Chapter 14: THE HALLOWEEN HEIST — PART 1
The medal gleamed under the bullpen lights.
Five o'clock sharp. October 31st. Captain Raymond Holt stood before the assembled squad, his Medal of Valor positioned in a glass display case where everyone could see it.
"The rules are simple," Holt announced. "The medal must be stolen from its current location and held by the winner at midnight. Any tactics are permissible, excluding those that would damage precinct property or endanger civilian safety." He paused. "May the best man win, Peralta."
Jake's grin could have powered the entire building. "Oh, Captain. You have no idea what's coming."
"I suspect I do."
They shook hands—two warriors before a duel—and the heist officially began.
I sipped my coffee and observed.
"And so it starts, Host. Seven hours until midnight. Jake makes the first move in approximately ninety minutes, based on your intel. Use the time wisely."
[6:30 PM — Jake's First Strike]
The fire alarm screamed through the building.
Jake had clearly bribed someone in maintenance, because the system was definitely malfunctioning rather than responding to actual fire. The bullpen emptied as protocol demanded—everyone filing toward the exits, muttering about Jake's tactics.
I moved with the crowd, maintaining my cover as a disinterested observer, while tracking key players.
Jake broke from the group almost immediately, doubling back toward the building. His plan was obvious: evacuate the precinct, grab the medal while Holt was outside, claim victory before anyone knew what happened.
Except—
I reached the parking lot and spotted Holt. He wasn't panicking. He wasn't even looking toward the building. He was standing calmly beside his car, hands clasped behind his back, watching Jake disappear through the emergency exit with something like satisfaction.
The medal case was empty.
I couldn't see it from here, but I knew. Holt had anticipated the fire alarm gambit. He'd moved the medal before Jake's bribe even paid off.
"First blood to the captain. Jake walked right into it."
Jake emerged from the building three minutes later, face cycling through confusion, realization, and outrage.
"YOU MOVED IT!" He pointed accusingly at Holt across the parking lot.
"I anticipated your tactic, Peralta. The medal is now in a secondary location."
"That's cheating!"
"That's strategy."
Jake's eye twitched. "This isn't over."
"I never said it was."
The fire alarm finally stopped. Everyone filed back inside, the evening's entertainment just beginning.
[7:15 PM — Intelligence Update]
I found a quiet corner near the evidence room and texted Amy.
"Medal location?"
Her response came in twelve seconds: "Holt's office. Desk drawer, middle section, false bottom engaged."
I'd suspected as much. The secondary location she'd reported in our prep sessions. Holt was playing it safe, keeping the medal close where he could monitor it.
That worked in my favor. I knew the office layout. I knew the false bottom mechanism—Amy had described it during our briefings. I knew exactly where to strike when the time came.
"The general has his position confirmed. Now we wait for the soldiers to exhaust themselves."
"Patience, Host. Let them burn each other out."
I returned to the bullpen, where chaos was already building. Jake had recruited Charles for what appeared to be a "reconnaissance mission" involving the ventilation system. Amy was hovering near Holt's office, pretending to organize files while actually monitoring every movement inside.
Terry had declared himself Switzerland and was stress-eating Halloween candy at his desk.
Rosa sat in her usual spot, watching everything, saying nothing.
Our eyes met briefly. She raised an eyebrow.
I shrugged.
She almost smiled.
[7:45 PM — The Candy Corn Debate]
The heist paused for philosophical warfare.
"Candy corn is NOT real food!" Jake shouted, gesturing at Terry's desk. "It's decorative wax! It's what aliens think Earth candy tastes like!"
"Candy corn is a Halloween TRADITION," Terry countered, defensive. "Terry's twins love candy corn. Terry will not hear this slander."
"It's not slander if it's TRUE."
Charles inserted himself into the argument with unexpected passion. "Actually, candy corn has a fascinating history dating back to the 1880s, when it was marketed as 'chicken feed' and—"
"Nobody asked, Charles!"
Rosa's contribution was characteristically brief: "It's wax and sugar. Both of you are right. Both of you are stupid."
The debate continued for two full minutes while Holt remained in his office and Jake apparently forgot he was supposed to be heisting.
"Tactical error from the chaos agent. He's getting distracted by his own chaos."
I used the distraction to slip away, timing the bullpen's sight lines, confirming my extraction route for later. The hallway between the evidence room and Holt's office had a three-second camera gap near the water fountain. The door to Holt's office made noise when opened but not when closed.
Details. Details would win this.
[8:00 PM — Charles Tested]
Jake pulled Charles aside near the break room.
I watched from my desk, pretending to review case files, while actually tracking every word through Anomaly Detection. The Tier 2 upgrade let me read lips if I focused hard enough—not perfectly, but enough to catch the gist.
"Charles. Secret mission. You're my ace in the hole."
Charles's face went through seventeen emotions in three seconds. Pride. Fear. Excitement. Guilt. More pride.
"Anything, Jake. I'm your man. Your cheese. Your loyal fromage."
"I need you to distract Holt at exactly 9:30. Can you do that?"
Charles hesitated.
His eyes flicked toward my desk—so brief Jake wouldn't notice, but I caught it.
I gave a tiny shake of my head.
Charles looked back at Jake. "Absolutely. 9:30. Distraction. Got it."
He was still loyal. For now.
"Your mole holds. But the pressure is building. Charles isn't built for double-cross."
I'd have to move before his conscience broke.
[8:15 PM — Status Check]
The bullpen had settled into a tense equilibrium.
Jake was huddled with Hitchcock and Scully—God knew what tactical advantage he thought they offered. Holt remained in his office, occasionally visible through the window, radiating calm confidence.
Amy caught my eye from across the room. A slight nod. Everything proceeding according to plan.
Charles was sweating visibly but maintaining his cover near Jake's desk.
I checked my mental stamina. 98/110. Conserving energy for the push later.
"Three and a half hours until midnight, Host. You're right on schedule."
The medal sat in Holt's desk drawer, protected by a man who'd spent decades outthinking criminals. Across the bullpen, Jake was preparing his next gambit, confident that chaos would triumph over order.
Neither of them knew the third player was about to enter the game.
[8:45 PM — Final Position]
I made my way to the supply closet—the one Terry had given me a key to during my first week. Nobody questioned why I needed office supplies at this hour.
Inside, I found a quiet moment to breathe.
The key from previously. The closet I'd never needed until now. Everything connecting, everything paying off.
"Chekhov's key, Host. Nice callback."
I texted both team members simultaneously: "Phase 2 begins in one hour. Stand by."
Amy: "Ready."
Charles: "Oh god okay yes ready."
One hour.
Then everything changed.
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