A Brilliant Deception

by Kim Foster

  Jack ran his tongue along his teeth as he struggled with the idea that had occurred to him. “Belay that,” he said suddenly. “It’s fine, we don’t need the tickets. We’ll take my ride.” Jack had traveled to Venice on his private jet, and it was still waiting for him at the airport.

  He hazarded a glance at Cat. She was grinning.

  “Gladys, can you follow them, and find out where they’re going?” Ethan asked.

  “Of course, dear. Once they land, I’ll be able to monitor their movements.”

  Cat sat back and chewed her thumbnail. “I still have a lot of questions,” she said. “There’s so much we don’t know. We don’t even really know what Caliga has planned, and why they want the Lionheart Ring.”

  “Actually, we do,” Felix said.

  All eyes shifted to him.

  “The Lionheart was made with the Gold.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Jack’s private jet, en route to Singapore

  Despite Jack’s jet being a fully stocked, luxuriously appointed, five-star hotel on wings, I couldn’t sleep a wink. My mind swirled and churned like a whirlpool, processing the fact that the Lionheart Ring had been fashioned with the long-lost Gold of the Gifts of the Magi. I had known the Lionheart was an extraordinary piece of jewelry; I hadn’t realized how extraordinary.

  The story of the Gifts of the Magi was becoming clearer now. In the course of history, the three Gifts had been broken up—the Gold taken and crafted into the Lionheart Ring in the twelfth century, the Frankincense and Myrrh locked inside a Fabergé egg several centuries later.

  We had found the long-lost Fabergé last autumn, after generations of searching . . . only to have it spirited away by Caliga. And just as we’d learned the secret location of the Gold, Caliga—once again—had beaten us to it.

  I shifted in the leather seat I was stretched out on while jazz music tinkled in the background. In spite of the physical comfort, I couldn’t clear my head. The stakes of this job were so much higher now, and more people were getting involved. And more than that—people were sacrificing their very lives for the cause. A hard lump formed in my throat thinking about Esmerelda.

  I couldn’t quit, though. If for no other reason, I had to keep going for her. She had believed in this mission. I would see it through, for Esmerelda.

  Gladys popped up on a video call. I sat up straight at the sound of the video feed coming through, as did Jack. He moved over to sit beside me so we could both hear what Gladys had to say.

  I glanced behind me to where Felix and Ethan were still sleeping. I thought about waking them up, but they looked peaceful and relaxed. And, as a group, we needed to get as much rest as we could. Jack and I could get the details and relay it to them later.

  “Okay, so tell us, Gladys. What have you learned?”

  I glanced at Jack, wondering what he was thinking. On our way to the airstrip, Jack had made a call. All he’d said was, “If the Lionheart is actually made of the Gold, the gold from the Gifts . . . I know somebody who would be very interested in hearing about that.” I asked him if it was Wesley he’d called, but he’d refused to tell me.

  As we sat side by side, I realized it was the closest I’d been to Jack in ages. I could tell by his rumpled appearance that he’d tried to sleep, too, but had obviously been unsuccessful, as well. It was a look I was familiar with. How many times had I woken up next to Jack, with him looking exactly that way?

  “There’s an Australian businessman in Singapore,” Gladys was saying on the video screen. “A rather powerful fellow, name of Chips Walker, he retired in Singapore because it’s a marvelous tax haven. He happens to be a billionaire, and he’s involved with Caliga. In fact, he appears to be funding their plan.”

  “What’s their plan?”

  “It’s hard to say. But I must tell you, it feels like something big. Eastern power appears to be getting involved, somehow. Chips Walker has a lot of contacts in North Korea, and China, and they seem to be positioning themselves for something.”

  I frowned, considering that. Gladys kept speaking. “I did hack into an e-mail from Walker. He was talking about the power of the Lionheart. A power that straddles East and West. Because of the fact that it belonged to a Western king, but was given to him by an Eastern sultan, Saladin.”

  Plus, I thought, the fact that it had been fashioned from the Gold that was part of the original Gifts of the Magi—a gift from Eastern kings.

  Gladys was right. This did feel big. But what did it all mean?

  She signed off then, saying she was going to keep digging and would tell us more once she learned it. Also, that she needed to attend to her pineapple upside-down cake or it would burn.

  I glanced at Jack. He was deep in thought. My eyes traced his face. He was starting to get some scruff; he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. It suited him. In fact, even rumpled and scruffy, he looked amazing. He was wearing a T-shirt and jeans and he smelled great—like soap and fresh pine needles.

  I cleared my throat and straightened my cardigan, then got up to use the restroom. I needed to stop this. In the tiny restroom I looked at myself sternly in the mirror. Do not get pulled in, Cat. Do not fall for him again. Jack is not yours, and he never will be.

  I walked out of the washroom, still completely lost in thought, not paying attention, and walked right into Jack, who was standing right outside the door.

  He put out an arm to steady me. I looked up at him in a daze. “Whoa there,” he said. “Somebody need a coffee?”

  I smiled. “Yeah. Definitely. It’s been a tiring couple of days.”

  The space outside the restroom was tiny. Standing so close to Jack suddenly, being held by him, touched, feeling his warmth, smelling his skin—it made me feel even more light-headed than I had before. His touch was so familiar. It brought back, in an instant, all the memories of being physical with him—in bed, in the shower, on the kitchen counter . . . my face flushed, burning—where had that memory come from?

  I cleared my throat again and broke away from Jack, quickly returning to my seat. Within minutes, everyone else had woken up. Once the flight attendant had brought fresh coffee and breakfast, and we had updated Ethan and Felix about Caliga and Chips Walker, we got to business. We needed a plan.

  “Okay, so Singapore is tiny, as far as countries go,” Ethan said, digging in to the omelet in front of him. “But I think we need a few more specifics on location.” He looked to the video screen, where Gladys had popped up again, in a real-time feed.

  “There’s only one place they could be taking it,” Gladys said. “It’s Walker’s most secure location. Here, I’ll show you.”

  A picture flashed on the screen. It was a super-modern high-rise, one of these architectural marvels with three towers and an enormous platform stretching between all three, like a space age Stonehenge.

  “The Marina Bay Sands,” Gladys was saying. “One of the most iconic buildings on Singapore’s waterfront, a luxury resort and casino. It also has the honor of being the world’s most expensive building. The towers are fifty-five stories high, and the platform on the top is called the SkyPark. It contains gardens and restaurants and an enormous vanishing-edge pool.”

  The idea of swimming and viewing the skyline two hundred meters above the city sent shivers down my spine. It would be incredible. Two months ago, that height would have seen me panicking. I was thankful I’d gotten over that brief spell of fear.

  “Walker has more than one high-tech vault contained within the complex. The Lionheart Ring will be inside one of them. Here are the possibilities.” Gladys went on to produce files and schematics and blueprints of the Marina Bay Sands. For the next hour, over several rounds of coffee, we sketched out a plan for entry.

  Ethan was grimacing at the blueprint in front of him. “What about the getaway?” he said. “This place is a fortress. Getting out is going to be even harder than getting in.” He was right. Every good thief always needs several ways of getting out of a building, shoul
d things go sour.

  Jack nodded. “We’ll need a few solid extraction plans. Can’t always count on ex-professors turning up in speedboats, can we?” He glanced at me with a crooked smile. My heart thumped.

  “Or being able to hand a pink wig off to an unsuspecting decoy,” Felix said, looking at me with a grin.

  I smiled back, knowing he was talking about my recent Beverly Hills heist. The others looked confused. “Inside joke,” I said to them. “A little thing about my last job.”

  We turned our attention to devising a few breakout plans. But as we worked, I felt a growing discomfort deep in my stomach. There was something about what Felix had said that didn’t sit right with me.

  When Felix got up to use the restroom, I watched him go, then stared out the window, frowning. My insides flip-flopped. I didn’t typically get squeamish on airplanes, but at that moment I was very uncomfortable. And then I realized why.

  I had never told anyone about the pink wig.

  It was a detail I’d neglected to mention to Templeton. After all the stuff that happened after that job, with my mother, I didn’t do my usual debriefing. So the question was, if I never told anyone about the pink wig, how could Felix possibly know about it?

  Unless he had been following me. Or, maybe, talking to someone else who’d been watching me. But why would he keep that a secret?

  Panicky questions crowded into my brain. How did he know about the wig? Who was Felix, really? And the stickiest question of all: could he be working for the other side? Was there a chance Felix was actually Caliga?

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Singapore

  In the small executive airport where private charters came and went, there was a surprise waiting for us: Templeton, in the flesh, at the arrivals gate. He wore a linen suit and was sitting in the colonial airport underneath fans circling lazily overhead, surrounded by potted ferns and sipping tea from a china cup.

  At the sight of him, my heart squeezed. He was a warm, welcome sight in a foreign land. After a round of hugs and handshakes, Templeton got down to business. “All right, darlings, I have a hotel reservation for us. Here, Catherine, give this to the driver.” He handed me a card.

  I looked at the small rectangle of heavy card stock. My eyebrows lifted. “Raffles? Not exactly low-key, is it, Templeton?”

  He grinned like the cat who’d eaten a canary. “When you’re a group of film producers, you don’t need to be low-key.”

  “Ah.”

  “Besides, no self-respecting Englishman would stay anywhere else when in Singapore.”

  We gathered our bags and made our way to the shiny black Bentleys waiting outside. The tropical heat of Singapore hit me immediately, wrapping around me like a warm blanket.

  My stomach tightened as I watched Felix. If he made even the slightest slip, I wanted to see it. I needed to know what was going on with him, what his secrets were, what his agenda was.

  Our car pulled up to Raffles: precise rows of windows and carved pillars decorated the gleaming white building, topped by gracefully curved terra-cotta roof tiles. The hotel was surrounded by lush green gardens, perfectly manicured lawns, and softly rippling palms. The air, heavy with the fragrance of blossoming rhododendrons, was like thick honey, late-afternoon sunlight warming everything to a golden glow.

  Once we were settled in our individual rooms, we gathered in the bar downstairs as the sun was setting. The iconic Raffles Hotel Long Bar was every inch gleaming mahogany and graceful rattan; bamboo ceiling fans gently stirred the air, creating a pleasant breeze.

  “Have a Singapore Sling,” said Ethan as I slid onto a bar stool beside him. “This is where it was invented. At this very bar.”

  I ordered, then sipped the cold, sweet cocktail. “Where’s Felix?” I asked, looking around, attempting to maintain a casual tone, although I felt anything but. I glanced at Jack, who looked unconcerned.

  “He said he had to go out,” Jack said. “Wanted to get some supplies in town or something.”

  I nodded, keeping my face neutral. But the cocktail soured in my stomach.

  “Oh, there he goes now,” Ethan said, gazing out the windows that overlooked the front lawns. I turned my head quickly, squinting out at the twilit outdoors, to see Felix walking briskly away from the hotel. “Did you want to talk to him?” Ethan asked.

  I glanced at Ethan, Jack, and Templeton, who were looking at me with curiosity. My eyes shifted to Jack, in particular. Felix was Jack’s brother. Was there a chance Jack was in on it, whatever Felix was up to? Even if he wasn’t, how would he feel about me making wild accusations about his only brother? The brother he’d flown across the globe to save?

  No, I had absolutely nothing firm to say, no real reason to suspect Felix of anything. I needed to learn a little more first before I started slandering members of our team.

  I shook my head. “Nope, it’s fine. Just wondering.” I sipped my frosty drink and stared ahead, silently counting to ten.

  As the three of them discussed the cricket match playing on the television behind the bar, I excused myself to find the restroom. But in the lobby, instead of turning left to the restrooms, I turned right and slipped out the back entrance. I doubled around to the front in the direction Felix had gone, taking care to stay hidden from the Long Bar’s windows.

  I moved fast and spotted Felix in short order. He was headed on foot toward the city center, and I tailed him. I reached for my phone in case I needed to call for backup, and then . . . shit. I’d left my purse at the bar. No cell phone, no wallet.

  I liberated a pair of oversized sunglasses from a sidewalk kiosk and slid them on my face, doing my best to stay incognito. Felix paused outside a small city park and pulled out a cell phone. I moved close while he was distracted with dialing and tucked in behind a large palm tree, close enough to overhear.

  I missed the first part of the conversation as I positioned myself closer. But then I heard him say, “Yes, everything is fine. It’s all a go.”

  Alarm bells reverberated through my head. What was all a go? And more importantly—who was he talking to?

  I made sure I was completely out of sight as he listened intently on the line, and then I heard him say, “Well, I can make it to Station Q, if that helps.” Station Q?

  I chastised myself for leaving the hotel without my phone or any other way of communicating with the rest of my team. This was a huge development—I had to keep following. Felix turned off his phone and kept walking, farther away from the hotel. I chewed my lip, trying to decide if I should go back for reinforcements and tell them what I’d witnessed, or continue following him.

  There wasn’t really a choice. I had to find out exactly what Felix was up to. I would have to find a way to communicate with the team later.

  I followed him as he made his way through a few downtown blocks and right into the train station. I tried to steal a glance at a map in the station, but I had to keep my eye on Felix. I couldn’t let him get out of view. My fists tightened as I watched him step onto a train. One car farther down, I slipped on board, too. The train car smelled of wheel grease and vinyl upholstery. I found a seat and positioned myself so I could keep Felix in view through the window between the cars.

  For three hours we traveled on that train. We were headed north, I assumed. It was the only direction to go in, really, as Singapore was at the bottom of the peninsula.

  I glanced at the person seated beside me. “Do you have a phone?” I asked politely. I had to get in touch with the others. The elderly Asian woman looked at me warily. I mimed my request and tried to think of a few words she might understand. In the end it was futile, she either didn’t have a phone or didn’t understand. She glared at me with suspicion and moved away. There was nobody else seated anywhere near me, and I was loath to leave my post, lest Felix slip away to a different car or off the train altogether.

  Fine. I was on my own here.

  The scenery outside, at this point, had faded to black; we must have been
going through Malaysian countryside. If this had been an ordinary train ride, I might have slept—the gentle rocking movement of trains always made me drowsy. There was far too much adrenaline in my system to allow for that now, and I had to watch Felix.

  After a long stretch with nothing but blackness, the bright lights of a city began to flicker into view. I glanced out, and immediately spotted the recognizable twin Petronas Towers looming over the shimmering city of Kuala Lumpur.

  We were in the capital of Malaysia. My eyes went wide with surprise. We’d come all this distance? I clenched my teeth. Okay, fine. I’d come this far. I would see this through. Wherever Felix was going, I was going.

  I thought of Ethan, Jack, and Templeton, back in Singapore at Raffles Hotel. It had been about four hours since I’d disappeared from the bar. They must be concerned; they must know something was going on. I wished I’d been more strategic about this so they wouldn’t worry. But I’d have to deal with that issue later.

  The train deposited us in the heart of the downtown core. Being careful to avoid ticket checkers, I tailed Felix right off the train and into the streets of the city. It was past midnight, yet the sidewalks still bustled and buzzed with people. Tinny music played on a street corner among a collection of homeless people. The city smelled of gasoline and steamed rice and the heady fragrance of orchids.

  After following Felix through the streets for several minutes, he tucked into an alley. He paused then, looking around to see if anyone was following him. But he clearly wasn’t expecting a tail; it was a halfhearted effort. I watched as he disappeared through an unmarked steel door, beneath a lone blue lightbulb that hung crookedly above the doorway. The door, and the building it was within, had a shabby look. Litter and scraps had gathered against the wall as though they huddled there for safety.

  I weighed my options. I had no idea who, or what, was through that door. My heart thumped thinking of all the potential dangers.