Scouting

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I've done all kinds of stealing gigs in my life. My family, before I ran away from them, had no other means to support themselves. Nothing scared me anymore, and much like a solider, failure wasn't an option. I sometimes thought about them, my mom and dad. The curiosity never stayed long. Fuck them. I hope they rot.

My eyes were glued to the clear dry erase board in front of me and I took an idle drag from the joint between my fingers, my mismatched eyes scanning over the pictures and blueprints hanging from it. One mafia stealing from another. Nothing new, but put me in a position I didn't like being in.

"So what do you think?" The sudden question from Daniel surprised me, and I glanced at him over my shoulder.

"It looks like a fucking castle. There's no doubt security scouring the place. The only real question is, have the Torricelli's modernized it?"

While the blueprints helped for the layout, guard stations and actual rooms where the Russian painting was located in was a whole other problem. Dimitri did his part, supplying what information was needed and Daniel managed to pull the rest.

This was going to be a pain in my ass.

"I couldn't find anything on camera installations and security systems, but that doesn't mean they aren't there."

I smirked and plopped down in one of the chairs, taking a final drag from the tightly rolled marijuana cigarette and gently snuffed it out.

"You wouldn't. They aren't stupid enough to have a paper trail of that. It can be used against them for something like this or worse."

Daniel sat across from me, placing a manila folder on the table and slid it over the table. Opening it, I looked at the snapshots of the the important figures in the Torricelli family. The previous Don Torricelli's picture was first, and I flipped it over, already knowing that the man was killed years prior by a rival mafia. Flipping the picture over, I came face to face with the current head of the family, Massimo Torricelli. If he wasn't a mark, I'd probably take more time to appreciate how attractive he was, but I flipped his picture to show his two closest associates. Mario, his right hand man and Domenico who filled in when Mario was preoccupied.

"Massimo is holding a party at his villa tonight, in celebration of his family remaining in power for over 40 years."

I pursed my lips and smirked, closing the folder to look at Daniel. "That's my way in to scout. I'll bring your frequency reader and we can figure out how many cameras he has and their location."

Daniel shook his head, adjusting his glasses on his face. "But you don't have an invitation."

Standing from my seat, I waved a hand and started to walk away, preparing for my sudden evening plans.

"Leave that to me. Just get everything ready."

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To say that the Torricelli's did anything half assed would be a lie. People lined up to get into the lavished party held inside his villa. I observed everything around me as if half interested in what was going on, yet my eyes took in everything. I blended in well enough, the Galia Lahav 'MoonStruck' dress clinging to my body with it's black layers of lace and silk, showing just enough skin. I wasn't inside yet, but with one little stumble of my feet, I would be.

Walking closer to an older gentleman, I stumbled forward into him, gasping loudly and dropping the small clutch in my hand. He caught me by my arms and helped me steady myself on my feet. I smiled up at him, bending down to collect my purse and his invitation, picking up the empty white one I held and handed it to him.

"Mi dispiace" (I'm sorry)

He smiled and shook his head, "Va tutto bene" (It's alright)

I brushed my hands over the shoulders of his black tux jacket and straightened it out, moving to his left to walk towards the two men who were checking invitations at the door. Holding it out to them, my contact covered eyes met theirs and they motioned me inside, keeping the invitation. I didn't need it anymore.  Collecting a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, I walked deeper into the villa.

It truly was a beautiful home and I briefly admired it for it's elegance, but didn't linger too long. It was time to work.

"Are you with me, Jones?" I spoke quietly, hiding my lips behind my glass as I took a sip.

"Aren't I always? The receiver's picking up quite a bit of frequency. That place is littered with cameras."

"Mm," I made the noise in my throat, continuing on a leisurely stroll. "not surprising, honestly. I need to find that painting and mark it."

I weaved in and out of the people that surrounded me and continued on my journey, noting the big men who stood guard at certain windows and doors. I had yet to see anyone from our intel, and I walked down a long hallway, glancing briefly over my shoulder. No one was following me that I could tell and strolled deeper until I came to a few rooms.

"There's three cameras in that hallway. All angles are covered pretty well.

I let out a loud sigh, my feet moving me further away from the crowd of people behind me and stopped dead in my tracks. Could it really be that easy? My head canted to the side and I slowly stepped forward into the open room towards the painting that would soon be in my possession. Portrait of an Unknown Woman by Ivan Kramskoi. She was beautiful, the pictures Dimitri provided doing nothing to serve her justice. One could equate it to Mona Lisa.

It was so well preserved and from afar one could take it for a photograph of a woman, rather than an oil painting. I suppose it was such in it's own right. She seemed so at peace where she was at, and part of me hated to disturb her.

"Mina someone's coming." Daniel sounded panicked in my ear piece.

Instead of turning and leaving, I remained in my spot, sipping at the champagne, gazing at the painting in front of me. Soon the sound of heavy footsteps appeared behind me but slowed the closer they came.  

"Posso aiutarti in qualche modo?" (Can I help you with something?) A deep voice spoke to me in perfect Italian.

Mine was rusty, the only thing I could really make out was help. I turned around suddenly, acting as if I was surprised, bringing my hand that held onto my clutch to my chest and let out a quiet laugh.

"You scared me." I shook my head, letting my hand fall back down to my side. "Do you speak English by any chance? I'm lost and looking for the bathroom."

The man stepped closer and I realized that I was face to face with Massimo Torricelli himself. He just stood there... looking at me with his hands in his pockets. Before he could respond, I let out a disappointing noise.

"You don't..." I trailed off, twisting my lips to the side. "Uh... ban, no. Bagno?"

He didn't respond and for a brief moment I thought he saw through me. There was something in his eyes that I couldn't quite place. Nodding softly, he stepped closer to me, and it was then that I noticed the man behind him, Domenico. 

"You like the painting?" Came the question from Massimo, his deep voice laced with his accent.

I glanced over my shoulder and observed the painting once more, smiling. "Of course. She's beautiful. It's hard not to appreciate it."

His head tilted to the side, giving me a quick look over. "I don't believe we've met."

My smile widened and I shook my head, taking another drink from the flute in my hand. "No, we haven't. I came with a friend though, someone who knows you."

"Oh?" He questioned, shrugging a shoulder. "Who?"

I tried to think quickly, and opened my mouth to blurt out a random name I had seen in the file, someone who would no doubt be at that party. I never got the chance, because strolling up behind Massimo, looking quite pleased of himself was Dimitri.

"She came with me."

What. The. Fuck.

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