Chapter 26
26
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“I know you’re fucking lying...”
Celeste and Magnus glanced over the contents of Sebastian’s red envelope after giving up the egg. They were back in the basement of his nightclub, dressed a lot more casually since the last time they met him. Since the KUMU robbery was already in the local news, threatening to spread globally, they were only there to make an exchange and get the fuck out of the country.
If there was a time to be furious with the dead Dr. Doris Grant, that time was now. After reconciling with Magnus over the past, it was difficult to read the next letter from her.
But she read it again just to make sure she wasn’t going fucking insane.
‘“My dear little thieves... I never took up golf, but I’m well aware of mulligans, and how helpful they are. This hunt is about correcting my mistakes and saying goodbye to the right people. I pushed you all to your limits and I witnessed your destruction at my hands. For that I am truly sorry. Return to Sweden for atonement and I guarantee you will find more help than I could give you. Whatever you remember about Stockholm, try to let go of it. A barman and a princess are going to show you the way...’” Celeste trailed off, stunned as fuck.
“What is this?” Magnus asked with more anger than she expected.
Sebastian, who had long stored The Third Imperial Egg, sat at his desk and shrugged his narrow shoulders. “That’s Doris. She loved the games.”
“I’m actually sick of hearing that,” Celeste admitted, her voice climbing with anxiety. “I don’t want to go back to Stockholm. Not for those Freya’s jewels.”
“And what does she mean, a princess is going to show us the way? Princess Astrid? ” He threw up his hands and started stalking the office. “This is fucking ridiculous.”
“Did you know about this?” Celeste asked, shaking the letter at Sebastian, who watched them with curiosity.
The older gentleman shook his head. “I was not aware of the contents of that letter. I was only asked to give it to you upon your delivery. I’ve done what was asked of me.”
Celeste collapsed in a nearby chair and sighed. After they lost the jewels, she studied the Swedish news for years. She kept a Google alert on the case, she followed Princess Astrid and she watched Interpol for any updates. Nothing. She’d seen nothing about the jewels until a Good Samaritan found the box washed up on the banks of S?derstr?m. Last summer.
“It’s fascinating, though,” Sebastian started with an impish grin. “For Doris to put all this together before perishing... You must admit, it’s quite impressive.”
Magnus stopped short and scrubbed his face with his hands. “Yes. Admittedly, it’s impressive,” he groaned. “I imagine she had to time everything perfectly for us to get to this point.”
“She had to have faith that we’d all play our part,” Sebastian continued. “She trusted you. Not many thieves work with that particular attribute.”
“This was the point, wasn’t it?” she murmured, staring at the letter. “Dr. Grant put this whole thing together based on these Swedish jewels. Some fucking tourist found the box and she just...I don’t know, got to planning?”
She and Magnus locked eyes when she voiced her realization. “I saw the news last summer and I—” He shook his head. “I just got this sick feeling...”
“And we’re supposed to meet with Princess Astrid about this?” Beatrice asked in their earpieces. “How are we going to do that?”
Good question. Astrid had not fared well in this whole debacle. In her research, she understood that her family and the Swedish press regularly maligned her after the jewels went missing. Tabloids hounded the young woman, reporting on her party-girl ways and her real estate heir American boyfriend. Why on Earth did Doris think she wanted to meet with the people who ruined her public image?
“Oh, God,” Magnus muttered.
“It gets worse...” Beatrice continued. “They’re going on display June twenty-fourth at the Nationalmuseum.”
That was infinitely worse.
Retrieving a Fabergé egg before it’s transported to a museum was one thing; hitting the actual museum was a whole other beast that their crew hadn’t managed in a very long time.
“Cheer up, mademoiselle,” Sebastian said, standing from his desk. “If Doris knew you as well as I think she did, she did not make this task an impossible one. Daunting, perhaps, but not impossible. It sounds like you and your team must rise to the occasion.”
Celeste took a deep breath as she clutched the letter tightly. He was right, of course. This wasn’t impossible; it was just damned annoying. She looked at Magnus again, who seemed to have calmed down. “We need to leave,” she said in a soft voice.
He nodded. “And we need a plan.”
Sebastian chuckled. “Ahh, to be young again. What a delightful little romp you’re about to embark on! It reminds me of the time I spent with Doris in Nice, back when we stole everything that wasn’t nailed down... I wish I could go back.”
His wistful expression moved Celeste to smile tremulously for the first time since stepping into his basement office. She had hoped some of his nostalgia would rub off on her. “You can’t go back,” she said. “But you could always lend a hand, I hope? Dr. Grant said that we were supposed to make friends while we’re out here.”
He appeared to think about her suggestion. “I’m an old man, cherie. I cannot work in the field like I once could.”
“Maybe not, but if we ever needed a favor, it would be nice to call upon a neighbor. Fabergé eggs don’t come cheap, you know?”
This pulled another chuckle from Sebastian. “Cunning. Just like her.”
This time, instead of jumping to anger, his comparison emboldened Celeste to ask for more. “So how about it, Fond du Lac? Any resources we might need? We can count on you to bail us out?”
The old man finally relented. “Oui, you know where to find me.”
“Hopefully, we won’t need your help,” Magnus replied. “But we’d appreciate it all the same. Celeste, it’s time for us to go. Santiago will want us prepared for departure, ASAP.”
“Exactamente, Mags...vamanos,” Santiago said. “If we leave now, I can get us on a chartered yacht before nightfall.”
“A yacht?” Beatrice said in awe.
“I have my ways, Bea Bonita. Besides, air travel might be a little risky right about now.”
Celeste ignored the two as she approached Sebastian. She held out her hand for a shake. “Thank you for getting us this far.”
The old man stared at her with that same wistful expression before taking her hand and softly kissing her knuckles. “Good luck on your journey, cherie.”
November 4, 2003
The young Black girl who sits at the front of my classroom had a disagreement with another student today. Over Caravaggio, of all things. Celeste’s defense of his criminal life in Naples seemed a little more passionate than what was necessary, but she entertained me. Her classmate was alarmed, and I fear Celeste has further alienated herself from the rest of her peers.
I know this child, though. I’ve seen young ones like her before: lost and pretending to belong. Wherever she came from was a whole lot harder than the incredibly white Suffolk County. She walks in with a chip on her shoulder the size of a small boulder. Even though she sits in the front row, she watches her back and her possessions with hawk eyes. She looks like she’s fought someone to get here. She makes the best out of her clothes even though I see poorly sewn holes under her arms every time she raises her hand. And she raises her hand quite a bit.
She might be the smartest student I’ve encountered in a very long time. She’s intellectually curious and hungry to learn, like the knowledge in these textbooks might actually feed her. For all I know, it might.
After a couple months of having her in my class, she’s made cautious attempts to engage me after class. First, packing her books so slowly that I might strike up a conversation with her. And I always have. Not too long after that, she would stand at my podium and pepper me with questions. Where’s the most exciting place you’ve ever been? Have you seen these paintings at the Louvre? Do you think I have what it takes to be a curator for a museum? I told her that she’s destined for far greater things than being a curator.
If I had my way, I would guide this motherless child down another path. And the urge to teach her everything I know has been bothering me since I dismissed class this afternoon. Ms. St. Pierre came marching up to the front of the class champing at the bit to complain about her milquetoast classmate. I had to shut her down.
Yes, she had made salient points about the artist and his work.
No, there wasn’t anything wrong with hustling to get where you needed to go.
Yes, my dear, the kids in my class are “hella white”...
Oh, Lord, her sassy little attitude tickles me sometimes. But this time, I had to give it to her straight as she walked me back to my office. I told her to keep a cooler head. Outbursts like hers would not be tolerated in my class because I expect better out of my sole Black student. And her behavior certainly wouldn’t be tolerated in any of her other classes. Nor would she get the same grace from her white professors.
Because that’s all the girl really needs: a little grace...and maybe a little poise. And something to keep her mask from slipping. Because no one else needs to know how hungry she is. It’s odd, but I’ve never met someone whose hunger outpaced mine. Every time I look into her hopeful, familiar eyes, I ask myself the same question:
Could I?
Could I mold her into someone who takes what she wants? Would she be amenable under my tutelage?
Celeste’s reading was interrupted by a knock at the door. She abruptly looked up at Beatrice, who stood at the threshold. She’d almost forgotten where she was while she sank into the past. After their meeting with Sebastian, the crew fled Tallinn and got to the Stockholm safe house from five years ago, ready to plan the last leg of their job. The final heist...
“Hey, what’s up?”
Beatrice bounced on the balls of her feet as she combed her fingers through her braids. “I just wanted to check on you. You’ve been pretty quiet since we got here. Is everything okay?”
After reading the latest Doris entry, Celeste had mixed feelings about her life. And as she now stared at her own protégé, who was giddy with excitement, those feelings went to war with one another. Could I mold her into someone who takes what she wants?
“I’m fine. Just sorting some stuff out. How about you?”
Beatrice rushed into her room and jumped onto the bed beside her. “I’m so excited! We’re going to meet an actual princess!”
Celeste managed to grin despite her mood. “Adjust your expectations with that. She might not actually want to meet us after all these years. We did rob her after all.”
Beatrice rolled her eyes and gave a dismissive wave. “I’m sure she’s totally over it.”
According to the Swedish tabloids, that might not be the case. Astrid was now the shame of a nation. That was, in large part, their fault.
“Maybe? Now that the jewels have been recovered, some of the heat could be off her.” Celeste had her doubts, though.
However, Beatrice could not be deterred. “Either way, I have a really good feeling about this meeting. I had concerns about the Tallinn job, but everything went perfectly. I’ve been following the news and they still have no known suspects. There’s footage of the van, but they have no idea who was driving it. The police don’t have any identifiable airport footage of Magnus, either. I mean, they have photo stills of his body, his general build, but he took care to obscure his face.”
Celeste raised a brow. “The police?”
“I’ve been spying on the Estonian Police and Border Guard records for the last twenty-four hours.”
She’d always been impressed by her assistant’s tech genius, but this was the first time she’d seen Beatrice really flex her muscles. The girl was now doing work that she couldn’t have done without bigger challenges, without an actual crew to assist her. “Thank you for looking into that, Bea. That’s going to be important when the Scotland Yard and Interpol get a hold of the case.”
She grinned. “I’ve got some friends who will help when it gets to that point.”
Celeste’s heart lifted upon hearing that bit of information. “Your confidence is inspiring. I hope it rubs off on Magnus and me.”
Beatrice took Celeste by the shoulders and forced her to sit up straighter. “We’ve got this, CeCe. If anyone can pull this off, it’s you.”
A smile tugged at her face as she made herself nod along to the affirmations.
“Today is not like yesterday. And tomorrow is going to be amazing,” Beatrice continued. “You have me this time.”
Celeste actually laughed that time. “I know that’s right... I’ve got Bea Hill in my back pocket. Tomorrow is going to be amazing.”
Beatrice shrugged her shoulder. “Simple as that!”
As she looked over her assistant’s shiny, happy face, Celeste wondered if she had that same shine in her eyes when Doris eventually introduced her to this world.
Could I?
Could I mold her into someone who takes what she wants?
Celeste had already formed this girl without thinking of the consequences. It felt so natural at the time when Beatrice walked into her store with a résumé, explaining her lack of experience in antique furniture. She had hired her on the spot, knowing that Beatrice would be a perfect student. When Celeste eventually had the talk with her about what really went on behind their front, she hadn’t fully expected the enthusiasm and loyalty she got. But it looked a lot like her expression now.
Celeste needed to protect that.