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The old door creaked open as a gloved hand came into sight. The figure was clad in black, and was a master thief, by the nickname of Gouf. At least, that’s what he was known as to those who made a living out of stealing famous paintings and jewels. He’d been able to enter the mansion surprisingly easily; without any alarms. Gouf found that odd, since the information said that the mansion was housing some of the most valuable paintings, including a rare Rembrandt landscape painting that had been stolen back in 1972.

He grew suspicious as he discovered that the mansion was almost abandoned with the exception of a guard by the front door. Nevertheless he surged on; his source was completely reliable and had helped him collect many valuable items. Looking around the study, he started to look for the safe that he was told, would be hidden by a false bookshelf. Pressing the wood, he tapped lightly on each shelf. On the seventh one, he heard the rewarding sound of a click. Ah, he thought, as the shelf gave away to a steel safe which could be opened by an 8-digit number code. He entered the code his source gave him -11121940 and waited for the light to flash a sweet green.

It didn’t. At first Gouf was not worried. Perhaps he had entered the wrong code because of his anticipation. It was not a good excuse but given the fact that he would be rewarded with the once thought lost Rembrandt piece, and maybe more valuable pieces, it was well worth it. He tried the code again.

Gouf was busy trying to make sure that he entered the code correctly and he didn’t notice two figures slowly approach him from behind. One carried a gun with a silencer, while the other probably didn’t need one given his large built and the muscles that bulged beneath the dark sweater he wore. Gouf vainly tried for the third time to input the number -11121940. And during those few seconds, Gouf, an infamous thief who was well connected and well known in the underworld as well as CIA databases, was shot in the shoulder.

The two figures still standing were efficient. The bulkier one quickly got a medical kit and got to work on Gouf’s shoulder. The other got cleaning supplies that was conveniently resting by the door and began to sanitize the entire study. Both were done in half an hour. As the bulky figure picked up Gouf gently, another taller figure walked into the room.

The figure was known to the other two figures by the name of Quin. They quickly bowed their heads; a sign of respect but also of fear.

“Êtes-vous fait?” Are you done?

“Oui.”

“Déplacer. Nous perdons du temps.” Move. We’re wasting time.

With that, Quin, the bulky figure carrying the body and the slight figure holding the gun hopped into the helicopter that was waiting in the huge yard of the mansion and disappeared into the night.


The guard at the front gate glanced up as the helicopter passed by. He made his way towards the study and made sure everything was in its proper place. He took the cleaning supplies downstairs to the underground lab where it would be washed many, many times until it was approved by the people down there that the supplies were clean. The guard thought it was too much trouble to go through; why not just burn the things. Shaking his head, he left the thinking to the people downstairs and returned to his post by the front door. Sitting down, he opened a copy of New York Times, and began reading. The obituary for Mr. William Gray at the end meant nothing to the oblivious guard of the mansion.