Late at night, beneath the cliff where Steve's villa stood.
Hunter fought the urge to light himself a cigarette.
He looked up at the cliff top—Steve's villa was right there.
But right now, whether because the owner was asleep or simply the angle,
Hunter couldn't see a single light; everything was pitch-black.
None of that affected what he had to do next.
He reached forward and grabbed something.
From his private space Hunter took out a packet of magnesium powder.
He dusted his palms with it, then pulled out a climbing rope and slung it across his chest.
After that he produced several glow-sticks: one clamped between his teeth, another tucked in a chest pocket.
Then, following the pitons he'd hammered in the night before, he began climbing the cliff toward the villa above.
As he climbed he threaded the rope through the pre-placed carabiners,
so he could rappel down quickly once the job was done.
Were it not for the fact that his physique was now more than twice that of an average man,
doing all this alone would have been seriously difficult.
He ascended cautiously, every move careful.
He kept a wary eye on the villa above, afraid guards on night patrol might spot him.
Fortunately, the climb remained uneventful.
It took Hunter a good ten minutes to reach the top, following his own pitons.
Throughout, he never encountered any danger.
"Whew."
With a soft exhalation he crested the cliff; only then did the heart lodged in his throat slide back into place.
After catching his breath he set to work at once.
He knew time was short—he couldn't be sure whether guards still roamed Steve's villa.
In The Italian Job, after Steve betrayed Charlie's crew,
murdered John Brief, and made off with the ton of gold bars they'd lifted from the Italian mafia,
he'd lived in fear of retaliation, constantly on the run until he finally hid here in Los Angeles.
When Charlie's team began plotting revenge,
they investigated Steve's mansion; yet the paranoid and mistrustful Steve
kept his villa heavily fortified but lived there alone—no other guards.
Still, Hunter knew all that was merely reference material.
Since arriving in this world he'd already seriously warped the fast & furious timeline.
Though he'd had little direct contact with Dominic recently,
he'd still found time to check out the parts store where Brian had been undercover.
The FBI agent was no longer there.
More precisely, the shop had been wrecked,
gutted as if by a smash-and-grab; it wouldn't reopen anytime soon.
Hunter suspected Dominic's hand in it.
Whatever the case, Brian clearly would never become part of Dominic's "family."
Therefore Hunter no longer trusted every plot point he remembered.
After securing the rope and double-checking it,
he pulled a balaclava from his private space and pulled it over his head.
Before arrival he'd already applied some disguising makeup,
but to avoid later identification by Steve—or the police—
he figured extra caution was wise.
Hunched low, he crept toward Steve's villa not far ahead.
He'd only advanced a few stealthy steps when his body froze.
At that instant the mechanical voice of the proficiency system sounded in his mind again,
informing him he'd unlocked the "Infiltration" skill.
He knew, though, how perilous his task was;
curiosity would have to wait.
Steve's villa bristled with cameras, most clustered along the front,
especially near the entrance and atop the front perimeter wall.
Hunter didn't know the man well,
but from The Italian Job he appeared cunning and ruthless.
So he couldn't rule out hidden cameras covering the rear—
the supposedly safe area he was in now.
Therefore, as he neared the clifftop,
he'd stowed every glow-stick back into his private space.
Now he advanced without a single light source.
He crouched low, hugging the ground, inching toward the villa as inconspicuously as possible.
A moment later, Hunter stopped.
Less than four meters from the rear of the villa, hearing far sharper than an ordinary man's let him catch the faint whir of machinery.
Hunter carefully traced the sound and soon spotted a surveillance camera not far away.
It stared unwaveringly at the back of the villa; clearly, Steve was the cautious type who didn't relax his guard even in the relatively safe rear areas.
Hunter swept the surroundings again and, sure enough, quickly found a second camera.
"Whew—close one."
After watching the lenses for a while he worked out the rotation rhythm of the two cameras.
Then, using the gap between their sweeps—
The half-crouched Hunter burst into a silent sprint.
In a single breath he reached the rear wall and slid into the dead zone between the two cameras.
"Good—only a few back here."
Pressing against the wall, Hunter studied the area.
Soon his eyes lit up.
A ground-level window set into the wall stood open.
It seemed to lead into the villa's basement; what lay inside he couldn't tell.
The gap was narrow, but after a quick check he was sure he could squeeze through.
He waited, timing the cameras once more.
At the same time he counted steadily under his breath.
Finally, as both lenses began their sweep—
He shot from cover, darted to the open window, and slipped inside…
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