The Great Heist

Chapter Two

Since the completion of over 70% of its infrastructure in 2018, the planned city of Lusail was witnessing an unprecedented record of activities on its streets so far.

This was currently evident on all streets within the Sports district and its axis; as people—mostly locals— from all walks of life gathered around as bystanders to witness what seemed to be a rather unexpected ending to the greatest event on earth which they have witnessed for almost a month now. 

However, it appears this new surge in activities was not about to end just yet. Because a new wave of siren wails split the Lusail air, as a motorcade barreled down the Al-Khor Coastal road of its Sports District.

The fleet, led by the sweepers—three Porsche Panamera police cruisers—and guarded at the rear by four Toyota Land Cruiser V8s breezed past the crowds of bystanders lining the Al-Khor Coastal road on both sides in a stream. Then, followed a sharp right at a turn into the stadium’s proper, before coming to a screeching stop in the large expanse of its parking lots.

What happened afterward saw a slight drop in the temperature around the stadium and its parking lots. As full-vested policemen holding large K9—canines—on thick leashes and sleekly-dressed agents from the Qatar State Security poured out of the vehicles in droves, and stood guard around the only Porsche Cayenne amongst the fleet. 

Barely seconds later, the death seat door of the Porsche Cayenne popped open. And out came a strapping man, whose toned six-feet-two physique hinted at regular visits to the gym. Similarly, his slightly tanned olive skin, straight big nose upturned at the bridge, hard jawline and defined cheekbones were enough telltale indicators of his Arabian ancestry.

Commander Ali Daei, the shaggy-haired young Director of the Qatar State Security spared a cursory glance at the stadium bowl’s elaborate exterior the instant he stepped out into the crisp evening air and scrunched up his nose in pure distaste.

Why spend so much on building a stadium when there’s so much that could still be done for the Nation’s Defense and Intelligence? He thought resentfully for an instant there. Such a total waste of money and resources!

Tossing the thought from his mind there on the spot, Commander Ali made briskly toward the Stadium’s northwestern entrance and was followed in tandem by the agents and team of policemen in his entourage.

Halfway to the northwestern entrance of the stadium, he was met by a short barrel of a man in a trench coat and cargo pants.

“Nurahib bialqayid,” the man said once within earshot. His breath jetted out in a cloud of condensation in front of him. Welcome Director.

“What’s the sitch on ground, Amman?” Commander Ali asked in passing, never breaking his strides.

Amman, who was just about to stop dead in his tracks for the Director fell right back in step behind the muscular man before diving into details. “The trophy is still very much missing, sir. I had the police and stewards initiate a lockdown of the stadium at the instance of the incident. We have also blocked all access to the stadium and are now coordinating a stop and search of the spectators in the stadium at ‘Entrance Gate One’.”

“That’s some balls you got rolling already, Amman.” Commander Ali said with a brief nod of approval as he approached the Stadium’s ‘Entrance Gate Four’. 

“I would also like to add that, we found a hole in one of the dressing rooms that link to one of the malls in the stadium complex,” Amman informed, taking two steps at a time to keep up with the Director’s brisk pace. 

The information, however small and insignificant seemed to carry some weight, because the Director slowed his pace a little, and echoed. “A hole in the wall?” He picked up the pace seconds later. And so did his details, who had slackened their pace at the same time as him.

“Yes, a hole sir. It was discovered by some uniforms some minutes after the trophy went missing.” Amman explained. “Our working theory earlier is, that it’s likely to be the escape route used by the robbers, but it appears it isn’t.”

“And by that, you mean there is a higher chance the trophy has left the stadium. Don’t you, Amman?” Commander Ali said, making the first eye-to-eye contact with him.

Amman was hesitant before giving a response this time. “I think that’s a possibility we may have to consider now, sir,”

“If we are considering that angle at all, I want to believe you have set in motion some plans to retrieve the trophy as we speak.”

“Definitely sir,” Amman said with some confidence. “I have sent out a helicopter patrol and I also intend to have the cops initiate a roadblock on every street within a five-mile radius.”

“Just a five-mile radius? It’s the World Cup trophy we’re speaking of here for God’s sake, Amman.” Aggravated by this, Commander Ali halted in his tracks at once. “That won’t do. Not anymore, Amman.” He spelled it out this time. “What would do now is, scramble all police units in the city, and have them turn every city block into checkpoints.”

“I will see right to that, sir,” Amman assured, patting the pockets of his cargo pants for his walkie-talkie.

“Well, see to that already, Amman. We don’t want the robbers; whoever they are to get out of the city. Do we now?” Commander Ali said this time in a clipped tone and comport that reveals he was done talking. 

Keying into this as well, Amman walked away toward the direction they had come, leaving the Director and his details on the spot.

The instant Amman was out of earshot, Commander Ali turned to his details and said. “I hope someone among you guys at least knows the way around here because I think I may need some help getting to the control room.”