the gate. Molokai reversed his weapon and smashed it off with the butt of his gun. The man’s robes were higher tonight, perhaps to ward off the slight chill in the air, perhaps to guard against any light that may invade his vision.

  Hayden wasn’t sure, but she was glad he was along.

  She approached with Karin and Dino as Kinimaka swung the gate open.

  “Speed and surprise,” she said. “Kill anyone you have to, but not Fuse.”

  They ran down the slope in silence. Hayden listened at the warehouse’s door, hearing no sound. Within seconds, Molokai had reached a side door, stepped back and kicked it in. Without pause, he entered. Hayden raced to back him up.

  Inside, it was a deadly turmoil.

  She counted eight figures. Two were asleep on the floor. Four were rising to their knees. Two were rolling on the ground, reaching for weapons. Nobody looked scared or even shocked. These were hardened criminals.

  Hayden let Molokai, Karin and Dino take point, as she searched for Fuse. For now, he had to live. The trouble was everyone was moving fast, and she needed to find cover. She positioned herself behind a low storage container, scanning for the man as fast as she could.

  Shots rang out. Molokai, Karin and Dino had the element of surprise and precious seconds in which to aim. Their first three bullets struck flesh, killing two men and wounding another. Return fire hit machinery, bags of cement and brick support pillars. Hayden shot a fourth man through the head as she searched.

  The last four were getting it together. Their firepower was immense. Hayden saw two men with HK semi-autos in each hand firing hard at Molokai. It was then she spotted Fuse crawling toward a large metal box at the far end of the warehouse. Fittingly, he was as thin as a stick of dynamite with long hair and a bare chest. He wore shorts. Rubber bracelets covered his wrists in a sea of color. Hayden broke cover and ran down her side of the warehouse, keeping parallel with Fuse but on the other side.

  Behind her, bullets riddled the machinery where Molokai had taken cover. Karin leaned out from behind a pillar, firing without pause, making the two men drop to the floor. Once they stopped firing Molokai was up and changing cover, finding a new spot and a new angle. Of the five men left including Fuse he then killed another. Karin shot the already wounded man on the floor.

  Hayden slowed. Shots were still being fired but Fuse only had two cohorts left alive. She crossed the warehouse in Fuse’s blind spot, reaching him just as he wrenched open the iron box.

  Hayden saw dozens of black iron guns, the pile several feet high. On top of them, thrown in loosely, were layers of grenades and spare magazines. She was shocked at the amount of contraband inside, but held the barrel of her gun at Fuse’s right temple.

  “Don’t move.”

  Fuse stiffened but didn’t step back. Hayden saw his hands still brushing the top of the box. She rapped the gun barrel across the top of his head.

  “Hands up.”

  He spun, striking with his palms, knocking the gun away. He grabbed her wrist and wrenched, pulling a muscle. His spare fist smashed into her face, making her see stars. She staggered, trying to pull the gun barrel away and regain control. Fuse was still close to the metal box and reached inside now, grabbing for a grenade.

  “No!”

  Hayden relinquished her hold on the gun. With two hands free she attacked. She targeted Fuse’s wrist as he picked up the grenade, smashing it against the top of the box. Her other fist smashed into his throat. He reeled but still managed to scoop up one of the pineapple-shaped bombs.

  Hayden spun into his body, back first, grabbed hold of the hand that held the grenade, dipped a shoulder and then threw him over. He landed heavily on his spine. The grenade rolled away, but Fuse was up in a second, reaching for it.

  Tough bastard.

  Hayden plucked out her Glock and shot him through the hand.

  Fuse screamed as the ragged hole appeared in the meat of his right hand, but still tried reaching for the grenade with his left.

  Hayden fired a bullet through that one too.

  Fuse yanked his hands into his stomach, writhing and crying with pain. Hayden saw his two colleagues killed by Karin and Dino, and then Molokai raced toward her.

  “You okay?”

  She kicked Fuse in his right knee. “Yeah, this piece of shit would rather explode than talk.”

  Molokai turned to Karin and Dino. “Check the rest of the place.”

  Hayden knelt beside Fuse, wincing at the smell of sweat that enveloped him and the rancid stench of his breath.

  “You sold an explosive device, a chemical set-up, to this man.” She waved Steele’s new picture under his nose. “A One Percenter. We want everything you’ve got on him. We want to know what chemicals were involved, what trigger mechanism was used, and how to safely and quickly defuse it.”

  “You’re kidding?” Fuse spat. “You got techs for that shit.”

  “But if we have the right information, we can do it faster. And we have to do it faster.”

  “You can go fuck yourself, lady.” Fuse’s face was so twisted in agony she wasn’t sure if he was scared or indifferent.

  “I’ll handle this.” Molokai stepped forward, pulled on the man’s arm and stepped on the bicep. Then, he placed his spare foot over the top of Fuse’s damaged hand.

  “You sing right now, higher than Ariana Grande,” Molokai growled. “Or this gets a hell of a lot worse.”

  Hayden did a double-take, not used to such black humor coming from Molokai. Maybe he was finally loosening up. She checked the warehouse once more, pleased to see Karin and Dino returning and shaking their heads.

  “Check the outside,” she said.

  Fuse struck out at Molokai’s huge thigh with his least injured hand, then screamed as it hit hard muscle, sending slivers of pain up to his brain.

  Hayden crouched. “Not especially bright, are you?” she asked. “Just tell us what we want, and I’ll get you medical attention. If not, you’ll lose the use of that hand.”

  “I already lost it, bitch.”

  Molokai leaned his weight forward, crushing the injured hand against the concrete floor. Fuse blew hard between his clenched teeth, eyes screwed shut.

  “Give him a minute,” Hayden said, and Molokai stepped off.

  Fuse opened eyes full of hatred. “Who set me up? Who snitched on me?”

  “Eastwood,” Hayden said.

  “That fucking asshole. He’s dead, a dead man walking.”

  “Now you.” Molokai tapped his trapped hand with the front sole of his boot.

  “Ahhh.”

  Hayden pulled Molokai away. “We don’t want him fainting on us.”

  Fuse glared at them, then lifted his hands so he could examine the holes. “What a fucking mess.”

  “Medical attention for information,” Hayden said. “You might even get to use them again.”

  Grimacing from pain, Fuse began to speak. “It was them One Percenters. I saw them, I checked ’em out. Put two and two together. Big guy and a Marine. Marine called the moose Steele, just once, when Steele pissed him off. Aggressive guy, the Marine. When they thought I wasn’t listening Steele whispered something. He said: ‘I guess we can take this to the Main Street depot now.’ Marine told him to shut the hell up. They checked me out, but I pretended I hadn’t heard.”

  Karin and Dino joined them. Karin carried her cellphone in her hand and checked it now. “Main Street depot,” she said. “It’s a bus station.”

  “The bus station,” Dino said. “Surely that narrows the number of buses down? They didn’t all start from that depot.”

  Hayden wasn’t finished. “What else did these customers say?”

  “Hey, they weren’t running their mouths all night, bitch. They came and they went. Ten minutes.”

  Hayden bit her tongue. “And the explosives?”

  “
Yeah, yeah, I made them. They’re in a metastable state, which means they’ll only react to mechanical shock, friction or heat.”

  “React?” Dino asked.

  “Explode. Obviously, I strapped a few pounds of C4 to them.” Fuse couldn’t hide a grin. “There’s your heat.”

  “And the trigger mechanism?”

  “Easy. A basic cellphone. A burner strapped to the C4. All you do to disable it is cut the wire. No trip wires. No tamper switches. They asked for a simple set up, they got a simple set up.”

  “Your bomb’s now attached to a bus,” Hayden told him. “When its engine turns off everyone explodes.”

  Fuse pursed his lips and nodded. “Sounds like a great plan.”

  Hayden drew her Glock and shot him through the face.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  Drake pushed the car hard through the long, intense night. Man and machine, honed, raced the dawn, chasing the dreadful unknown with hope, determination and a little fear in his heart.

  Fear for all the bus passengers.

  An hour from Los Angeles, the news came in. Hayden and the others had narrowed the buses down to just three possibilities by finding out which depot the One Percenters had used.

  Hayden updated them through their cells. “One bus is on the I10, passing Pomona. The second’s on the I10, around Montclair. The third’s slightly further back, passing the Euclid intersection. I have locations for all of you. Luther’s way ahead. Dahl’s next and then Drake’s two minutes behind him. There’s literally fourteen minutes between all three buses. And—” Hayden sighed “—they’re all headed for the same depot.”

  Drake whistled. “Shit, which one.”

  “Downtown,” Hayden said. “I’ll send you the coordinates.”

  Drake calculated how far behind he was and put his foot down. “I’m chasing you down, Dahl,” he said. “You’d better stop flirting and get your foot down.”

  “You stand about as much chance as a tramp on Wall Street. Come and get me.”

  Their engines roared. Drake thought he could see the Swede’s taillights as they tore through the night. He switched the music to a rock channel, getting some adrenalin pumping. The first song that played was Deep Purple’s Smoke on the Water, which put him right up to Dahl’s rear fender in under three minutes.