It Takes A Nub
Chapter 1: The Ultimate Thief
This story is loosely based on the old 60's T.V. show "It Takes A Thief"
London- 11:55pm
The guard walked past the case holding the "Star of Babel" diamond and turned the corner and went down the next corridor. The only sound in the museum was the sound of his heels clicking on the tile. As he left the room a shadow moved on the ceiling. It dropped down and hung over the floor and then landed on the floor without a sound. It then walked toward the case and removed something from a bag slung across its back. The item was a spray can. The shadow sprayed something from it and red laser lines appeared around the case. A small smile crossed the face of the shadow and it reached back into the bag and produced several items and looked at its watch. Two minutes and twelve seconds till the guard came back. The shadow smiled again and said to its self, "Plenty of time."
Two minutes and twelve seconds later the guard walked back into the room and walked past the case. He took two or three steps past it and whirled around with his flash light to see that the diamond was gone and a chess piece was in its place. Before he had a chance to think about it, the guard took three steps forward, and set off every alarm in the museum. A cage dropped around him and a cloud of gas descended upon him and put him to sleep.
The London police surrounded the building in a matter of a few minutes and blocked of the street. Two agents from Interpol also arrived to help with the investigation. The crowds were huge behind the crime scene tape was very large. No one noticed the tall thirty something man walking away with a black bag slung over his shoulder.
Freddie Benson walked into the lobby of the Hotel Godsford at eight o'clock in the morning dressed in a three hundred dollar John/Paul suit. At six foot three inches tall he cut quite a figure. He was muscular and tan, and with his dark brown eyes and easy charm, he had his pick of women on any continent, and had availed himself of many of them over the past twelve years.
Freddie Benson had spent his life being a "good boy" and had found that it got him nowhere. His second year of college had been his breaking point. Sam Puckett, the only true love of his life, had found a young man named Roger Smith, who had turned out to be the biggest lowlife in the world, and she fell in love with him. That was the last straw for Freddie. He left school and began to apply his knowledge of computers and some of the things he learned from Sam and became a thief. He found that he had a real talent for the job. In twelve years he had never been caught or even photographed breaking the law. A legend had even sprung up around him. He was known as the "chessman" because he would leave a chess piece at the scene of every theft. He had a classiness about himself that helped keep him among the "beautiful people" and in the money. He had invented several little devices that helped him in his trade.
He had also become quite the freelance thief. For the right price anything could be "acquired" for you. He was also a legend in the "hacker" world. There wasn't a computer or code that he couldn't break. He always had someone from Interpol following him and had quite a good time leading them around on wild goose chases. Freddie had embraced his inter-bad boy, and made millions in the process. He regularly traveled with the rich and powerful and spent the night with some of the most beautiful women in the world.
"Good morning Mr. Benson," George the manager said, "Will you be leaving us today?"
"I'm afraid so George," Freddie smiled at him, "Please send someone to my room to collect my bags."
"Yes sir," George snapped his fingers and a bellboy left to go collect his bags, "There are two gentlemen and a very pretty lady waiting for you in the lounge sir," George informed him.
Freddie looked toward the lounge and back at George. George was one of Freddie's "ears" in London. He kept Freddie up on things that were going on and which way the wind blew.
"Do I want to meet with them?" he asked.
"I rather got the impression that you didn't have a choice, sir," George raised one eyebrow at Freddie.
"Well I guess I better go see them then," he winked, "have the usual things standing by just in case."
"Certainly sir!"
Freddie walked to the doors of the lounge and affected his best grin and pushed the doors open. The two men he guessed to be in their late forty's or early fifty's. No sign of the pretty lady, so she must be in the powder room. He had three clear exits from the table where the two men sat and two more secret ones that he had worked on over the years he had stayed here.
He did this all in his mind in less than a half second. Still grinning, he walked up and sat down at the table with the gentlemen and spoke, "Good morning gentleman, I understand that you're looking for me."
"Fredward Benson, age thirty-one, no known address, occupation unknown. You have three off shore bank accounts and with no visible means of support have an estimated net worth of five million dollars, suspected in at least thirty-two thefts in the past twelve years, but no evidence to tie you to any of them. You are also believed to have hacked your way into the U.S. Mint, The World Bank, and the Russian Ballistic Missile program and changing the codes, once again with nothing in the way of evidence to link you to the crimes," one of the men stated.
"No one calls me Fredward, please call me Freddie," he smiled at the two men, "I take it your from Interpol."
"No Freddie, we're from the C.I.A. you nub," A voice from his past spoke to him.
He turned and flashed his best smile at the stunning blonde beauty, "Why Samantha, I believe you're even lovelier than ever. When did you start working for the C.I.A.?"
"Right after college, you know two years after you left. When did you become a criminal?" Sam asked.
"Alleged criminal, didn't you hear the man? I'm just a fun loving young man seeing the world," Freddie told Sam and winked at her. She blushed just a little and Freddie flashed his grin at her.
"So what does the C.I.A. want with me?" he asked.
"Well first off," Sam began, after a nod from the other two, "We know you have the diamond, or should we say had the diamond. The man who hired you worked for us. Now before you try running out of here, we have an offer for you."
Now the one man who had been silent spoke, "You're looking at twenty-five years in jail right now. We have a job that needs to be done, and it requires your special "talents". If things go well, we may be able to use your services for other "problems" that may arise. If you should choose not to help us, we'll make sure that you're buried so far down in the hole, that even you're special talents won't get you out. We need your answer now."
"Let me get this straight, you want me to spy for you?" Freddie asked.
"No Mr. Benson, we're not asking you to spy, we're asking you to steal."
"What am I being asked to steal?" Freddie quizzed the man.
"Are you acquainted with the term "Green Fire"?"
"A Defense Department program that can scramble any signal, tear it down into microbursts of information and send them in such a way as to be completely untraceable. Perfect for the cyber-terrorist who want to raise hell with any country's infrastructure," Freddie replied.
"A man named Hans Ambrose came into possession of the program two days ago. It was taken from the computer lab at the Pentagon by a Major Thomas Glee, who was found dead the next day. Mr. Ambrose has broken the program down into three parts and intends to sell them at a very private auction. What we need is all three parts of the programs, but we need for Mr. Ambrose not to know that we have them back."
"You want me to steal the disc's and replace them with fake one's so you can track the buyers back to where they come from, so you can learn more about the different originations that want them, correct?" Freddie guessed.
Sam now took the conversation back over, "Right. You and I will track Mr. Ambrose around and find the location of the three discs's and retrieve them, plus find a way to determine when and where the auction is to take place."
"You and I?" Freddie asked, "No, no, I work alone," Freddie said.
"Not on this one, plus I'll make sure you don't try to moonlight while working for "Uncle Sam" and that is part of the deal," Sam said forcefully.
"Why Sam, if you wanted to spend time with me or wanted a date all you had to do was ask," Freddie smiled at her and winked, "Well I've heard of stealing from the government, but not stealing for the government. I'd say as the terms have been put before me, I have no choice but to accept."
Sam and Freddie walked out of the hotel together and entered a waiting car. Once inside the car pulled away from the curb and headed toward Heathrow airport.
"Your bags are in the trunk. We are heading to the island of Jamaul in the Caribbean, Ambrose is heading there on his yacht "The Sea Queen" and we need to be there before he gets there," Sam informed him.
"Will you be wearing that sexy blue bikini that I like so much?" Freddie slyly slipped into the conversation.
"We are just partners, so get this straight, there will be no hanky panky between the two of us, got it?" Sam informed him.
He gave her his sexiest grin and asked, "So I guess that whole mile high club thing is out of the question?"
"God, you're an arrogant S.O.B. aren't you?"
"Confident S.O.B. Samantha, confident S.O.B., since when did you become so serious anyway?" Freddie looked at her.
"Since I grew up and got a job that affects national security," She eyed him with some distain, "When did you decide to become a criminal?"
"I discovered that the "good boys" always finished last. It seemed that women only wanted "bad boys", so I decided to take a walk on the wild side and found that I enjoyed it," Freddie said in a matter of fact tone, "Whatever happened to what's his name… um… Dodger… Roger?"
"If you must know, Roger turned out to be a cheating asswipe," She looked him in the eyes, "And yes I know you told me that at the time."
Freddie slid over on the seat and placed both arms against the side of the car so that he had Sam trapped between them. He leaned in close and brought his lips so close to her ear that she could feel the heat radiate off them and whispered, "I think this partnership will be very beneficial for us both. I also think that before we're done, you'll find yourself in love with me, or at the very least, in lust with me.
I know this because you haven't pushed me away yet, you just let out a little moan, and you've looked at my crotch at least four times since we got in the car."
He then placed a small kiss on her ear and was rewarded with another low moan from her. He pulled back and grinned at her and began to whistle a tune they had liked from college. Sam sat in the same position for a few minutes before she snapped out of her trance and then just sat back quietly for the rest of the ride to the airport.
When the car got to the airport, Sam and Freddie got out and began to walk into the building as the driver checked their bags. Freddie walked a little ahead and turned once to catch Sam looking at his behind.
"Tisk… tisk, looking at my ass constitutes sexual harassment, and I could sue, he smirked at her.
She blushed at being caught, "Oh shut up!" was all she could manage to say.
They walked through the airport to a small door and onto the tarmac, to find a small private jet waiting with its engines running.
"Wow, a private jet. I feel so special," Freddie smiled at Sam, "you shouldn't have. So do you do this for all your first dates?"
Sam rolled her eyes and just answered, "Oh, just shut up and get on the damn plane and be glad I don't have you strapped to the wing for the flight!"
"Oh my, I love it when you talk tough," he grinned at her, "I think I just got a hard-on."
"I could just push you out when we level out on the flight," Sam said as they walked into the plane. Despite herself, she found his last comment funny and just a bit titillating. She knew that despite herself that he was right and she was already wondering just what it was about him that had the women of Europe beating a path to his bedroom door.
They sat down and buckled in and the plane taxied onto the runway and took off. Once they were in the air and had leveled out on their flight plan, they got up and moved to a table near the back of the cabin. The table was in fact a touch screen computer. Sam sat down and logged on.
"Hans Ambrose, age fifty-one, married, no children, known weapons dealer. He supplies anyone who has the price. He's the terrorist best friend. Estimated net worth eighty-three million dollars. Wife's name is Carol age twenty-three, ex-showgirl. They both have roving eyes, but all her "friends" seem to end up dead and she always seems to have problems navigating steps," Sam finished the briefing, "any questions?"
"Nice looking lady, if he is so jealous and goes to such extremes to rid himself of her lovers, and has an eye for the ladies himself, why not just kill her? Freddie thought out loud, "I understand not just cutting her loose, but to keep her around? She's got something that he needs or something that only she can get to and he has to keep her around. What could a showgirl have that a weapons trader would need or want?"
"What are you getting at?" Sam asked.
"She's our way into Ambrose's circle," he looked at Sam, "She's obviously not head over heels for the guy, so I get close to her and you get close to him and we get into their circle of friends and get a shot at the boat or house that he has and bingo, we have the program. Carol will help me just to screw her old man over.'
"You think she'll just fall for you and give up anything you want her too? What makes you think she'll want you?" Sam asked him.
"Because that's what I do, but don't worry darling, I'll be thinking of you the whole time," Freddie gave her his patented "you will sleep with me grin" and she blushed in spite of herself, "See it always works."
"Oh my God, you are such a cocky asshole," she said with a smile on her face.
Freddie leaned down to the computer and began to type quickly, "Samantha Puckett, age thirty, recruited after college for work with the C.I.A., specialties include but not limited to, breaking and entering, weapons expert, hand to hand combat, interrogation, and assassinations. Single, no known lovers, believed to still be in love with man from her past," Freddie paused at the last line and looked at the red-faced Sam, "You mean you've been alone all this time? You're still in love with me, but what about that time with Roger? I thought you said we had no chance, but you're still in love with me?"
"It said "a man from her past" it didn't say you, you arrogant prick," she spat at him.
"RIGHT," he laughed at her, "this is going to be an interesting job. Well I guess I'll take a nap while we have time. By the way, I never really got over you either."
With that he closed his eyes and fell right to sleep.
Sam just sat there and thought over what Freddie had said to her. This was going to be a very tough job and she knew that she was either going to get hurt or end up in Freddie's arms again or both by the end of it.
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I hope you like it. I wanted to try something different and this is what I came up with. I like the fact that Freddie is cocky in this story and I hope you do to. As always let me know!
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