Merv was stunned. He had never seen Opal in such a rage. The coma had changed her.
‘Yes, Miss Koboi.’
‘Now, summon the surgeon.’
‘At once, Miss Koboi.’
Opal lay back on the sofa. Soon everything would be right in the world. Her enemies would shortly be dead or discredited. Once those loose ends were tied up, she could get on with her new life. Koboi rubbed the tips of her pointed ears. What would she look like, she wondered, as a human?
Chapter 2: The Fairy Thief
MUNICH, GERMANY, PRESENT DAY
Thieves have their own folklore. Stories of ingenious heists and death-defying robberies. One such legend tells of the Egyptian cat burglar, Faisil Mahmood, who scaled the dome of St Peter’s basilica in order to drop in on a visiting bishop and steal his crozier.
Another story concerns confidence woman Red Mary Keneally, who dressed as a duchess and talked her way into the King of England’s coronation. The palace denied the event ever took place, but every now and then a crown turns up at auction that looks very like the one in the Tower of London.
Perhaps the most thrilling legend is the tale of the lost Herve masterpiece. Every primary-school child knows that Pascal Herve was the French Impressionist who painted extraordinarily beautiful pictures of the fairy folk. And every art dealer knows that Herve’s paintings are second in value only to those of Van Gogh himself, commanding price tags of over SO million euro.
There are fifteen paintings in the Herve Fairy Folk series. Ten can be found in French museums and five are in private collections. But there are rumours of a sixteenth. Whispers circulate in the upper criminal echelons that another Herve exists: The Fairy Thief, depicting a fairy in the act of stealing a human child. Legend has it that Herve gave the picture as a gift to a beautiful Turkish girl he met on the Champs Elysees.