After the group finished reviewing every surveillance clip…
Charlie and the others fell silent.
"We lost fair and square. Someone had us in their sights over twenty days ago."
"And this time, none of us realized it."
Only after a long silence did the most carefree of them, Playboy Rob, speak up.
Charlie's cheek twitched, but no words came out.
He'd always prided himself on being cautious and meticulous—yet this blunder was massive.
"It's on me."
"I got sloppy."
After another stretch of quiet, Charlie finally apologized to his partners.
He knew that while friendship had grown among them,
the only thing that had brought them together was profit.
The day Charlie stopped delivering gains,
their bond would fade until they no longer contacted one another.
So Charlie shouldered the failure without argument
and started calculating whether they could still snatch the gold back.
Playboy Rob was closest to Charlie,
so he was first to speak up.
"Charlie, we all know this isn't your fault."
"We just let hatred cloud our judgment after we spotted Steve."
With one sentence he sealed the blame shut.
Lyle and Left Ear didn't press the issue.
They hadn't been as tight with Old John—killed by Steve a year ago—as Charlie had been,
but they'd known him for years and counted him a friend.
If Charlie had slipped because of him, it was understandable.
Everyone in the crew knew Old John had been mentor and father figure to Charlie.
Otherwise Old John wouldn't have delayed retirement,
having already promised his daughter he'd quit the game,
just because Charlie asked.
That delay cost him his life.
Charlie must hate Steve to the bone.
Clap-clap.
Lyle and Left Ear each laid a hand on Charlie's shoulder.
No one said a word; the matter was closed.
"Thanks."
The trust lifted Charlie's spirits.
Seeing noon approaching, he knew time to rescue Slater was running short.
He pulled himself together.
He turned first to Lyle. "Can you ID the guy tailing us?"
"No can do."
Lyle shrugged; he was a hacker, not God.
"The security company's cams are low-res, and our shadow came prepared."
"You saw it—he keeps changing clothes and never shows his face."
"I'd have to hijack Los Angeles' entire traffic system and pull every intersection feed before it's auto-deleted."
"Even then it'd take ages to filter out who he is."
Lyle could break into the city network, sure.
But to cut costs,
L.A. traffic footage was dumped after seven days max,
sometimes after only three when budgets got tight.
Identifying the guy was next to impossible.
Charlie shelved the idea of finding the mastermind who might have stolen the gold.
He looked at Rob. "How's the prep coming?"
"Nearly a ton of stuff—even fake—takes time. I'm picking it up before two."
Rob knew Charlie meant the fake gold bricks.
Charlie nodded, then turned to Left Ear. "We need explosives for safety."
"Tough."
Left Ear shook his head. "This is Los Angeles. My contacts need days."
Charlie gritted his teeth. "I'll source the powder; you handle the rest."
"Deal."
He glanced at Lyle, who shrank.
Top hacker or not, Lyle was a shut-in.
Usually he just ran tech support from the rear.
Charlie caught himself and sighed. "Lyle, you're on the cams around Steve's villa."
"No problem!"
Lyle exhaled in relief when he realized he wasn't being asked to go along.
He immediately offered, "I can hack and take control of Los Angeles's traffic system; it'll help when you guys make your getaway."
"Great!"
Charlie hadn't given up yet; after a moment he added, "Try enhancing the surveillance footage, see if you can sharpen the image enough to make out the guy's face."
Lyle's mouth twitched, but in the end he nodded. "I'll give it a shot."
"Thanks for the trouble."
After assigning tasks to everyone, Charlie left his Los Angeles apartment.
As the team leader, his workload was far heavier than the others'.
Charlie needed to contact the black market to buy gunpowder and secure some weapons for protection.
On the way, he'd also check whether Steve had any enemies.
He'd see if he could borrow the strength of another faction to take Steve down… And so the day flew by in a flurry of activity.
Outside Steve's villa, Hunter stowed the binoculars into his private space.
He'd already seen that the pitons he'd hammered into the cliff behind the villa hadn't been removed.
But several surveillance cameras had been installed along the cliff—clearly it was now a trap.
Hidden carefully in a large tree, Hunter waited for nightfall.
He'd finished scouting and could now be certain: Steve's villa was under heavy, airtight guard.
Leaving aside the eight-man security squad the estate's own company had added to patrol the area,
just the vehicles Hunter could glimpse inside the villa grounds
told him there were at least ten people inside.
They were bodyguards armed to the teeth, willing to use submachine guns and AKs—far tougher than the Security Personnel who carried only a small pistol.
So sneaking back into Steve's villa
to rescue Slater—who had almost certainly been captured—would be no ordinary challenge.
He needed to wait for the cover of night.
Best of all would be a little extra help.
"I hope Charlie and the others have realized Slater's been taken and move tonight," he muttered.
With that thought, Hunter leaned back against the tree, watching and waiting patiently… ps: new book out; please also check out my older title supernatural: i have a small world.
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