Yoongi focus

His research had left them with exactly one victim for the luggage swap. Son Gahyung, member of the conservative party, 44 years old, single for a reason. Yoongi watched the man stuffing the fifth soggy hot dog into his mouth, dripping sauce all over the newspaper he was reading. The man was a rather pathetic example of the political race, and Yoongi did not feel bad at all for instrumentalizing this guy for their plan. Maybe he would have, had Mr. Son not acted like a total asshole towards the airport staff. Why were it always the pathetic exemplars that acted like they owned the world?

Son was done with his hot dog and grabbed the coffee to-go from the counter to leave for his check-in. Not getting checked all over appeared to be a huge plus regarding time limits before boarding. The big silver aluminum suitcase rattled over the tiles behind the big man, and directly behind it Yoongi pulled out his phone to take a picture of the model and manufacturer.

This was the third time he watched their victim at the airport. Of course, Son did not fly to Hongkong every time, but they needed to get to know the man's airport behavior to find possible weaknesses where they could attack. The pause at the kiosk in the entrance hall was a constant, although the choice of food was not. Depending on how much time was left, the big man would either go just for a coffee or take his time for some greasy fast food.

Yoongi sent Taehyung the pictures and turned around to leave. His best friend was out shopping for their vacation, so Yoongi could spare himself the trouble of buying the suitcase. Taehyung would know where to look.

Namjoon probably was at work at the time, so they would have to meet later this evening to discuss how they would proceed. Maybe he could use the time to pack for Hongkong, so he would not have to bother about it later. Satisfied with his plan, he left the airport.

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When Yoongi entered Taehyung's apartment in the evening, his best friend was busy packing a huge suitcase.

"Yoongi," the crimson whined when he saw him, "I don't know which clothes to pack."

"I thought you've been shopping today?" he asked confused and walked over to the kitchenette to get himself a glass of warm water.

"Yeah, I know, but I got distracted by the new winter collections," Taehyung admitted with a shy boxy smile.

Yoongi just shook his head and left the fashion idiot to his problem. He had packed four black t-shirts, two short jeans and underwear for a week, plus a suit because you never knew. That was all. He never had understood the younger's packing demeanor; it seemed useless, given that literally no-one cared what you were wearing. But Taehyung's life was a catwalk and he respected that, he just did not want to be included in the business. He had made that experience once and had sworn never to engage in the stripes-or-dots-question again.

"Ask Namjoon when he comes. He seems like a fashionable guy," he answered diplomatically and sat down at the table to watch the cold rain outside. If he was honest, he longed for a vacation, too. The rainy and gray Seoul did not help his daily mood at all.

Half an hour later, the ex-cop was guided upstairs by Mrs. Lee and instantly captured by Taehyung for the fashion discourse. To Yoongi's astonishment the cop -one- was able to have that talk with Taehyung and apparently offered satisfying advise -and two- had dyed his hair to hazel-colored. Without the black mop he looked so much gentler that Yoongi almost did not recognize him. Had Tae advised him to do that because, damn, it did the man fine. Maybe he should try changing his hair-color, too?

However, Namjoon and his best friend were laughing and conversing over the fashion business, and piece by piece the suitcase filled, so that they were able to go on with the planning twenty minutes later.

"The target's name is Son Gahyung. I monitored his airport behavior and the only reoccurring pattern is the stop for a coffee at one special kiosk before the check-in. No matter if there is time to eat or not, he'll go for that coffee. By the way, Tae, did you get the right suitcase model?" he began when they had settled down around the table, steaming mugs of tea with a soju shot in front of them.

"Yes, exactly the same and now packed as well," his friend answered and sipped on the hot drink.

"Perfect. So, as I said, the stop at the kiosk is the only time he stops," Yoongi continued.

"So, we swap the cases when he's distracted with ordering," Namjoon concluded, going for the easiest and most obvious option.

"I thought that, too," Yoongi admitted, "But there are cameras everywhere."

"The only place without cameras in a public building is the restroom," Taehyung joined the planning, speaking Yoongi's thoughts.

"Exactly," he agreed and smiled mischievously. "What if Mr. Son's coffee is bad and he needs to take a leave for the restroom?"

Taehyung grinned satisfied.

"You want to drug the man?" Namjoon intervened, looking not so pleased.

"Not exactly drug. I thought of a strong digesting medication that will cause him a short delay but won't cause him not to board the plane," he explained to the ex-cop.

"Is that really necessary?" the hazel-haired asked concerned. "I mean, I saw what stuff Taehyung packed up. It didn't seem like something the airport security would check on."

Naïve man. "You mean the military master lock pick set that normal people can't buy officially, sorry, that normal people should not even know about? Or the AX5000 black box, my favorite tool to disable every security system developed before 2010? Or the long-range ear pieces, exclusively developed for the secret service? Or the-"

"I get it. A random search will cause a tumult," Namjoon sighed. "So, digesting medicine it is."

Taehyung chuckled at their exchange and watched them happily. His best friend seemed to like it when he quarreled with Namjoon. He always would enjoy the scene like some sitcom and smile dumbly. Well, what wrong was in making his best friend laugh by scratching on the ex-cop's pride? It was quite entertaining for himself to see the brainy know-it-all squirming.

"Mr. Son has a business trip to Hongkong in two days, so about the act..."

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When finally the restrooms where empty, Yoongi pulled the out-of-order sign out of his cleaning service uniform and placed it on the handle. This was the toilet closest to the kiosk. So, when everything went like planned, Son would run straight into his arms. Then he waited in front of the door, gesturing several (annoyed) travelers away, and watched the kiosk where Namjoon sat on one of the stools, dressed in an expensive gray suit and reading the newspapers through a pair of dark sunglasses. Yoongi even had borrowed the ex-cop his Rolex to make him look more believable, because if his assumption was right, Son liked being close to other rich people and especially those who radiated power. And right now, Namjoon looked like a rich dude with more power than his body could contain.

A brief look to the right showed him that Taehyung also was in place. With the airport uniform's hat pulled deep into his face, he leaned against the side of the kiosk container, hidden from the customer's sight by a cheap-looking potted plastic palm tree. Everything was ready for Mr. Son's appearance on stage.

And there he came. Early enough for a snack and, like predicted, ogling Namjoon's frame. With some hesitation he sat down next to their ex-cop.

"It's him, Namjoon," Yoongi mumbled and saw the hazel head nod slowly. Now it was all on the ex-cop to get this done. Otherwise they would have to wait almost three weeks.

Yesterday, Yoongi had given Namjoon a small syringe that could be hidden in the palm of one hand, and they had trained the motion of emptying the content into a cup while looking like flipping a page of the newspaper, all day. Now was the moment of truth. Son made his order and then turned towards their honey pot.

"Airports are awful, aren't they?" Yoongi could hear the faint voice of the politician.

"Play cold," he instructed Namjoon and glanced at Taehyung who was tapping one foot nervously.

"Sorry, Sir, I don't speak Korean," Namjoon said in English and Yoongi grinned widely. That's the attitude.

But suddenly Son changed into English as well.

"Ignore him," Yoongi mumbled and watched how Namjoon frowned arrogantly and turned slightly away from the big man, flipping a page in disinterest.

Son seemed to have given up frustrated, judged by how he devoured his sandwich with a dark frown, but then the air around them changed. The politician froze mid-movement, then dropped the sandwich and looked around panicked.

"Tae, your turn," Yoongi instructed with an amused smile. He really was no sadist, but this was just too exciting to watch. Their plan worked perfectly.

"Sir, are you okay?" Taehyung asked their -by now standing- target concerned. "You don't look good."

"Toilet," was all Son could bring out in his panic while he grabbed the handle of his suitcase and his laptop bag.

"Over there, Sir," Taehyung said and gestured at Yoongi.

Son began to run, and suddenly Yoongi saw it.

The suitcase was limping. One of the wheels was broken and made the case stumble every few steps. Shit, this had not been part of the planning.

"Sir, you can't go in here," he kept up his act, "The restrooms are-"

"Watch this," Son barked at him and left him with the suitcase, vanishing inside the restrooms.

So far so good, Yoongi thought, time to get creative. He went after the man and, while listening to the inhuman sounds from one of the stalls, pulled their suitcase out of one of the other cubicles.

"Sir, are you okay?" he asked to cover up the noises he made, though he was not sure if that was necessary.

No answer. Slightly sweating, he looked at their suitcase. He would have to dislocate the wheel to make it limp as well, but too much force and the thing would be broken completely, ruining everything. Breathing out slowly, he laid their suitcase down and inspected the mechanism. It was a rolling bearing and not some cheap shit, so how the heck had Son destroyed this? The only reason could be a malalignment. He looked at the politician's suitcase, and indeed, the suspension was unmoving and locked in a weird angle.

He needed to fixate the suspension with a small slim object. Wiping the sweat from his temples, he tried to think of something. The sounds from the stall had quieted down noticeably, so there wasn't much time. Slim and hard.

A key. Hastily, Yoongi pulled out the key ring from his pocket and fiddled through the small keys. The mailbox key seemed perfect and he could pick that lock with ease anyway, so he took it, aligned the wheel in the wanted position and forced the bit into the small gap between the suspension and the body of the suitcase. With one last harsh push he broke off the haft.

The water was running in Son's stall.

Yoongi rolled the diplomat's luggage into the first open stall and turned around pretending to chew on gum and being bored.

"Thanks for taking care of that," the man said while washing his hands. Yoongi was almost amazed to get a thank you from the man he had only heard barking at the staff. "If anything's missing, you can clean the toilets in prison," the asshole added with a dark look and grabbed the handle of the case. That much about nice words.

Yoongi just looked at the man disinterested, but internally he prayed that this prick would someday suffocate on one of his beloved hotdogs. "We've got a codex here, Sir. The safety and comfort of the traveler and his belongings has the highest priority. Have a nice flight, Sir," he recited in his dumbest voice.

Son left without giving him a second glance, the suitcase limping behind him.

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