Time For Plan B, Crime!

John and Mango sat across from each other at a small outdoor table, just across the street from a bustling Italian restaurant. They were at a coffee shop drinking cappuccinos.

The Italian restaurant was stunning. The sun hit it just right. It was clearly designed for tourists, with warm Tuscan architecture, rustic archways, and stone columns covered in creeping vines. It was alive with people: families, couples, travelers, all moving in and out of the place like a turnstile. Despite this, several mafia-looking people walked in and out too.

Mango glanced around, raising an eyebrow. “What are we doing here?”

John leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “The good part about being in the CIA is that there are a lot of resources available to a lot of people. More specifically, agents like me.”

“Okay...” Mango said. “But you’re rogue. That doesn’t exactly scream ‘access granted.’”

“Actually,” John said with a small smile, “that’s the point. Once I cross the street and enter the restaurant’s vicinity, all of its surveillance systems will lock on to me and none of them will be watching you.”

Mango nodded. “So you want me to do something shady while you're the decoy?”

“Yes.”

“And why do I get the job?”

“Because they’re all watching me,” John said flatly. “You, however, will head to the safe in the back. It contains over $40,000 in cash and several jewels. Just take the jewels because the cash is too heavy.”

A grin stretched across Mango’s face. “Finally! Something that’s actually up my alley. Way better than pick-pocketing some drunk guy in a ballroom! Wait, did you just say 40k?”

“Don’t touch the money!”

“I won’t…”

“I’m being serious!”

“I’m being serious too!” Mango said with a large sly smile.

“Listen,” John said, “we’re only doing this so we can book a private charter flight out of here. I can’t use CIA channels anymore, and I’m not on good terms with my family, either.”

“I get it,” Mango said, waving a hand. “Honestly, I don’t really care. As long as I get to show off my skills. Where’s the entry point and safe?”

John pulled out his phone and quickly sketched a small map on the screen with his finger.

“You’ll enter through the roof. There’s an access door near the ventilation system. It leads down into what looks like an attic behind the kitchen. Beyond that, I don’t have much for you. However, I do know there’s an office at the back of the second floor of the building. Look next to the desk. That’s where the safe is. Looks like some kind of old safe.”

He handed her the sleek hacking device that they'd been using. “You’ll need this.”

She held it up. “Why?”

“You’ll need this to get in through the roof and pinpoint Laz’s current location after he landed in Dublin. Also, in case something happens to me,” John said. “Take the jewels, then follow the coordinates I’ve preloaded in the device. When you get there, ask the man for a flight. Pay with the cash. Give Temujin this.”

Mango raised an eyebrow. “The hacking tool?”

“He doesn’t know you, but he loves tech. His name is Temujin. He’s a good friend, and if anything impresses him, it’s toys like this.”

She smirked. “Fine. But you better not disappear on me.”

“I don’t plan to,” John said, standing up.

“How do I track Laz?” she asked.

“When you plug this device into the safe, it’ll interface with a CIA-linked terminal,” John explained, showing Jade’s invention. He then handed it to her. “You’ll be able to access one of our back-end systems. Just look for any recent spending tied to Laz’s other name ‘Larry McKinley’. Even though he’s rogue, he’s still by-the-book when it comes to money.”

“How do you know that?” Mango asked.

“The CIA hates unexplained funds. Laz has kept his image clean. No gambling, no shady transactions. He can go rogue if it gets the job done, but don’t mess with that money. If he spends anything, even a coffee, it’ll show. That’s our breadcrumb.”

“Okay,” Mango said, tucking the device into her bra. “When do we start?”

“As soon as I cross the street,” John replied, already adjusting his posture and scanning the busy restaurant entrance. A bead of sweat traced down the side of her face. Not from fear, but excitement!

“What’s wrong?” John asked, noticing the shift in her expression.

“Nothing,” Mango replied quickly. “I’ve just never broken into a CIA cover-up site before. Also... I don’t exactly have any tools.”

“Here,” John said.

He handed her his grappling belt and a sidearm. “I wish I had more to give you. When we get to Ireland, I’ve already arranged for a stash to be waiting. But for now... this is it.”

He looked her in the eye. “Just make it through. As long as you succeed, we’ll be fine.”

Mango nodded. “Of course. Let’s get that last bastard! The longer we wait, the farther he gets.”

John gave her one final look and then turned to cross the street.

The FOCUS then spoke in her mind.

<<<>>>

[Mission discovered.]

[Mission: Infiltrate building and retrieve Laz’s location.]

[Mission: Retrieve jewels.]

[Mission: Get John extracted from the building and escape.]

[Reward: Data XP and hopefully get out of this mess.]

[Do you accept?]

<<<>>>

Of course, Mango thought.

<<<>>>

[Acknowledged.]

[Mission: Start!]

Mango quickly threaded the grappling belt through the loops of her slim-fitting jeans. Her top was loose enough to keep the harness concealed. Good thing she wore her sneakers today. Best for creeping on a budget.

She darted to the side of the building, moving low and quickly. She quickly entered the building next to it and got to the roof through the emergency stairs.

Once on the rooftop, she crouched and carefully watched John.

She could see him making his way to the front entrance, calm on the outside, but she knew the gears were grinding under the surface.

He tapped his earpiece. “Can you hear me?” John asked.

Mango touched her ear. “Loud and clear,” she said.

John took a deep breath. She could hear it through the comm. “Please don’t get me killed,” he said, half-joking. “Just do it smoothly. No fireworks.”

“How are you planning to get out?” she asked.

“I’m not really sure, but right now, we don’t have time or better options.”

Mango scanned the restaurant’s rooftop. There was a man up there pretending to do maintenance. At first glance, he looked ordinary, blending in with the workers that handled the building’s utilities. But then he tilted his head, as if listening to something in his ear. His body stiffened.

He stepped to the ledge and peered down, and as soon as he saw John, his face tensed.

Mango saw his lips move, and then he raised his wrist to his mouth and spoke, relaying something through a hidden mic.

“John,” Mango said. “We’ve got a spotter on the roof. He’s moving now. Probably heading inside.”

She shifted her position, scanning her surroundings. The crowd in the street was still thick with tourists and locals, but something had changed.

As soon as John stepped into the open, it was as if gravity shifted. All eyes casually began turning his way. She doubted the CIA would arrest him in public. Too messy. Too many witnesses. But still, they were definitely watching. He was doing a perfect job of pulling the focus.

John reached the restaurant’s entrance. His breathing had grown heavier through the earpiece, but then, suddenly, it stopped. The tension in his tone melted away, replaced by calm composure.

He flipped a switch in his head. He approached the hostess with vibrato. The woman seemed nervous as she approached him.

“Hello,” John said. “My name is John Nero. I have a reservation for two.”

There was a pause.

Then, from the other side of the comm, Mango heard the hostess reply with a shaky voice.

“R-Right this way, Mr. Nero. We’ve been expecting you.”

Mango quickly went to work.

She yanked the grappling belt from her waist and started uncoiling its thin silver wire. She looped the cable around a rusted metal pole on the rooftop. She braced her weight against it to test the hold. It gave a little, but it seemed good.

She tilted the opposite end of the belt, aiming it across the gap toward the CIA safe house entrance hidden inside the restaurant.

She pressed the silver button on the belt’s buckle.

THUNK!

The wire shot out like a steel whip; the anchor embedded itself into the stone wall just above the restaurant’s roof doorway.

Mango took a moment to build some courage and then leapt forward, catching the tight wire mid-swing. Her body bounced slightly as she steadied herself, then she shimmied hand-over-hand on the steel rope bridge.

Most people weren’t paying close attention, but a blonde-haired woman with green eyes hovering over a busy Italian street was bound to turn heads if they looked up. She had to be fast.

Creeeak…

Her eyes darted to the rooftop behind her. She was only halfway across, and the rope bridge was starting to bend.

The pole she’d tied the grappling belt to was starting to bend down. It wasn’t even structural; it was just a flimsy exhaust pipe. Poor craftsmanship — just decorative ventilation.

She sucked her teeth and picked up speed, shimmying as fast as she could.

SNAP!

The anchor gave way.

She plummeted. Instinct took over. One hand caught the wire mid-fall. Her momentum whipped her like a pendulum. BAM! She slammed into the side of the building, shoulder first, her grip still locked onto the belt.

Below her, she heard voices coming from the alley’s entrance.

“What was that?” someone called from the alley.

Shit, Mango thought. Someone’s coming this way.

She could hear their approaching footsteps. She clung to the wire, still dangling beside the wall just feet above the alley below.

A man walked into the narrow passage. He carried a handgun fitted with a silencer. A woman followed close behind, same weapon in hand. Both were dressed in sleek black business attire. A dead giveaway agency look.

“Do you see anything?” the man asked.

“No,” the woman replied. “But I know I heard something.”

They stopped directly beneath her.

Mango tried to press herself tighter against the building. She’d love to escape, but she was stuck for the moment. The old Tuscan roof shingles above her were made of clay. They were loud, loose, and unreliable. If she tried to climb now, one would give way and she would fall. The noise would give her away.

“We should do our due diligence,” the man said.

“Agreed,” the woman replied.

They began searching, overturning trash bins, checking behind old metal dumpsters, sweeping the alley with slow, methodical movements.

Mango’s palms were slick with sweat. Her arms trembled. The wire was thin and short. It started cutting into her fingers.

No, no, no, she thought. I can't fall now.

She felt the wire slipping. She tried to grab it with her other hand, but both palms were moist and raw. She slid lower down. Trying to grip it as hard as she could. She started bleeding from the cut the wire gave her. Now she was hanging just a few feet above the two agents.

“I don’t see anything,” said the woman.

“Neither do I,” the man muttered.

Sweat dripped down Mango’s forehead and rolled across her brow. She used one hand to quickly wipe her face, but in doing so, her grip loosened even more.

CREAK…

The metal anchor point on the opposite wall shifted slightly.

She felt it in the wire and a small tremble in the anchor. It was about to give.

The agents below Mango shrugged and began walking out of the alley.

“I guess it was nothing,” the man said.

SNAP!

The wall that had anchored the grappling hook gave way. Mango dropped like a dead bird, crashing down behind a heap of black trash bags.

SMASH!

Garbage exploded around her in a burst of banana peels, paper, and stale bread.

The agents froze and immediately whipped around.

Oh God, Mango thought, heart pounding. This is it. I’m done. What kind of thief gets caught outside the building before even getting inside?

“Who’s there?!” the male agent shouted.

“Come out with your hands up,” the woman barked.

They both drew their weapons again. Mango didn’t move. She remained perfectly still, body hidden beneath a pile of trash bags. She wasn’t about to expose herself unless she had no other choice. They didn’t have eyes on her, not yet, but they were closing in. She could hear them walking closer.

“Do it. Now,” the woman shouted again.

Their footsteps crunched on broken glass and debris as they crept closer, guns aimed toward where they heard the noise.

Mango reached slowly into her jacket and pulled one of her knives into her palm nice and slow. She couldn’t make a sound. Not yet.

FOCUS, she thought. Activate talent: Knife Shade.

<<<>>>

[FOCUS Activating…]

[Talent: Knife Shade]

<<<>>>

Red outlines marked her targets through the trash. Her knives on her person were then highlighted. She only had two left. Enough for one shot each. They were closing in. Proximity indicators blinked: 2.3 meters… 1.8 meters… 1.2 meters.

She was sweating, her fingers trembling around the knife handle. If these agents were anything like John, she wasn’t sure she could take both in such tight quarters.

Her gun was out of reach because it was wedged under her side. Any attempt to grab it would be too loud. The knife was her only shot.

Please, she thought. Please let the FOCUS system be enough.

<<<>>>

[Knife Shade is already activated.]

[I have locked onto the most vital points.]

[We will have .5 seconds to throw both]

[I will do everything to increase hand-eye coordination.]

<<<>>>

“That’s it,” the female agent announced. “We’re coming over there right now. Behind the garbage bags. Get out here!”

Damn, so they did know where she was.

Mango took a deep breath, every muscle ready to spring.

Meow!

A stray alley cat suddenly burst out of the trash pile with a loud screech, bolting between the agents' legs.

“AHH!” the woman screamed, startled. Her gun fired reflexively.

BANG!

The bullet ripped through the trash bags, slamming into the wall just six inches above Mango’s face.

She froze, breath caught in her chest. That cat almost got her killed. A few inches over and it would’ve been lights out!

The male agent exhaled in frustration as the cat vanished down the alley. “It was just some stupid alley cat,” he said. “No need to get jumpy.”

“You thought it was someone!” the woman snapped as she holstered her weapon.

Both agents turned and briskly exited the alley.

Mango let out the biggest sigh of relief of her life. She was starting to believe there was an angel on her side.

Once she was sure they were gone, she pushed herself out of the trash bags. She was covered in stains, but she was alive.

Looking behind the trash and around the corner, she then noticed that there was a small parking lot. A few parking spots in an alley weren’t revolutionary. The part that made it interesting was the fact that they were beautiful Ferraris. Three in a row. Red, green and blue. With the hacking tool, she could get any car she wanted. Maybe it could be a quick lick for later. Besides, they should always leave in style.

She pointed the grappling belt back toward the rooftop, aimed carefully, and pressed the silver button. The wire whipped upward and latched. She gripped the handle and activated the retraction system.

Her body lifted smoothly into the air. She reached the roof edge, climbed up, and crept toward the door she’d been aiming for all along.

A keypad glowed beside the door. She pulled out the hacking device John had given her and pressed it to the keypad’s panel. It buzzed softly, scanning.

The screen blinked green, and the lock clicked.

Mango raised an eyebrow. Seriously? That’s it?

She’d been expecting to run some serious decryption protocols. Instead, this door had opened as if it were part of a hotel minibar. Sloppy work, gov. Sloppy.

Still, she wasn’t complaining. The faster she moved, the less chance anything else could go wrong. She had to be there long enough for John to distract them, but not long enough for him to get captured. That’s what separates good thieves from great ones.

Timing.

She pulled the door open and slipped inside.