Riley and Naz spent the afternoon practicing with and prepping the drones. One would be used to replace Marilyn at night and keep watch on the house.
At suppertime Marilyn came back. She reported no movements at Stealsky’s house for the entire day, other than one car.
“The car parked in the compound. Never used the garage. Three maids got out, entered the house, and three hours later came out and drove off. That’s it. Nobody else came, not even the postman.”
“How do you know they were maids?”
Marilyn grinned and plugged the camera to a laptop. She downloaded the photos and videos she had taken. There were three women, all with short hair. One dirty blonde, one with chestnut hair in a pixie cut and one with black hair.
“Wow. So stereotyped.”
“That’s professional maids. Got to be part of some high end company.”
“Actually, I like the uniform,” Marilyn said appreciatively.
At first Stacy was just joining the oogling, since none of the ZIL members ever had maid service or could imagine maid service ever possible.
Stacy knew that in theory maids could be dressed as anything. But this outfit just had to dress its maids as recognizable maids.
…
This was quite funny.
What made things even funnier, was that Marilyn really appreciated the maid uniform. She remarked that she would like to wear something like that too. Stacy figured that everyone was too polite at this point to comment on Marilyn’s words.
Uzbeks were one of the poorest nationalities in the ex-USSR. But they dressed well. And these maid uniforms were actually very flattering. Exactly the kind that could win prizes at an anime convention. Or be worn in a Japanese maid cafe.
The tops were were very close fitting, looking as though they had been painted on the chests, torsos, backs and waists of the maids. But from the way the maids moved, they were quite comfortable. Clearly this was very precisely tailored to each individual maid. It wasn’t some sexist supertight outfit that squeezed her body; all three women’s different curves were properly respected. That’s why Stacy’s team members liked the uniforms.
Stacy remembered reading about the world’s most expensive tailor. He was a man who charged tens of thousands of US dollars for just making a single suit. But to get a perfectly fitting suit done didn’t just involve paying money. The customer had to participate in multiple fitting sessions where a vast number of measurements were taken.
And this was a man’s tailor.
Women’s bodies were much more complicated than men’s. So to get a perfect fit for women was much harder.
The footage of the women was quite short, and the ZIL members replayed it in slow motion.
Skin was visible, but only in the legs and arms since hemlines and sleeves were short. As sexy as these outfits looked, there was no cleavage. Each maid’s torso was completely covered, so she would not need to fear wardrobe malfunctions. The maid outfits were closed off at the top by close fitting white collars with little red ribbons, which resembled miniature young pioneers’ scarves. These seemed to be soft collars meant for comfort, not starched old fashioned collars.
Waists were trim but not unnaturally small. All three maids had average waistlines for their age. (Average by Russian or Central Asian standards would be considered average by French or Japanese standards, but still rate substantially underweight by American or Saudi standards. And downright emaciated by Samoan standards.)
The skirts were very short. You could call them cheerleader length if you wanted to be polite. Or you could call them pornstar length if you wanted to insult the women. They had short white aprons and long white stockings.
All maids wore white cuffs with cufflinks on their wrists. The cufflinks would probably indicate their employer.
“Stop there,” Stacy said. “Zoom in to their footwear.”
“Huh?” Riley asked. But she did as asked.
“What’s so special about their footwear?” Marilyn asked.
“Looks nice,” Naz commented casually.
“All three are in flats. Black loafers with buckles and thick soles,” Stacy noted.
“Uh?” Angel was not getting it.
Wow. Stacy was really among engineering-trained ex-Soviet women. Most women in rich countries took note of shoes.
Probably this was an ex-Soviet habit. You didn’t get too much consumer choice in the Soviet Union, so everyone usually assumed you wore whatever was available. It was not like in rich capitalist countries where you could choose your shoes. Many Western women were used to wearing shoes that complimented their appearance. And they judged other women by their shoes also. Wearing shoes that didn’t match your clothes was an unpardonable sin in some women’s eyes. At least, it justified turning the offending female into a nonperson by ostracization. Stacy had been one such nonperson, going through four years of college with less than ten pairs of footwear in total. (Of which two pairs had been indoor slippers.)
These thick, flat soles weren’t conventionally sexy. They were practical. Their wearers may be in very attractive maid uniforms, but their shoes were also professional. A mistress would probably be wearing sequinned stiletto pumps or something that her man liked.
Stacy concluded that they were probably regular maids dressed to look good but actually just hired to do regular maintenance work. Not Stealsky’s mistresses in cosplay.
…
Marilyn was talking.
“Really would like to wear something like that.”
To add to the irony, Marilyn had served in a uniformed capacity before.
And Uzbeks often did the cleaning in Moscow.
Stacy didn’t say anything to avoid giving offence. But it was no surprise that for many Uzbeks, even highly educated ones, a cleaning job in Moscow was a step up from what they had back home.
Want to talk about freedom? Rights? A legal system that worked? Even in these metrics Russia was superior.
Some Russians took pride that former Soviet republics still looked up to Russia, the former imperial metropole. Stacy merely felt sad that others were so poor that Russia was a step up for them.
This was all a problem of economics. Uzbekistan and the Central Asian countries needed to restructure their economies. They weren’t actually short of intelligent people with education and skills. They could…
…
Riley’s voice interrupted Stacy’s wool gathering.
“What were the maids doing?”
“I know they were doing cleaning. They opened a few windows and I could see them cleaning the room inside. They didn’t do any yard work, but Stealsky’s house has well kept grounds. So I guess a separate contractor or party maintains the grounds.”
All right. So these were really maids.
“Did you see any other signs that Stealsky has particularly good security?”
“There was one visit during the four hours I was there. Black van with private security markings. Two men with guns. They did a round of the compound, looked inside, talked to a maid through a window, and that was it.”
…
Once it was dark, the members of ZIL went out again. The streets were dark and houses had big compounds, so there was not too much light.
They drove through the small roads around Stealsky’s house, taking note of everything.
“No neighbors.”
“I’m pretty sure everyone here is a neighbor,” Riley commented. “Just that the compounds are so huge.”
“And lots of land is forested or wooded. Not much sound will travel.”
“It’s mostly dark.”
“The lights that are on appear to be just night lighting or area illumination.”
“No guards on site. No visible police presence on the side roads. Infrequent patrols.”
It sounded simple and doable. Important for the first mission. Exactly as what the Benefactors promised – missions offered that were in line with the capabilities of ZIL members.
Naz parked the Rolls Royce in the shadow of a tree. Marilyn climbed a tree to act as a spotter. Riley unpacked the drones from the Rolls Royce’s generous boot, and soon they were flying all over inside the mansion compound. Marilyn helped to correct the course of the drones by giving instructions using a radio. Eventually a total of six drones were positioned at various places in the compound.
“Drones show no dogs let loose at night. No man-traps. The tops of the walls are flat – no glass or barbed wire,” Naz concluded at last.
“But how do we get in?” Stacy wondered. The walls were at least three meters high, and the gates even higher.
“Simple. I toss you inside,” Angel said. “You and Riley.”
This came as a surprise. “Wha…”
“Have you forgotten I used to cheerlead?” Angel grinned. “I’ve tossed lots of girls.”
“Uh, I haven’t done cheerleading before,” Riley said in a vexed tone.
“Don’t worry, I’ll use just the right amount of force.”
“This has got to be something we practice first!”
…
And so they went back to the loaner house. While Naz watched the cameras on their drones, Angel took Stacy and Riley to the inner wall of the loaner house and practiced tossing them up. It wasn’t as easy as it looked, because a bit of coordination was needed. You basically stepped on Angel’s hands and leapt up the same time as she tossed you. But the most important element – Angel’s Strength – was never in doubt. She always used just enough force to get you up to the top of the wall.
Grabbing that wall was harder for Stacy than Riley. Despite her thin body Riley was quite physically fit, so she easily climbed over. Stacy had thin arms and big breasts, so it was only with considerable puffing that she could get herself over the wall.* She could only practice this three times before she had to stop.
“Wow. This is harder than I expected.”
“If you were a cheerleader you would be expected to spin and pose in mid air too,” Angel grinned.
“It’s not that easy being a cheerleader,” Stacy confessed. “I’ve never paid attention to them before.”
“Where’s Marilyn, by the way?” Riley wondered.
As if announcing that she was back, Marilyn drove up to the loaner house in the Lada.
“Where did you go?” Stacy asked.
“I was scouting out different trees. Did a good bit of climbing up and down,” Marilyn explained. “I expect to move a few times as sniper, and I need to have a plan.”
…
Everyone retired early except for Naz and Marilyn who were on the first shift. After that they rotated throughout the entire night. Other than a periodic visit every two hours by members of a uniformed professional security service, no movements were seen. Naz and Angel had to make a new trip to collect the drones early in the morning to swap in fresh batteries, but that was also uneventful.
“Stealsky is clearly using this as a third or fourth home. The garage door has never opened once.”
“It might just be his second home,” Stacy corrected. “He might be living in Moscow most of the time, and come to these suburbs on weekends. Many rich people do that.”
“Then as for his security guys…”
“Looks like private contract security. Two hourly visits at night. Three hourly visits in the day. Seems to be very average guys.”
“So if we go at night, we have two hours?”
“More like one hour. Got to make sure they come and go, before we go in. Then we need at least half an hour getting out.”
“One hour is more than enough time to take all the photos we want.”
“That assumes I can get past their locks.”
“If we go in cautiously and disturb nothing, we can hide in the house?”
“Yes. I think that’s best, if we have difficulty getting past the locks and it takes too long.”
“Have to avoid tripping alarms.”
“That’s what my drones will be for,” Naz said. “We’re going to surveil everything before sneaking in. Make sure that really nobody is home.”
“And thanks to the wonders of digital camera photography,” Riley said, “I will be examining all footage for things like CCTVs and alarms.”
…
“Say, it is almost time for lunch,” Naz said. “Is there some place we can eat?”
“I saw a Little Potato on the way in,” Angel said.
“Little Potato?” Riley sounded confused. “Are we going to dig potatoes from some patch?”
“Kroshka Kartoshka is a fast food joint,” Stacy explained. “I’m not keen because it’s lots of unnecessary carbohydrates.”
Stacy didn’t say that she feared potatoes might weigh her down when she scaled the wall later.
“Still…”
Marilyn didn’t say that she figured Kroshka Kartoshka would probably be the cheapest thing to eat in these parts. Instead Angel said it for her.
“We haven’t started work. Moscow isn’t cheap. Let’s be sparing with our budgets,” Angel suggested. And Marilyn quickly agreed.
“Hmm… hmmm… hmmmmm…” Naz was suggesting that she didn’t quite like this idea, but didn’t feel she could refuse to save money either.
“Little Potato,” Riley sniffed. “In this rich place? Doubtless the rich Moska- I mean people want to experience their childhoods again. Eat all the potatoes they had to line up for when they were children.”
“I think it’s just for the rich people’s servants. Gives them an affordable food option,” Stacy said gently.
To Naz, Stacy urged. “I’m normally not a fan of potatoes. But let’s go with an inexpensive, easy option for now. We haven’t gotten our formal job offers and I don’t know how much we will be earning.”
“Hm… hm… hmm…” Naz continued. “One potato isn’t enough…”
“I only need half a potato or less. You can have the rest. So why not just order two of whatever you like. And give me half of one?” Stacy offered.
“Tell you what, you just order two of whatever you like,” Riley said. “I’ll share my potato with Stacy. We can have half a potato each.”
“All right,” Naz agreed.
…
Late in the afternoon, Stacy received a message. She read it, and told the others:
“We should do this tonight.”
“Do we want to observe one more day?
“No. Yesterday was Wednesday. Tonight would be Thursday night. My source has confirmed that this is Stealsky’s main alternate home. He’s back on Saturdays and Sundays. If we wait until tomorrow and he doesn’t have any Friday night dinner engagements in Moscow, it is possible that he will come back home early. Then we have to wait until Monday night for the next opportunity.”
“Sounds fair. I think we shouldn’t wait until we start seeing people. If the house is empty now, let’s take advantage of now.”
And so the ZIL members made their plans. They would sneak into Stealsky’s house tonight.
“I will have to make another round of the area this evening,” Marilyn said. “Just to make sure there are no changes.”
“Wait, since you will be outside, how about you bring back supper?”
“I will be glad to, but we’re in an expensive area. I think most takeaways are going to cost quite a bit.”
“And I definitely don’t want more potatoes,” Naz spoke up. “Moskal – I mean Moscovichy have terrible food. Just weighs on the tummy.”
Nobody mentioned that this was because Naz had eaten two potatoes.
“Just get us some modestly priced street food. We haven’t gotten our formal job offer,” Stacy suggested.
…
And so Marilyn went out and came back with Öçpoçmaq and black tea.
“Ah!” Naz brightened up immediately on seeing the crispy, golden triangle-shaped pastries.
“Uchpuchmaks!” Angel also looked very pleased.
“Got it from a Tatar vendor,” Marilyn said. “Beef.”
In a secular country where most people were not very religious, most Muslims would accept this as halal. Or at least, halal enough. Stacy didn’t know whether Marilyn and Angel were religious, but so far they had not appeared to be very particular.
“Tatar food for people on the move. How nice,” Riley said drily. She didn’t have anything against Tatar or halal, but she was normally quite careful about eating fried foods. Riley did not have pimples and wanted to keep it that way.
As dusk was falling, the ZIL members ate dinner together. A simple meal of Uchpuchmaks washed down by tea. Invented by Turkic peoples, this was an excellent way to eat while on a field mission.
Riley only wanted to eat the filling because she was keen to avoid the deep fried crust. So she gave her crust to Naz.
Stacy appreciated the use of tea to wash down fried stuff. And everyone was happy.
…
“We plan things for quick exit,” Naz said after dinner. “So before we go, we should clean up everything in this house.”
“I agree, no tracks. No boot marks. Nothing that they can use against us.”
“Except for possible DNA evidence,” Riley commented half to herself.
“Uh…” Naz, Marilyn and Angel didn’t know how to respond to that.
“Surely top investigators would be able to find out things about us, if they went over this house,” Riley muttered.
“You have been watching CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, I take it?” Stacy asked.
Riley reached up and touched her hair clip in response.
Truth be told, Riley didn’t know how much of CSI: Crime Scene Investigation was fiction and how much was realistic. But like many Lithuanians she had a ‘wow’ attitude towards the United States usually. So she had instinctively admired the awesome skills of the CSI team.
“What’s CSI?” Someone asked.
“American forensics crime drama. It looks fantastic. But the real thing is much more mundane,” Stacy told everyone. “It’s a question of resources, priority and technical capabilities. DNA gathering in most American crimes is very limited and full of errors. People are wrongly convicted by DNA all the time.”
“This is Russia. Home of bribery and third rate police work,” Naz spoke up. “Expensive and professional crime investigation methods are unknown. If American police can’t get DNA right, no way Russian militsya can.”
“We can’t be complacent,” Riley warned.
“You’re entirely right,” Stacy said. “And I was coming to that. Because I can see that everyone has done what I asked.”
“Keep the place clean and avoided randomly touching things?” Naz asked.
“That’s right. So if we go over the place one more time and wipe down all surfaces, not only would it keep the place clean. We would also ensure that investigators can’t find traces of us.”
Stacy indicated the vacuum cleaner. “Angel, please vacuum, then change the dust bag. We’ll dispose of the dust bag along with our trash.”
“Well done,” Angel nodded as she moved to grab the vacuum cleaner. “You could be a top level chemist.”
Marilyn already had a rag and was wiping down a window. “I opened this window. Let me know if anybody opened another window.”
Riley went straight to the bathroom to remove everybody’s hairs from the floor trap.
Naz went outside to make sure there were no signs of ZIL’s presence, while Stacy picked up a mop and commenced mopping from the inside out.