Heists and Vengeance

Thirty Four

Of course, it was totally possible that Carmichael was just a sexist bastard who'd taken a liking to Cole in particular, and had something against that girl earlier...but there could also be something more sinister going on.

Brett chewed on his lip, feeling like a protagonist of Erin's drama shows who was on the verge of discovering something monumental. After all, he certainly looked the part and (though Ryder might scoff) he definitely had the brains for it.

After thinking for a second, he came to a decision. He slowly rewound the tape to just before the catering staff boarded, and then minimized the window, and opened his folders, trying to find the right file.

Thirteen minutes later, Brett was feeling very thankful for that AI programming course he'd taken the previous summer. By the end of it, he'd been able to write up a program to identify when two objects in a video were a certain distance from each other. All he'd had to do was find that program, modify it a bit to identify Carmichael and Cole, and...hit Run.

Brett stretched his back, relishing the crick sounds as he waited for the program to work. Finally, a small window popped up displaying when the program would finish, which was around...three hours. Ugh. Fair enough, though, because it was sorting through over forty-eight hours of footage. So what to do until then?

Maybe it would do to get off the screen for a while – all that about getting square eyes was rushing back to him. Brett yawned, and placed the computer on the bed, turning the volume up before he did so that he'd hear any alerts.

Brett stood up, stretching, the sound of his spine cracking filling the air. He rubbed a hand over his tired eyes and headed out of his room for the first time in...what? Six hours? He had roughly fifteen minutes before the hallways would clear, fifteen minutes until Lana and Ryder could go through with the next step of their plan, and until then he'd enjoy a nice cup of hot chocolate. Maybe he'd watch one of Erin's trashy soap operas while he was at it – he was alone in the house, so there was no one to judge him, after all.

"No, Marie, you don't understand!"

"Oh, I understand perfectly well, Chase. You're a louse, no-good, cheating, lying scumbag of a husband!"

"Damn right!" Brett agreed, taking another sip of his cocoa. "You're too good for him, Marie!"

Needless to say, Erin's drama shows were more bingeworthy than Brett had anticipated – they were so bad, they were actually good.

The woman on the screen was now shouting at her soon-to-be ex-husband, her arms moving in wild gestures. "How could you!"

"No! Please, just let me explain-"

"Explain what, Chase? Explain what?"

The man was at a loss for words, as he should be, and did nothing as the woman continued to rave about his numerous misdemeanors, with Brett occasionally adding in words of encouragement.

"You weren't telling the truth when you told me you'd never been married before!" The woman said, now counting everything off her fingers. "You went behind my back and sold my vase – the one I inherited from my mother – so that you'd have enough money to gamble with! You told me that you quit smoking! You told all my secrets – everything I ever told you – to my friends in exchange for them sleeping with you!"

"Don't forget he slept with your sister!" Brett added, pointing an accusing finger at the man.

"-And you slept with my sister!"

Brett leaned back, satisfied at the outcome of the outburst. "That's right." He said. "Tell him! He's an idiot."

"Funny. I was about to say the same about you."

Brett jumped up at the sound of the voice, the hot chocolate falling out of his lap and shattering on the floor. He whipped his head around wildly for a few seconds before he realized that the words had sounded like they'd been uttered right next to him. As if someone was leaning in and speaking right next to his ear. And the voice...

Brett collapsed back on the sofa, staring mournfully at the mess that had once been his hot chocolate. He lifted a hand to his ear and pressed his earpiece. "Aw, Ryder. Look what you've done!"

Ryder's voice returned after a few seconds, lit with amusement. "I don't know what exactly I've done, but I can say with certainty that you deserve it. Now, could you please tell us whether the halls are clear? It's been forty minutes!"

Crap. Brett jumped up and raced up the stairs, nearly stepping on a shard of his broken mug as he did so. He pressed a finger on the earpiece again to transmit his voice back to Ryder. "Ryder- I am so so so sorry- I got distracted- there was a soap opera- this man cheated on her with her sister-"

Thankfully, Ryder spared him any more embarrassment by talking over him. "It's fine, it's fine-just check, please."

"Yeah. Yeah, yeah, of course." Brett grabbed his laptop and pulled it on his lap, all the while cursing himself for getting distracted. How could he have been so stupid?

He scanned the corridors, taking great care to make sure he surveyed every bit of the yacht. Finally, after two minutes of careful scrutiny, he took a deep breath and lifted a shaky hand to his earpiece.

"Okay, Ryder. It's game time."

Yesss I'm back. And now...it's time for the heist! Enjoy y'all.