Helen's Point of View
The diamond. Earth's most exquisite stone, perhaps one of the rarest and undoubtedly among one of the costliest treasures. Father had tasked us with retrieving it from a dangerous group, their stronghold heavily fortified.
Success would undoubtedly earn us Father's immense pride and trust. This mission demanded we be well-armed. Guns, and our remote operation from home, would be our strengths.
We were venturing into the valley of death, yet we would fear no evil.
We were entering the lion's den to seize a cub. Fear was absent from our hearts; our trust lay solely within ourselves.
A significant allure of this mission was the unified family involvement. And for me personally, the prospect of using firearms was particularly thrilling.
Father's usual decree forbade the taking of life on missions. But this time... this time, we had permission to shoot freely.
That explicit allowance fueled my conviction that none of my sisters would be harmed. We would leave that compound unscathed, the diamonds in our possession.
The mission's success felt assured, meticulously planned as it was. Our past triumphs, even those executed without planning, bolstered this confidence.
This particular diamond, if Father's assessment was accurate, held a staggering value of one hundred million dollars, though our share was a mere third.
Mother had spoken to us extensively about this undertaking.
Her excitement was palpable. Finally, her husband's long-held mission, his vision, his future ambition, was taking its first significant step. "This was just the beginning," she declared.
Days before the scheduled diamond exchange negotiations, Ace had already infiltrated the building's security cameras.
She executed the hack subtly, a couple of days prior, to avoid raising suspicion. Once complete, she meticulously restored the system to its original state.
Now, at our crucial moment, a simple click of a button from Mother would grant us a comprehensive view of the mansion's interior and exterior.
She had confirmed her readiness, our "third eye" watching from above.
Mother's repeated warnings echoed: no mistakes. Father, she stressed, had poured his entire life into this, and he would not hesitate to punish any of us, including herself, for failing in our assigned roles.
Even facing the potential consequences from Father, her enthusiasm for her part remained undimmed.
Her words conveyed a mother's eager anticipation of assisting her children.
Father and Mother's roles were clear: communication and surveillance, respectively. Equipped with our own computers at home, they would execute their tasks remotely.
Mother had also revealed a pre-mission conversation with Father. We needed a larger house, a mini-mansion perhaps, to accommodate our growing operations comfortably, unlike our current cramped living situation.
Father's response, she relayed, was contingent on the mission's success. This, therefore, became another compelling reason why failure was not an option.
Father had also briefed us on acquiring the immensely valuable diamond from a heavily guarded mansion.
The personnel in charge, he explained, were highly trained. Not only was the location secure, but the diamonds themselves were locked within a vault.
That presented a significant hurdle. The vault required a six-figure code. The holder of that code among the negotiators remained unknown. Failure to obtain them meant the diamonds, despite the vault's size, would be unattainable.
The coded vault, he emphasized, was the primary obstacle, the crux of the mission's difficulty: identifying the individual with the key.
On Thursday, at precisely three-forty-five in the afternoon, the negotiations were scheduled to commence.
They were acutely aware of potential eavesdropping by law enforcement or the infiltration of individuals like ourselves. This meant they were prepared for a confrontation.
The designated day arrived. An hour prior to the appointed time, we were already in position, waiting.
The daughters were discreetly observing their movements. Each individual involved in the negotiations was under our watchful eyes.
Ace's Point of View
After an hour of anticipation, our visitors began to arrive, each separated by mere minutes.
The system data confirmed their punctual arrivals, precisely matching the staggered schedule they had been given.
I had accessed this arrival schedule at the security office located just behind the mansion gates.
The security officer stationed there, a woman in her late thirties, had been incapacitated. Her duty was to verify incoming vehicles and personnel.
The mansion's entrance featured robust barriers, preventing unauthorized vehicle access unless she manually released the lever after each confirmation.
My entry to the post was orchestrated with a touch of theatricality. I walked a dog, feigning its unruly behavior as the reason for my approach to the office.
Both the dog and I gained access to the mansion grounds and directly to the security post.
The woman immediately ordered us to leave the premises.
I acted contrite, profusely apologizing for our trespass. I then intentionally nudged the dog under her table, feigning clumsiness.
Without hesitation, she drew a handgun from her waist and fired. Perhaps my pretense had failed, or she was strictly adhering to security protocols.
I was fortunate on two counts: I was wearing a bulletproof vest, and her handgun was equipped with a silencer.
The shot jolted me backward, and I deliberately fell to the ground, creating the illusion of a fatal wound.
She clearly underestimated me, believing me to be an ordinary, untrained individual.
Having already holstered her weapon, she moved to drag my "body" to a less conspicuous location, away from the view of arriving guests. She also attempted to shoot the dog, but it darted away.
I allowed her to approach before swiftly overpowering her.
A sharp tap to her neck rendered her unconscious. I quickly changed into her uniform.
Now, I controlled ingress and egress.
One of the security personnel near the post must have observed my initial entry and grown suspicious of my prolonged presence inside.
He approached the post with four armed men carrying automatic rifles. As they drew closer, he called out:
"Sergeant, are you alright in there?"
His quest was directed at the unconscious and bound security woman.
At that moment, I was lost and not aware of what to do. Any word spoken by me could sell me out if my voice failed to match the security woman's own.
The men were ready to open fire if I delayed a bit more.