“Honestly,” Drake said, “it sounds good. I want to get back into the action. But where the hell would we even start?”
“Well, you investigate.” Dahl frowned. “Don’t they do that in Yorkshire?”
“Piss off, mate. I’ve investigated a few sarnie shops in my time, but this is hardly what we’re used to.”
“Ah, well,” Hayden grinned, “that’s where you’re wrong. It’s the subject of the heist that’s really interesting.”
She paused. Drake picked out two slices of bacon for himself, much to Dahl’s amusement. “Diet?” the Swede asked.
“Well, three months of R&R isn’t great for the figure.”
“Tell me about it.” Kinimaka patted his belly.
Hayden continued, “A collector, called Mr. Singh, is bringing his incredible collection of Fabergé eggs to Las Vegas, to the Azure hotel and casino in particular. Apparently, he has fifteen to show, which is the largest amount ever assembled, but he also has four of the lost seven eggs that he will reveal for the first time on Saturday. That’s tomorrow. It’s the biggest event on the planet right now. I’m sure you’ve heard of the Fabergé eggs?”
“They don’t do it for me,” Alicia said. “I prefer a Crème egg.”
Mai tutted at her, but it was Kenzie that spoke up. “Are you kidding? Where’s your respect? The Fabergé eggs are one of the world’s greatest wonders.”
Alicia turned to Drake. “Is the relic smuggler really talking to me about respect?”
Drake skirted the issue. “Worth a fortune I would imagine.”
“Many millions,” Hayden said. “The lost ones will be priceless, although I’m sure some collector will already have put a price on them.”
“This Singh guy. What do we know about him?” Luther asked.
“Self-made billionaire. Likes relics, mysteries. That kind of thing. Made it his life’s goal to collect and find as many eggs as he could.”
“Is there a way we can put a number on their worth?” Drake asked.
“Well, in 2007 a clock named by Christie’s Auction House as the Rothschild egg sold for around nine million dollars, setting three records. It became the world’s most expensive timepiece, Russian object and Fabergé egg ever sold. That’s one egg, twelve years ago. That’s how valuable, venerated and well-regarded they are. Singh has more eggs than the Kremlin and the royal family combined.”
“And the four lost eggs?” Mai asked. “Where are they?”
“Oh, the same exhibition,” Hayden said. “They’re holding back the reveal until the end of the show.”
“So exactly when the hell are these One Percenters gonna steal them?” Luther asked, looking perplexed. “On live TV? That’d definitely be the best heist ever.”
“After the show’s finished, Singh and the Azure plan to exhibit the eggs for one week. Special dignitaries, celebs and high-rollers have been invited to view them. You know the score. Mostly, it’s about publicity and one-upmanship.”
“Not for Singh by the sounds of it,” Mai said. “It’s a passion for him.”
“Yes.” Hayden nodded. “But anyone that wants to share their passion must in some way compromise it.”
“Do we have a list of the eggs? And the lost ones?” Mai asked.
“Sure. I’ll hand all the info out at the end.”
“Do we have any leads?” Dahl asked. “Anything to follow up?”
“We can case the whole area, see if anything pops. Then there’s the snitches to talk to. The explosive and glass cutter suppliers. We have some work to do.”
“Haven’t been to Vegas for a while,” Drake said a little wistfully. “I remember, it used to be Kennedy’s favorite place.”
“Caesar’s wasn’t it?” Hayden asked.
“Yeah, she loved the whole concept. From the décor to the best buffet to the rooms and the Forum Shops. She could last a week without using an exit door.”
Hayden nodded. “I remember her using those words as if it were yesterday. Let’s not let her down.”
“So we’re going to Vegas?” Dino asked, unable to hide his excitement.
“We are,” Hayden said. “And I don’t care what that city’s seen before. It’s never seen anything like Strike Force One.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Las Vegas: A shimmering jewel in the middle of the Mojave Desert. A resort destination known for gambling, world-class dining, fabulous entertainment, and mega billion-dollar hotels. Known for its knack of constant reinvention, of not being scared to implode the past and build anew. To some it was simply Sin City. Others only knew it from television shows and blockbuster movies.
Drake knew from previous research that the valley in which Las Vegas stood was found by a young scout in 1829. It featured wild, plentiful grasslands and spring waters much needed by travelers. In 1844 a man named John C Fremont arrived and wrote extensively about the area, luring others to its verdant climes. Downtown Fremont Street was later named after him. The city was founded in 1905 but it wasn’t until 1931, when Nevada legalized casino gambling and reduced divorce requirements to six weeks, that the city began to flourish. Around that time the Hoover Dam was built, bringing an influx of construction workers and their families.
After World War II, lavish hotels, casinos and celebrity entertainment started to be identified with Las Vegas and, in 1950 the Moulin Rouge, its first integrated casino-hotel was opened. From Frank Sinatra to Elvis Presley, Siegfried and Roy and Celine Dion, the stars helped the city become the greatest entertainment venue in the world.
Drake noted the time: 1 p.m. on Friday afternoon. He was seated in the back seat of a big SUV, bored after negotiating miles of sand-strewn, straight roads. But it got him every single time—the first view of Vegas. Whether he was in a plane coming over the mountains or sitting inside a car motoring through the valley, he found himself sitting up, craning his neck, looking for the landmarks he would recognize.
The golden walls of Mandalay Bay stood ahead and to the left. The iconic Welcome to Las Vegas sign, created in 1959, rose in the center of the road, surrounded by tourists. The roads were busy and the sidewalks busier. Stop lights kept them immobile for what seemed like a quarter of an hour. The intersections were enormous, with bridges overhead allowing pedestrians an easy crossing, fed by escalators. Kinimaka was driving, keeping it steady.
“Seriously hope we’re gonna get some downtime here,” Luther said, staring at the casinos.
“Me too,” Dino said.
Alicia regarded them both. “Bit of a whizz are you?” she asked. “What’s your poison? Roulette? Blackjack?”
“Slots,” Luther said. “There’s never been a slot I can’t charm some money out of.”
Alicia raised an eyebrow at Mai. “Unlikely, but good luck with that.”
“Never been before,” Dino said, “but want to.”
“Shit.” Karin glared at him. “You lived in friggin’ LA, and you’ve never been to Vegas? You don’t deserve to live in California.”
“It was a question of funds,” Dino said, “rather than desire. Dad was so poor he used to steal us our dinner and went without himself. Mum couldn’t work. Mental health issues. Asshole council wouldn’t pay out for her, kept finding ways to get around it. Saved themselves around ten grand per year, then spent a million on road-widening schemes that didn’t work, or bike lanes. Anyway, my brother and I couldn’t even buy candy. The first day I had money in my pocket was when I left home.”
“I . . . I’m . . . why the hell didn’t you tell me that before?” Karin asked.
“It’s not something I’m proud of.”
“It’s not anything to be ashamed of either. How are your family now?”
Dino didn’t say anything for a while, just stared out the window as Kinimaka turned onto East Harmon.
“Dad’s in prison. Serving a stretch for robbery. Brother’s a car mechanic, or so he says. My mum died before I left home.”
“Shit.” Karin put an arm around him. Kinimaka p
ulled up to the curb in front of the Azure. Drake got his first close look at the casino. It rose several hundred feet straight up and was clad in reflective black panels inlaid with gold tracery. The gold glittered and glowed; the walls reflected everything. The name at the very top shone so bright it looked like it was on fire, shimmering even in the daylight. Kinimaka spied an underground parking garage and set off once more.
Ten minutes later they were outside, walking to the Azure, surrounded by an intense dry heat. Vegas was a loud and busy city; their senses were assaulted from all directions. Drake let it wash over him, attempting to grow accustomed to it, but just as he was starting to adapt, they entered the Azure’s lobby.
Inside, it was blissfully cool and noticeably darker, the instant shade acting like a balm to their straining eyes. Drake’s first thought was this is a nice place to be. The dark-gold-colored reception desk wrapped around a wall straight ahead, about eighty feet away, the focal point of the spacious, airy lobby. The group proceeded across.
“I feel naked,” Alicia said.
Mai whipped her head around. “Are you trying to scare me?”
“No weapons,” the Englishwoman said, patting her clothes. “Doesn’t feel right.”
“I agree with you there,” Luther said. “Doesn’t matter where I am. A bazooka strapped to my chest always puts me at ease.”
Drake stayed quiet, sharing similar thoughts and knowing everyone else did too. The oddest thing was, it felt strange that they were walking into a hotel rather than walking into danger.
It took a half hour to find the right person and be shown up to the Azure’s penthouse level. Their elevator, although situated among seven others, traveled only to the penthouse with no stops and needed a special keycard to access.
The doors slid open without a sound. They exited and walked along a plush corridor toward a set of high, imposing doors. Two cops stood outside.
“ID?”
“We’ve just gone through all this.” Hayden sighed. “We’re here to see Lieutenant Delmar.”
One of the cops stepped aside. “Go ahead.”
The penthouse suite was impressive, as Drake had expected. Lavish fittings complemented luxury furnishings and floor to ceiling windows that offered a stunning view. Drake thought he could spend hours just standing there, day and night, drinking it all in.
Delmar met them near the center of the room before an ostentatious leather sofa that could have comfortably seated twelve.
“It’s been a long couple of days,” he started. “I don’t mean to be rude but who the hell are you people?”
Hayden showed him her ID a second before everyone reached for theirs. Drake felt disappointed and knew Alicia would too. Their new IDs were rather special and even bore the name Strike Force.
“Ah, I remember.” Delmar nodded, scratching his unshaven chin. “Specialists, aren’t you? What do you know that the police department, the FBI and some of the best security consultants in Vegas don’t?”
Hayden smiled politely. “Probably nothing, but we were asked to attend and some of us have come a long way. How about a little cooperation?”
“Hey, have at it.” Delmar waved at the rest of the suite. “I’m too beat to argue.”
The FBI were next, two suits giving them the once over, testing and fishing, trying to find out exactly who they were and if they had agendas. Hayden and Kinimaka fielded the mini-interrogation like seasoned pros whilst Drake and the others wandered around the suite, taking in the sights and the décor.
Eventually, they were allowed into what everyone was calling the Fabergé Room.
Drake stopped immediately, seeing at least a dozen priceless eggs seated atop display stands around the room.
“Whoa,” he said. “No offence but should Mano really be in here?”
The big Hawaiian was already hugging an outer wall. “No worries,” he said. “I’ll wait here.”
Drake took it all in. The room itself was wide and high-ceilinged, curved at the far end where a picture window looked out across the city. It had been divested of all furnishings so that the eggs could be displayed on their stands under special lights. Drake noticed plenty of diaphanous netting and richly colored curtains draped around so that the TV audience would see only what the producers wanted them too.
Hayden approached an older dark-skinned man who was regarding proceedings with a skeptical expression on his face.
“Mr. Singh?”
“Yes, yes. Are you the insurers?”
“Ah, no. We’re . . . security consultants, sir.”
“More? Well, the more the merrier it seems. How can I help?”
Hayden looked around. “I agree there appears to be a lot of security here, sir, but who’s actually in charge?”
Hayden and Kinimaka walked off to talk to the man Singh indicated. Drake, Alicia and Mai hung around the older man, staring at the eggs.
“I have to say,” Alicia said. “I’ve seen Aztec gold. I’ve seen pirate gold. I’ve even seen the bones of Odin and Thor and all the treasures that were buried with them. But these eggs . . . they’re something else.”
“They captured my heart twelve years ago. Captured it faster than any woman I’ve ever known. They’re enchanting, I think.”
“And they don’t talk back,” Drake put in with a sideways glance at Alicia.
“That’s true also. I want to share them with the world, but I have big reservations.”
“Oh?” Mai asked. “Why?”
“I guess I’m an introvert these days. I can’t stand these grand shows. I’d prefer to be tucked up at home with a tub of ice cream watching a movie.”
Mai indicated the eggs. “And the four that aren’t here?”
“The lost eggs are still being prepared—” Singh nodded to his left “—in there.”
Drake saw an open door that led to yet another room. Hayden and the others returned.
“Let’s take a look around,” Hayden said.
Drake split off with Alicia and Mai, heading straight for the far picture window. They didn’t expect to see signs of interference or surveillance and weren’t surprised. As they nosed around, the room emptied out a little, leaving them more space. Hayden eventually wandered over to them.
“It’s secure,” she said. “We’re forty-three floors high. Bulletproof glass. Top-notch security. They’re physical bodyguards here. Even the corridor outside is alarmed. The elevator is guarded. There’s more CCTV in this room than the entire Travelodge group. I don’t see what else we can do.”
“Investigate,” Dahl said. “You mentioned some leads.”
Drake saw the Swede was keen to get involved. Probably to distract himself from personal issues. He spoke up: “Great idea. What’s first?”
“The roof,” Molokai said. “Clearly.”
* * *
Outside, they were again in direct sunlight, squinting hard and trying to ignore the intense brightness. It was hot on the roof, and surprisingly quiet, as if they’d somehow become isolated from the world. The roof area was a vast, spartan concrete space, dotted by several anonymous light-gray units. It overlooked all the other nearby roofs bar one that was over five hundred feet away, answering Molokai’s question as to whether anyone could access it from above.
“Not unless they’re aboard a chopper,” Kinimaka said. “Which would be seen and heard.”
Drake walked with Hayden and Dahl, committing nearby buildings and landmarks to memory. Of course, any criminal outfit as talented as the One Percenters wouldn’t leave signs of their passing, but it helped to know the layout of the land.
Back inside, Hayden headed straight for their FBI liaison, a woman who insisted on being called Vandie, and the bureau’s crack robbery expert for Nevada.
“You may be surprised to know there are few major and genuine threats to casinos in Las Vegas,” she said. “There aren’t many teams across the world good enough to even consider it. The casinos are highly conscientious about employing the latest an
d best security systems.”
“Can you tell us about the rumors regarding the One Percenters?” Hayden asked.
“Yeah, a local street gang started it. A large outfit, violent, hard to approach. Local cops got very little out of them. Most of it from a snitch they don’t want to expose.” Vandie shrugged. “You get it, I’m sure. The snitch is worth more to them over two years than preventing the unlikely robbery of a rich man’s egg collection. You can approach them if you like, although I don’t recommend it. They’d all be perfect candidates for Arkham Asylum if it was a real friggin’ place.”
Dahl was smiling when Drake looked over.
“Sounds like just the warm up we need.” The Swede grinned.
Drake tried not to grin back.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Alicia stayed low, despite the overarching darkness of the night. They were approaching the ruins of a large mansion on the edge of town. She could see the remains of walls, roofs, outhouses, a play area, a dry swimming pool, several dilapidated garages and more. Broken glass lay everywhere, just scattered across the ground. Brown grass and dying trees made up the garden, illuminated by flickering torches. An array of dim lights glimmered inside the walls of the house.
Shouts, laughter and bouts of wild cheering surged sporadically from several directions: the pit of the pool, the gardens, the shell of the house.
“Impossible to say how many,” Dahl said, using their comms system. “But I guess at least fifty.”
“Weapons ready,” Hayden said.
“Ready.”
Alicia crouched, muscles coiled. Now that they were back at it, about to engage, it felt a little odd. Three months away from the edge of combat was an awful long time. It was certain that she was less sharp. Her gun, a basic Glock, felt familiar and at the same time strange, like an old friend long missed.
The Faberge Heist Page 7
