Gear Needed
"I am incredibly sorry, sir. Our boss is currently out on highly urgent business right now. And we are absolutely not hiring any new technicians at the moment."
Inside the pristine, brightly lit lobby of Bridger Locksmith Company, Arthur had barely stated his professional purpose when the well-dressed receptionist shot him down with practiced, corporate efficiency.
Her tone was polite, but her eyes were cold and dismissive.
Arthur had completely failed to even catch a fleeting glimpse of the stunning Stella Bridger.
"Fine. I completely understand," Arthur replied smoothly, his voice a low, calming rumble.
His supernaturally sharp eyes clearly noticed the nervous receptionist's hand already resting defensively on the heavy desk phone, her finger hovering, ready to aggressively dial 911 at any second if he pushed the issue.
He simply offered a flawless, polite smile, turned on his heavy tactical boots, and walked gracefully out of the high-end establishment.
Stepping back out into the sweltering Los Angeles heat, Arthur didn't let the minor rejection affect his calculated mood in the slightest.
He walked smoothly back to his parked car, pulled the heavy door open, and slid into the leather driver's seat. He started the powerful engine with a familiar roar, shifted gears, and drove aggressively out into the sprawling city traffic, heading directly toward the quirky hacker Lyle's apartment.
As he expertly navigated the busy streets, his highly intelligent mind naturally drifted back to the treacherous Steve.
Arthur knew perfectly well with absolute certainty that Steve was definitively not the type of ruthless man to just give up easily.
Arthur still absolutely hadn't found a way to open the two massive safes securely sitting in his private space, so he couldn't physically lay his eyes on the pure gold bricks to be one hundred percent sure they were inside.
But he didn't really need to. Just the heavy safes themselves ,top-of-the-line Worthington 1000 private vaults manufactured by the world-famous American security firm Worthington ,were individually worth over three hundred thousand US dollars each on the open market.
That staggering, inherent value was exactly the primary reason he absolutely hadn't foolishly tried to force them open with a thermal torch.
Heavy, military-grade safes that incredibly expensive already guaranteed him a very decent, highly lucrative haul just in raw materials and hardware.
Besides, his cold, analytical mind completely couldn't imagine the greedy, paranoid Steve storing something trivial inside two such incredibly costly, complex vaults.
The remaining, staggering near-ton of pure gold bricks absolutely had to be secured in there.
Steve had just violently lost tens of millions of US dollars in untraceable wealth ,of course, the ruthless man would completely, undeniably go crazy and tear the city apart looking for it.
While standing at the marble counter of Bridger Locksmith Company moments ago, Arthur had smoothly slipped in a few highly subtle, probing questions to the nervous receptionist.
Through his newly acquired micro-expression reading, he could easily tell the receptionist was hiding genuine panic. She could no longer reach her boss.
And Stella Bridger absolutely hadn't shown up at her own beloved company for more than a full, agonizing day.
Arthur had meticulously tailed Stella for a while during his initial reconnaissance, so he knew her daily routines incredibly well.
The gorgeous, highly skilled lock-picking expert Stella was an absolute, undisputed workaholic.
Even back when she and Charlie Croker's elite crew had spent grueling days casing Steve's fortified villa, Stella had still stubbornly insisted on dropping by her company every single day to handle federal contracts.
Now that she had suddenly, completely skipped a full day without warning, Arthur's sharp instincts strongly suspected something terrible had violently happened to her.
Was Stella violently kidnapped off the streets by Steve? Arthur thought, his dark eyes narrowing as he watched the road ahead.
In the original, cinematic plot of The Italian Job, Stella had once flawlessly disguised herself as a telecom technician to organically infiltrate Steve's luxury villa.
Back then, her stunning, undeniable looks, coupled directly with the suspicious way she had wandered the massive mansion and instantly pinpointed the exact location of Steve's hidden safe, had heavily aroused his intense, paranoid suspicion.
After deliberately, aggressively asking her out on a tense date, Steve had ruthlessly used clever, probing questions to pry out her true identity as John Bridger's daughter.
Obviously, in this altered reality, Steve absolutely hadn't known Stella at the very start of the original story.
But the treacherous man clearly knew perfectly well that the legendary master lock-picker he had murdered in cold blood, John Bridger, had a highly capable daughter.
Arthur had previously asked Dom to carefully dig around the local underworld, and Dom had actually successfully tracked down the exact address of Bridger Locksmith Company for him in mere hours.
Therefore, Arthur had absolutely no tactical doubt that a wealthy, heavily armed man like Steve could easily find Stella in the sprawling city, too.
It absolutely looks like my early, flawless theft of Steve's massive gold bricks has violently triggered a massive butterfly effect, Arthur analyzed silently, a heavy frown creasing his forehead.
Stella's apparent, violent abduction by Steve was definitely not supposed to happen in the original plot.
Arthur quickly, logically realized it must undoubtedly be his own aggressive meddling in the events of The Italian Job that had caused this dangerous, unpredictable ripple.
Stella absolutely couldn't be allowed to die right now!
At the very least, she couldn't perish before Arthur meticulously learned her highly advanced, acoustic lock-picking skills.
He absolutely wasn't thinking with his biological hormones; whether he could eventually charm and win Stella over romantically didn't matter to his cold calculations in the slightest.
But her unparalleled, supernatural lock-picking technique was unquestionably top-tier and desperately needed.
Even a massive Worthington 1000 ,the absolute most advanced, heavily armored private safe on the consumer market, costing well over three hundred thousand US dollars ,she could flawlessly open without leaving a single microscopic scratch in just a few tense minutes.
A supernatural skill exactly like that was precisely what Arthur desperately needed to access his mountain of gold.
So he firmly decided to do some incredibly thorough, tactical digging.
If Stella really had been violently snatched off the asphalt by Steve's heavily armed men, Arthur would absolutely have to find a flawless, lethal way to rescue her.
At the very least, he had to ensure Charlie Croker's surviving crew could get her back completely alive, and that she absolutely wouldn't die a brutal death at Steve's hands.
He drove his dark car straight to Lyle's apartment building. Arthur had sought his quirky advice on complex computer tech more than a dozen times recently, so he had slowly, organically become genuine friends with the isolated shut-in.
He parked on the quiet street, got out of the car, walked up to the door, and rang the apartment bell for ages.
The heavy silence in the hallway was his only answer.
Arthur already had a strong, tactical hunch about the silence, so he quickly pulled out his secure burner phone and dialed Lyle's cell.
The phone rang a few hollow times, then was abruptly, aggressively hung up.
Mere moments later, a highly encrypted email landed securely in Arthur's inbox.
He checked the glowing screen on his phone ,sure enough, it was a rapid message from Lyle.
'I'm completely tied up right now. Extremely busy. Will securely contact you later.'
As expected! Arthur thought, a cold, predatory gleam flashing in his dark eyes.
His initial, grim suspicion was now basically confirmed. Charlie and his team were undeniably scrambling.
He thought for a highly calculated moment, then quickly composed a casual, unassuming reply.
'All right, perfectly fine. Handle your urgent business. I just wanted to pick your brilliant brain about some complex computer coding, but since you're incredibly busy, I'll just drop by in a few days. Stay safe.'
He hit send, pocketed the secure phone, and started the heavy car again.
After a moment's deep, tactical thought, Arthur aggressively turned the steering wheel and headed straight for Dom's quiet house.
Steve was a completely ruthless, paranoid man protected constantly by a large squad of heavily armed, ex-military thugs.
The freezing night Arthur had flawlessly sneaked into the fortified villa, the treacherous guy had violently sprayed lethal, full-auto AK fire directly at him without a single second of hesitation.
In the highly gun-friendly United States, plenty of civilian homes had standard weapons for self-defense.
But most of them were strictly neutered, semi-automatic models you could legally buy at any local gun mart.
For Steve to actively possess the highly illegal, military-grade assault rifle he had aggressively used that night ,no matter exactly how he had procured it on the black market ,proved undeniably that the man was absolutely no soft pushover.
Arthur absolutely had to prepare thoroughly, aggressively arming himself before he dared to take the paranoid man on in a direct, violent confrontation.
His own life was entirely too incredibly valuable; he still had a massive, bright, and extremely wealthy future to fully enjoy.
The dark Mustang's engine roared as the car soon pulled up once again at Dom's familiar house.
Arthur drove aggressively straight into the back garage, cut the powerful engine, and hit the loud horn twice.
The sharp blare quickly brought someone out from the shadows.
Dom emerged cautiously from the heavy side door, his massive frame tense until he instantly spotted the matte-black Ford Mustang he had personally given Arthur.
"Why exactly are you back so soon?" Dom asked in genuine, deep surprise, his thick brow furrowing.
When Arthur had confidently left that very morning, Dom had clearly gotten the heavy tactical hint that the young man would absolutely need a few quiet days to prepare the logistics for their massive transport job.
"I ran into a bit of highly unpredictable trouble on the streets," Arthur stated smoothly.
He stepped out of the low car, the heavy door thudding shut behind him. He moved closer to the towering racer, his dark eyes entirely serious, and said in a low, commanding rumble, "I absolutely need some serious, military-grade hardware for immediate self-defense."
Dom frowned heavily, his sharp, observant eyes studying Arthur's completely calm, yet lethally focused expression carefully.
Sensing the massive, undeniable gravity of the situation, the stoic racer finally gave a slow, measured nod.
"Follow me," Dom answered quietly, turning his massive back and leading the way into the dim shadows of the property.