Skar: Twenty Two
For the next week, I studied Nathan Prescott almost round the clock. I made notes of his schedule, his hobbies, his quirks and used that to deduce what the best way to infiltrate his house would be. I also took regular walks in from Scarlett estate with different looks and prosthetics at different times of the day. I used that knowledge to know how things worked in the estate, and so I could see where Sigma messed up.
The estate residents mall used a certain premium delivery agency to get their deliveries done: SwiftXPress. It was owned by one of the residents and boasted of literally the fastest logistics and courier services in all of America- all for a reasonable eye-popping price. But then this was an estate full of rich, snobby, stuck-up people who loved nothing more than to announce their status by spending money lavishly on the 'top tier stuff.
Of course, Sigma in his fake UPS van would have been a strange sight, and even though he was slick enough to get past the estate security, Prescott would have recognized the van as being out of place and possibly recognized it as belonging to his team of assassins that had been captured by the police. The question was: how did he manage to cause such an accident within such a short time?
I kept on thinking about it, and yet I could not find a possible explanation. Plus, it was impossible to track the details of all the deliveries to his house, because SwiftXpress was a more private enterprise than any I had ever seen. Those details were left redacted - the clients themselves probably knew exactly what they ordered. To top it all off, they had their mailing service and platform.
So yes, that was a dead end.
That meant I was going to risk everything going to his house on my own to set Prescott's death up, and whatever he had in store for me, I'd have to bear that all while taking this risk. I laughed at the risks and the odds, but I had already decided I was going to do it. One week was a lot of time wasted, and Skeletor was still hunting me down. It was like being between the devil and the deep blue sea, but who was what? I would have to find out.
Within the next two days, I managed to hack into the server of Soar, a firm that organized skydiving, parasailing, and paragliding activities - all that sort of thing. They were scheduled to have a surprise paragliding session for their members through an undisclosed route, and of course, reporters would be all about that stuff. All I did was to alter the route to pass right above Scarlet Estate, and thaT was all.
I smiled. I had been so busy during the past few weeks, but now I could see my efforts coming to fruition. Nathan Prescott was as good as dead, and the last nail in his coffin? Those honors were reserved for me. I knew I wouldn't;t do anything as outrageous as joining the skydivers, that was for sure. The movie set thing was a different scenario altogether, this time, every participant was well accounted for, and impersonation would be no easy task.
Moreover, paragliding was a whole new experience I could not just learn from Youtube videos and research. It would have to take some practice - this was a session for pros and others who'd been in the game long enough. I was just going to be fish out of water there, and then I'd be probably risking my life for something that was not worth it.
And finally, airdropping into the estate would be so conspicuous that I'd be caught almost immediately. With Skeletor on the loose, I couldn't;t find any reason to risk my life in such a manner.
Instead, Soar and the participants would serve as one bg distraction, together with the reporters who would throng the venue. Whether or not the security let them in, they would be too busy to even pay too much attention to the middle-aged man on a nice expensive bicycle ride his way into the estate.
Even if they did, it wouldn't;t be a strange sight. It happened all the time. Even the backpack on the man's back wouldn't;t have looked too out of place, and it did, they wouldn't notice all of that when they tried to control the reporters.
That man would make his way to 21 Pickett Street and enter the house of Nathan Prescott, proceeding to put measures in place to kill the billionaire. In nothing more than an hour, Prescott would be back, and dead. Whether or not anyone would find out would be left to decomposition or the neighbors and security personnel noticing anything.
At this point, the perpetrator would have moved to another part of Baltimore to proceed with his plans to finish off a few jobs and retire.
The whole detour and side mission was exciting, but now I was tired of it all. With this plan set in motion, there was absolutely no way I would fail.
Or so I thought. Life had a cruel way of making one's worst nightmare come to life.
TO BE CONTINUED
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