Chapter 2
LAS VEGAS
"You're out of you're minds!" David Rossi said. He, Gatsby and Spencer were eating lunch on his patio by his pool. Rossi came from a rich Italian family plus he was a successful writer so he had a lot of money. "Are you listening to me? Both of you are idiots. I know more about casino security than any person alive; I invented it. It cannot be beaten. They have cameras, they have guards, they have locks, they have timers, and they have vaults. They have enough armed personnel to occupy Paris!" He thought over his words for a moment. "Okay, that was a bad example."
"It's never been tried," Spencer replied.
"It's never been tried," Rossi mocked. "Have I taught you nothing, Son? It's been tried; a few guys even came close. Do you know the three most successful robberies in Las Vegas? Number Three: Mickey Dorsey grabs a lockbox at the Horseshoe. He got two steps closer to the door than any living soul before him.
"Second most successful robbery: The Flamingo in '71. This guy actually tasted fresh air before they grabbed him. Of course, he was breathing out of a hose for the next three weeks."
"And the closest anyone has come to robbing a Las Vegas casino was outside Caesar's in '87. He came, he grabbed, they conquered. But what am I saying; you guys are pros, the best. I'm sure you can make it out of the casino. Of course, lest we forget, once you're out, you're still in the middle of the freaking desert!" Rossi went back to eating his salad, shaking his head all the while and muttering about how his two godchildren were idiots.
"You're right," said Gatsby as she turned to Spencer. "He's right."
"Uncle Dave, you're right; our eyes were bigger than our stomachs," said Spencer with a bright smile. Rossi became weary as he saw it. He was up to something.
"That's exactly what it is, pure ego," said Gatsby and Rossi rolled his eyes with an amused smile.
"Thanks again for lunch," Spencer said.
"Yeah," agreed Gatsby. "It was delicious."
"Sorry to bother you," said Spencer as he and Gatsby got up and started to walk out.
"Look, Spence," said Rossi, "you're my godson and I love you. And know that I'll support you when you actually make some sense. You two are geniuses so I'm sure you'll figure out how to do this heist. Give the butler your addresses; I have some paintings to send you." He paused before continuing. "Just out of curiosity, which casinos did you kids pick to rob?"
"The Bellagio, Mirage, and the MGM Grand," Spencer replied and Gatsby smiled as they heard Rossi's silverware fall to the plate.
"Those are Ian Doyle's places," said Rossi as he walked toward them.
"Is that right?" Gatsby asked Spencer sarcastically.
"Yeah, Gatz, I think so," said Spencer while trying to hide a smile.
"You guys, what do you have against Doyle?" Rossi asked suspiciously.
"The question is what do you have against him?" Spencer retorted
"He took my casino by force, mind you. Now he's going to tear it down to make way for some Irish-themed monstrosity." He said this all in a slight rush. "I see what you're doing," Rossi said with narrowed eyes.
"What are we doing?" asked Gatsby with a smile.
"If you're going to steal from Ian Doyle, you better damn well know…these things used to be civilized; but with Doyle…at the end of it, he'd better not know that it was you who was involved. Not you're name or who you're working with because he'll kill you, and then go to work on you."
"That's why we're going to be very careful, very precise," Spencer replied as he put an arm around his godfather.
"Yep, and well funded," put in Gatsby as she too threw an arm around her godfather.
"Yeah," said Rossi, "you have to be nuts too; and you're going to need a crew as nuts as you are. Who do you have in mind?" They all smiled at each other.
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LOS ANGELES
Gatsby and Spencer were sitting in a café overlooking the ocean.
"Alright," said Gatsby. "Who's in?"
"Derek's in," Spencer said. "He has bronchitis and is putting in a transfer for warmer climates."
"Or so he says," Gatsby laughed.
Spencer chuckled. "Drivers?"
"I talked to the Spencer Brothers," Gatsby replied.
"Shawn and Eliot?"
Gatsby nodded. "They're both in Santa Barbara, off the job. I think they're having trouble filling in the hours."
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SANTA BARBARA
A small remote control truck was at the starting position of an abandoned stadium. A life size version of it soon pulled up next to it and the driver was waiting impatiently.
"Waiting, Sweetheart, just waiting," Eliot said from inside the truck.
"Good, go," Shawn retorted.
"I'm waiting for you."
"Why?"
"Go already, dude!" Eliot whined.
"Relax."
"I'm gonna get out of this car and drop you like I dropped third period French, if you don't go."
"Why, afraid that you'll be my slave for a whole week?"
Shawn then made the remote control car go and it was doing good until Eliot used his truck to smash it. Eliot laughed as Shawn shook his head, resisting the urge to punch his brother in the face.
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"Electronics?" Spencer asked.
"Garcia; she's been doing surveillance for the FBI mob squad," Gatsby replied. Spencer looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Times are tough."
"How are her nerves?"
"Not so bad that you notice."
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BALTIMORE
Penelope Garcia was watching some surveillance footage and fidgeting with her troll when she noticed a couple of "FBI Idiots" messing with one of her cameras.
"D-don't touch that!" She exclaimed.
"What?" One FBI agent looked confused.
"That is very delicate, so don't touch that."
"Lady, it's just a camera."
"Do you see me taking you're gun out of your holster and swinging around?"
"Hey, RadioShack. Relax." The other agent said.
Garcia sighed, wondering how in the world she got herself in this mess. Suddenly, her phone vibrated. She looked and saw a text from an unknown caller. All it said was: "New job. You interested?"
"God bless you, Gatsby." She breathed.
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LOS ANGELES
"Munitions?" Gatsby asked.
"Kate Todd." Spencer said instantly.
"Dead."
"No shit! On the job?"
"Skin Cancer."
"You send flowers?"
"Dated her brother for a while."
"Bonnie and Clyde are in town."
"Hotch and Ziva?" Spencer nodded. "There might be a slight issue with availability." Gatsby warned.
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SAN FRANCISCO
The vault was rigged and ready to go.
"Alright, guys," Aaron Hotchner said. "Hang on to your asses." He turned to his fiancée. "You're ready, baby?"
"I'm ready, Hotch." Ziva David smiled.
"Light 'em up."
Ziva then detonated the bombs and the vault was opened. They stepped in the vault and started to make out only to hear the sound of the alarms going off.
"What the hell?!" Ziva exclaimed.
"You idiots!" Hotch said, angrily. "You had one job to do!"
Ziva and Hotch were being lead out by a SWAT officer
"That's all you used in the event right?" asked the police officer.
"Wait a minute, are you accusing us of booby-trapping?" Ziva asked incredulously.
"Well, how 'bout it?"
"Booby traps aren't Mr. Hotchner and Ms. David's style. Isn't that right, Bonnie and Clyde? Evita Schuler, ATF." Gatsby was holding up a badge. "Let me guess: Simple G-4 mainliner, back wound, with a quick fuse drag under 20 feet? Let me ask you something else; did you check these scumbags? I mean really search, not just for weapons. Stand back."
"Here we go," Hotch grunted as he was shoved against the squad car.
"Aaron!" Ziva gasped.
"Find Briggs, tell him I need to see him."
"Who?"
Just find him, will ya?" Gatsby said frustrated.
"Hey Hotch, hey Ziva." Gatsby whispered.
"Hey Gatz." Hotch whispered.
"That was some good acting," Ziva commended.
"Thanks," to Hotch, Gatsby asked. "How quickly you can put something together with what I just slipped you?"
"It's done." They started to walk casually away from the scene.
"Is Reid about?" Ziva asked.
"Yeah, he's around the corner, waiting."
"Great," Hotch said. "It'll be good to work with proper villains again. At least you know what you're doing."
The squad car started to smoke.
"Everybody down!" Gatsby shouted as she, Hotch and Ziva started to run.
"Ha! They weren't expecting that shit!" Hotch laughed.
"Nice work." Gatsby handed them the keys to the cuffs.
"Thanks, Algérnon."
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BOSTON
Spencer and Gatsby were at the circus and watching the performers.
"Which one is the Illustrious Parker?" asked Spencer.
"The little, petite white girl." Gatsby replied.
Spencer looked confused. "There's three of them."
"The one in the middle," Gatsby sighed.
"Her? She looks fourteen."
"She's nineteen."
Spencer didn't look all that impressed.
"Who else is on the list?"
"She is the list."
"I don't know. She doesn't seem all that diff…"
He got cut off as Parker did an amazing leap and flip in mid air, landing safely on the ground.
Spencer's mouth gaped. "We got a grease man."
"We got a grease man." Gatsby smirked and clapped her hands."
"We need Gideon," said Spencer.
"He won't do it," Gatsby replied. "He got out of the game a year ago."
"Why, did he get religion?"
"Ulcers."
"You could ask him," Spencer pointed out.
"Hey, I could ask him," Gatsby said sarcastically.
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TAMPA BAY
Jason Gideon got his betting cards and headed to his seat. He didn't notice the young woman, around 24 or 25 following his every move. Or so he pretended not to notice. Gideon knew who this woman was, he just didn't know why she was here. The brunette woman made her way to where Gideon was sitting and smiled.
"I saw you when you made your way to the betting tables," Gideon told her. "I saw you when you got into your car. I even saw you when you got out of bed this morning."
Gatsby laughed. "How're you doing, Jason?"
"As well as can be expected."
"What's with the orange?"
"Doctor says I need to take vitamins."
"So take vitamins."
Gideon looked at Gatsby. "You come here to give me health advice?"
"Box seats, come on."
Gideon and Gatsby were in the box seats watching the race warm up.
"How's Spencer doing?" Gideon asked.
"Pretty good as far as I can tell," Gatsby replied. "Always got something cooking in his head."
"Is it good this time?"
"Yeah, it is. We need you on this one, Gideon."
"Look, Gatsby. I'm living a comfortable life. I do golf every Wednesday and Pilates every Saturday. I have a nice girl, Kelly. She's a Zumba instructor."
"Is she half your age?" Gatsby joked.
"Don't play with me. The point is I've changed."
"People like us don't change, Gideon," Gatsby said. "We either get better or get sloppy. But we don't change."
There was a lengthy silence. Then Gatsby broke it.
"Which one of these dogs are you betting on?"
"Number eight, Speed Glory."
The race started and Gatsby saw that Number eight was trailing behind.
"The one that's in last place?"
"He breaks late," Gideon reasoned. Everybody knows that." He looked at Gatsby. "So, are you going to treat me like a grown-up? At least tell me what the con is?"
Gatsby whispered something in Gideon's ear and the old man's expression turned from irritation to shock. Seeing Gideon's expression, Gatsby smiled, patted his shoulder and left. Gideon couldn't fathom what Gatsby just said. He simply tore his tickets up and tried to breathe to keep his heart from beating faster.
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Spencer and Gatsby were sitting in a dark bar. Gatsby was sitting with her head on her arms staring blankly at the TV.
"Gideon makes ten," Spencer reasoned. "Ten should do it don't you think?" Gatsby said nothing. "You think we need one more?" More silence. "You think we need one more." She was still saying absolutely nothing. "Alright, we'll get one more."
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CHICAGO
She was young, but she had great talent. Albeit, she stole from the rich losers and jerks, but she was great at stealing from other people. The blond-haired, blue-eyed teen quickly stole her target's wallet and pocketed it. What she didn't notice was a tall, brown-haired man pick pocketing her. When she got to the corner, she dug in her pocket to take out the wallet only to find a business card with the message "Emmett's Pub" on the back and Dr. Spencer Reid on the front. She quickly looked around to see if she could spot anyone who looked suspicious. She entered the bar and spotted a tall, lanky man around 30-years-old sitting on a bar stool at a table and walked over to him.
"Hello, Ashley," said Spencer. "Who does this belong to?" He held up the wallet. Ashley Seaver shook her head.
"Who are you?" She asked.
"A friend of Jennifer Jareau's," Spencer replied. Ashley shook her head and smirked. Her sister had quite a reputation as a thief and it envied her so that she couldn't be in that same caliber. She saw Spencer put a piece of paper on the table.
"You're either in or out, right now," he said.
Ashley sat down. "What is it?" She asked curiously.
"It's a plane ticket, genius; a job offer."
Ashley's eyes widened as she never expected him to say that.
"You're very trusting pretty fast."
"Well, JJ has a lot of faith in you."
"Yeah, sisters are like that." Spencer's eyes widened. "Oh, you didn't know? Yeah, she doesn't want me "trading" under her name."
"Well, you do this job, you'll be trading under your own name. Or if you're too scared to play with the big boys you can always go back to filling up stockbrokers." To the bartender, Spencer said: "Can I get the check please?"
As Spencer turned back around, he noticed that Ashley grabbed the ticket from under his hand and was very surprised.
"That's the best lift I've seen you make, yet."
"Las Vegas, seriously?" Ashley asked with disbelief.
"America's playground," Spencer smiled while drinking his beer.
A/N: First two chapters! What do you think? First Criminal minds Incarnation of Ocean's eleven! Please Reid and Review!