The Thieves of Faith
The Thieves of Faith
Michael St. Pierre [2]
Richard Doetsch
Dell (2006)
Rating: ★★★★☆
Tags: Fiction, Thrillers
Fictionttt Thrillersttt
*Beneath the Kremlin lies a shocking ancient truth.
And it's about to be stolen.…
* Since the times of Ivan the Terrible, generations of Russian leaders have turned the Kremlin into a fortress within a fortress, stocking its labyrinthine underground with secret vaults, elegant chambers, and priceless treasures. Now a master thief has the ultimate motivation to stage an assault on the Kremlin's inner sanctum. Two lives depend on it. Thousands of years of religious faith hinge on it. And a man's conscience, skill, and passion will not let him fail.
For Michael St. Pierre, history's most daring heist is only one piece of an intricate puzzle reaching from an ancient monastery in Scotland to a hideaway in Corsica—where a madman has built an empire of terror. Haunted by his own family secrets, and surrounded by the precious few people he can trust, Michael will take on a mission that will make him the most hunted man in the world. But when an astounding truth, buried deep beneath the Kremlin, erupts with shattering force, he may unleash a relic too dangerous to possess.…
Contents
For Virginia,
my best friend.
I love you with all my heart.
When I hold you in my arms, and you embrace me in return,
it is the purest of moments…It is perfection…It is my home.
Thank you for making our life exceed my dreams.
Acknowledgments
Life is far more enjoyable when you work with people you genuinely like and respect. It is my distinct pleasure to thank the following people:
Gene and Wanda Sgarlata, for their continued support and without whose friendship you wouldn’t be reading these words. Irwyn Applebaum for launching a dream; Nita Taublib for running the show; Kate Miciak for shepherding my career and teaching me more than she’ll ever know. Josh Pasternak for appearing out of nowhere with inspiration, guidance, and enthusiasm. I’m so glad to be working together. Madeline Hopkins, whose skillful line edits catch me where I fall. Joel Gotler for that expert West Coast advice. Maria Faillace and everyone at Fox 2000 for creating the initial and continued excitement in the
Thieves
series.
And head and shoulders above all, Cynthia Manson. It is a rare day when you find a true friend in this world and to find one to work with is truly magical. Thank you for your innovative thinking, continued faith, and sheer tenacity.
Thank you to my family: Richard for your creative spirit, strength of character, and sense of humor in the face of adversity. Marguerite for your persistent approach to life, caring heart, and never-ending sense of style no matter the circumstance. Isabelle for your laugh, your perfectionism in all things big and small, and your constant sense of wonder at the world around you. My dad for always being my dad and teaching those lessons that I’ve finally come to understand after all these years.
Most importantly, thank you, Virginia, for putting up with my unending middle-of-the-night work habits. You are my muse, the song within my soul, you are the reason for everything good in my life. You fill me with laughter, joy, and love. You forever make my heart dance.
Finally, thanks to you, the reader who has never heard of me but purchased
The Thieves of Faith.
I hope I exceed your expectations. And to those who took a chance in buying
The Thieves of Heaven,
thanks for coming back for seconds.
The Italian Dolomites
R
eaching for Heaven, snow-capped and sheer,
majestically looking down on Cortina valley in northeast Italy, the Belluno Dolomites cast a massive shadow thirty miles to the horizon, blanketing the valley, depriving it of the last bits of the midwinter sun.
The small chalet sat at the foot of the mountain, its log walls drawn from the surrounding pine-tree forests, its thatched roof more waterproof than any modern design. But for minor repairs, the cabin had remained unchanged for a century and a half. The furniture, rough hewn, crafted from the same pine forests, was minimal and spartan. The simple cabin possessed no modern comforts: its water came from a well, its heat from a large fireplace, its light from antique oil lamps. In fact, there was no telling it was the twenty-first century but for the laptop computer and the satellite phone on the wooden dining table. The screen was open to a portfolio at Safra Bank in Luxembourg. Genevieve Zivera opened each account, examining it with a clockmaker’s precision, noting that each of her accounts, again and again, had been emptied.
The man hiked four miles up the back side of the valley, his snowshoes floating on the three-foot-deep powder. The winds out of the east, while robbing him of his warmth, conveniently wiped his tracks from existence. His white snowsuit concealed his body, and his backpack was pulled tight for support. His breath exploded in heavy clouds from his mouth through a dense black beard that was growing thick with icicles. His long black hair stuck out of the back of his white woolen cap and whipped about in the ever-increasing winds. He did not stop once on his three-hour journey through the winter forest, finally emerging above the tree line into an open glade beneath the gray razor-like mountains. He had timed his climb perfectly—the sun was just setting, and he would have just enough time to set to work and escape under cover of darkness. The dangers of hypothermia, frostbite, and death paled next to being caught. His task could never be known to anyone.
Genevieve’s cabin had become her retreat from the world. For longer than she could remember, she had come here to clear her mind, to commune with her heart. She was isolated, without distraction, and it was how she always found solutions to the troubles that plagued her. She would hike the coarse mountain terrain, burdened by anxiety, by the obstacles that life would bring, weighed down by seemingly insurmountable problems. And after a single week she would descend with not only a clear head and heart, but solutions, answers, and a newfound determination. It was a rebirth every time. A renewing of her mind, body, and spirit. A rediscovery of hope.