"Matosia Gallery, how may I direct you today?"

"Hello, this is Kari Lane, executive assistant to Mrs. Angela Tyson from Tyson & Browing", Sam said, while grabbing her laptop from her bag and opening it. "Mrs. Tyson would like to get in touch with the director concerning one of our clients' pieces that you have framed in your gallery." It was the best move to get to Scam, since she didn't have his actual number.

"One moment please", the woman on the other line said. Sam took the opportunity to pull up the gallery's website. It was a page she had saved during her (clearly fruitless) research into Tim Scam to find out more about him before they tried to steal from his personal collection, but the gallery was impossible to get into during the day without an invitation. They were planning on robbing the gallery at nighttime, but they had heard the rumor that Scam moved all his pieces to his home for a private showing in honor of his birthday. Sam thought it was a vapid, egocentric move and mistook Scam for an easy target.

Clearly she was very, very wrong.

The woman on the line spoke again. "I'm sorry. Mr. Harding isn't available after hours. You may call back tomorrow or leave a message."

"That's fine. I'll call back", Sam said, hanging up the phone. She already got what she needed, his name, and started typing Harding into her search engine. Matosia Gallery's website was fantastic at keeping its staff hidden, she thought. It was simultaneously annoying and impressive, and it should have been a warning sign. One that they all ignored.

They had burns before but this one stung, probably because Scam had this way of sneaking under her skin and catching her off guard. She glanced at the roses sitting on the table and grumbled. He wouldn't catch her off guard again. She would make sure of it.

Tyler Harding was a 55 year old gentleman who lived twenty minutes from the gallery. Sam considered her options. If Scam found her this easily, she'd bet he knew of Clover since she was driving the car, and probably Alex since he knew someone stole from him. Sighing, Sam grabbed her phone and called Dean, the only one not on the scene. He picked up relatively quickly.

"Hey, quick favor. I need you to follow Tyler Harding home tomorrow after he leaves the Matosia Gallery", Sam said. Leaving her laptop open on the bed, she quickly began stuffing her belongings in her suitcase. "Just grab his ID and keys to the building, make sure he doesn't catch you. We'll need to get it back to him before he leaves for work."

Dean chuckled over the phone. "What happened to not wanting to get back at Tim Scam? Isn't sneaking into his gallery an act of war?"

Sam sighed again. "He sent flowers to my hotel room, Dean. He already knows how to find me."

"Oh no… You sure you don't want me to hook you up with tickets to Hong Kong? Actually forget the tickets, I could get a jet to you in thirty."

"As much as I'd love to never see Tim Scam again, I'd rather figure out which identity of mine he's burned", Sam said, all while thinking it'd probably be best to move her parents to Australia and let every Samantha, Simpson/Mason/Ambrosa/Bouchard, just die in a random freak accident just to be safe. "Also Clover's right. I'm pissed."

"You can't let this guy get to you. You're too good for that."

"Clearly not!" Sam exclaimed, zipping up her suitcase and placing her laptop back in its bag. "I thought this guy was all parties at his fancy art gallery and took him for an easy mark." She started to tie her hair back into a tight bun so she could fit the nude cap over it.

"This is what happens when I'm vacationing in Tahiti and you guys decide to hit someone without giving me a day to look into him. Listen Sam, I'm pretty sure Tim Scam is Mac Smit, the same Smit who has a dual degree in aerospace and chemical engineering from M.I.T."

Sam dropped the water bottle she just grabbed from the table in shock. "What."

Dean sighed, "Yeah, it took me a while to find it, but there's a really old Facebook photo that popped up in my facial recognition search for Scam. One of the students had it up from 2005, and the comments mention Mac Smit but he's not tagged. No Facebook photos or social media of any kind. He barely pays taxes and has no credit cards to speak of. It literally looks like Scam took that alias and wiped it off the internet. I only found his degree by hacking M.I.T.'s bursar."

Sam shut her eyes in agony. This was giving her a headache. "This is bad, Dean. I thought Scam had an art history PhD from UCLA. Now you're telling me he had time for his supposed alias to go to M.I.T. and study aerospace and chemical engineering?"

"Publicly, he has a degree from UCLA. I don't know what else to tell you. We screwed up on this one."

No, Sam thought to herself. She screwed up on this one. They were too impatient. They had spent too much time in this city and thought they could hit Scam fast. By assigning Clover on research while Dean was away, they had fallen into a trap. And she couldn't even blame Clover, she was definitely talented at finding out things about people that they wanted to keep hidden, but Dean was the expert on hacking. This was on her, Sam thought, upset with herself. She was the team's leader and she led them into a trap.

"No… Just do me another favor. Call Clover and Alex, tell them what you found. Tomorrow after you swipe Harding's ID, get a face mask and walk into the gallery. Try to find Scam's office. Hack the cameras, make sure Scam doesn't know you're there."

"You got it boss", Dean said, hanging up. Sam sighed and looked around. Her eyes fell on the roses once again. Slowly, she walked up to them and tried to see if there was a card.

And there it was, a black card, dangling out of sight. Picking it up and turning it over, Sam grumbled as she read the message.

Till we meet again, -TS.

What a jerk, Sam thought. She turned around and grabbed the black wig out of her bag and stood in front of the mirror to put it on. She'd show him. The next time they met, it would be on her terms. Grabbing her suitcase and bag, Sam walked out of the hotel room kept her face hidden from the cameras, before opening the door for the stairs and going down that way.

After five flights of stairs and thanking the stars that she packed light, Sam opened the app on her phone that signaled WOOHP to bring around a company car to the back entrance. She momentarily debated calling Clover and telling her she may have a slight point about getting back at Scam, but then quickly decided she'd rather eat from a garbage can than do that.

Once the car pulled up, the driver got out of the car and helped her with her bags. A text alert came through, and Sam read the preliminary report of the paint dye that they had tested from the piece they stole from Scam's house. Most likely a 96,8% match to the paint used in the early 1900s, something that would fool most, but not WOOHP's screening system.

Probably from his stupid chemical engineering degree, Sam thought, annoyed beyond belief. If she wasn't so frustrated, she'd be a little impressed, and that was probably what worried her. The man obviously knew what he was doing. What she didn't know, was what his end goal was.

Steal paintings and sell them off? Sure, she understood that. Alex had a particular talent for finding good fencers, usually due to sheer dumb luck, so the team had plenty of money saved over in overseas accounts. But to go through the process of forging them and hiding the real pieces? Who had the time or energy to do that?

Obviously a man who enjoyed fooling everyone. How was this the first time anyone ever found out about Scam? And they wouldn't have even known the piece was a forgery; Scam was an expert in making his business look legal and legitimate. They only reason they even had any clue was because…

Because he told her, Sam thought in amazement.

Why had he done that? She wondered. He could have gone his entire life without spoiling the secret, yet without a care, he told her, knowing she had backup whispering into her ear. Knowing that she was trying to rob him right under his nose. But instead of getting angry and screaming or trying to kill her, both of which had happened to them all before, he flirted with her and asked her out?

What was his end game?

She didn't know, and a part of her was worried that they had brought themselves into his territory and crossed his path. Was it because he thought he knew her identity, so she wouldn't blab to the first cop she saw?

Come to think of it, how did he find out her identity? Was it because of what Clover said? He was in her personal space and heard them talking? That even with WOOHP's best communicators, things could go astray?

Or… was it because he already knew?

It was suspiciously easy to get into the party as Melanie Marks, Sam thought. In her haste to hurry, she had made several mistakes that she typically didn't make. She didn't know what was so different about Scam that she thought she could take him on, but it was clear as day: she made a big mistake and now she and her team had to fix it.

But she wasn't entirely sure how. Getting into the Matosia Gallery and finding any weak spots was a decent first step, but getting close to Scam, especially when he might know her real identity, was dangerous. Very, very dangerous. She probably would be best avoiding him for the rest of time.

Except, that's when he called her.

This is so fun to write and I hope you're all enjoying reading it as much as I'm enjoying writing it! I have a slight idea of where this will go, but do I know how it'll end? Of course not. The joys of being a writer.

Love, Ivy