The Scapegoat Charlie, Contacting Mia
"Show it to me right now!"
Steve aggressively pushed past the minor leaders and practically snatched the portable tactical computer directly from the technical subordinate's hands.
His bloodshot eyes locked intensely onto the glowing screen.
The video footage was a bit grainy, captured by a hidden municipal traffic camera located a few miles down the winding mountain road leading away from his luxury villa.
The timestamp showed it was recorded exactly three days ago in the late afternoon.
On the screen, a completely unremarkable, generic cable repair van drove slowly past the camera.
But the technical subordinate had expertly paused the footage and applied a high-end digital enhancement filter to clearly illuminate the driver's side window.
Through the slightly lowered glass, a charismatic, highly familiar face was perfectly captured looking up toward the general direction of Steve's fortified estate.
It was Charlie Croker!
"Charlie!"
Steve hissed the name through violently gritted teeth, his chest heaving with a mixture of blinding rage and a twisted, paranoid validation.
"I absolutely knew it was you!"
"You arrogant, relentless bastard!"
The massive, crushing weight of uncertainty finally lifted from Steve's paranoid mind, instantly replaced by pure, murderous clarity.
He was now one hundred percent certain that Charlie Croker and his elite, surviving crew had miraculously orchestrated the impossible heist last night.
Only a highly specialized, world-class team of master thieves led by a brilliant mastermind exactly like Charlie could flawlessly bypass his military-grade security.
Only they could physically manage to silently transport two massive, multi-ton Worthington safes right out of his secure basement without leaving a single trace.
The lone motorcycle rider fleeing aggressively down the mountain road last night was undeniably Handsome Rob, expertly acting as a high-speed decoy to aggressively draw Steve and his armed guards away.
While Steve was completely distracted by the violent chase, Charlie and the rest of his heavy crew must have utilized a specialized heavy-duty transport vehicle to spirit the gold away.
"Listen to me, all of you!"
Steve roared aggressively, throwing the laptop onto a nearby leather couch and turning to his heavily armed men.
"The people who violently robbed my safes are a highly organized team of professional thieves led by a man named Charlie Croker."
"They are currently hiding somewhere right here in Los Angeles."
"I absolutely want every single one of you out on the streets."
"Use your underworld contacts, bribe informants, check the illegal chop shops, and search the high-end hotels."
"Find Charlie Croker!"
"The absolute second you locate his hideout, do not engage. Call me immediately. I will personally put a bullet right through his skull!"
His heavily armed subordinates immediately nodded and rushed aggressively out of the tactical room to execute his violent orders.
Meanwhile, entirely unaware that he had just flawlessly shifted a massive, lethal manhunt onto Charlie's shoulders, Arthur woke up from a deep, dreamless sleep.
He slowly opened his dark eyes, feeling incredibly refreshed and completely full of explosive, supernatural energy.
The intense, burning exhaustion from staying awake for over forty grueling hours and flawlessly executing a high-stakes heist had completely vanished.
He sat up in his warm bed and stretched his muscular arms, his joints popping with a highly satisfying, crisp sound.
Glancing at the clock on his nightstand, he saw it was already late evening.
Arthur got out of bed, walked straight into the cramped kitchen, and aggressively cooked himself a massive, high-protein meal to replenish his raw physical calories.
While eating the hot food, his highly intelligent mind naturally drifted back to the two massive Worthington 1000 safes currently sitting securely in his invisible private space.
He possessed nearly a metric ton of pure gold bricks, but they were entirely locked behind twelve centimeters of top-grade Carbon-Titanium Alloy.
His Lv2[Lockpicking] skill was absolutely, hopelessly inadequate against such a military-grade mechanical behemoth.
If he foolishly tried to cut the heavy safes open with an industrial blowtorch, the intense, prolonged heat could highly likely trigger the internal security lockdown mechanisms, permanently sealing the vaults into useless blocks of solid metal.
He absolutely needed world-class, professional help.
He needed Stella Bridger.
"I already possess the exact commercial address for her Bridger Locksmith Company," Arthur muttered silently to himself.
"Tomorrow morning, I will walk straight into her high-end lobby and flawlessly apply for a technical job."
"With my current, superhuman learning speed and existing foundational skills, getting hired shouldn't be entirely impossible."
Once he successfully got close to the stunning blonde expert, he could organically learn her highly advanced, sensitive techniques and eventually figure out exactly how to crack the Worthington 1000.
Having firmly set his tactical plan for the next day, Arthur cleaned his plates and walked into his living room.
He casually reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his secure burner phone.
He hadn't checked the device since he went to sleep early this morning.
Pressing the power button, the bright screen immediately lit up, showing two missed calls and a highly encrypted text message.
They were all from Mia Toretto.
Arthur's handsome face instantly turned serious.
Ever since he had securely provided Dom with the damning photographic evidence proving Brian O'Conner was an active undercover FBI agent, Arthur had deliberately kept his distance from the Toretto family.
He had explicitly told Mia his new, secure email address and phone number, but she hadn't reached out until today.
He immediately dialed her secure number back, his enhanced hearing picking up the faint ringing tone.
After a few tense seconds, the line clicked open.
"Arthur?"
Mia's soft, beautiful voice came through the speaker, sounding incredibly anxious and deeply exhausted.
"It's me, Mia," Arthur replied smoothly, his tone low and comforting. "Are you absolutely okay? You sound terrified."
"Arthur, things have gone completely, terribly wrong."
Mia's voice trembled slightly, clearly fighting back suppressed tears.
"Dom and the crew, they completely ignored the violent warning."
Arthur's thick brow furrowed instantly.
His highly intelligent mind rapidly processed the dangerous information.
Even after seeing the undeniable, hard photographic proof of Brian entering the heavily fortified FBI Field Office, the greedy, adrenaline-addicted crew had still recklessly decided to pull another high-speed highway heist.
"What exactly happened, Mia? Tell me everything."
"They went out to the desert highways yesterday," Mia explained, her words rushing out in a panicked blur.
"They aggressively targeted another heavy transport truck."
"But the truck driver was heavily armed this time. He fought back violently with a shotgun."
"Vince was terribly shot. He is critically injured and bleeding out."
"And the Los Angeles police and the federal FBI heavily swarmed the entire area. They were absolutely waiting in the shadows for them to strike."
Arthur sighed silently in his heart.
He knew perfectly well that greed was a highly lethal, incurable poison on these unforgiving streets.
Dom's loyal crew had been heavily spoiled by the massive influx of easy, untraceable cash for far too long.
They simply couldn't physically handle the agonizing thought of permanently stopping their lucrative operations, even with a massive federal threat looming directly over their heads.
"Where are you right now, Mia?" Arthur asked firmly, his tactical mind already calculating the absolute best extraction routes.
"Are you securely at the family house?"
"No," Mia whispered. "Dom violently ordered me to pack a bag and hide. I am currently waiting at a cheap motel on the outskirts of the city."
"The FBI heavily raided our home a few hours ago. Brian personally led the tactical breach."
Arthur's dark eyes narrowed with cold, calculated precision.
The cinematic plot of Fast & Furious had officially, violently collapsed into absolute chaos.
"Listen to me incredibly carefully, Mia," Arthur commanded, his voice radiating absolute, unwavering authority.
"Do not leave that motel room. Do not speak to anyone."
"Give me the exact address right now. I am coming to get you."