Authors: James Twining
11:50
P.M.
S
uspended a few feet over the floor, Tom looked on in horrified fascination as the tiny silver screw tripped and skipped its way from step to step, flirting with the final edge that would have sent it spinning to the ground and the alarm being triggered.
But it did not fall.
Instead it hesitated, its shiny head peeking over the edge into oblivion, before gently coming to a rest. Tom blew through his masked lips in relief.
He reached toward the screw with the magnetized tip of the screwdriver, picked it up and deposited it safely. Looking into the small hole revealed by the panel he had just removed, he could just make out two wires. As Archie had predicted, it looked like the supply to a fairly basic pressure switch that would trigger if the egg was lifted out of the case. Easy enough to deal with—he simply snapped a small metal clip between the two wires that cut down through the insulation to the bare wires underneath.
He pressed the remote control, and the winch drew him back up over the top of the display case. Reaching into his overalls again, he produced a small diamond cutter with which he etched a large round circle into the glass directly beneath him. Replacing the cutter in his pocket, he struck the circle smartly with the heel of his hand. It snapped free, dropping into the case and bouncing off the top of the egg.
Tom reached into the case and clamped his gloved fingers around the egg’s silky surface. Hesitating momentarily, he lifted it out of the cabinet, a gentle click resonating inside the glass case as he pulled it clear. But the alarm stayed silent. Although the switch had been tripped, the circuit flowed uninterrupted through the secondary circuit formed by the metal clip that he had fixed to the wires.
Forty minutes gone. Five minutes left. Just enough time to get out.
He slipped the egg inside his jacket and then, pressing the remote, was hauled back up toward the roof. As his head and shoulders emerged through the space in the skylight, he stopped the winch and used his arms to help pull himself through.
That was when he noticed it. A small red dot flush in the middle of his chest. Tom stiffened, transfixed. He knew what it was immediately. The laser pointer of a high-powered rifle.
The red dot slid up to his face, flashing briefly into his left eye and making him blink. The dot then danced around his lips, tumbled down his arm, skidded across his gloved hand until it finally settled on the winch’s motor. Whoever it was, they were on the roof of the building on the other side of the canal. Playing with him.
There was a single shot. The motor sheared apart in an eruption of hot metal and sparks and the cable spooled free, sending Tom flying backward through the gap into the room below.
Instinctively, he reached out and somehow hooked the taut nylon cord that he had run across the room under his left arm. It brought him up short and hard, wrenching his shoulder in its socket. He clung onto the cord, locking his arm into place by grabbing his elbow with his other arm, panting in fear and pain. What the hell was going on? Who was out there? How had they known he would be there?
The cord dropped a few inches; jolted by the sudden impact, the left-hand spear had been torn from the wall. As Tom watched, its barbed tip slowly worked its way through the wood and plaster, the cord sinking inexorably lower. He held his breath. Five seconds. Ten seconds.
The spear abruptly ripped free and Tom plummeted to the alarmed floor.
The room exploded into life on impact. The lights burst on, their damning glare blinding Tom as he lay on the floor. The alarm detonated, a sonic boom of high-pitched sirens and bells that swept across the room in a wave of sound.
He staggered to his feet, reached helplessly for the doorway, but a huge steel door slammed down in front of it, sealing the only realistic exit from the room. With the skylight twenty feet above him, he knew that there was no way in or out.
He was trapped.
12:04
A.M.
T
he sight of the red dot on the opposite roof had suddenly explained to Jennifer where the man following Tom had vanished to. And yet it had still taken a few more seconds for her, crouching on the museum roof where she had climbed using the rope Tom had left dangling down the side of the building, to realize what the red dot actually was.
Even so, when it actually came only moments later, the sound of the shot had momentarily paralyzed her. It was only the strident sound of the alarm from the gallery below that had finally prodded her to her feet and sent her scrambling toward the skylight where she now stood, hands on hips, looking down at Tom through the hole in the glass.
“Having fun?”
“You?” Tom’s voice registered his surprise, but it was soon gone. “Quick, get me out of here.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Look, it’s not what it seems.”
She took in the alarm, the shattered display case, the masked figure below her. It was exactly what it seemed. Exactly what she’d been warned by Corbett to expect. How could she have been so stupid to think that everyone else might have got it wrong?
“Oh, no?” She laughed coldly. “What is it, then?”
Tom ripped the ski mask from his head, his hair damp and ruffled. She could see his eyes, big and dark and perhaps even a little frightened.
“I have about ninety seconds before the guards get here.” He motioned anxiously toward the steel door. “I’ll explain later.”
“No, you’ll explain now.” Her voice was firm, unyielding. She didn’t even know for sure why she was listening, why she hadn’t just gone straight to the police when she found the rope dangling down the side of the museum wall. But part of her wanted a reason.
“There’s no time,” Tom pleaded.
“I’ve got plenty.”
Tom shook his head, looked away, then back up at her.
“The Fabergé egg I stole in New York was for Cassius. Do you know who he is?” Cassius? The name was familiar, but she couldn’t think where from. Then it came to her. Cassius was the Captain Nemo figure that Corbett had mentioned in the meeting with Secretary Young. The criminal mastermind he believed was behind a coordinated spate of high-end art thefts. She nodded. “Right, so you know what I’m up against. The job was for two eggs but I backed out of taking the second. You see, I wasn’t lying when I said that I’d decided to get out. But Cassius wouldn’t have it. He threatened to kill me and a guy I work with if I don’t get it by tomorrow.”
She remained silent. How could she believe him? The steel shutter rose an inch from the floor as it was jacked open by the guards outside, their excited voices echoing through the gap.
“Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“Would that have made a difference? Would you have let me do this job?”
“No.”
“Then what choice did I have? Do nothing and get myself and someone else killed?”
“We had a deal. You should have trusted me. I could have protected you.” Her eyes flashed coldly but she was more uncertain now. Despite herself, despite everything, she wanted to believe him.
Tom shook his head with a sad smile.
“I heard you the other night, Jennifer. On the phone to your boss. Saying that he could count on you to do whatever it took to get a result. That you didn’t care what happened to me. I have to look after myself. I can’t rely on you or anyone else to protect me. I never have.”
Jennifer flushed as she heard her own words played back to her. Suddenly the reason for Tom being so cold over dinner in Paris made sense.
“What I meant was that my only interest in you is my belief that you can help solve this case and that’s true. I’m not interested in who’s done what to whom in the past. As far as I’m concerned we have a deal, and I intend to stick to it as long as you do.”
The steel shutter was three inches off the ground now and she could see the metal toe caps of the guards’ boots under the gap.
“Maybe that’s what you think now. But when the time comes, things might not be so clear. You’ll have your career to think about. I couldn’t take the risk of being betrayed a second time.”
“So what were you planning to do? Steal the egg and then disappear? Where to?”
“It’s for an off-site that Cassius is holding tomorrow night in Istanbul.” Tom was throwing increasingly nervous glances toward the slowly rising steel door. “I was planning to go there and try and settle this once and for all. For Harry.”
“Istanbul?” Despite everything, she couldn’t hide the sudden interest in her voice. Istanbul was a link to the coins. Perhaps a chance to get them back and the people who’d taken them. “Why didn’t you say so before?”
“That’s why Steiner had begun to write the number down on that card when he was killed. Cassius was clearly lining up the coins for his off-site. He may have even had them stolen specially for it. The coins and the two Fabergé eggs are probably the star lots.”
“So what happens if Cassius doesn’t get the second egg?”
“He can’t afford to have people show up to the off-site and then not produce the items he’s promised them will be there. He’ll probably just cancel it.”
Jennifer’s mind was racing. If the off-site was canceled, she’d lose her best chance of catching up with the coins. The chances of ever seeing them all in the same place again after that were small. She needed the off-site to go ahead.
“Grab this.”
Jennifer threw her rope down to him, the heavy cord whistling through the air as it uncoiled. The steel shutter was almost a foot off the ground now and she could see someone struggling to slide under it sideways.
Tom grabbed the rope, heaving himself out of the room as the steel security door rose another three inches. His feet flicked through the hole in the skylight just as the first guard slid into the room and jumped to his feet, gun out.
Tom leaned forward on his knees, sucking air. He looked up at Jennifer, his voice like sand on glass.
“Next time, just throw the rope down, will you. We can chat later.”
“There won’t be a next time. There wasn’t meant to be a
this
time.” She pulled him to his feet. “Let’s get out of here.”
They made their escape along the roofs of the adjacent buildings, rappelling down to the street and then retracing their steps to the hotel. The two-tone sound of police sirens and a growing swarm of flashing blue lights faded into the distance, a faint echo in the still night air.
They were followed all the way, though, by a single, incredulous, pair of eyes. As they disappeared into the hotel’s entrance, he pulled his phone from his suit pocket. He spoke as soon as it was answered on the other end.
“It’s Jones, sir…It’s a goddamned circus out here…Kirk just broke into a museum and then some crazy tried to take him out on the roof with a rifle…no, he missed. Browne? I’m sorry, sir, but it looks like she helped Kirk escape.”
SEVEN BRIDGES HOTEL, AMSTERDAM, THE NETHERLANDS
12:36
A.M.
“L
et me see it. Let me have a look.” Jennifer’s voice was strained, excited even. The adrenaline was still coursing through both their bloodstreams, their hearts beating fast, their brains fizzing as they arrived back in their room.
“Are you sure?” Tom eyed her uncertainly. “You’re in deep enough already. Maybe it would be better if you just left it at that.”
“I’ve helped you escape from a crime scene. How much deeper can I get?”
Tom nodded, then flashed her an awkward look.
“You know I really appreciate what you did for me back there.”
“I must be crazy,” she whispered, almost to herself. “If anyone finds out, it will finish me. You know that, don’t you?” Her large round eyes glistened as she spoke.
“Yeah.” He paused. “So why did you do it?”
“No egg, no off-site. No off-site, no coins.”
“So purely business, then?” Tom almost sounded disappointed.
“Just business.” She hoped he didn’t notice the hesitation in her voice. Because there had been another factor running through her mind when she threw down that rope, a factor that she barely wanted to admit to herself, let alone Tom. That part of her had needed him to believe that he could trust her. That they were in this together. Because she knew what it was like not to be trusted, to have people always doubting your motives and your actions. Because she was determined to give him the second chance that so few people, until Corbett, had been willing to give her.
Tom smiled, his twinkling eyes suggesting that he knew she hadn’t told him everything, although he didn’t press the point.
“Well, whatever the reason, it was the right one. We’re going to finish this together. Now, hold your hands out.”
He reached into his jacket and gently placed the small egg in her cupped hands.
“Oh, my God. It’s beautiful,” she breathed, stroking the egg’s smooth green surface, her fingers tracing the gilded flowers that snaked up its side from the twisted roots that served as its base. “What’s it called?”
“The Pansy Egg. It’s one of my favorites.”
“Why?”
“I’ll show you.”
He opened the egg and revealed a removable golden heart-shaped shield with eleven tiny doors, mounted on a delicately crafted easel.
“Each door opens to reveal miniature portraits of different members of the imperial family.” He opened a few of the doors. Somber, pale faces stared back. “I’ve always thought they look very sad, as if they knew what was going to happen to them.”
“You’re talking about the Russian Revolution?”
“I’m talking about the Bolsheviks murdering them and then confiscating the collection and selling it to finance Stalin’s army. For me, this one piece tells me more about the history of Russia than a thousand textbooks. It’s all here. The glory and the horror.”
“How many eggs are there in all?”
“Fabergé only made fifty. Eight have been lost. The Armory Museum in the Kremlin still has ten and a Russian billionaire recently bought nine from the Forbes family. The rest are in the hands of other museums and private collectors.”
“Haven’t you ever been tempted to keep all these things you’ve taken over the years for yourself?”
“Never.” Tom smiled. “It’s one of the first rules you learn. You do the job and then you move on. You can’t afford to fall in love with whatever it is you’re taking.” He held out his hand and reluctantly she handed the egg and the shield back. Tom wrapped up the egg and put it down on the dresser. “Let’s check in with Archie.”
“Who?”
“A colleague.” She sat down on the bed next to him as he dialed. “It’s me,” he said when the phone was answered.
“Are you all right, mate? Is there a problem?” Archie’s concerned voice filtered back down the phone.
“No, I’m fine. I’ve got it.”
“You’ve got it. Oh, thank fucking God. Well done, mate. Well fucking done.”
“Thanks,” said Tom, smiling at his friend’s relief.
“Any problems?” Archie had calmed down now and his tone was more businesslike. Tom gave a short laugh.
“You could say that. Archie, did you let anyone know that I was going to hit that place tonight?”
“Of course not. What do you take me for?”
“Okay, okay.”
“Why, what happened?”
“Well, as I was coming out—”
“Oh, bugger me!” Archie interrupted. “I did mention it to someone. Not where you were going to hit exactly but the city it was in.”
“Who?”
“The other night. Cassius.”
“Cassius? For Christ’s sake Archie. Who’s side are you on?”
“I know, I’m sorry. He caught me by surprise. Why, what happened?”
“Someone shot my winch out to try and get me caught.”
“Why the hell would Cassius get you to half-inch something, then make sure you got pinched nicking it? It doesn’t make any sense. It must be someone else.”
“Maybe.”
“How did you get out?”
“Jennifer.”
“The fed? You having me on?”
“No.”
“What’s her game? She must want something.”
“Maybe.” Tom eyed Jennifer, who was listening to his side of the conversation avidly. “I’m not sure of anything anymore. We’ll talk about it later. Anyway, I’ll leave the egg with Fleure in the morning together with my kit. You can take it from there.”
“No problem. Oh, and, Tom?”
“Yeah.”
“Cheers.”
“Don’t mention it.”
The line went dead. Tom turned to face Jennifer.
“Did you get all that?”
She nodded, her face serious.
“Archie, who I’m assuming is your fence, told Cassius about this job.” Tom nodded. “Now you think Cassius deliberately tried to have you trapped in that museum. And you don’t know why.”
“Do you?”
“The answer’s in Istanbul. It must be. I’ll get us down there in the morning,” she said calmly. “Max will take care of the details.”
“Don’t you need to call your boss? Let him know what’s happening?”
“I will. But for now, we should both get some rest.” She paused, looked him in the eye. “By the way, who was that girl?”
“What girl?”
“Back there. The blond one with the Victoria’s Secret dress sense.”
“That’s Fleure, the girl I’ve got to deliver the egg to in the morning. She’s just someone I know. Someone I can rely on. Why? You jealous?” Tom asked with a grin.
“You wish!” She shrugged the question away. “Now, do you want to flip a coin for who gets the floor?”
“No need,” Tom said generously. “The bed’s all yours.”