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The man had finally arrived in New York. The plane ride had been rather stressful, the parachute escape had gone wonderfully, and the few hours' drive to his destination had been punctuated by the distant sound of police sirens that seemed to always be on his tail.
But he had finally arrived without a single patrol car behind him.
He kept driving his van toward Manhattan before parking it in front of a house with an imposing facade.
The house in front of him was undoubtedly worth millions of dollars, not to mention the several luxury cars in front of the entrance.
He got out of his van with several shoulder bags and a leather briefcase in hand, and a valet came to meet him.
"Please follow me, Sir is waiting for you by the pool."
He didn't even bother to greet him or wait for him. He had already returned inside the house as quickly as he had come.
The interior of the mansion was crafted from white marble, and the crystal chandeliers enhanced its classical vibe. There were certainly some modern elements, like the robotic cookers in the kitchen or the huge flat-screen on the living room wall, but the rest was designed to evoke the extravagant homes of the 19th century.
The exterior was not the same story.
The owner must have been pure English because the lawn appeared to be cut every morning without fail. He was sitting by his pool on a folding chair, a beauty mask on his face, seemingly in the midst of a relaxation session.
Two women in swimsuits were massaging his feet.
Unfortunately for him, his little nap was about to end.
Because business matters were more important than rest.
"Melissa, Scarlet, could you help me take off my mask? I wouldn't want to keep my guest waiting too long."
The two women were probably professionals. They skillfully removed the mask before slipping away from the scene.
"It's very pleasant to enjoy the sun. Please take a chair and join me, Mr. Omega."
The man codenamed Omega took a chair and sat next to him.
Now that his beauty mask was removed, his face was clearly visible.
It was the face of a man in his fifties, remarkably well-preserved, with salt-and-pepper hair that must have made him incredibly charming to women of his age.
Omega had worked with him several times before to move his loot and knew now why this man was so effective at his job.
This man was trustworthy and honest, a quality few of his ilk could boast, making him well-liked by everyone he met, regardless of their background.
He could sell jewels to politicians, high-tech equipment to the nouveau riche, cars to middle-class families, or even football balls to underprivileged kids.
The man must have been responsible for selling nearly 50% of all stolen items in New York from his folding chair by the pool.
But even with the immense profits he was making, he was starting to have problems with the FBI, which had found a trace of his involvement in a case over ten years old.
He could have pressured politicians with his lobby or even blackmailed them to stall the case. He could have also hired hitmen to eliminate the evidence and its bearers, but he did not want to get to that point.
So, he simply hired mercenaries to hijack an entire plane while the evidence of his case was "secretly" being transported from Lille, where Interpol had taken an interest, to New York.
The haul from the heist probably wouldn't bring in much, but that had never been the point of the operation.
He had already secured the briefcase next to Omega, and the rest would be a bonus.
He began by opening the first bag.
The bag contained valuables stolen from passengers in economy class, mostly jewelry because it was the easiest to move and most profitable relative to its weight.
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Most of it was of poor quality, so after a brief moment of thought, the man gave Omega a price:
"$50,000."
It was a fair price that Omega couldn't refuse.
"Deal," he said before shaking his hand to formalize the agreement.
They had been partly financed for the heist by the man before him, but Omega and his crew had a portion to regain before becoming profitable.
He handed the man a second bag, this one containing the haul from business class.
There were far fewer people in business class, but Omega felt his earnings would be higher than those from economy.
The man opened the bag.
Inside, there were mostly jewels again, but also various high-tech devices. Omega and his men had taken anything that seemed valuable, and it had paid off.
"$250,000."
The jewelry was of superior quality, able to fetch around $150,000, while one of the high-tech gadgets was a prototype that could easily sell for $80,000. The price was fair, and Oméga accepted the offer with a broad smile. They were already profitable with this second bag, so anything from the last one was just a bonus. Opening the third and final bag, he anticipated high-value items inside and began removing them one by one. The first item was a stunning necklace adorned with multiple small diamonds, meticulously appraised by the man using a magnifying glass and a small scale provided by his valet. After giving his assessment, he moved on to the next item, declaring, "300,000 dollars." This necklace seemed unique, as none of the following items exceeded $100,000. They had robbed a commercial airliner, not a private jet, so this was somewhat expected. Nonetheless, Oméga and his crew had made enough money to afford a luxurious vacation on a tropical island.
However, as the man reached the bottom of the bag and the earnings were towering up in the millions, the valet approached with a phone, playing a melodious ringtone. Knowing his master disliked being disturbed during business, but seeing the caller ID, the valet proceeded without hesitation, offering the phone on a velvet cushion. The man, visibly serious upon seeing the caller's name, frowned and answered,
"Mr. Smith speaking, how may I assist you?"
- Oh it seems that you haven't fully explored your loot William. Please, continue as if I'm not here."
The caller was a young man well-known to him but his voice had a hinge of mockery.
"Are you talking about the briefcase?"
This time, the voice was filled with anger and impatience. "Why would I give a shit about that briefcase?! I wouldn’t give a fuck of your issues with the law or anything else happening in your life!" The voice shouted the last sentence with so much force that even Omega could hear it from several meters away.
The man's voice softened, barely masking his anger. "Could you please do me the favor, William, of opening the damn bag containing what you stole from first class and tell me what's inside?"
William searched the entire bag, but nothing stood out. He didn't understand why the man would call him over a jewelry matter. In a trembling voice, he replied: "I see nothing in the bag that would make you this angry. Unless you gave a piece of jewelry to a woman on the plane as a token of your love." His voice grew quieter as he spoke, sensing something was amiss. Indeed, the man on the phone was too calm, eerily calm.
Taking a deep breath to calm himself, the man's response to William's second sentence was too much. Instead of yelling at William, his tone took on a melodiously sinister edge. "Your men robbed one of the guests I invited to New York. Do you know what they stole? You don't know. They took his badge, and the fact is, the person who gave it to him was very special. You know how much these 'special' people care about their image. So, I hope for your sake that the men you hired to retrieve your briefcase haven't lost or mistakenly thrown it away. If you're not at the hotel by 9 PM, I will need to send a letter. Good luck, William." The call ended.
The man turned to Omega, his face full of reproach and anger. He had a bone to pick with him once they got out of this mess, but for now, he needed to find that badge ASAP. "You stole a badge, a black salamander on a white background. Where is it?" Omega was under pressure. He had stolen the badge because it seemed the only thing of value that the man owned, but after leaving the plane, they had to sort out the more valuable items to take to the man for appraisal and bury the rest in the forest for later retrieval.
If they went back now, they risked being caught by the police scouring the area where they could have parachuted. But William didn't seem to care. With nearly a two-hour drive at full speed, they had no chance of retrieving the badge by 9 PM if they showed the slightest caution or hesitation. They had to leave now.
The valet pulled out a gray Mercedes from the garage. It seemed modified for long distances with its extra fuel tank in the trunk and about twenty high-tech gadgets near the driver to track and avoid police cars, radars, and even helicopters. The valet took the wheel, with Omega and William in the back seat. The car also seemed to have undergone some engine and chassis enhancements, as they left the metropolis in just a few minutes.
Unknown to them, a certain flight attendant had received information from a certain hotel, giving her more than an hour's head start on the location of a certain parachute drop. For, if the police were to stop the modified, speeding car of a certain William Smith, there was still little chance they would stop the ordinary pickup of a regular flight attendant.
As the race unfolded in the shadows, Victor was still at the hotel.
Shirley had already left to retrieve her pick-up, which she presumably missed, while the dark and mysterious man had vanished without a trace. Now, only Victor and the young woman remained, the latter cradling her weapon in her arms as one might a teddy bear. Beside her lay a massive case designed to house the weapon, along with an assortment of products and rags she had used to clean it.
As Victor began to drift off to sleep, the hotel door swung open to reveal Shirley, brandishing the keys of a new vehicle. "Hey Victor, how about a little tour around the city?" she asked with her trademark beaming smile. Before he could politely decline, she grabbed him by the arm and dragged him toward the exit. 'At least it won't be in her demonic pick-up,' Victor thought as they passed through the doorway.
However, what awaited them at the bottom of the stairs was not a pick-up, but a monster truck standing nearly 4 meters tall. "Don't worry, Victor, I've fitted it with headlights and turn signals so we can drive it around New York legally! Let's go, I'm sure it'll be an adventure!"