Preston Child - Mystery of the Amber Room

Teemu Koivusaari had his hands full with the illegal product he was trying to fence, but once he managed to get a buyer it was all worth the trouble. It had been six months since he had left Helsinki to join two of his associates on the Aland Islands where they pursued the lucrative venture of counterfeit gems. They flogged anything from cubic zirconia to blue glass as diamonds and tanzanite, sometimes passing off — quite skillfully — base metals as silver and platinum to unsuspecting amateurs.

“What do you mean, there is more?” Teemu asked his associate, a corrupt African silversmith by the name of Moola.

“I need another kilogram to fill the Minsk order, Teemu. I told you that yesterday,” Moola complained. “You know, I have to face the clients when you screw up. I expect another kilogram by Friday or else you can go back to Sweden.”

“Finland.”

“What?” Moola scowled.

“I’m from Finland, not Sweden,” Teemu corrected his partner.

Wincing, Moola stood up from his desk, still wearing his thick cutting glasses. “Who gives a damn where you are from?” The glasses magnified his eyes to a ridiculous fish eye shape that had the Fin screaming with laughter. “Piss off, man. Go get me more amber and I need more raw materials for emeralds. That buyer will be here by the weekend so move your ass!”

Laughing aloud, the scrawny Teemu walked out of the hidden makeshift factory they operated.

“Oi! Tomi! We have to get to the coast for one more haul, pal,” he told their third associate who was busy chatting up two Latvian girls on holiday.

“Now?” Tomi wailed. “Not now!”

“Where are you going?” the more extrovert girl asked.

“Uh, we have to,” he hesitated, looking at his friend with a pitiful face. “Need to get some work done.”

“Really? What work do you do?” she asked, suggestively sucking spilled Cola off her finger. Tomi looked at Teemu again with his eyes rolling back in his head from sheer lust, surreptitiously begging him to abandon work for now so that they both could score. Teemu smiled at the girls.

“We are jewelers,” he bragged. The girls were instantly intrigued, conversing excitedly in their mother tongue. They locked hands. Teasingly they begged the two young men to take them with. Teemu shook his head profusely, and whispered to Tomi, “There is no way we can take them!”

“Come on! They can’t be older than seventeen. Show them some of our diamonds and they will give us anything we want!” Tomi growled in his friend’s ear.

Teemu looked at the gorgeous little kittens, and it took him all but two seconds to reply, “Okay, let's go.”

With cheer Tomi and the girls slipped into the backseat of the battered old Fiat the two drove on the island to stay inconspicuous while they transported stolen precious stones, amber, and chemicals for the production of their counterfeit treasures. At the local harbor, there was a small business that stocked imported silver nitrate and gold dust among other things.

The crooked owner, an obsessed old sailor from Estonia, normally assisted the three con men in reaching their quotas and hooking them up with prospective clients for a generous cut of the profits. When they skipped out of the small car they saw him rush past them, shouting zealously, “Come boys! It is here! It is here right now!”

“Oh my God, he is in one of his crazy moods again today,” Tomi sighed.

“What is here?” the quieter girl asked.

The old man briskly glanced back, “The ghost ship!”

“Oh geez, not that again!” Teemu moaned. “Listen! We have some business to discuss with you!”

“Business is not going to run away!” the old man clamored as he headed for the docks' edge. “But the ship will vanish.”

They ran after him, amazed at his swift and spryer movement. When they caught up with him, they all stopped to catch their breath. It was an overcast day, and the icy ocean breeze chilled them to the bone as the looming storm drew nearer. Every now and then the sky flashed with lightning accompanying distant growls of thunder. Every time the lightning pulsed through the clouds, the young people recoiled a little, but their curiosity kept the upper hand.

“Look, now. Look,” the old man said with glee, pointing toward the shallows off the bay to the left.

“What? Look what?” Teemu said, shaking his head.

“Nobody knows about this ghost ship but me,” the retired sailor told the young women with old world charm and a glint in his eye. They seemed interested, so he told them about the apparition. “I see it on my radar, but sometimes, it is gone, just,” he said in a mysterious voice, “ — just gone!”

“I see nothing,” Tomi reported. “Come, let’s go back.”

The old man looked at his watch. “Soon! Soon! Don't go. Just wait.”

The thunder clapped, startling the girls into the arms of the two young men, at once making it a very welcome storm. With the girls wrapped in their arms, they watched in stunned shock as suddenly a sizzling magnetic charge was hovering over the waves. From it, the bow of a shipwreck appeared, barely visible above the surface of the water.

“See?” the old man screamed. “See? It is low tide, so this time, you can finally see that godforsaken vessel!”

The young people behind him stood in awe at what they were seeing. Tomi got his phone out to take a picture of the phenomenon, but a particularly vicious bolt of lightning shot down from the clouds, sending them all cowering. Not only did he not capture the scene, but they also did not see the bolt clash with the electromagnetic field around the ship, which caused an infernal crash that almost popped their ear drums.

“Jesus Christ! Did you hear that?” Teemu screamed against the cold gust. “Let's get away from here before we get killed!”

“What is that?” the extroverted girl cried and pointed to the water.

The old man crept closer to the edge of the jetty to investigate. “It's a man! Come help me get him out, boys!”

“He looks dead,” Tomi said with a spooked expression.

“Nonsense,” the old man disagreed. “He is floating face up, and his cheeks are red. Help me, you deadbeats!”

The young men helped him pull the man's limp body from the crashing waves to keep him from getting smashed against the pier or sinking. They carried him back to the old man's workshop and laid him on the work bench in the back where the old man had been melting down some amber for reshaping. After they had ascertained that the stranger was indeed alive, the old man covered him with a blanket and left him until he was done concluding his business with the two young men. The back room was delightfully warm from the melting process. Finally, they departed for their little flat with their two friends and left the old man in charge of the stranger's fate.

Above the steeples, the sky had turned pale, and the weak sun was immersing everything in a yellow glow. Like a scene from the looking glass of a harbinger of ill omen, the animals seemed restless, and the children fell silent. Sam wandered aimlessly through veils of silk and cotton, hung from somewhere he could not determine. Even when he raised his eyes and looked up, he could not see any anchor point for the whipping fabric, no railing, no thread and no wooden supports. It was as if they were hung from an invisible hook in the air, stirred by a wind that only he could feel.