It Happened One Heist

The Fire

Within the walls of Sir Mortimer's estate, all were unaware of the black-clad thief who slipped in through the ballroom skylight, as was his tradition when breaking into museums. It was a good way to bypass the security locks on the outside.

Monkey Fist lowered himself by the rope, and froze at the sound of low growling behind him. He cautiously looked over his shoulder and in the doorway he saw a doberman and a German shepherd on their own patrol, being the first to catch him in the act.

The dogs charged at him. Monkey Fist removed his right glove with his free opposable foot and held out his bare palm. The two canines stopped dead in their tracks, and curiously sniffed at his fingers. They proceeded to whine in contentment as their ears folded back and they drifted to the ground.

Monkey Fist let out a relieved sigh and quietly lowered himself to the floor.

He turned on his earpiece. "Remarkable, Margaret! Just how does this powder work?"

"It causes a chemical reaction in their brain that basically makes them think of Mom," Maggie proudly explained. He could almost hear her smiling through his earpiece.

He rubbed the remaining particles still in the creases in his fingers. "That's quite impressive."

"Well, bats aren't the only critters I've worked with."

Monkey Fist removed his other glove and proceeded to give both dogs thorough scratches on the tops of their heads. It wasn't so much out of affection but to put some of the powder on them so that they might be kept at bay for as long as he needed.

He moved out into the hall and was about to put his gloves back on when he heard approaching footsteps. He tucked himself into the shadows of a pedestal displaying a Ming vase as a security guard walked by. Monkey Fist timed his movements perfectly so that he was well-hidden in the shadow cast by the guard's flashlight as he slipped by, not a sound from his footfalls or from his breathing.

It wouldn't be long before the hounds would be discovered in a drugged state of bliss. If he was lucky they would mistake the dogs for being lazy, but he still had to act fast.

During their travel on the way there, he had carefully studied the map of the estate so he knew which halls to turn to find the wine cellar.

He made his way down the stairs to the basement, but upon hearing the first wooden board creak beneath his weight he made a great leap down onto the concrete landing.

Confirming that he hadn't drawn any attention, he stood back up and turned on his wrist-mounted flashlight to survey his surroundings.

It looked like any old wine cellar at first, but then at the back wall he saw something more akin to the entrance of a vault. Upon closer inspection it was sealed by a digital lock that required a code, no doubt set to go off if one punched in the wrong number.

Fortunately they had prepared for this. From his belt he retrieved a device that Maggie had provided for him. It looked like a robotic bat that was no larger than a person's thumb. Monkey Fist rested it on the side of the keypad, and the tiny mechanism latched itself onto the lock by its teeth, making a series of beeps until its eyes lit up green. The steel door heavily swung open.

Sir Mortimer's legendary wine cellar was less like it sounded and more like an impenetrable bank vault with its labyrinthian structure intact. A minotaur could have gotten lost in here if it didn't get itself plastered first. It was originally built to be the family vault where the Fredericks would keep their fortune, their jewels and their heirlooms. Apparently Sir Mortimer saw it fit to replace it all with alcohol.

Monkey Fist began looking for a pattern in the collection's arrangement as he had to admit to himself that he wasn't one to judge on unconventional expenditures. He had used much of his own family fortune to attain his simian appendages, after all.