CHAPTER SIX: THE FINE ART OF FINE ART
When I landed the following afternoon, it didn’t take long to find my ride. There was an attractive and slender woman with neck length jet black hair and an expensive leather coat waiting for me. When she spoke, the voice was immediately recognizable as the one on the phone. I haven’t decided yet if meeting Svetlana was the worst choice I’ve ever made or a blessing in disguise given the chain of events since. But at the time, it was exciting. With little exchange of words, I followed her out to her BMW Nazca M12 and hopped in the passenger seat.
Svetlana was born in an Eastern Bloc territory some time in the late 1950s. She was a former Sparrow agent, and high ranking officer in Soviet Intelligence. But with the recent dissolution of the U.S.S.R. she had gone ‘freelance’ and was working for the Russian Mafia. In other words, she was exceptionally dangerous. She had a darkness about her that would emanate the moment she entered a room. Something, not only in the look in her eyes, but everything about her was striking. Her gait, the tilt of her head, the inflections in her voice, and the nonchalantness of her behavior. She never appeared to be on guard, and that was scary, because she was capable of killing someone as easily as you turn your nightlight off.
She took me to a warehouse in Sheepshead Bay. When we went in, there were four guys playing poker and smoking cigars. She called out something to them in Russian and they only looked our way for a moment. They didn’t seem to care at all that a stranger was in their midst. An ever scarier notion that they knew what could happen at her hands if someone didn’t stay in line.
There were crates all around the room which I would soon find out was an assortment of stolen goods. Stuff would come in here, be sorted, and shipped off to Europe. And likewise, things inbound from Europe, the Caribbean or wherever, would stop here first. It was nothing to get a Cuban cigar. I soon realized that a large portion of what I would be doing would be to just walk around with people that were picking up and transporting this stuff. They just wanted someone who’d be quick to throw hands if it came to that. It almost never did. I decided outright that I wouldn’t use White Lightning around these people unless absolutely necessary. Following Li’s advice about not showing it off made a lot more sense when in close proximity with next level ruffians.
Another thing I learned that surprised me was the amount of Fine Art insurance fraud they were involved with. Basically, these super rich guys would go to auctions and duke it out over art pieces. The price would get incredibly high and the winners would take out massive insurance policies on the stuff. Then later, they’d hire art thieves to come and rob themselves. Sometimes, they would use the theft to hock the art to some other shady rich person but a lot of the time they would just buy the art back with a portion of the collected insurance money.
These types of crimes were rarely investigated and when they were it was an easy out. No Interpol agent is gonna turn down a year’s salary for turning a blind eye to insurance fraud when he’s chasing international terrorists and human traffickers. All in all, my time in New York was pretty boring. It was only a few months later when they asked me to go to Paris for a really big job that things got interesting.
Some rich Parisian hired us to steal a crate of unknown contents from a vault underneath a Vichy French History museum. It was a peculiar job in a somewhat shady neighborhood, not on a common route for tourists. The job would be done by Svetlana, another Russki named Sergei, and myself. Svetlana would drive the getaway van and park around the corner from the museum while I went in with Sergei to obtain the crate. Sergei was a master technical thief that could dismantle security systems and crack vaults like he was performing surgery. Sergei the Surgeon is what they called him. All I had to do was make sure he got around unhindered by the light patrol of night guards at the museum.
We arrived around 1AM. The streets were quiet and there was virtually no traffic. Svetlana let us out and cruised around the block to wait. We decided to walk up to the rear of the building separately. There would be cameras, so we put on ski masks before entering the grounds, though Sergei had planned to dismantle those later and destroy the tapes. When we got around back, Sergei used a glass cutting tool to etch out a crawl space through the window. He told me to be careful not to touch the latches or the windowsill, because that’s where the sensors would be. Once inside, I followed him until we came across a night guard whistling and walking slowly with a flashlight. Apparently, this museum had four security checkpoints. The patrolling guard had to hit his handprint on each of the checkpoints within twenty minutes. Once he touched one, the timer would start for the next one and it would carousel around to all four checkpoints throughout the night. Sergei wanted to follow the guard to each checkpoint to identify their locations. He used a special silicone spray to freeze the impression of the guards handprint to each touchpad. Once we found the last one, he would move on to the basement vault and I would dispatch the guard.
Everything went smooth and even though it took some time for the guard to get to all four checkpoints, the job seemed to be going by fast. While Sergei was spraying the final print, he told me to follow the guard and wait as long as possible to take him out so he could have time at the vault. But I had to follow close, because once the guard got back to the first checkpoint, he’d find the thin layer of silicone print on the touchpad.
I snuck behind him at a distance at first, but every time he turned a corner, I sped up a little. Just as he was about to approach the terminal, I lunged into a sprint and muttered the words, ‘White Lightning’, as I impacted his upper back. This knocked the wind out of him and dropped him to the floor. Before he could revive himself, I zip tied his ankles and hands behind his back, put a piece of duct tape over his mouth, and shut off his flashlight before tucking him behind a display. It was time to get back to Sergei.
Down in the basement, Sergei was already fast at work on the vault when I caught up with him. It didn’t take long for him to crack it open, but when he did, he stopped me from rushing into the vault. He lit up a smoke ball and rolled it inside, revealing a green grid of motion lazers approximately six inches up off the floor. They could easily be stepped over but it was like walking through a giant invisible tennis racket. We didn’t have time to locate the kill switch for the alarm so we located the described crate and hoisted it back through the security grid. Just as we were exiting the vault, our worst nightmare was realized. Standing at the bottom of the basement stairs was a second security guard. Immediately, I left Sergei holding the crate and rushed towards the guard but just before I could deliver the strike to his chest he made contact with the button on the wall.
Suddenly, all the lights on the premises came on at once and the worst sound imaginable permeated through the loudspeaker. The sound of an old air raid siren. I turned to Sergei, crate still in hand, and we made a dash for the outside. At this point we saw Svetlana driving the van up to the front gate to meet us. The sound of the siren was blaring out on the museum lawn and every square inch was covered in flood lights. When we reached the gate, I gave Sergei a leg up to get over the fence and while doing so, a bizarre calamity began to unfold. From every corner of the street emerged dozens of figures dressed in all black. Many of them were carrying lead pipes and chains. They were Neo-Nazis! It all made sense now. The odd location of this museum in this neighborhood. No coincidence it was a Vichy History museum. Within seconds, the first wave had reached Sergei while trying to load the van. I ran up and started unleashing a fury of blows to the likes of which I had never mustered before. At the same time, I heard shots ring out from the driver's seat. It was Svetlana unloading her pistol into several of the assailants, causing the rest in her vicinity to scatter.
Now inside the van, Sergei motioned and yelled for me to get in. But not before I cracked a few more Nazi skulls. Afterwards, I climbed in, and we shut the van doors as Svetlana drove off. We left town completely and just drove into the countryside until we were sure no one had followed us. When we pulled over to collect ourselves, we decided to see what was so important in that crate that roving bands of skinheads felt compelled to protect. To our surprise, the crate was full of unopened bottles of German made Fanta leftover from World War 2. The three of us had a laugh and dared one another to try a bottle but ultimately we decided not to since the job paid so well for them.
Over the next several months we did jobs all across Europe. With each new city a job to be completed. We celebrated each victory with lavish dinners at the finest restaurants and partied in every major Eurotrash club on the continent. From Copenhagen to Vienna, and from Barcelona to Budapest. I had become the quintessential outsider working for the Russian mob. But with all that attention, the worry also grew that I would get the idea of going into business for myself. Svetlana’s superiors never liked talking to me directly. The few times we were in the same room together they would only speak Russian. But nonetheless, they paid me well.
One night in Rome, we were celebrating after a relatively easy job was completed. It was just Svetlana and I out at this lavish upscale restaurant. Over the course of several glasses of wine, she asked me to accompany her to her hotel room that night. An odd proposition considering our rooms were right next to each other, but I started to get the picture. The reckless abandon that ensued was ferocious from the moment we stumbled in. Spending the night with her was an absolute treat. That is, until I woke up alone in the middle of the night to a sound coming from the bathroom that I had come to know all too well since joining the Russians. It was the sound of ammo being stripped from a magazine and loaded into a chamber.
I should have known this was coming. Being a former Sparrow, the easiest way for her to kill someone like me was to strike at the most unsuspecting moment. There I was, naked in a dark hotel room. I had to think and move fast. My initial steps out of the bed were slow. A vain attempt at stealthily exiting the room through the door. But when the light from that bathroom door burst through, I darted like a cheetah to the balcony window. Just as I reached the glass, I looked behind me to see Svetlana standing there in the light, dressed in combat stilettos, black leather pants and tank top, while wielding twin sub machine guns towards me. Shots rang out as my body smashed against the glass. I received two bullets to my left shoulder and one grazed my hip before I sank below the view of the balcony.
Five stories up, I was thankfully able to grab onto the railing of the balcony below. I didn’t have much time but as I hung there naked, I needed to find an open window nearby for me to enter. No time, a spray of bullets rained down near me as she tilted over the railing above. I let go just in time and caught the third floor railing below. The glass was open, what luck. I climbed in before the next volley of shots struck. I ran right past a sleeping couple and into the hall. Fuck the elevator, I went for the stairwell. But where would I go? The parking garage. I made a mad dash down the stairwell and just as I had reached the bottom floor I heard a door several flights up burst open. Still in my birthday suit, I made a run for Svetlana’s lease car. The door was unlocked but I didn’t have a key. Come on Robbie, don’t fail me now. Bingo, I was able to hotwire it. Just as I pulled out of the parking space, bullets impacted the left side of the car. There was Svetlana standing in an aisle over, opening up on me. I floored it out of the garage and drove off into the Italian night.
As I drove and started to catch my breath, I realized that had I been Russian or at least been with them longer before making such big waves, they probably wouldn’t have wanted to off me. Goddammit, I left Robbie’s pager back in the hotel room. And damn that Svetlana! She’s as cold as ice despite being hot as coal. Just then I noticed something. On the floorboard was a manilla folder. In it was a list of potential jobs we had just recently been given. I pulled over to take a look. Because at the moment, I was a naked man on the European continent with no money, no identity, and the Russian Mafia after me. I needed to make money fast and a lot of it.
Next to each job was either 1,2,3, or 4 stars. The stars represented the heist class. A 5 star class would be something like a nuclear warhead or some bioweapon, so we never got those. But there was a class 4 job in this folder. To put into perspective, the Fanta bottles were a class 3 job, and anything below was just stolen goods, fine art, or cash money. My interest was piqued so I read what the job was. Apparently, an excavation took place recently around the Red Sea. Some extremely well intact mummy was found in an elaborate tomb and was soon to be transported to Cairo for study. The job was just muscle so how hard could it be?
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After a much needed pitstop to get some clothes and remove the bullets from my body, I ditched the car. Next, I hitchhiked my way south by car and boat until reaching Alexandria where I was then taken in by an envoy from the research team working on the tomb. The site was located beneath an island in the Red Sea that could only be reached by way of submarine through an underwater cavern. I was taken to meet with the other hired hands and briefed on the logistics of the operation before we went below.
The ride on the submarine wasn’t nearly as scary as I thought it would be. It didn’t take long either. We surfaced inside the island through a subterranean cove where we got out and met other members of the excavation. Around the cove was fairly well lit with hanging lights the team had set up, but the tunnels leading to the tomb were much darker as there was only a dangling light every twenty feet or so. Thankfully there was plenty of head room.
The lead Archeologist was an Indonesian man named Dr. Tambora. We were told that while inside the tomb, his word was final on any moves we should make. All together there were about thirty men involved in the project at this level. Dr. Tambora and his five colleagues. Four submarine crew members, including a second submarine that was docked when we arrived. A dozen general laborers, myself, and three other hired guards of various backgrounds.
About two hundred and fifty yards deep into the dimly lit caverns was the entrance to the tomb. A solid wall covered in hieroglyphs and colorful artwork. It was here when Dr. Tambora explained that the reason this particular site was so important was not only because of its astounding preservation but because it was the strongest evidence ever discovered of an ancient civilization predating the presumed timeline of history. He told us that this tomb was the ‘tip of the iceberg’, so to speak, of ruins dating back to before the last ice age. It was evident due to the fact that it was sealed below the earth's frost line.
“Many archeologists and geologists have already posited the notion of civilization being much older than generally thought,” the Doctor explained, “some have even claimed that the great Pyramids of Giza were not built by the empire of ancient Egypt as we know it but an older one and that a later people reclaimed them and simply built their empire around the ruins.”
I was no historian, so who was I to argue it. But I did find it pretty cool, and the job paid well. It was his next claim that had me on guard.
“Unfortunately, not everyone shares in my team's enthusiasm for this discovery,” he continued, “rival researchers could be jealous and hire men just like you to try and get us to abandon the site. Even worse, radical Young Earth Creationist groups have already threatened to sabotage our work at other sites and if they caught wind of something as big as this, they could already be enroute to attack.”
The four of us looked at each other with determination and resolve. We knew we had been hired on for a potentially dangerous job, but never could we have suspected a motive like that. Nonetheless, we were prepared to do what was necessary to ensure the team's success.
Inside the tomb was an even more elaborate display than the entrance. Gold and ancient relics as far as the light would illuminate. Finely crafted relics that would each on their own fetch a good price on the art circuit.
“Gentleman,” the Doctor interjected, “let me remind you that you all have signed contracts and will be paid handsomely once we reach Cairo, but you are not to take or touch anything you see in this tomb. Breach of trust will be met with immediate termination of said agreement.”
Of course, we all understood and it would be much easier to take this paycheck than risk stealing a relic and trying to sell it for as much as we would be paid. Still, we were all ecstatic at the sight of this colorful room, and we were beginning to buy into the excitement of the project ourselves!
Then we were shown into the crypt itself. Just as elaborate as the last room but at the center of the room, was a large sarcophagus ornately decorated. Two of Tambora’s assistants were already in the room working around it when we walked in. The team had already unsealed the sarcophagus before we arrived to visually examine the mummy but were waiting to move it until we got there.
“As far as we can tell, his name is Amrah Anucktet,” said one of the assistants, “but we’re not aware of any known records matching him or his reign.”
“I think that’s enough history lesson for one evening,” said Dr. Tambora, “some of my crew will be working into the night preparing to move the sarcophagus more easily down to the submarines. I want the four of you to patrol and keep watch as a precaution. We haven’t fully explored these tunnels and it’s entirely possible for one or more of them to go to another cove or possibly an entry on the island's surface.”
The four of us did as we were instructed and split off on our own to do as we saw fit to protect the team. Two of the men were significantly older than myself and they seemed extremely experienced in combat. They both decided to go back to the cove and examine possible routes for ambush. The tallest and youngest member of the group, Harry, decided he would roam the tunnels outside the scope of the lit pathways. I chose to set up a sentry near the entrance to the tomb but out of sight from anyone coming in or out of the main tunnel.
An hour went by, and I could hear the crew working rigorously inside the tomb to build a system of rolling platforms that could easily take the sarcophagus out of the tomb and down the long tunnel to the subs. Further in the distance I could hear the faint commotion of the other crew members preparing to take aboard the various relics in the morning.
After a while, the sounds of the working crews and the drip of water from stalactites blended together and became somewhat of a white noise. I hadn’t moved from my spot behind the rocks since I first sat down. I had no intention of going anywhere until hostiles made themselves known or the team began to move in the morning. Inevitably, I fell asleep waiting. I would not awaken until it was no longer the noise that soothed me, but the silence that startled me. No longer did I hear the team inside the tomb. Had they already started the move? Were they down at the cove? I would need to go and investigate.
First, I went into the tomb and found no one. I turned abruptly to head back to the tunnel, but was stopped dead in my own tracks by a delayed observation. Slowly, I turned around and noticed what I had feared. The lid to the sarcophagus was removed, but the mummy was gone!
Had they decided the container was too heavy to move so they took the body out? No, the rolling apparatus they had constructed was assembled and had no evidence of attempted use. Could thieves have made their way in here during a lunch break? Surely the crew or the other hired guards would’ve known.
My thought process was interrupted by a second, more horrifying discovery. On the ground, next to the entryway, where I was standing, was the leg of a man slumped around the corner. I Immediately turned the corner to examine it. It was the mangled and lifeless body of one of the assistants! Without hesitation I began to make my way back to the tunnel and towards the cove. The silence ahead was deafening. The space between each hanging light of the tunnel was a gap of darkness. One by one I would pass a lantern, passing over each dark area like a grim yardline in a football stadium. About halfway back to the cove I made yet another startling discovery. Two more bodies. One of them was that of Dr. Tambora’s.
More hastily, I continued my trek back to the submarines but as I reached the mouth of the cave, I made yet even more horrifying discoveries. The room was still well lit, with a blue hue from the electric lanterns, but the cove was littered in bodies. At least a dozen. Laborers, submarine crewmen, one of the other researchers, and even the two older hired guards had met their fate. I also noticed that one of the submarines was missing. I ran to the water's edge and looked down to see if it was submerged, but it was gone completely. There in the water I saw another body. I believe it was one of the crew members from the submarine still present. At that moment, I heard a blood curdling scream echo down from one of the unlit tunnels. Then I heard the sound of yet another scream. I decided to head in that direction. Afterall, I wasn’t going to pilot that submarine out of there myself.
When I reached the area where I heard the screams coming from, I found lanterns turned sideways on the ground. Next to them were two bodies. I didn’t recognize these two men. They weren’t researchers and they didn’t seem like sailors or the laborers that were hired. A ways down the tunnel I heard more screaming and shots ringing out like a firefight was taking place. A ran for it, but by the time I got there, all I found was yet another body of someone I didn’t recognize. Further down the tunnel, I found a fork in the road. Down one side I could see light ahead but no noise. I made my way there but it was a bit further than the last stretch of tunnel. There I found three more bodies surrounded by lanterns. Once again, I did not recognize them. Before I made judgment, a voice startled me.
“Don’t worry, it was me that killed these three,” said Harry, the tall young, hired hand, as he emerged from another tunnel, lantern in hand.
“Harry, what’s going on?” I asked feverishly.
He said, “These men were part of a group of saboteurs I found coming in through tunnels leading to the surface. I was right to set a trap out here. I killed a few more up that way.”
“But what about the ones further down towards the cove?” I said, as I pointed back the way I came.
“I don’t know. I was pursuing them, then I heard them scream. In fact, I heard some screaming earlier, just before I ran into the first group. It was coming from the cove but I hadn’t been able to go check it out. There’s a lot of tunnels and it's easy to get sidetracked down here.”
“Harry…everyone down there is dead,” I stated firmly.
“What? Impossible,” he suggested, “I got most of the saboteurs before they would’ve been able to reach them. Besides, there were two dozen men at the cove.”
“Well, one of the subs is gone,” I explained, “but almost everyone we’ve met while down here’s body is smeared across the cove floor or in the main tunnel. I don’t know what the hell’s going on but we need to get to the surface.”
Harry paused a second and said, “Right, no problem. I can lead us back up there.”
Then out of nowhere a barbaric monster of a thing burst from one of the tunnels and grabbed Harry by his neck. His lantern fell to the floor.
“RAWWWRR!!!” the fiend yelled.
Startled, I stepped back and before I moved in to help Harry, I noticed that it was the mummy! But it was much bigger than I remember seeing it in its sarcophagus, laying there with its arms crossed on its chest. Without further hesitation, I lunged at it.
“White Lightning!” I shouted as I slammed a punch into its huge shoulder blade. The hit seemed effective but not enough to stop its attack on Harry, save for a moment to backhand me against the cave wall.
The wind was knocked out of me. As I stammered to my feet, I watched as the mummy choked the life out of Harry. Just before he died of asphyxiation, the brute slammed his body against the wall with both hands around his neck, snapping it.
“”RRRUHHHH!!!” the monster uttered as it turned its attention to me.
Still injured from being shot three times a few weeks ago, I unleashed a fury of blows and kicks that would’ve easily dispatched any foe I had faced thus far on my journey. Cloth began unraveling from the mummy with each strike until battered bluish flesh was exposed as well as glowing yellow eyes and sharp teeth with saliva dripping from them.
Hit after hit, I didn’t let up for a moment as the mummy, who towered over me about eight inches closed in with its grasp. At the last moment before it attempted to grab me, I jumped up, delivered a White Lightning punch to its face and projected backwards using my knee off of its chest. I landed a few feet from the stunned creature. Once I got back to my feet, I tore off running towards the wall, skipped alongside it with one foot while sending a kick using White Lightning to the side of the mummy's head.
“Errrr…eerrr…ehhh,” the mummy groaned, as my attacks clearly had started to have an effect on it.
While trying to catch my breath, I caught a closed fist back hand from it that slammed me against the wall and dropped me next to Harry’s body. He had a .44 Magnum pistol on him with an extended magazine on it. I fished for it, turned face up towards the mummy on my back and opened up on him. About a dozen rounds burst through him, further degrading his composition. I tossed the pistol away and stood up. The mummy stammered leaning backwards from the impact but just as he straightened up, I reared back and delivered one final White Lightning punch to the chest of that bastard. The force disintegrated the area between the bottom of his neck, shoulder, upper rib cage, and mid section. As his tattered remains fell backwards, his body turned into dust and a pile of dirty rags was all that remained.
I fell to one knee and tried to both catch my breath and steer through the pain. Each attack from the mummy hurt worse than all three bullets I received from Svetlana combined. And they may have even done more damage. A few moments later, I got up and stumbled my way to try and find the exit. It took me nearly two hours to get to the surface of the island. The sun was just coming up and no sooner did I make it out in the fresh open air, I was descended upon by men with guns and body armor. I raised my hands and surrendered, looking around to see jet ski convoys on the beach and a helicopter landing.