Chapter 67: Heist Day — Part 2
[Griffith Park Observatory — October 31, 2019, 12:34 PM]
The obstacle course stretched across the Observatory's south lawn, a military-grade nightmare of climbing walls, rope challenges, and balance beams designed by someone who clearly hated fun.
Captain Andersen stood at the starting line with a clipboard and an expression that suggested she was documenting evidence for future worker's compensation claims.
"The Relay of Champions," she announced. "Each team designates one runner. The course must be completed in under eight minutes to earn full points. Partial points for completion over eight minutes. No points for failure to complete."
Tim turned to me. "You're up."
"Tim, I just ate five tacos less than six hours ago."
"And you're still the most athletic person on our team. Chen's good at intimidation, not agility. Lucy's playing a different game. Emma's a consultant, not a competitor." He gripped my shoulder. "You can do this."
I looked at the course. My recall immediately began analyzing the obstacles—wall heights, rope angles, balance beam widths. My copy ability pulled up every parkour video I'd ever watched, every athletic movement I'd ever observed.
"Okay," I said. "I can do this."
The starting whistle blew.
Three runners launched simultaneously—me, Jackson for Nolan's team, and a prosecutor named Davidson from Lopez's legal alliance. Davidson fell behind almost immediately; apparently law school didn't emphasize physical fitness.
Jackson and I hit the first wall together, scrambling for handholds. My copied techniques kicked in automatically—efficient movements, minimal wasted energy, exactly the form I'd absorbed from watching professional climbers.
I cleared the wall a full second before Jackson.
The rope swing was next. My danger sense warned me about the unstable anchor point a fraction of a second before I grabbed it, allowing me to adjust my grip and weight distribution. Jackson, without the warning, swung wide and nearly missed the landing platform.
Balance beam. My body moved with precision I hadn't consciously trained, each step perfectly placed based on techniques I'd observed and internalized. The beam wobbled under my weight, but my balance held.
Behind me, Jackson was catching up. His natural athleticism was compensating for my technical advantage.
The final obstacle: a cargo net climb followed by a zip line to the finish. I hit the net running, fingers finding holds automatically, body ascending with the efficiency of someone who'd practiced this a thousand times instead of never.
The zip line handle was cold against my palms. I launched, air rushing past, the finish line approaching faster than expected.
I hit the ground three seconds under the eight-minute mark.
Jackson finished four seconds later. Davidson was still on the balance beam.
"Full points plus speed bonus," Andersen announced. "Team Bradford maintains the lead."
Tim's triumphant expression was almost worth the muscle strain.
The Betrayal — 2:17 PM
The next challenge was underway when Lucy made her move.
We'd gathered at a downtown location for a puzzle challenge—assembling clues hidden throughout a abandoned office building to reveal the final trophy location. Tim had assigned each of us a floor to search.
I was on floor three when my danger sense spiked. Not the ambient hum of competition—a sharper pulse that demanded attention.
Someone was watching me.
I turned casually, scanning the corridor. Empty. But the sense persisted.
My phone buzzed. Text from Tim: LUCY DEFECTED. SHE'S WITH NOLAN NOW. ABORT AND REGROUP.
For a moment, genuine confusion broke through. Lucy had defected? After weeks of preparation, she'd switched sides?
Then my lie detection activated on the memory of Tim's text. Something felt wrong. The message was genuine—Tim had sent it—but the situation it described wasn't what it appeared to be.
I continued my search, pretending to be upset about the betrayal while actually parsing the tactical implications.
If Tim was faking his reaction, then Lucy's defection was planned. She was gathering intelligence on Nolan's strategy from the inside. The "betrayal" was a misdirection.
But that meant Tim hadn't told me about the plan. Compartmentalized information—exactly what he'd promised.
I found three clues on my floor and returned to the rally point. Tim was there, expression furious, body language screaming betrayal.
"Lucy switched sides," he said through gritted teeth.
"I saw your text."
"She took her envelope with her. All our contingency plans—"
"Tim." I kept my voice low. "I know."
He stopped mid-rant. "Know what?"
"I know this is planned. My... instincts told me something was off. The betrayal feels wrong because it isn't real."
For a long moment, Tim said nothing. Then, slowly, a smile crept across his face.
"Damn. You really do have good instincts." He dropped the angry posture. "Lucy's been feeding Nolan false intelligence for two days. Everything in that envelope is misdirection. While his team chases phantom strategies, we'll be executing the real plan."
"Which is?"
"You'll find out in about ninety minutes."
The Trophy Hunt — 4:00 PM
The final challenge revealed the trophy location: Mid-Wilshire Station, rooftop access.
All teams received the information simultaneously. The race began.
Nolan's coalition sprinted for their vehicles. Lopez's legal alliance attempted to file some kind of procedural objection with Andersen, who ignored them. Jackson broke away from Nolan's team to pursue an independent strategy that probably involved selling information to the highest bidder.
Tim didn't move.
"Aren't we going?" Emma asked.
"No rush."
"The trophy's at the station rooftop. Other teams are already moving."
"Yes." Tim's smile widened. "They are."
I understood suddenly. "You already have someone in position."
"Sergeant Chen left for 'lunch' at eleven-thirty. He's been on the rooftop since noon." Tim checked his watch. "The trophy was placed at eleven. Chen has been sitting next to it for five hours, waiting for the announcement."
"That's—" Emma searched for the word. "—actually brilliant."
"That's called preparation." Tim pulled out his phone, sent a single text. "Chen just secured the trophy. We win."
Mid-Wilshire Station Rooftop — 4:47 PM
We arrived to find Sergeant Chen sitting in a folding chair, the Heist trophy in his lap, reading a book with complete unconcern for the chaos around him.
Nolan's team had reached the rooftop first among the racing competitors, only to find Chen already there. The confusion on Nolan's face was worth the entire month of preparation.
"This is cheating," Nolan protested.
"This is strategy," Tim corrected. "The rules said the trophy would be hidden at a location revealed through challenges. They didn't say we had to wait for the revelation before positioning ourselves."
"But how did you know it would be here?"
"I analyzed Grey's hiding patterns from previous station events. He favors locations with symbolic significance. The rooftop represents oversight, perspective, excellence—exactly the qualities the Heist trophy supposedly embodies." Tim took the trophy from Chen, held it aloft. "I figured out the pattern. I acted on it. I won."
Captain Andersen arrived, reviewed the situation, and shrugged. "He's technically correct. No rule against pre-positioning team members at likely locations."
"But—" Nolan started.
"The winner is Team Bradford." Andersen made a note on her clipboard. "Trophy and ten-thousand-dollar prize pool awarded accordingly. Congratulations."
Tim's expression of triumph was almost too much to bear. "I am the SUPREME DETECTIVE/GENIUS."
Lucy, who had somehow materialized beside us despite theoretically being on Nolan's team, grinned. "The misdirection worked perfectly. Nolan spent three hours chasing fake strategies while we secured the real objective."
"You were never actually on his team," Nolan realized.
"I was on his team. I was just also on Tim's team the whole time." Lucy shrugged. "Double agents are allowed. You should have read the fine print."
Nolan's expression cycled through betrayal, frustration, and grudging respect. "Next year. Next year I'm winning."
"You can try," Tim said, cradling the trophy like a newborn child. "You will fail."
After-Party — Ethan's Mansion — 8:23 PM
The celebration filled every room of my too-large house with noise, laughter, and the particular energy of people who'd spent a day engaged in ridiculous competition.
Tim had positioned the trophy on the main mantel, surrounded by appropriately dramatic lighting. He kept finding excuses to walk past it, pausing each time to admire his victory.
"He's going to sleep with that thing," Emma observed from beside me.
"Probably. Tim takes competition seriously."
"I noticed." She leaned into my side, watching the chaos around us. "This was fun. Ridiculous, but fun."
"Welcome to my professional life."
"I thought your professional life was arresting criminals and solving cases."
"That's the official description. The reality includes rubber ducks, balloon warfare, and annual treasure hunts for station bragging rights."
Emma laughed, and I felt the warmth of it settle into my chest—not the lie detection pressure, just genuine happiness at being here, with her, surrounded by people I'd learned to call family.
Nolan approached with a beer and a rueful expression. "Congratulations. You all cheated magnificently."
"We strategized effectively," I corrected.
"Same thing, in this context." He clinked his bottle against my glass. "Next year, I'm recruiting actual spies. Government-trained intelligence operatives."
"Good luck with that."
"I don't need luck. I need revenge." But he was smiling as he said it, the competitive edge softened by camaraderie.
Jackson appeared, somehow having acquired both a drink and a plate of appetizers despite arriving seconds ago. "The trick with the false intelligence was brilliant. I sold Nolan's team three separate pieces of Lucy's misdirection for significant profit."
"You profited from our deception?"
"I profit from everything. It's called diversified income streams."
Lopez joined the conversation, Wesley at her side. "For the record, we were sabotaged by bureaucratic process. The legal approach requires time that competitive environments don't allow."
"Maybe try less paperwork next year," Tim suggested, passing by with his trophy for the fourth unnecessary trip.
"Maybe try less smugness," Lopez retorted.
"Never."
The party continued into the night—stories exchanged, strategies dissected, plans for next year already forming. Grey arrived at some point, surveyed the chaos, stole a bottle of wine from the bar, and left without comment.
Around midnight, the energy finally began to wind down. People filtered toward the door, calling goodbyes, promising future competitions.
Tim was the last to leave, trophy cradled protectively.
"Good work today, Mercer."
"You're the strategist. I just followed orders."
"You followed orders exceptionally well. The obstacle course, the quick thinking when Lucy's cover could have been blown—you performed." He paused at the door. "After I've enjoyed this victory appropriately, we should talk. About the thing you mentioned."
Armstrong. The corruption. The evidence I'd been gathering for two years.
"After you've enjoyed your victory," I agreed.
"Give me a week of gloating. Then we get serious."
He left. I closed the door, turned to find Emma waiting in the living room.
"What thing?" she asked.
"Work stuff. Nothing urgent."
"You're lying."
My lie detection confirmed she was right—she'd gotten better at reading me over months of dating.
"It's important work stuff that I can't talk about yet. But soon."
She studied me for a moment, then nodded. "I trust you."
"I know."
"Come to bed. You've been running on adrenaline and tacos for sixteen hours."
She was right. The exhaustion hit suddenly, the day's excitement finally catching up. I followed her upstairs, leaving the empty party space behind.
Tomorrow, I'd clean up. Next week, I'd talk to Tim about Armstrong.
Tonight, I'd sleep beside someone I loved, in a house that finally felt like home, after a day of ridiculous joy with people who'd become family.
The Heist was over.
The real work was about to begin.
Author's Note / Promotion:
Your Reviews and Power Stones are the best way to show support. They help me know what you're enjoying and bring in new readers!
You don't have to. Get instant access to more content by supporting me on Patreon. I have three options so you can pick how far ahead you want to be:
🪙 Silver Tier ($6): Read 10 chapters ahead of the public site.
👑 Gold Tier ($9): Get 15-20 chapters ahead of the public site.
💎 Platinum Tier ($15): The ultimate experience. Get new chapters the second I finish them . No waiting for weekly drops, just pure, instant access.
Your support helps me write more .
👉 Find it all at patreon.com/fanficwriter1