Now, the noise washed over them.
From slot machines to video poker, blackjack to roulette and other table games they stared, frozen in place, mildly shocked. The casino area was bordered by a wide black fringe of carpet beyond which those under twenty-one were not allowed. Kinimaka walked ahead. Hayden waited for a moment and then followed. The big Hawaiian took a seat before one of the first slot machines he found.
“What’s so good about this one?” Hayden asked, at his side.
“Not sure. I just didn’t want to stand out too much.”
Hayden flicked him a sideways glance. “Mano, you’re seven feet wide. You’re gonna stand out like a Samoan at a Weightwatchers convention.”
“Thanks for that.” He dug out his wallet and rifled through notes.
“Sorry. It was a joke. It’s been a long day and, hell, I’m feeling it.”
“Time off hurts,” Mano said. “But only when you go back to work.”
They heard a victory yell then, one unmistakably born of Alicia Myles. Hayden pulled Kinimaka away from the slot machine and around a bank of tables. Drake and Alicia were seated at one end of a Craps table, both with a drink in one hand. Alicia had hold of a set of dice and was madly shaking them.
“Shit, that’s a scary sight,” Kinimaka breathed.
“Yeah,” Hayden said. “That really shrinks your balls.”
Hayden hurried forward. In truth, everything had become a little surreal lately. Her new relationship with Mano had blossomed as soon as they went away together. Truly, it was all they needed. She felt as close to him now as she ever had. She worried and regretted all the time they’d lost. Whatever was in the past between them—the lows—was buried now. Forgotten. It was the present that mattered. Today, and every day after. When Smyth and Lauren were killed, the entire team had taken one huge unconscious step back. At the time they’d thought Yorgi was dead too. There’d been a shift in their viewpoints and they finally acknowledged a thought that had been worrying them all for some time.
Nobody can fight, non-stop, month after month, year after year. If they didn’t die in the process, they’d have nothing, no life, at the end to show for it.
Nobody wanted to miss out on the best years of their lives. And though, looking back, most said it was when they were part of a fun-loving group, Hayden wanted to experience living with someone she loved.
Alicia caught Mano’s eye.
“Wahey, big boy! Get over here and kiss this!”
She held out her hand with the dice inside it.
Kinimaka looked embarrassed. He was saved further shame by walking into the roulette table, earning him a suspicious glance from the pit boss and a sigh from the roulette croupier. Mano rubbed his hip and found a seat.
Alicia threw the dice as Hayden made her way to Drake’s side.
“She’s not armed, is she?”
Alicia whooped as her numbers came up. Drake grinned and turned to Hayden. “Bollocks. I never thought of that.”
Alicia downed a shot of clear liquid. Counting the number of glasses lined up on the side of the table, Hayden guessed it was her fifth.
A waitress appeared with more. “They free?” Kinimaka asked.
“As long as she’s playing.” Drake grinned, taking one for himself.
Kinimaka joined in and so did Hayden, loosening up. There was nothing else they could do until tomorrow. Truth be told, there was little else they could do full stop. The One Percenters were such mythical creatures that even those that came across them knew nothing of them. Hayden’s belief was that the only way to catch them was in the act.
Tonight?
Shit, yes tonight. Maybe they should be in bed, trying to sleep.
But that thought brought her full circle around to the reason they’d taken a break. They all wanted a life. Room to breathe. To run. To live.
This was part of that, surely.
Drake blew on the dice this time and Alicia lost. Her answer was to cheer and sit back, giving the table to someone else. Hayden saw movement from the right and spied Mai and Luther heading their way. Trailing them, were Karin and Dino.
“Thought you two young ’uns would be hitting the nightclubs,” Drake said to Dino.
“We did Planet Hollywood. Took photos along the Miracle Mile. Then crossed to the Bellagio. Now, we’re back here.”
“And we’re working,” Karin added. “Don’t forget that.”
Mai stared at Alicia. “You lost?”
“Just once.”
“You’d be better on the slots anyway.”
“Oh yeah, why’s that?”
Hayden braced herself, as did Drake and Luther.
“One: I wouldn’t have to look at your face. Two: it takes less brains.”
“Really. And the great Ninja warrior would do better?”
“The great Ninja warrior knows it’s pointless even to try.”
Alicia carefully placed her glass down. Drake rose between them. Hayden, still unsure about the weapons situation, pulled Mai to the side. They ordered more drinks and, for a time, felt as if they might be normal people, conversing and laughing, happy in each other’s company. Hayden couldn’t remember what they talked about, but it kept them up until four in the morning.
Luther left first. “It’s been a pleasure,” he said. “And an absolute eye opener since meeting you all in the desert. Who’d have known where your adventures would lead me.” He laughed loudly. “Not here. Not tonight. I don’t know where the hell we’ll end up next. And . . .” He leaned into their midst, big, bald head reflecting the bright lights. “That’s good. I don’t want to know, so long as we keep on going.”
Hayden waited until Kinimaka was ready. Luckily, that happened before he’d had too many Hawaiian Lava Flows, although his motor functions were clearly affected even more than usual as three times in a row he lifted his drink only to get poked in the nose by a pink umbrella.
Hayden rolled her eyes at Drake. “It’s gonna be a long journey back to the room.”
“Aye, looks that way. Do you want a hand?”
“Nah, if he gets too heavy, I’ll throw him in one of the fountains. That should perk him up.”
“Speaking of perking up.” Alicia raised an eyebrow at Drake. “We should get back to our room.”
Drake wilted a little. “It’s four in the morning, love.”
“But your penis doesn’t know that.”
Drake’s mouth moved but nothing came out. Clearly, he didn’t have an answer to that. Hayden scooped up Mano and headed back the way they’d come. She made the journey without incident in the end, her mind pondering new and exciting thoughts.
Here they were, the old SPEAR team, having a laugh, some fun, and a little daring escapism on a work day. A potentially very significant work day. It was a new development and it served to give her a new enthusiasm, a fresh will.
By the time she got them back to their hotel room, Kinimaka was ready to sleep. Hayden lowered him onto the right side of their bed and crossed over to the draped window.
She opened them, looked out onto what was no doubt one of the poorest views on the Strip. The window offered the rough side of a brick wall and a partial sighting over the front of the hotel and the street outside. Cheap room, she remembered. The Azure had many more important guests than Strike Force One.
I wonder if they’ll be saying that tomorrow?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
After waking, they met in a small conference room. Breakfast was laid out on the table. Drake smelled bacon and almost drooled.
“We should familiarize ourselves with what we know about our enemy,” Hayden said as they ate hot and cold food, and drank water, tea and coffee. “And with the Fabergé eggs. It could be useful.”
“Not much to say about the One Percenters,” Dahl said around a mouthful of toast. “This Steele might be one of their number, along with the blond woman. They’re interested in a police station, a bus, and some explosives. The eggs appear to be a payday rather
than a desire. We can expect high professionalism and misdirection.”
“Well, we’re in the right city then.” Alicia laughed.
“Certainly,” Dahl said seriously. “What do we know about their other heists?”
“Interesting you should say that,” Kinimaka said. “I have a few details here.” He plonked a small laptop on the table and started talking.
“2007,” he said. “Their first assumed robbery. It was a bank, not surprisingly, close to Rodeo Drive. Ballsy for a starter. Quite high-tech. They went in after hours, so there was no violence involved. Took out the alarms, the CCTV and then a vault on a deadlock. It’s still unknown exactly how, but they must have rigged something. Something homemade and very special. 2009,” he went on, “they stole drug money from a police station. Came through the air vents before roping a hundred feet down, Mission Impossible style. They took a lot of flak for that one, which may be why they laid low until 2012 for their third mission. Race day—Nascar. Two hundred and fifty thousand spectators. Yes, the One Percenters stole 18 million that day, which marked the beginning of their real notoriety.”
“Someone connected the three heists?” Dahl asked.
“Rumors on dark forums. Stories probably leaked by one or more of the less tranquil members of their gang. The fourth heist cemented their infamy. Somebody told a sheikh in Abu Dhabi that his vault would be cleared of exactly 999 gold bars within twenty-four hours. When asked, the person said the best heist team of all time would be completing their fourth mission.”
“So they’re not as low-key as we were lead to believe,” Drake said.
Kinimaka clucked. “We have the value of hindsight. And they’re not exactly shouting it from the top of the Stratosphere, are they? Anyway, heists five to eight involved a diamond center in Beverley Hills, a jade festival in Monaco and a renaissance painting in the Louvre. It was even posited at one point that they stole the Mona Lisa and that’s the real reason the French museum now openly displays a fake, rather than the stated reasons.”
“Wow,” Kenzie said. “That’s a major set of credentials.”
“Better than yours,” Alicia said. “Oh wait, do you even have any?”
“I guess kicking your ass could be one of them.”
“What? When did that happen?”
Mai turned to Drake. “Look, my friend, you have to tell us what the hell you’ve done to her over the last three months. She’s worse than ever.”
“Worse?”
“More aggressive. Argumentative. Provocative.”
“She’s always been like that.”
“No, no.” Mai looked a little worried. “Not for a while now.”
Drake frowned and took a moment to think about it. Mai was trying to say that Alicia wasn’t entirely happy. He hadn’t seen it. Alicia herself was staring at the table. Drake wondered if it was the inactivity.
Maybe Mai was reading too much into it.
Kinimaka wiped dust off the screen of his laptop. “And there you have it. A quick history of the One Percenters. They have a world-class hacker, that’s for sure. Somebody that could probably hack NASA and the NSA without too much trouble. They have premier thieves, proper experts. And they have a man that can bring it all together, make it work cohesively. A formidable team. And these . . . some very dodgy photographs.”
Kinimaka spun the laptop around. Drake leaned in with the others, taking in the blown-up, rough black-and-whites. It was clear that two of the shadowy figures were women and three were men. Two of the men were large, well-built, but there were very few facial features. The stills had been taken nine years ago.
“Where are we with the police station?” Molokai asked.
“Well, the police were already dealing with that information before we got here.” Kinimaka shrugged. “There’s nothing new. The station’s been searched and searched again as have all buildings in the area. Its only tie to the eggs is that it’s the closest station to the Azure.”
“Speaking of the eggs,” Karin said. “You may as well run us through them now.”
Kinimaka finished a slice of toast and a sweet roll before he began. “Yeah, probably for the best. Mr. Singh purchased his eggs mostly from museums. Two, the Pelican and Peter the Great, were from Virginia. He bought two from private collectors. But the real draw here are the four lost eggs. Singh knew the Imperial Palace was ransacked after the Russian revolution, so it was safe to assume that, although the Kremlin only admitted to possessing eighteen eggs, there were probably more. Fourteen alone were sold by Stalin. Until now, the only proof we had that such things as the Royal Danish egg and the Necessaire egg existed, were old photos. This will be the largest display since the Russian Revolution in 1917.”
“Out of interest,” Kenzie asked. “Who is Fabergé? The man that created this legend.”
“Peter Carl Fabergé was a Russian jeweler. Born in 1846 and died in 1920. He was one of the first artist-jewelers.”
Drake checked the time. It was a little after ten in the morning. The big display ceremony and TV live event was due to begin in around five hours.
It’s gonna be a long day.
He stared over toward Alicia.
Hope to God we don’t have to deal with the bloody media.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Kushner waited in darkness. We’re doing this. The ninth time. The greatest heist yet.
Every single one of his senses was thrumming. He was hyper, and yet controlled, the supreme professional.
Which was more than he could say for the man at his side.
In Kushner’s opinion, Steele was the team’s weak link. Big, brash and self-opinionated, he was the only person Kushner wouldn’t want to watch his back. Unfortunately, due to the necessary deployment of the team, Jax and Cara had to be situated on another, higher rooftop five hundred feet away. Faye was tucked away offsite as always.
Kushner crouched beneath the lip of the rooftop wall. He pulled on the special gripper gloves they’d acquired a few days ago and watched Steele do the same. He stepped into the special shoes, paused again.
“You don’t have to watch everything I do,” Steele muttered. “I’m not stupid.”
Kushner didn’t answer. Steele was, in fact, an idiot. He preferred fight to flight, a brawl to a distinguished withdrawal. Kushner’s own morals were pretty low; witnessing violence didn’t affect him one way or the other and he certainly wasn’t as averse to it as Cara, but even he abhorred Steele’s single-minded attitude when it came to confrontation. Kushner considered himself the best thief in the world—he’d proven it many times over the last twelve years—but paired with Steele—even he worried.
Kushner peered over the edge of the wall. He was looking away from the Strip, toward an office building that stood to the west, its roof about fifty feet higher than the Azure’s.
Two red lights blinked. Jax’s and Cara’s signal. They were in place.
Kushner readied himself. Thinking of Jax and Cara, he too was perturbed at the recent fluctuations in Jax’s character. They came at a bad time. Their leader had always earned his status through flawless thinking and impeccable supervision. Jax had appeared to have an extra sense, one that told him when a plan was tilting off its axis. He’d been their mastermind and nothing ever ruffled him. Maybe it was something to do with him being an ex-Marine, Kushner wondered. Nothing on this side of the world should be able to push his buttons considering what he’d seen and done in Afghanistan and the Middle East.
Eight times out and Kushner never saw Jax ruffled.
The man was a machine, able to hone that talent in between jobs because he lived alone. He devoted every waking moment to enhancing himself. This particular job had come through Cara—thus the blonde was looking like she wanted a bigger say in its development. Every idea she’d questioned, every step forward she’d hindered. And then, when Jax started acting more like Steele, Cara had noticed and called him out. Shit, even Faye noticed, and she was barely human. More like the computer she loved
. She rarely came out from behind that thing, never left the base HQ on a job, and acted with robotic innocence most of the time.
Still, she was the absolute cream of the crop when it came to hacking.
Kushner worried about the One Percenters. Jax was the core, the glue that held them all together. If he went off the rails it would all end in disaster.
Steele was staring at him, a disdainful expression on his face. “You with us, or do you need a slap?”
Kushner acknowledged the gentle nudge. “I’m ready. Time for the drones.”
Together, they opened a large suitcase and lifted out several industrial drones. Not weaponized models, they were most useful for delivering goods. Kushner and Steele spent some time setting them up and putting them into position.
Kushner then rose and took in the dark night. It was almost ‘go’ time. A half-moon hung in the sky, lending the rooftops a silvery glaze. To his east the Strip shone; droves of people pushed along the wide streets and sauntered between casinos. He could see the rear of many famous buildings, among them the enormous MGM Grand. Across the road from that the rollercoaster that circled New York-New York thundered down one of its many inclines. This high, a refreshing breeze caressed his lips, not quite getting through the breathable mask that concealed his features. The air smelled fresh, invigorating. His body was pumped.
Kushner took a breath, closed his eyes and stilled his inner spirit. Not even Steele disturbed him now, for he knew the best thief he’d ever seen was obtaining supreme focus.
Kushner was ready. The heist was on.
Five hundred feet in the air, he turned and flicked his infra-red flashlight five times. It was the signal. It was all down to timing now. Kushner started a stopwatch. Three minutes passed to the second. Jax and Cara, through Faye, should have raised eleven pre-planned alerts across the city, eight at various hotels and casinos. They ranged from fires to thefts and escaped prisoner sightings. That would occupy many of the police stations in the vicinity and even empty out some of the Azure’s security, since the alerts were at sister hotels. But they were all low-key, not enough to trigger any citywide panic.
The Faberge Heist Page 9
