Holly glared at her. “You know full well that nobody knows.”

  “Exactly, because it goes back beyond Grandpa.”

  “What is the story behind the necklace?” asked Laura. “Your grandfather mentioned that he had recently reacquired it.”

  Michelle beamed. “It’s an amazing story. Are you invited to the after-party?”

  “Yes, we are.”

  “Then that’s perfect. I’ll make sure he tells you the story, but I guarantee you, when it’s finished, you’ll need to fix your makeup again.”

  10 |

  Vienna, Austria February 19, 1941

  Daniel sat on the couch between his mother and father, the evening broadcast finished. Nothing they had heard put his parents in a good mood. If anything, they were sadder than ever. Little had been said all evening, though the meal’s size was exciting. It was a feast unlike any they had enjoyed in ages. Not since these Nazis had arrived. He had shoveled more food into his mouth in one sitting than in the previous week. It had crossed his mind that perhaps the war he heard about on the radio, but never saw on the streets, might be ending, though judging by what he had just heard and his parents’ reactions to it, that wasn’t the case.

  “I think it’s time,” said his father.

  His mother agreed. “I’ll go make the tea.”

  Daniel rose with his mother and followed her into the kitchen. He clung to her hip, saying nothing as she boiled the water and poured it into three teacups, chipped and cracked, all that was left of what was once an impressive service. She picked up one of the folded papers that Peter had provided so long ago. It had his father’s name on it. His mother opened it and shook the powder it contained into the cup, then stirred it with an old spoon, any luster it might have once had long gone. She handed the cup to him. “Go give this to your father, but make sure you don’t drink any of it. It’ll make you sick.”

  “Won’t it make Father sick?”

  She shook her head. “No, it only makes children sick.”

  Daniel shrugged and headed into his father’s office, disappointed to find the radio had already been broken down and hidden away. He handed him the cup.

  “Thank you, son.” His father tousled his hair and smiled at him. “Now, you go get yours and we’ll all enjoy it together. Then tonight we sleep as a family.”

  Daniel’s eyes shot wide and his face brightened. “You mean I can sleep in your bed tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  Daniel bounced then ran back to the kitchen. His mother handed him a cup and pointed at him. “Slow down. I don’t want you spilling any.”

  “Yes, Mother.” He carefully walked back to the office and took a seat beside his father, his mother joining them a few moments later. They all sipped their tea and Daniel winced. “This doesn’t taste like tea.”

  “It’s a different kind,” explained his mother. “It’s good for you. Just make sure you drink it all.”

  He didn’t want to. The taste was bitter. From the conversations he had overheard since the powder had arrived in their home long ago, he knew there was something bad about what they were drinking, but what that was, he wasn’t sure. It couldn’t be that bad since Peter was coming to get him this evening, though no mention of it had been made by either of his parents.

  There was more going on here than he was aware, than he could understand. His father reached out, draping an arm over the back of the couch, then shuffled closer to him, his mother doing the same on the other side, and the three of them finished their tea, his parents holding him and each other, nothing being said.

  With their teas finished, his father rose. “Let’s get ready for bed.”

  His mother cleared the dishes and Daniel scurried to his room, changing into his pajamas before heading happily to his parents’ bedroom. He found his father in the bed, patting the empty space in the middle. He grinned at the rare treat and sprinted toward the bed then dove through the air, landing far short of his goal. He scrambled up toward the headboard then tucked up his legs and shoved them under the bedding. He squirmed around, finding a comfortable position, then smiled broadly as his mother entered the room, closing the door. She climbed in the bed beside him, then, after settling in, nodded at his father. His father reached over and turned out the light, plunging them into darkness. Heavy curtains on every window in the house, apparently the law for some reason, meant no light could be seen from the outside. It made him wonder if this were more punishment because they were Jewish, or if everybody had to follow the same rule.

  But he wasn’t troubling himself with such thoughts now. He was enjoying the moment. The bed shook as his parents turned onto their sides, facing each other. Their arms stretched over him and they moved closer to each other, pressing against him.

  He loved it.

  Whenever he slept in their bed, usually during a lightning storm, he never felt safer. And right here, right now, was the only time he had felt safe since the day the Nazis had arrived, parading past their home.

  “I’m sorry,” said his father. “I should have tried harder.”

  “What more could you have done? You kept us safe this long,” replied his mother.

  “I should have acted sooner. I should have had less faith in my countrymen than I did. I should have known the Nazis would win. I should have taken us from here long before they arrived.”

  His mother shuffled closer. “What’s done is done. And now it’s over. Let’s just go to sleep and end this nightmare once and for all.” She kissed his forehead and Daniel felt a large warm hand on the side of his face as his father leaned in and kissed the top of his head.

  “God forgive me for what I’ve done,” whispered his father.

  Daniel said nothing, briefly wondering what his father meant, what he could possibly need forgiveness for from God.

  He yawned and his mother whispered beside him, “That’s it. Go to sleep. This will soon be over.”

  Daniel yawned again and twisted to face her, his eyes heavy. He struggled to stay awake as his parents drifted off on either side of him, their breathing heavy and steady. He wanted to enjoy this moment for as long as he could, for he didn’t know when the next storm might strike or the next special occasion might occur that would have him invited into his parents’ bed.

  He just wanted this moment to last forever.

  And as he lay there, battling sleep, a thought occurred to him. Wasn’t Uncle Peter coming tonight? He yawned again and lost the battle.

  11 |

  Vienna City Hall, Ballroom Vienna, Austria Present Day

  The crowd finally sat as Meitner waved them down after yet another standing ovation. The ballroom was filled with society’s elite from around the world. Billionaires and mega-millionaires mixed throughout the crowd, along with hundreds of representatives from the charities about to benefit. Though the front rows were filled not with the privileged, but with scores of Vienna’s orphaned as honored guests.

  Acton and the others had box seats with a stunning view of the proceedings. He glanced over at Laura, who sat dignified in her chair, though her smile revealed how excited she was to be here. He reached over and took her hand as Meitner thanked the crowd for being there. He rolled his chair closer to the edge of the stage and leaned forward, staring down at the children.

  “You children are the ones I am most excited to see here today.” He waved his hand at the rest of the crowd. “Most, if not all of these people, have no idea what it’s like to be orphaned, to have lost their families and to be alone in this world, terrified of what the future might bring. But I’ll let you in on a little secret. I, too, was an orphan. I lost my family during the war. Back then, there were no charities to help me, but I survived. And thanks to the forethought of my mother, I was able to thrive. And my pledge to you is that whatever remains of my fortune when I die, will be used to set up scholarships for children just like you, all around the world, so that you never have to fear whether you’ll have a future.”

  Laura squeezed Acton’s hand then let go as the crowd leaped to its feet, applauding the additional generosity. It continued, and Meitner pointed at the children. “That’s for you, not for me. They’re applauding your future, not my past.” He raised a hand and the crowd settled down, returning to their seats as he wheeled back to centerstage. A large screen stretched across the stage, showing the Meitner Telecom corporate logo of a defiant child holding a radio up to the world, sans the company name. Acton wondered if it held some significance, or was the invention of a team of marketers. The screen faded to black, then flared back to life. The left showed Meitner’s account balance of $25,000,000,000, and a series of at least 100 boxes on the right each showed the number zero underneath the name of the charity they represented.

  During their security tour, it had been explained by the young man Vida had handed them off to, Roy Wagner, that all the account numbers for the charities had been pre-loaded with the amounts they were getting, and once Meitner pressed the ceremonial button, which had no function other than to trigger a light display, someone in the back room would initiate the transfers. Meitner’s account would actively drop as the transfers were made, then the charities would phone in live as they confirmed their balance had increased, and the numbers on the screens would be updated. There was a small army of people in the bowels of the building coordinating everything, with scores of cameras scattered throughout to broadcast the event to the world, and document it for future productions and posterity’s sake.

  “And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment you have all been waiting for.” The crowd hushed as Meitner placed a hand over the ceremonial red button in the center of the stage, the middle of the display showing a shot of his impossibly wrinkled hand, shaking over the trigger. “I now dedicate my life’s work to the children of our future, and pray that it proves an inspiration to those with more than they require to dedicate their wealth to those in desperate need.”

  And with that, the hand dropped onto the bright red button and a series of explosive pots fired confetti into the air as strobe lights and lasers flashed throughout the hall. The audience erupted in cheers, leaping to their feet, the children in the front rows ecstatic.

  But Acton was focused on the displays, staring as the $25 billion number rapidly ticked down. His heart pounded with excitement, and he had to tear his eyes from the massive number and instead focus on the scores of smaller displays, all still stubbornly at zero. He exchanged a glance with Laura, and Tommy leaned forward.

  “Do you think something’s wrong?”

  Acton pulled out his phone to text Reading, who had asked if he could remain in the control room with his son, as he found the inner workings more interesting than the event itself. Vida had granted him permission, and they had remained there. A cheer erupted from the crowd as Acton’s thumb hovered over his phone. He looked up and saw one of the accounts now showed $50 million deposited. A second appeared showing $75 million, and the crowd roared again.

  Meitner smiled broadly. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, that we know it’s working, this is where it gets truly exciting.”

  The decrease in his account balance kicked into overdrive, and in less than a minute, another five billion had been drained, the climax of an evening of presentations drawing to a close.

  “Something’s wrong,” said Laura.

  Acton once again tore his eyes away from Meitner’s account balance and glanced at his wife. “What?”

  She pointed. “Look at the other balances. Nothing’s happening.”

  Forgotten in all the excitement of $25 billion being distributed, he had neglected to watch the beneficiaries’ accounts. Everything was a wall of zeros except for those first two successful transactions. He sent a text to Reading.

  Is something wrong?

  The phone vibrated in his hand a moment later.

  Not sure. I’ll get back to you.

  Acton showed Laura the message as Bernie rushed out on the stage and whispered something in Meitner’s ear. The old man’s eyes bulged and he grabbed his chest before slumping in his chair. A collective gasp rolled through the crowd as they sprang to their feet, and somebody shouted what Acton already feared.

  “Somebody’s stealing the money!”

  12 |

  Vienna City Hall, Control Center Vienna, Austria

  Reading stood with Spencer against the rear wall of the Control Center. What had begun as a fascinating piece of history unfolding live in front of their eyes, had soon turned into confusion, then panic. Dozens of people manning the phones were taking calls from charities around the world as they questioned where their money was. Vida was in a state, and she rushed to the front of the room, holding both hands up in the air.

  “Quiet!” she ordered, and the room fell silent, the only sounds from the phones and the machines. “Has anybody confirmed any of the transfers successfully arrived after the first two?” Nobody replied, and she paled further than she already was. “Is there any chance our lines are just jammed?”

  Somebody rose. “They are, ma’am. Everybody’s calling in now and we’re being overwhelmed. We were set up for maybe ten or twenty calling in to confirm their balances and then hanging up, but we’ve got over one-hundred charities trying to get through at once, repeatedly.”

  “Shut down all incoming calls,” directed Vida. “Start calling the charities in the order that the deposits were supposed to have been made, one by one. I want it confirmed whether the money is in their account or not, from somebody who’s actually sitting in front of a computer looking at their balance. I don’t want anything second or third hand. I want actual eyeballs on the balances.” She smacked her hands together. “Go!”

  The room sprang into action and everyone with a phone was on it. Vida turned and stared at the displays and Reading shook his head as everything remained stubbornly at zero, yet Meitner’s account balance continued to drop like a rock. He stepped forward.

  “Excuse me, but don’t you think you should halt the transfers?”

  Vida spun toward him, squinting in the low lighting. “Who’s that?”

  “Agent Reading from Interpol. If the money isn’t arriving, don’t you think you should stop sending billions of dollars out the door?”

  She stared at him for a moment then her jaw dropped. She pointed at Wagner, snapping her fingers rapidly. “Stop the money! Stop the money!” Wagner hit several keys on their keyboard and everyone turned to see the balance of Meitner’s account continue to fall. “Is that just a lag, or did the withdrawals not stop?”

  “It’s not a lag, ma’am,” said Wagner, manning the computer running the show. “Something’s wrong. I can’t stop the transfers.”

  Vida rushed over and reaching across the workstation, yanking something from the computer as Reading strode forward, Spencer on his heels. She gripped a memory stick in her hand that Reading presumed was the one Meitner had handed over earlier in the evening. She turned to him, her eyes wide. “What do I do? It’s twenty-five billion dollars!”

  “Call Mr. Meitner’s bank. Have them halt any transfers that are still coming out.”

  She pointed at a woman sitting nearby. “Do it.” The woman grabbed her phone, rapidly dialing.

  Reading pointed at the computer that he assumed was controlling the transfers. “Is that machine doing all the transfers to the accounts?”

  She nodded.

  He turned to Wagner, not sure what to ask.

  Spencer stepped in. “Is the software running on that computer, or is it remote?”

  “No, for security reasons, it’s running on this terminal.”

  Spencer stepped over and hauled the computer out, tearing the power cord from the back. Everyone turned to face the displays at the front of the room, and the account balance continued to drop, then finally froze.

  And the room gasped.

  Less than $3 billion was left, and at this moment, all indications were that over $22 billion had just been stolen.

  13 |

  Vienna City Hall, Ballroom Vienna, Austria

  People were on their feet now, concern slowly replaced with anger from some. Bernie had wheeled Meitner off the stage the moment the elderly man had collapsed, and no explanation had been given for the accounts remaining empty.

  It was a disaster, broadcast around the world.

  A rumble in the distance followed almost immediately by the entire complex vibrating, momentarily silenced the crowd. The power flickered out then a moment later emergency lighting kicked in.

  A slow, loud beeping noise sounded, and staff rushed out into the aisles as a recorded voice blared through the PA system in German, then repeated the orders to evacuate in English and several other languages. Someone screamed, triggering a mass rush for the exits.

  “What do we do?” asked Tommy.

  “We remain calm,” replied Laura. “There’s no need to panic.”

  “But wasn’t that a bomb?”

  “We don’t know if it was a bomb, though it did feel like an explosion.”

  “Well, if there was an explosion, doesn’t that mean there was a bomb?”

  Acton shook his head. “Not necessarily. It could have been a natural gas explosion, industrial accident, any number of things. Let’s not speculate.”

  Mai frowned, her hand pressed against the necklace on her chest. “But it has to be an emergency, right? They wouldn’t order an evacuation so quickly just because of an accident. They would come over the PA system and tell people what was going on, then ask people to leave in an orderly fashion.”

  Acton pulled at his bow tie. “You’re right. Whatever happened, it must have happened nearby, and is obviously enough of a concern to the security team that evacuation is necessary.”

  “Then shouldn’t we get the hell out of here?” asked Tommy.

  Acton pointed down to the panicking crowd below. “You’ll just be stepping into that. Let’s just wait a minute for things to clear out a bit.” He moved the curtain aside and peered into the corridor behind their booth. There were plenty of the well-heeled rushing past, but that didn’t concern him.

 

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