Beep... Beep... Beep...
Listening to the busy signal, Charlie's expression turned grim.
He desperately hit the redial button!
But the automated voice message played almost immediately, confirming his worst fear: the phone had been switched off.
Handsome Rob, standing right next to him, sensed the shift in the atmosphere.
"Charlie," he asked urgently. "Did Steve take Stella?"
Rob might be a playboy, but he was also sharp and incredibly skilled. As one of the best wheelmen in California, he could handle anything with an engine—cars, motorcycles, speedboats, helicopters. He was a master of control, whether behind the wheel or dealing with women.
So, even though Charlie had only mentioned Steve's name once during the call, Rob had already connected the dots.
"Charlie?"
Charlie's hand, gripping the phone, was trembling slightly.
This was the first time in all their years together that they had suffered such a catastrophic setback before an operation even began.
No, "setback" was too mild. This was a disaster.
They had been investigating Steve for a while, steadily advancing their plan.
But Charlie never imagined that right before their initial recon mission, Stella would be snatched.
"How did Steve know Stella was John's daughter?" Charlie muttered, his mind racing.
"He shouldn't have ever met her."
"And how did he know we were coming for his gold?"
"Wait... I remember Steve just said we stole his gold the night before last?"
"Does that mean... someone else targeted Steve's stash before we did?"
"Someone beat us to the punch?"
Countless thoughts swirled in Charlie's mind, creating a chaotic storm of confusion.
He was spiraling.
Rob waited for a moment, but when Charlie didn't answer, he frowned and reached out, shaking Charlie's shoulder firmly.
"Hey!"
"Snap out of it! Are you okay?"
The physical jolt brought Charlie back from his panic.
He looked at Rob, seeing the concern in his friend's eyes, and forced a smile that looked more like a grimace.
"I'm okay, Rob."
"But our plan... it's blown wide open."
"Steve has Stella. He thinks we stole his gold. He wants us to bring it back in exchange for her life."
Rob froze. "Stolen gold?"
Charlie nodded. "From what Steve said, his villa was hit two nights ago."
"I can't verify it yet, but my gut tells me it's true."
"Why?" Rob asked, frowning.
"I told you before," Charlie explained. "I found Steve in LA because of a specific lead."
Rob nodded. Charlie was the brains and the intel gatherer of their international thief ring. He was the one who scouted, vetted, and assembled the team. If Charlie said he had a lead, Rob trusted him implicitly.
Charlie sighed. "I tracked him down because I heard whispers in the underworld. Someone in LA was moving gold bars stamped with the 'Dancer of Bali' mark."
"According to my intel, Steve has been offloading small quantities since he got back to the States."
"I don't know exactly how much he's sold, but conservative estimates put it in the millions."
"He's been selling to black market fences all over the city."
"So I suspect that besides us, someone else caught his scent."
Charlie, of course, had no idea that a transmigrator with foreknowledge and a magical inventory system had beaten him to the punch.
He naturally assumed that Steve had been sloppy while fencing the gold, attracting the attention of another criminal crew.
Rob listened carefully and accepted the logic.
He rubbed his head in frustration. "So what do we do now?"
"Where the hell are we supposed to find this missing gold to trade for Stella?"
Charlie fell silent.
He needed a moment to process. How to save Stella? How to find the gold? Or how to fake it?
Rob didn't interrupt him.
After a long minute of heavy silence, Charlie looked up. His eyes were focused again.
"Do you still have the energy to drive?"
Rob grinned. The Charlie he knew—the leader with a plan—was back.
"Relax. Unless you're asking me to handle ten women tonight, I'm good to go."
Charlie smiled, though it was strained. He patted Rob on the shoulder.
"We split up. You contact the others."
"And while you're at it... prep a ton of 'gold.' Lead bars, painted, weighted... whatever makes it look real enough to pass a visual inspection."
"I'm going to find Lyle. I need him to pull every scrap of surveillance footage from around Steve's villa for the last 48 hours."
"We need to find the real thief."
Rob nodded, serious now.
"Consider it done."
Without bothering to change out of his basketball gear, Rob turned and jogged toward the parking lot.
Watching him leave, the smile dropped from Charlie's face instantly.
He sighed deeply, looking up at the smoggy night sky where only a few stars were visible.
"Who could it be?"
After a moment of contemplation, Charlie ignored the basketball that had rolled away into the shadows. Still in his jersey, he headed for his car.
Steve hadn't given them much time. And knowing that man was a homicidal maniac, Charlie feared for Stella's safety every second she was in his grasp.
He had to figure this out. Fast.
Tonight was destined to be a sleepless night for Charlie Croker and his team.
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