28, Stench
“You smell worse than a rotting elk carcass on the side of an Arizona highway in summer.” Special agent Miller was dressed as a homeless man and hadn’t showered for days.
“I swear you’ve said that to me before.” Master Thief Owens knew he stunk but he didn’t care. “A few years back when we were undercover in that crooked landfill operation outside of Budapest, I swear you told me I smell like a decaying carcass.”
“Sounds like something I’d say,” Miller contemplated, “and possibly repeat, yeah, ok. Seriously, you stunk then too,” Miller joked, but then added, “but for real, the way you got those pass codes from those interns was epic.” Miller gagged a little from the stench but was fine a moment later.
“Thanks for the props on that, for real. That was a tough one, and I don’t usually struggle. Oh, and hey, I hope you don’t have a gag reflex when you’re with your girlfriend.”
Miller stepped back several feet and grinned as the fresh air eased his queazy guts. “No problems there, thank heavens.” He smelled his own pits and turned away from the offensiveness. “I can’t wait to shower with her tomorrow,” he giggled, then added, “to conserve water, of course.”
“Of course.” Master thief Owens could tell it was almost noon by looking at the sky and said, “We’ve effectively gotten more recon done in two weeks than Murloony’s fancy new spy satellites could get in half a year.”
Both men had been pretending to be homeless Russians who were living out of a refrigerator delivery cardboard box. They looked the part, completely unshaven and in layers of tattered Soviet era clothing. They’d used state of the art equipment to survey their target, and they had all the intel they needed to steal the diamond.
Both men agreed without talking that it was time to dial the boss. Owens pulled out his cell phone and connected with CIA director Mulroony. The men said their typical military hellos and Owens got straight to the point.
“Check this out.” Owens hit a button on his screen that minimized his face and maximized some video footage. On the screen, a guard in camo fatigues brandished an automatic rifle as he walked through the gate of a downtown St. Petersburg Soviet era office building. Owens explained the video. “I’ve slipped two dozen remote broadcasting video cameras on the guards this past week and I have enough footage of the interior of the whole property to know exactly where I need to hide and when.”
Owens tapped a few more buttons and some documents popped up. “I’ve submitted the proper paper work with the accompanying intel to General Rice for approval. Also, she reviewed the footage too cuz I’m sure I missed something. She speaks Russian much better than I do.”
“Rice speaks Russian?” Mulroony asked with confusion.
“She and Von Stryker went on a weekend bachelorette party over there in college with one of their friends ten years ago. Rice stayed six months. Von Stryker never came back.”
“No shit?” Mulroony muttered.
“We’re actually supposed to meet up with Von Stryker after this mission for a drinking vacation, boss.” Owens shrugged, as if he had no choice in the matter.
Mulroony looked annoyed but approvingly said, “tell Ginny hi for me when she’s finished her fourth G’n’T.”
“Roger,” joked Owens. He got back to the intel. “Miller and I have both ascertained that obtaining this jewel will be as easy as stealing a drunk Irishman’s wallet at a Flogging Molly concert.”
Miller was mildly worried as he muttered, “Let’s just hope that Irishman’s wallet doesn’t have a chain on it.”
Owens shook his head. “These mob guys are way too relaxed on security. They think that their reputation protects them, and that’s their weakness. Pure amateur.”
Mulroony asked, “what kind of fire power are we looking at?”
Miller’s face popped onto Owens phone and he laid out the intel. “They’re all packing heat, but that’s it. They’re cocky. They don’t think anyone will steal from them. They’ve got no cameras and my infrared footage of the interior shows no trip lasers or motion detectors. Shit, they don’t even have a dog.”
Mulroony had moved into an office position early in his military career, but for a short while he was an engineer who doubled as a field agent. His problem solving brain kicked on. “Have you considered the old ‘Construction worker accidentally cut a buried line with backhoe’ routine? We could cut the electricity to the whole block.”
Owens shrugged. “That won’t be necessary for my role. Getting in and snagging the rock will be easy. Getting it and myself out in one piece might be a different tune.”
They filled Mulroony in on the two other agents on this mission, both of whom were excellent snipers. Mikayla Doniak, affectionately known as Mickey, had been their life line for the past two weeks. She walked by innocently twice a day, secretly dropping off letters and supplies to the two homeless agents. The locals never saw a thing. The other agent was Laura Lorenz, who also happened to be agent Miller’s girlfriend. She had hacked into the mafia mansion’s router and had access to everyone’s devices who used that wifi network.
Mulroony heard out their plan and approved it, then ended the call with the usual goodbyes. Both agents were already concentrating on the day ahead.
“I’ll be glad your lady has that south entrance covered,” Owens said as he started to shed some of the layers of crappy clothing. “If something goes amiss, that’s the most likely exit for me.”
Miller added reassuringly, “I’ll be covering the west entrance while Mickey has her rifle pointed our way from the roof over there. You just gotta get out of that building. We’ll finish any bad guys that might be chasing you.”
Owens nodded appreciatively and said, “I’m gonna burn these clothes in an alley and then piss on their ashes. I have to use scentless soap today, but tomorrow when we have the diamond, I’ll be taking the longest bubble bath in the history of civilization. These two weeks of recon have stunk for me, pun intended.”
The next day, Owens was dressed in a dark grey ninja suit but with no head covering. He’d snuck into the building with ease. He danced around guards like he was a ballerina ghost. Within a minute of being inside, he’d slipped in and out of the basement office of the mob boss.
The master thief had a baseball sized diamond in a padded pouch attached to his belt on the middle of his back. He slid into a broom closet and waited as Russian mob guys walked down the hallway and into an office. Owens then slipped up the stairs as silently as a breeze. He hid behind a stand alone closet as another mob guy walked by.
For fun, Owens picked the guys’ pocket as he passed. He flipped through it and saw nothing of value or interest, so he tip toed behind the man and put it back into his rear pocket as gently as a feather touches ones skin. As Owens pulled away, he decided to have a little more fun. The stranger felt the slightest pressure on his rear pocket, as if someone might be trying to steal his wallet. The man stopped in his tracks and quickly turned around, but in that few seconds he saw nothing but an empty hallway behind him. He looked down to see his wallet on the floor, but there was no one around and there was no way anyone could have done this due to the enormous length and width of the empty hallway. He pocketed his wallet and resumed his pace.
Owens slipped out from behind a curtain that shouldn’t have been able to hide him, but somehow he had contorted his body in a way to make it blend in perfectly with the hallway decor. Out of nowhere he heard an old school land line telephone ring behind a closed door. The male voice that answered inside the closed room quickly became agitated and slammed the phone back onto the receiver.
“Now, the fun begins,” muttered Owens into his wrist watch communicator. Even though the wall was made of perfectly flat painted sheet rock, he shimmied up fifteen feet to the ceiling like he was Spiderman. He slipped a vent cover off an air duct intake and slipped in completely silently while reattaching the air duct cover back without sound.
Shouting could be heard as men were running through hallways with hand guns drawn. As he hid, Owens casually muttered into his wrist watch, “hey, do the grocery stores in St. Petersburg have Stella Artois?”
The voice of special agent Lorenz answered in his ear piece, “um, are you ok in there? I’m looking through my spotter scope and there’s a lot of action right now inside that building.”
Owens answered, “oh, yeah, I’m not worried, I just want a beer later.” Owens heard Lorenz grunt impatiently at him so he added, “oh yeah, sorry! No, I’m fine. I’m in an air vent, and the guards are all accusing each other of being the thief. They don’t suspect anyone from the outside could’ve taken it. Idiots.”
Lorenz chuckled as she answered, “just get the fuck out of there and we’ll get piss drunk later.”
“You’re on, sister.” A few minutes passed and Owens slipped out of the air duct intake. He oozed into a doorway as a few guards came running down the hallway. Owens whispered into his wrist watch communicator, “hey Miller, Lorenz, do you two ever play Mario cart? I’ve got my old Nintendo system in a box at the safe house.”
“Yeah,” replied Miller. “My favorite racer is Yoshi.”
“Mine is princess,” added Lorenz.
“Damn, I love racing as the princess,” added Owens. He slipped behind a door as two guards ran by. Owens magically stole a few things from them.
Several feet away, one of the guards yelled something in Russian to the other one and turned around to see Owens staring at him, arms folded like he was in line at the DMV. Both guards raised their hand guns and pulled the trigger, but the guns didn’t fire. Owens hadn’t flinched. He grinned as he reached in his pocket, then tossed their bullet magazines behind them a few feet.
The guards were confused but quickly went for their magazines, loaded them and turned to fire. In that blink of an eye, Owens disappeared like the fog on a sunny morning. Now the guards were aware that there was a thief in the building. The game of hide and seek was on.
Around the corner, Owens chatted with his wristwatch. “Ok, I’ll quit fucking around. I’m leaving through the southeast entrance. Lorenz, you still got that one covered?”
Special agent Lorenz sounded impatient as she said, “yes, now get the fuck out of there so we can go drink beer and play Mario cart. You’ve made me thirsty and you’re pissing me off by taking forever.” She got cranky with a southern accent. “Get chyer ass in gear, chubs!”
Owens speedily tip toed down a hallway as the sound of shouting from a half dozen men could be heard. He turned around and heard more footsteps coming from the hallways around the corner. “Trapped,” he muttered to himself, grinning ear to ear.
He ran towards the door to the outside and tried it, but it was locked. He quickly opened a door to an office across the hallway and spun into the room. He saw a woman dressed in a Russian military uniform calmly sitting behind a desk. She had her sandy blond hair pulled back behind her ears and a Russian military Markarov pistol in her hands. This woman was a killer.
She grinned at Owens like a cat about to pounce on a mouse, lifted her gun and pointed it at him, then said in perfect English, “so much for sneaking out of here quietly, dumbass.”
Owens grinned. “Well dammit boss, you had me dead to rights!” Von Stryker lowered her gun and gave her friend a grin. “I needed that. My last several jobs have been too boring. I wanted some excitement.” He shrugged. “Obviously you needed some action too?”
“I have three different ways to sneak into this mansion. I thought about stealing that diamond myself, but then I heard that McVandalay had dressed up like a woman that night on their failed heist, so I knew they’d call you to bail them out.”
“Rumor has it, McVandalay can become a pretty hot chick.”
Von Stryker hit a button on the desk. “They should’ve called you first for that mission anyways. Even McVandalay said it. I would’ve gladly supported it.” The outside door made a clicking sound as it unlocked.
Owens didn’t ask how Von Stryker knew there was an unlock button at that desk, but instead he shrugged and said, “I’m not insulted that they didn’t call me ‘til now, I just like helping the team whenever they need me. By the way, I’m buying at the bar tomorrow. I owe Lorenz at least a few rounds for how long I’m making her wait right now.”
“Damn right you’re buying at the bar tomorrow. Should I arrange a gin tasting?”
Owens giggled as he said goodbye. “Miller and Lorenz will be there, and Mickey will be with us. Sarge is in the country but she’s still out on her walkabout, looking for the love of her life.”
“Ah, I heard about this. The bare knuckles guy who beat her.”
“Yeah, it’s weird, but she’s really happy and none of us have ever known Sarge to be a happy person. We all support it. As for Porter, she of course ran off with some Russian airplane mechanic within minutes of us getting here a few weeks ago, so I doubt she’ll be at the bar with us.”
Von Stryker laughed openly as Owens headed towards the door. “That woman goes through men like I go through limes.”
“Oh yeah! Mulroony told me to tell Ginny hello after you’ve had a few gin and tonics.” He paused at the door. “Oh, hey, I let two guards see me intentionally, but I stole their hand guns, removed their bullets, then put their hand guns back in their holsters.” He grinned at his friend. “This was a fun job.”
“Jesus, Owens! Thanks for letting me know they’re on the lookout for you. Now get the fuck out of here already!” Von Stryker winked at him, then disappeared through a door on the opposite side of the room.
With that, Owens made like Elvis and exited the building.
In the distance, Mickey, Miller and Lorenz were headed to the safe house and talking about racing each other in Mario Cart while a very pissed off Russian mob boss looked at a single chive where his stolen baseball diamond used to be.
