Ace Hunt: Boy Thief
Chapter One
Ace Hunt walked toward the large museum under the starry night sky, by the 14th century-styled building, that from above would seem like a huge U. The Uffizi Gallery was a long labyrinth of rooms with breathtaking artwork displayed across the walls in alphabetical order, and Ace Hunt had to get through to the Letter P to nab his prize. He rummaged through the backpack and pulled out a grappling hook-like machine and aimed it toward a hitch in a window, and with a push of a button it fired. A perfect hit. He climbed up the rope with the ease of a trained tightrope walker. Once on the ledge he pulled out his second gadget: a glass cutter.
Ace reached carefully in his wrap-around backpack for the chisel bit. It was small, embedded into the Teflon fabric, pressed against his right shoulder blade in the shoulder strap. This bit had a diamond tip, and was capable of piercing the high-end reinforced glass of the world’s most secure presentation cases and safes. With this he silently made a 12 year-old sized hole. Throwing a tennis ball-sized trinket into the room below, he smirked to himself. The bomb was made by a great burglary engineer and could send out a small electric signal making all nearby electricity-run devices go kaput. Dropping into the room he took a right at the turn and his eyes fell upon what he was looking for: the famous painting Primavera. He jumped over the gate and touched it, searching for the best place to make an incision.
All of a sudden alarms blared and a dimmer red light replaced the bright ones that he had disabled. The world around him flashed as he realized his mistake: he had forgotten about the Uffizi backup power in his plans!
He rushed for the nearest exit. It was locked. He looked at the padlock. He took out his final trinket: two hairpins. He had to use this item instead of a cool tech tool because his previous bomb trinket had turned off all the gadgets. He twisted them into the padlock as he heard the sound of footsteps coming quickly this way. He finished the lock and burst out of the door just as one security guard rounded the corner and saw the back of his head. Ace ran and ran and ran until he was sure he wasn’t being chased.
Outside, rounding the first corner, he ducked and did forward rolls past restaurants and hotels, and he almost toppled an aged couple, walking away from a restaurant: Buca Dell’Orafo.
Stepping smoothly into this establishment, he glanced around, and many eyes were aimed at him. The chatter was quieter than usual and the lights were dimmed. He realized that someone was proposing to a woman in the back of the restaurant. “That’s sweet,” he murmured under his breath. Then the sound of glasses clinking and people cheering overtook the room and he quietly stepped out. He spotted a man leaving his motorcycle still running to go to a nearby panzerotti stand. He instantly made a beeline for it and hopped onto it, only needing to glance over the controls he zoomed away – only to hear a fading voice yelling “Fermati, ladro! Fermati!”
Ace zipped away to a large building called the Treasury of Grand Dukes.
He zipped behind it to the Piazza dei Pitti where there was a tiny two-seater jet. Getting in, he heard his driver, Imran, asking him about the heist.
“How did it go?”
“I screwed up, let’s go.”
“Gotcha.”
Chapter Two
Ace got up very late the next morning, and even a couple glasses of orange juice didn’t seem to revive him. He felt dull, like a butter knife… when he wanted to feel like a chef’s knife. He felt bloated – like a puffer fish when he wanted to feel like a hammerhead shark. He felt like he had lost a valuable part of himself, like one might feel after they hurt their arm or leg and know that they will probably not use it for a while. Had Ace Hunt lost his touch? The jet lag from his flight from Italy just added to his dullness. He thought about yesterday while eating a half-burnt piece of toast and soon realized that he might not be able to be a solo flier anymore. He may have to join a flock, a crime flock, or at least get a partner in crime… so he called up a fellow thief, Jeb. Jeb was also a burglar, but instead of being a specialist thief like Ace, he worked as a thief for hire.
“Hey Jeb, you wanna do a job?”
“How much is in it for me?”
“Whatever we steal – and you gotta choose, but I’ll give you a 70-30 split. Get over here.”
Jeb arrived an hour later, pulling up in a battered Mazda. When Ace saw that, he thought, are you serious? He couldn’t believe Jeb’s new ride – what had happened to the guy? Had he lost his touch too? Jeb had black hair and beautiful green eyes. His physical appearance was quite muscular for he had worked out every day since his tenth birthday. He was also an extremely fast short distance runner.
“What’s the next heist Jeb?”
“We be going to Tate Modern.”
Tate Modern was an art museum in London that all accomplished thieves knew; it was constructed in 1889 when Henry Tate donated the needed funding and his art collection.
Tate Modern was a twisty and interestingly-shaped building – from some angles it looked as if it was falling. One might say the shape of the building was an art piece in its own way. Along the building there were long strips of windows that seemed to be placed randomly. At the very top there was a strip of window that went all around it; this was Jeb and Ace’s planned entrance to the museum. Of course since that was the top window and the building was quite high they would need a helicopter to get up there.
This museum housed many extremely famous art pieces, including Marilyn Diptych by Andy Warhol and Nude Woman With Necklace by Pablo Picasso.
Ace Hunt never understood why people admired art so much, especially abstract art. He thought that abstract art looked like an angry baby had thrown some paint on a white canvas. He also did not understand people admiring modern sculpture; some of it looked like they had found it in the dumpster. How do the janitors of those museums know what is art and what is just trash left by visitors, he thought. But it didn’t really matter to him, it only mattered how much profit he could squeeze out of a buyer for it on the black market.
After debating over which painting to steal they both agreed on: The Uncertainty of the Poet by Giorgio de Chirico.
“Who’s your gear supplier?” Jeb muttered.
Now this was a hard question for Ace because he usually asked that question to the buyer, but they didn’t have a buyer this time. But Ace and Jeb didn’t have a whole lot of money. Even together they barely scratched the surface for living the way they wanted to.
“Is it just me or do gear suppliers cost too much?”
Jeb and Hunt would need something to break glass, a device to stun or deactivate security cameras and also (most importantly) a mosquito helicopter
to bring them silently and stealthily to the Tate. But the hardest thing would be to find a cheap gear supplier. They would need to find someone with a helicopter lying around and who also would be willing to take a leap of faith to be paid after the heist. That would be hard. “Hey, how about Sophia!” Jeb said.
“Nah, she’s not desperate enough to rely on us.”
“How about Perry?”
“Also nah, her gear is terribly inefficient.” They went back and forth like that for awhile until both of them gave up looking for a gear supplier, and decided to talk about it later.
Jeb walked over to the couch and flopped onto it. While flicking on the news he asked if Ace had done any other heists recently. The news answered his question.
“Breaking news!” the newscaster on the screen exclaimed. “A thief attempted to steal a beautiful piece of art known as the Primavera in Florence, Italy. The only witness, a police officer named Guiliani, says that the burglar looked to be only around twelve years old! Is the witness just insane or is there a new teenager art burglar out there?”
Jeb muted the TV and glanced at Ace. For a moment they both didn’t say anything and the only sound was the quiet hum of the TV. Finally Hunt shrugged his shoulders and said, “Forgot about the back-up power and had to make a getaway with Imran,” and left the room.
Chapter Three
Ace Hunt knew that he would need another man to complete the job and it hurt him somewhere inside to have more than two men, because he was used to one! One him! One person! One Ace Hunt! But it was true; he would need another man and he knew where to find one. This particular man was not a burglar. In fact, he was just a car washer. His name was Brandr – he had been abandoned next to an orphanage at an extremely young age (kinda like the movies!) and because of that he didn’t know his real birthdate or age. The name that the orphanage gave him was Dakarai, but since it was hard for others to pronounce and spell he had changed it to Brandr. He liked the name Brandr because it meant fire and he liked having a cool name. Instead of hoping that someone would come to adopt him, he automatically assumed that people would hate him. So as soon as he thought he was ready (when he looked 13) he packed his bags and ran away from the orphanage. Out in the world he worked in a full-on car wash – like the kinds that clean the inside too. He did it to pay rent and he also sometimes stole things from the cars he cleaned. But the thing that only top levels thieves knew was that he was the quickest, cleanest, and most daredevil getaway driver in the world.
Ace walked to his backyard; it was small but just the perfect size for his private jet. Usually it had a cloth pulled over it to conceal it, but now the sun shone on its scratched-up metal. Imran was already in the jet waiting for him and all he had to do was nod his head and the jet took off for San Francisco. The backyard had a ramp for the jet to take off with.
The short tarmac (unfolded by one of Imran’s assistants) was easily traversed on a 45-degree angle. The jet ripped from the ground and for a moment Ace could feel the force of the gravity on his chest. The roar of the engine muffled any conversation that he and Imran attempted to have, so they both just settled into silence, Imran focusing on the sky ahead and Ace solving and unsolving a Rubix Cube. At altitude, the engine sound faded, and Ace and Imran talked about gearing up the mosquito helicopter for the Tate heist. That covered, they soon settled into a conversation about video games and television shows.
San Francisco was reached by early evening, and as he disembarked the plane he murmured thanks to Imran.
“Most welcome, Mr. Hunt.”
“See you here in three hours.”
Ace set off to find Brandr. Brandr lived and worked in San Francisco, so finding the place he worked at shouldn’t be much of a challenge. Hunt had always heard stuff like “It’s the City by the Bay! Great tourist spot!!” But when he got there he realized there wasn’t much special other than the tax and the fog. At one carwash, chatting with a worker, he found out that they named their fog Karl! Karl the Fog. That was just ridiculous. After being cold in the fog for a while he finally found the car wash where Brandr worked, which happened to be in Daly City.
“Hey! Are you Brandr?”
Brandr glanced at Ace and gave him a questioning look.
“Yes… Why?”
“I am Ace Hunt and I need you for a job. Everyone who is anyone in the art heist scene knows you are one of the best getaway drivers in the world.”
Brandr’s expression hardened.
“Ace Hunt, Ace Hunt – wait, what are you doing in the US? You are Britain’s art heist master! How did you find me?”
“I am doing a job in London and I could use your help.”
“What kind of heist?”
“Art, like always. We’re stealing The Uncertainty of the Poet. I’ll tell you more if you are in. So?”
Once hearing the plan and profit potential, Brandr practically skipped away from his car wash and aboard the jet back to London, they settled in for some snacks and a snooze.
Once Ace and his new recruit came back to London things started going up. As soon as he got back he was greeted with the smiling face of Jeb and great news on the gear supplier.
“I got someone!”
“What someone?” Ace replied.
“A super desperate gear supplier that has a heli,” Jeb intoned with a slight chime in his voice.
There was no introduction needed for Jeb and Brandr, as they had worked with each other before.
After this brief conversation they went straight to work; Jeb went over the plan with Brandr while Ace inspected all aspects of the tools they were working with. He performed the pre-flight checklist, and everything seemed to be in top notch condition and efficient.
Ace went over the plan until it was tattooed onto his brain. He and Jeb would take parachutes and jump onto the roof. From there they would slide down. Into the nearest window with the glass-cutter they’d climb, then disable cameras, zip down a couple of flights, forward then right, until they reached the painting. Once at this point they would run to the nearest exit and Brandr would drive them away. It was pretty much flawless in Ace’s mind.
Chapter Four
The heist had been planned to come into action in five days. Ace was in a chipper mood on the first day of the five.
Everything was going pretty well – being part of a team wasn’t so bad as he imagined. He wondered if after the heist they would remain friends and still work together or if they would all go their separate ways with new money in their bank accounts and never meet again. They had become pretty good friends in these weeks of planning.
Brandr walked into the room where Jeb and Ace were staring at a TV, both not paying attention to what the news reporter was saying. They were both thinking of the heist to come. “Guys! I know someone that’s a guard in the Tate Modern, I set up so we could meet him tonight!” An idea of a guard that worked for the team shone bright in his mind. The guard may be able to help them get in and out without being seen at all. And they could also get some useful information, like how to avoid the security cams that were on every corner.
For the rest of the day they all sat on the couch: Jeb, Ace, Brandr, and Imran, playing a video game called Destroyer Moon. The game starred four soldiers that land on a planet’s moon. The moon is also populated with evil aliens and human captives and you must save your fellow humans. When the hour finally came for the meeting they had a handful of saved humans and also had extremely sweaty hands.
Later, all of them, Ace, Jeb, Brandr, and Imran were sitting in an unpopular restaurant, in the very corner of it. The corner lacked lighting and shaded them from any potential diners. They all waited in silence, waiting for the guard who would fill the empty chair in front of them. Finally she walked in. She was tall and had short black hair that was tucked under a cap with a logo from a sports team Ace didn’t recognize. She glanced at the team’s table and walked over. She stood behind her chair and introduced himself. “Hi, my name is Jazmin Vo. I am the Tate Modern guard.” Ace nodded at her to sit down. Ace had an immediate feeling of distrust toward this person.
“Hello Miss Vo, let’s just cut the formalities and get to business,” he said. It had come out harsher than he had intended, but the guard looked unfazed and took the seat in front of them. “We would like to hire you for your inside information and your place in the Tate Modern museum,” Ace continued. “But before letting you in on our entire plan we would like to see if you are in.”
“How much money are you planning on giving?” Vo said, squinting her eyes at Ace.
Jeb coughed uncomfortably, “We currently have no money to offer so…”.
Jeb wandered off from his sentence. Ace picked it up for him. “We will offer you money after the heist.”
The security guard quickly said, “150 thousand pounds and I’m in; if not then I will gladly take my leave.” And as if to show her point she stood up and scooted her chair away.
“Deal,” Ace said after a slight moment of hesitation. He had done the math in his head and if they found the right buyer for the painting, Uncertainty of the Poet would probably sell for around 2 million pounds.
Chapter Five
Ace Hunt still disliked adding yet another person. For a second he considered leaving the team and doing this heist solo, like he used to. But he quickly dismissed the thought. They had worked hard to get all these people and with all this progress, Ace wasn’t one to throw it down the drain. A small part of him had wanted the meeting to go badly so that four would remain their number. But now five people it was! He was bored sitting around; he was itching to start the heist. The whole team was itching to start the heist! But Ace had to admit that Jazmin was a valuable asset. She had informed Ace that Tate Modern had a backup power generator. This meant that they would have to change the current bomb they were using to deactivate electricity. They had to get their hands on a localized e-bomb (electromagnetic bomb). An e-bomb didn’t simply shut down the electricity. An e-bomb completely destroyed machines that ran on electricity. The E-bomb:
… was even strong enough to destroy a backup power generator.
Chapter Six
The night had finally arrived. Everyone had a feeling of nervous excitement. The days had passed by quickly and everyone was ready; outside the house Ace, Jeb, Brandr, and Imran stood. They shook hands and wished each other luck. Ace hoped that he wouldn’t need it. Jazmin was already gone, as she had to leave early to go to her shift at the Tate; she was going to direct guards away from Ace and Jeb while they stole the painting. Brandr was to go get his car and park in front of the Tate Modern and wait for Ace and Jeb to escape the building and enter the car. Imran was to fly the helicopter to the Tate Modern and drop Ace and Jeb onto the top of the building.
Ace’s hands sweated as he entered the helicopter that was hidden in their gear supplier’s personal parking lot. He swallowed down his growing nerves and willed himself to calm. He knew the only way for this to work was if it was quick and went perfectly. He touched his earpiece to check if it was functioning. He sent out a test message to Brandr. “Red Panther to Cyan Goldfish.” The device made a clicking sound as he waited for a response. “Cyan Goldfish to Red Panther: What is it?” Ace recognized the voice even over the staticky mic he was using. “Nothing, just checking.” Ace felt the helicopter rise. They had all chosen code names, a color and an animal. Ace was Red Panther, Brandr was Cyan Goldfish, Jeb was Pink Hawk, Imran was Yellow Alligator, and Jazmin was Blue Squid.
Ace heard the rotors above start slicing through the air. The mosquito helicopter slowly lifted off and then sped up. The lift of the helicopter reminded him of the time that he had gone to San Francisco to get Brandr. The pressure of gravity-versus the lift of the machine was similar. He was nervous, and hated himself for it. He had never really been this nervous for a heist. He had always been confident with his skills until this heist. Maybe it was because his last had failed terribly, or maybe it was because he had teammates and friends counting on him to do his part.
The helicopter headed toward Tate Modern.
Chapter 7
The helicopter sliced through the air and soon was above Tate Modern. “Good luck,” yelled Imran over the loud whir of the helicopter. Ace nodded back to him and looked down at the museum below. Ace looked at Jeb just to find that none of his nerves were reflected in his face. Jeb seemed calm and calculating. They jumped. Ace got into position and rolled along with Jeb onto the ceiling of the museum.
A short burst of pain shot up his back upon impact and Ace jumped to his feet immediately. A quick glance at Jeb told Ace that he had rolled successfully and was fine. Without needing to communicate, they ran toward the edge of the building. They slid onto the balcony. He calculated that he was on the seventh floor and took one second to take in his surroundings. The floor was a brownish gray marble and the walls were white. He looked at the ground and noticed that the marble was slightly wet. “Not great for running,” he thought. The map imprinted in his mind told him that he needed to turn at the next right. The map also told him that a security camera was just ahead. Quickly he zipped out the e-bomb and chucked it ahead of him. The quiet buzz of the cams soon disappeared and left the two thieves in silence. Only old-school tools from here. “Hopefully the e-bomb also shuts down any communications tools that any guards may have,” he said. They stood quietly for a while listening for footsteps and Ace let out a large breath that he had not realized he had been holding. He calmed himself again and let his thieving instincts take over.
They ran together toward the stairs. The room had four elevators, two to the right and another two to the left. The spiral staircase was to the left, past the two elevators. Ace laughed at himself at the idea of taking the elevator. If they did it would be slow and loud and would attract guards all over the building. He lifted up a hand to Jeb and they both stopped and went silent. He looked in each direction and tried to listen for any noise. There was nothing, and he wondered why that was. It almost felt as if no one was on the floor. This meant that it was either that the guards were being purposely silent or that Jazmin had done an excellent job in helping them avoid guards. Ace hoped for the latter.
Meanwhile, Brandr was sitting in an unlocked sedan outside of Tate Modern. Brandr’s car was black, black as the night itself… and an eye would pass over it without a second glance unless someone was purposely looking for it. Everything was normal about the car and this would help the getaway. He popped a bit of gum in his mouth and tried to act natural, which was easy enough. Imran had flown back to base and returned the helicopter, for he was no longer needed for the mission. He ordered a few pizzas and five Sprites and waited for the team to return.
Ace and Jeb went down the stairs to the 3rd floor – there they stopped. It was 9:00 – this was the agreed time to check up on everybody. Jeb whipped out his communication device.
“Pink Hawk to Cyan Goldfish: all good?”
“Cyan Goldfish to Pink Hawk: yup.”
“Pink Hawk to Yellow Alligator: are you at the HQ?”
“Yellow Alligator to Pink Hawk: yes.”
“Pink Hawk to Blue Squid: is everything good?”
Jeb waited for several seconds but there was no response.
“Pink Hawk to Blue Squid: I repeat, is everything good?”
Again no response. Something was wrong with Jazmin.
“What should we do?” Jeb asked Ace.
“Keep moving,” Ace responded.
And with that they continued down the stairs.
The stairs were slick with suds, and Jeb almost slipped, but eventually they reached the second floor. Immediately Ace knew that this floor wasn’t empty like the top floor was. There was the echo of footsteps on marble. Ace could also hear a faint whistling of the song The Dance Of The Sugar Plum Fairy.
Ace sighed. He knew that Jazmin would not be able to clear all the guards, but he was still disappointed. This would make nabbing the painting indiscreetly much harder. He hoped they could avoid having a confrontation with a guard. He signaled to Jeb to walk quieter and slowly made his way to the next turn. He glanced to the wall on his right which had a large canvas hung up on it; it was made up of 12 oddly shaped figures.
The metal tag beneath it marked its name as The Snail by Henri Matisse. He looked up at it again and immediately hated it.
“THAT LOOKS NOTHING LIKE A SNAIL,” he thought. “IN FACT, THAT ARTIST SHOULD HAVE JUST CALLED IT 12 SQUARES!”
Hunt tried to focus on the floor in front of him, but he found himself gazing upon the painting along the walls. He knew he needed to keep his head in the game and he could usually manage it, but this time his head would just inevitably drift to the wall, scoffing at the skill of some of the paintings. He stopped and tried to focus. He tried to become the Ace who would never fail in a heist, the Ace who could do things quickly and quietly, the Ace who wouldn’t let his mind wander. And it worked! For a little bit, for soon his eyes were marveling at another painting hung up on the wall. He was about to read the name of the art piece when Jeb behind him said in a hushed tone, “There’s a guard to the room on the left.” The fear of being caught gripped him and pulled him out of his reverie. He glanced to that room, and indeed there was a guard leaning against the wall and looking up at the ceiling. Ace jumped back and out of the sightline of the guard.
“Hey dude, why are you staring at that painting?”
“I have no idea Jeb, but do you got your taser?”
“Yes, of course I do, but you seem like your thoughts aren’t in the right place.”
“Never mind that, we gotta take out this guard quickly.”
Jeb whipped out his taser gun; they were custom-made to absorb the e-bomb’s electrical shockwave so they wouldn’t deactivate. He handed it to Ace. “Aim true,” Jeb said. Ace brought the weapon to his front. He carefully closed an eye and aimed the shot at the guard’s chest. The shot would only stun. There was a moment where the weapon buzzed at first low, then higher. The guard heard. He turned his head at the pair and opened his mouth to yell, but made no sound before the shock knocked him unconscious. Ace and Jeb rushed over. Ace took the guard’s head and Jeb his back, and together they lay him on the ground. They stopped and listened but it seemed no other guards had heard anything.
They sat the body down behind a large sculpture made of marble and glass, and also used zip ties to bound the legs and arms. They continued on.
Taking another right and left they were almost there. Ace heard the footsteps of two more guards, and if his hearing was correct the guards were right in front of the Uncertainty of the Poet. Ace put two fingers together and separated them; this was a sign to split up with Jeb. They would have to take out one each. The taser felt warm in Ace’s hand as he got ready for Jeb to get in position, and he held his hand steady and made his breathing calm. It would be a long shot, hard to achieve accuracy. They could get closer, but they feared being spotted.
A sound came from Ace’s pocket:
“Pink Hawk to Red Panther: In position.”
“Red Panther to Pink Hawk: In position too.”
The small hum of the taser charging up was synchronized and they both fired at the same time. One of the guards had just caught the Ace’s eye when the shock hit his chest, but in the mere moment before the blast came in, the guard whipped out his walkie talkie and screamed “They’re here!” In the corner of his eye he saw Jeb’s shot hit the other guard’s shoulder. Both thieves both rushed up and held them from hitting their heads on the floor: an unlikely but very caring moment. They did similarly what they did to the last: ziptied them and hid them behind a sculpture, but this time a phone fell out of one of the guard’s pockets as they dragged him behind a sculpture. The sound made a loud bang on the marble floor and reverberated around the quiet empty room. Ace hoped that no one had heard, and they waited again for several long moments. Ace half expected for three more guards to come around the bend and arrest them. Ace had never been caught before and hadn’t even considered the possibility.
“We need to speed this up and get out of here as soon as possible.”
Jeb nodded his head silently. Ace noticed something on the painting.
“Wait, stop.”
“What is it dude? Something wrong?”
“That red spot… .”
“What are you talking about?”
“The red spot on the bottom right of the painting.”
“Yeah, what about it?”
Ace had memorized every inch of the painting, because of how many times he had gone through the whole plan in his mind. There was a small smudged dot on the very bottom right of the painting that didn’t belong. He contemplated if a visitor during open hours had marred it, despite the guards. Then he realized something else. The guard had said, “they’re here,” before being taken out by the stun gun. “They” are usually supposed to specify who is here and why. Also, there was no response asking for specifications. Then it clicked. The red dot and the guard’s message… it all made sense!
“C’mon let’s go!” Ace yelled.
“Wait what’s going on?”
“I’ll tell you while running. The painting is a fake, a copy. They were expecting us.”
“How is that possible?”
“Jazmin Vo! She told the museum. I knew we shouldn’t have trusted her – listen, that’s why the guard only said ‘they’re here’ – he didn’t need to say who. Whoever he contacted already knew who!”
“Wait, it’s game over then. They probably blocked off all exits.”
Ace was so angry at himself, for not seeing it until now. He had had other clues: how Jazmin didn’t respond to the checkup and how the top floor was so empty. But he had to focus on the present right now and not the past. He grabbed at his walkie talkie.
“Red Panther to Cyan Goldfish and Yellow Alligator: Mission abort, Jazmin is a double-crosser. Over and out.”
Too late did Hunt realize that Jazmin was open to this line as well. He silently scolded himself. “Now they know that we know about them,” he thought. He tried frantically for a solution. “Do you have your phone Jeb?”
Jeb took out his phone and immediately sent a call to Brandr and Imran. Both of them picked up in mere moments.
Brandr on the street outside began hearing rapid chatter from both Jeb and Ace.
“Guys Jazmin double crossed us, we got to get out of here. She probably told them to block all exits! We are sitting ducks. They’re probably sending some police up.”
Brandr was about to respond when he saw two dark figures walking toward him. He could immediately tell that it wasn’t the two art thieves. His body tightened and he clenched his hands into fists.
Brandr heard, “I’m coming,” from Imran before hanging up the call.
Imran got onto his motorcycle. The black Honda Fireblade rested on its kickstand on the curb. He revved his engine and zipped through the streets back to the museum. The ride was quick, taking shortcuts through alleys and odd London passageways. Some were so small that the paint on the sides of his bike got scraped off. In one smooth move Imran cut the engine, moved the kickstand in place, and dismounted at Brandr’s car.
“What floor are they on?”
“The third one! The guards are almost there.”
Imran pulled out his laptop and quickly pulled up a layout of the building. A blinking red dot indicated where the two thieves were inside.
“Send a call to them.”
“Doing it already.”
Ace sounded slightly panicked on the phone.
“Have you found a way out yet?”
Imran didn’t look away from his laptop as he said:
“Alright, I need you to do what I tell you, no questions.”
“OK.”
“Take a right.”
The blinking light on the screen slowly moved across the layout and to the left (Imran was looking at a mirror image and making the adjustments as he spoke).
“Now forward, take right again, now forward.”
Ace was now at the end of a long hallway staring out a black-stained wall-length window. Outside he could see the faintest brightness of a headlight parked right outside the building.
“Ok, now break the glass.”
Ace took a small device from his backpack. “I’ll slice it open,” he muttered to himself. The laser attached to the tool moved along the window and made a large oval hole in the window.
“What’s next, Imran?”
“Hold on.”
Imran speedily took out a large padded net from the black bag strapped to the end of the bike. The pad had a bullseye pattern on it, but it was barely noticeable considering the darkness of night and how the paint had faded due to its age. It was a life net, usually reserved for firefighters and used to assist people jumping off burning buildings.
He positioned it below the window and looked three stories up at Ace and Jeb who were leaning out and looking back.
“Jeb, you first. Jump.”
Jeb didn’t need to be told twice. The guards were getting nearer and nearer. He jumped and safely landed on the net. He rolled off and quickly got into the car that Brandr had started.
Ace saw all of this from above. The jump looked safe and Jeb hadn’t seemed to be in pain of any kind. He prepared himself to take a running jump and he took three steps back. He bumped into something. Then he felt someone grab the back of his shirt collar and his instincts kicked in. He looked back and simultaneously launched a brutal back kick. He hit the person’s thigh and delivered an uppercut to the chin. The person staggered back rubbing his chin and Ace wasted no time. He quickly turned back around and jumped. The fall seemed to take forever and no time at all. The feeling of air rushing past him gave him a sense of weightlessness. For a moment it felt as if he was in a dream. “I will wake right before I hit the ground,” he thought. But that didn’t happen. The impact from the net shook his whole body. His adrenaline was pumping and he could barely feel the impact of the net. All he could hear was his heartbeat in his ears and someone trying to tell him something.
His hearing suddenly snapped back on, like someone in his head and simply flicked a switch. The shouts of his friends to get in the car filled his ears and he obeyed.
As soon as he entered Brandr kicked it into drive and they roared off. The sound of shouts and footsteps became quiet as they sat in the car and all tried to comprehend what had just happened.
***
Ace found himself wondering what Jazmin was thinking that night, six years ago to this day. He wondered if there was any hint of guilt when she sold himself, Jeb, Imran, and Brandr out. “Or maybe she regretted it, although I doubt that outcome,” he thought.
“Hey, what are you thinking about?” said Brandr, bringing Ace out of his thoughts. The whole team had gathered during this 6th year anniversary. “Nothing.” All of them had different and simpler jobs now.
Brandr had his own movers company now. Imran was now a vehicle mechanic – turned out that spending all of his time around them gave him a decent sense of how they function. Jeb had become an assistant manager for a software company. And Ace had become a construction manager.
When thinking back Ace could not imagine doing any of it again. He was thankful that he was able to get away and start this second part of his life.