The Final Faberge: An Inspector Jack Oxby Novel

The Final Faberge: An Inspector Jack Oxby Novel

Thomas Swan

Language: English

Pages: 320

ISBN: 1557049696

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

Rumor has it that a mysterious Fabergé Egg disappeared in the days just before the Russian Revolution. It's up to Scotland Yard art crime detective Jack Oxby to solve the mystery and find the infamous art treasure. Trouble is, whoever attempts to find the Fabergé Egg turns up dead. No matter for Oxby, the fearless hero of Thomas Swan's two previous art crime thrillers, The Da Vinci Deception and The Cezanne Chase. The Final Fabergé is a page-turning novel of suspense that fans of the British television series Lovejoy, the art history mysteries of Iain Pears, and the classic film The Thomas Crowne Affair, will thoroughly enjoy.

Andy Warhol

Art & Visual Culture 1600-1850: Academy to Avant-Garde (Art & Visual Culture)

Cinema by Other Means

La Photographie érotique

Impressionism: A Centenary Exhibition

Chronophobia: On Time in the Art of the 1960s


















before getting into that business. But why Tashkent? What made you go there?” “I am going to share with you some of my experiences in Petersburg and Tashkent. But I must warn you that some of what I will tell you will be difficult for you to hear. Fair enough?” Mike glanced at Alex, then back to Oxby. “Go ahead.” “Mike, it was never my intention, but while I was on leave and conducting what I thought would be a pleasant, but challenging investigation, I uncovered some extremely personal

Mike Carson’s office on the mezzanine. “Was he killed?” “He was shot pretty bad, but he’s alive. That’s the good news. But Dennis? That big old football player is the one we’re all worried about. I was standing not ten feet away when he was stabbed right here—” She put a hand on her side. “I got to say, it was horrible. And such a nice man.” Georgia pronounced “man” as if it had two syllables. “Mr. Carson said that Dennis lost a powerful lot of blood.” “Is Mr. Carson here today?” Viktor asked.

call revealed that there was a direct connection between Petersburg and Tashkent, but it departed on Saturday, and they had missed it. The alternative was to take the evening flight to Moscow the next afternoon, Sunday, then transfer to a TransAero flight from Moscow’s Sheremetyevo No. 2 airport. It would leave at ten past midnight. “Midnight?” Oxby said, disbelieving. “When does that get us into Tashkent?” “Six-fifteen Sunday morning. But there is a two-hour time difference.” By noon, Oxby

“About a Fabergé egg.” Baletsky paused, transfixed at the sight of the weapon. “An Imperial egg.” Galina intruded. “How much did he pay you?” Almost apologetically, Baletsky said, “A hundred dollars.” Viktor waved his knife. “What else did you tell him?” “I said he could get more information from someone who—” “The name?” “Karsalov. Vasily Kasilov.” “And what of this Karsalov?” “I said he was in Tashkent.” “Then what did you tell Ilyushin?” “That is all. That is true!” Viktor grabbed

hear you.” They’re getting into the car.” The Peugeöt pulled away from the curb. “They’re leaving,” Galina said. Chapter 30 The sky had cleared and at 9:30 in the evening it was brighter than it had been all during the wet, gray day. Occasional bursts of fireworks punctuated the evening air, early signals that the summer solstice and the official onset of the White Nights was six days off. The pyrotechnics were probably the work of early celebrants, themselves ignited by too much

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