This wasn’t just a Fabergé egg. This was six Fabergé eggs, and at the heart rested a child of blood. It wasn’t just a rare jewel but an intimate family portrait, all bound and protected under the eyes of God as represented by St Basil’s basilica. Looking from the outside, no one would guess at the personal story within.
This was incredibly intimate, and Charlie felt certain that the Tsarina had kept this egg with her at all times. Even at her death. Looking at it now, Charlie realised that this was going to fetch far more than twenty million, though he would settle for far less, so long as it went to a public museum. This was the find of the century, and he was excited to break the bloody curse of the Romanovs.
# interlude 1
The following text conversation was retrieved, doing a sweep of the ghost files of the Q Zone security system. It has been added to the evidence report for Case No: 234530/H. As yet neither correspondent has been identified.
- We want the egg.
- It will be tricky. Live Events are closely monitored and attract additional personnel.
- Is this of any interest to us?
- Just saying we may not be able to acquire it for you.
- Unacceptable.
- It’s just...
- We want the egg, not excuses.
#11 Neith – Beta Earth
As soon as we'd stepped through, I slapped my wrist brace and the perception filter buzzed into effect and the vibration fields knocked out any surveillance cameras. You never quite knew where you were going to come out, and it was essential to be able to take stock without frightened locals running away. Sadly, there was nothing I could do about the rain soaking my hair, other than pulling my cagoule hood up over my head. I checked my location and time— Gouge Street, Wednesday 10th January — two weeks before the egg was due to be destroyed. Perfect. I offered a quick thanks to the Q Field and then checked on the location of the others. I could see Clio across the street and waved at her. Paul was a street away. Happily, the Q Field never dropped us in the path of moving objects. Ramin had arrived a few hours ahead of us, which was a minor glitch but had worked in our favour. He had already booked us into the hotel and nipped out to Charring Cross Road to buy laptops and modems. We’d go out and get more soon, but in the meantime, we had enough to start running our own software and our larger security system.
Once the four of us had settled in, Paul and Ramin had booked the next available flight over to Warsaw. It was a slim chance, but we might be able to get a lead on the location of the egg. The Q Field told us a Zofia Guskov and an Englishman were connected to the treasure. In its usual oblique way, it hadn’t supplied any further information. I’d checked the internet when we’d arrived, but the discovery of a missing Fabergé egg hadn’t hit the headlines, so we had to assume the Q Field was leaving out some pertinent information. As usual. Clio, Paul and I joined Ramin at the hotel and began to settle in. That had been the previous day, and now I was waiting to hear from Ramin and Paul whilst Clio and I monitored the local media.
Clio walked through from the hotel bedroom into our living room. We had set up in a large hotel apartment in the Mondrian. They are great at not asking questions.
There was a knock on the door, and I groaned.
‘Clio, I'm not kidding, if you’ve ordered from room service one more time, I'm going to have to write you up!’ There wasn’t an issue with room service as such, but I didn’t like the constant stream of hotel staff coming in. Hotels like this were discreet, but I didn’t want to push our luck.
She rolled her eyes at me as the waiter brought in a tray covered in salmon sandwiches and petites-fours.
‘You don't have to eat them.’
I sighed and flipped open the laptop again. I was fidgety, waiting for news from the boys. If we were lucky, they'd be successful, and we could all step back from our respective locations. If we weren't, then they would need to fly back over here and we'd continue the hunt together. Once we had stepped over to Beta Earth we were on our own. There was no leaning through the portal to grab something useful or using it like a bridge to travel quickly across the globe. That's why successful missions relied on perfect planning and great quartermasters. I was proud to be working with one of the best, when she wasn't licking icing off her fingers.
‘Cat’s teeth, Clio! How many have you eaten already?’
She shrugged. She wasn't wrong, there wasn't much else to do. We were fully set up; we had caught up with the local political social structure and were now waiting for news from Poland. As usual, Beta Earth was full of depressing news stories
