The Paranoid Billionaire

A luxurious limousine crosses the street and turns right into the basement of a skyscraper. The car is perhaps one of a kind in this country. It is a new Country-R brand, an armored luxury limousine similar to the one ridden by the president of Country-R merely last year. No, the one inside it is definitely not the president.

The car was publicly sold early this year. I guess Mr. Chekhovsky is one of its first buyers. I'm not too surprised, knowing the features of the car—it is bulletproof, bombproof, has steel-reinforced tires, and can be fully submerged in water. It's a perfect car for a paranoid billionaire like Mr. Chekhovsky.

Mr. Chekhovsky is really paranoid. At first, I didn't believe it when my client told me. But when I started observing him, I realized my client hadn't exaggerated at all.

The skyscraper the car just entered is his. Mr. Chekhovsky is the owner and CEO of the top building security company in the country, and he has equipped the skyscraper with the latest technology.

That information was easily obtained. Since its launch six months ago, it has been making headlines in business newspapers around the country. No wonder people are scrambling to rent space in that building.

Mr. Chekhovsky's company also moved its headquarters here. It operates on the 69th to 75th floors. But very few people know that Mr. Chekhovsky's office is not on those floors—it's in the basement, with a secret entrance and an elevator accessible only to certain individuals.

I was only able to get that information with Thief's help, of course. Still, even Thief hasn't been able to hack the building's security system. So the chances of sneaking in unnoticed are almost impossible.

Mr. Chekhovsky's house is even worse. His home isn't as big or glamorous as other billionaires' homes. It's a modest two-story house in a valley, deep in the forest outside the city. The gate is made of bulletproof and bombproof glass, with an iron cage covering the entire house like a dome. Only his core family and a select few trusted individuals can enter. His security system is updated every month, making it nearly impossible to hack.

"So, are you thinking of giving up on this job?" Thief asks over the phone after I tell her about my observations.

"Nah… The payment is too tempting to reject," I answer. The client is offering me two million dollars to take down Mr. Chekhovsky. "He's also willing to extend the deadline. I have two months."

"I guess he realizes how difficult it is," Thief says.

"He does. He admitted that I'm the fifth person he contacted. The previous four refused or failed."

"What's your plan?"

"I need to get inside so I can learn his procedures and find a weakness."

"His house or his office?"

"If I can get you the details of his house's security systems, could you figure out how to hack them? The system updates next week, so you'd have two weeks." I explain.

"I can try, but I can't make any promises this time. Sorry…"

"That's okay. So you think I should focus on his office?"

"Yeah. There are more ways for you to enter as one of his employees."

"His employees work on different floors from him."

"His bodyguards don't. He has several layers of security, all hired from various outsourcing companies."

"Let me guess… you have the list?"

"Of course. And I'm sure I can slip an extra profile into their records."

"You're the best, you know that?"

"I know."

After pressing several buttons, I hear the smooth sound of a machine starting up. With that sound, the door in front of me begins to roll up. I only need to lift it waist-high before bending down to enter the space beyond.

It's not exactly a room—it's actually a garage. My garage. Well, the one I rent. There, I keep my sports car, a Ferrari—my baby, which I rarely use. The car is covered with fabric. Usually, I only come here to start the engine and warm it up. But not tonight.

I walk to the back of my car, where a pegboard hangs on the wall, nearly full with tools and equipment secured by S-hooks. I place three fingers into three holes in the middle left of the board and twist. Another smooth mechanical sound follows as a secret door opens.

I step inside the hidden room. Welcome to my office. It's not too spacious, but it has everything I need. My feet carry me to the whiteboard. Using a magnet, I stick Mr. Chekhovsky's picture onto it. Then, I begin working on my plan.