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Diamonds and Disguises
    The newspaper headline read $40 Million in Diamonds Stolen! Police Stumped! Samantha sipped her coffee as she read it out in front of her coworkers.
    “Any ideas, Sam?”
    That was George, her partner. Although she was his superior, he was actually one of the older detectives in the department. He had spent years on the job, but was demoted to traffic duty after an accident involving a taser, the station chief’s ass, and a bungled raid.
    George continued. “These girls seem like professionals, but they didn’t even bother to hide their faces. You think these nutjobs are trying to get caught?”
    Sam shook her head.
    “If they were, why haven’t we nabbed them by now? The whole crew is a bunch of blank slates. We have their faces but no leads, George. No one seems to know who they are. No fingerprints or DNA at the scene either. It’s like they came out of nowhere. George frowned and looked at the news photo. It showed five criminals walking out of Brandeline’s in broad daylight, faces uncovered, clutching shoulder bags stuffed with diamonds.
    “What about an international job then? They could have flown out of the country by now.”
    Samantha shrugged. “The department already contacted Interpol, but I’m not counting on it. DHS searched every passport coming in or out of the country for the past 40 days and came out with nothing.”
    “Basically,” she continued, “They’re either new crooks with the skills and guts of professionals…or the faces are new.”
    George taped the photo to the board, putting it in the center and adding a large red dot to the top. Primary suspects.
    “Plastic surgery, then?” he said. “It’s possible. I’ll have medical look at it. Chances are they’ll just tell us the photos aren’t good enough.”
    She added a green string to the board connecting the photo to a new word. Financing.
    “They’d be set for life with the amount they just robbed, but first they need to sell their merch. There’s no way they would risk getting rid of the whole lot at once, so they’re probably going to several different fences. There aren’t that many in New York that could process enough. We just need to hit one.”
“I’ll tell the Captain we’ll need a team to set up surveillance over every fence we can find. We still have some favors to pull from the crew we busted in March. I don’t think we’ll get a better chance to use them.”
    Sam pushed her chair back and started writing. They’d need stakeout kit and at least three detectives per site to cover shifts, plus backup. Past that, it would be a matter of luck that they got a hit. Samantha groaned thinking of what would happen if they let the city’s biggest heist of the decade slip past their department.
    ***
    Sam yawned and rubbed her eyes, looking at her watch to determine that it was now 4 a.m. It had been three days into the most high-stakes surveillance work of her career, and it was starting to get the better of her. If the department didn’t get any leads on the diamonds tonight, there was a good chance the criminals were already gone. Stones weren’t like banknotes that could be traced by serial number. A good jeweler could recut a diamond with little effort to make it unrecognizable compared to its original. Even if they caught the thieves, the diamonds themselves would disappear, probably resold to pad the Swiss bank account of a big mob boss. Even nowadays, when all the dirty work was being done by freelancers, the logistics of turning stolen diamonds into cash never changed. But duty required Sam to stay alert as long as there was a chance to make a last minute bust.
    Sure enough, just as the night sky passed into the dim early morning, a van pulled up in front of the inconspicuous pawn shop that a newbie jewel thief had fingered in his plea deal. Five women got out and started unloading large crates of merchandise. Pawn shops don’t take early morning deliveries, she thought. Shaking awake her fellow detectives, they hoofed it down the stairs of their hotel and burst onto the street, guns drawn. Two of the thieves booked it into an alley, while the rest jumped back into the van and drove off, dropping a crate onto the street. Amid pottery fragments and broken toys, she spotted the glint of tiny stones spilling onto the pavement. Sam radioed for a squad to follow the van and, sprinting ahead of her team, ducked into the alley she had spotted the perps run into.
    Dodging trash cans and abandoned junk, she almost caught up to them as they reached the next street. They split up in opposite directions, Samantha chose the one on her left. This crook was a bit smaller than the rest of the gang, so Sam had a good feeling that any kind of confrontation would go in her favor. Despite her size, the perp was faster than Sam thought and she was running out of breath trying to chase her down. All of a sudden, a patrol car burst out of the avenue ahead of them, sirens screaming. The thief jumped over a porch railing, climbed onto an awning and jumped to reach a fire escape ladder just above her. Fortunately for Sam, she was a few inches too short. The criminal fell face-first onto the concrete with a hard crack. Samantha hauled her up and cuffed her. Despite having taken sidewalk right to the nose, the criminal was bleeding from...her neck? Her shirt was soaked with blood, but everything above it looked uninjured. It wasn’t until she cut the perp’s shirt open to try to stanch the bleeding that she noticed there wasn’t a visible wound at all. Instead, the blood seemed to come from under a slight tear in her neck. She could even reach her fingers inside, peeling back the second skin which stretched with an unusual ease. Pulling harder, she stretched the skin until the perp’s whole face came off with a pop, revealing it was nothing more than a silicone mask. Underneath the female disguise lay a young caucasian man with a light stubble and a hell of a broken nose.
    “So that’s how you did it!” she spat. “Just a mask! Send in the K9 unit and we’ll have an episode of Scooby Doo on our hands.”
    Sam hauled the young man into the waiting patrol car and handed him a bandage from her medical kit. “Lean forward and press that to your nose until the bleeding stops. You should be damn glad I didn’t do any worse than you did to yourself.” She popped into the front seat of the car and told the officer to head straight back to Sam’s home station. This arrest was their golden goose and she needed him in a cell before the rest of the gang could know he was missing. The car sped off, leaving a puddle of blood as the only evidence of anything unusual.
    Samantha read the report from the interrogator back at the station around three hours after the arrest. The guy had refused to blab about anything important aside from his name, which they learned was Arron Davis. On the flipside, they had his phone, DNA, and prints, and it was pretty clear how the thieves had managed to appear in broad daylight without being recognized, not to mention avoid leaving a trace of biological evidence at the scene. The suits were completely sealed, even including an integral particle mask and eye shields, and would be indistinguishable from human skin without a close inspection. The perp himself was a vetern jewel thief, currently on parole. He was well-known as someone had good connections to multiple crime bosses. That left the identity of the rest of the gang, and who this group was working for, a mystery. However, there was one good thing to report: the rest of the gang was still looking for him, and had sent several texts asking if he had escaped. It suggested more honor among them than the typical crook, but left them vulnerable. The precinct captain had just signed off an approval for an undercover operation and Samanatha was the one chosen to turn their secret weapon against them.
    ***
    “How’s the work going?” Sam chatted to one of the forensic scientists exiting the lab where the evidence for this case, including the disguise she had found, was stored.
    “Well, we managed to clean the blood out,” he chuckled to himself. “You must have done a number on that guy.”
    Sam shrugged. “Nothing he didn’t do to himself. What about the damage to the suit though?”
    “Well, if we were Hollywood or the CIA, I’m sure we’d know how these suits are made, but unfortunately, we’re not and we don’t have time to get them involved. The best we could do is patch up the area that ripped with some rubber glue. I’d recommend you wear a scarf of something to cover it up.” He shrugged, probably realizing how lame his suggestion sounded.
    “Fine,” said Sam, “Just give me the suit. I’ll deal.” The scientist gloved up and walked back into the evidence room, returning a few minutes later with the suit in hand, hanging it in his hands like a deflated balloon.
    “You’ve got an inch or two on the guy this suit was designed for, but we tested these and they’re very stretchy. Shouldn’t be a problem for you as long as you don’t do anything crazy.”
    “Well, thanks,” Sam said, rolling her eyes. “I can’t see anything like that coming up in a high-stakes undercover operation.”
    “Your idea, not mine,” said the scientist, and headed back into the lab.
    ***
    Sam headed back to the third floor, tucking the suit under her arm and trying her best to ignore the curious stares of other officers. There wasn’t much privacy in her office, which she shared with George, so she stepped into the women's restroom. There, safely locked inside a stall, she took a moment to admire her prize. The suit had long, voluptuous black hair, quite a contrast from her own closely cropped brunette cut. The suit had firm breasts made out of some sort of silicone. The hips and ass were clearly padded to create more feminine proportions and well-manicured pink nails hung from the suit’s artificial fingers. For once, Sam thanked herself for keeping that slim, toned figure that had gotten her teased as “boyish” in high school. With tact, Samantha slipped her body into an opening in the back of the suit. The suit’s more generous pair of breasts compressed her own to an uncomfortable extent, but otherwise it fit as if it had always been a part of her. She eased her head into the mask of the suit, trying with care not to stretch the neck too much until it settled down onto her own features. The dust mask created to block any DNA from escaping the suit made it feel stuffy, and it was hard to adjust looking through a thin plastic film all the time, but sure enough, she could move around and even feel the outside of her “skin” almost as if it were her own. It was incredibly stretchy and strong for such a thin layer, and she felt impressed by the suit’s technology. It had probably taken a serious chunk out of the $40 million just to get these things custom made. Samantha grabbed a set of street clothes out of her bag and donned them as fast as she could, readying herself for the challenges to come. She was sure that if she didn’t contact the robbers again soon, they would get suspicious.
    Samantha took out her phone and texted the number that the police had found in the suspect’s contact list.
    “Broke my phone in a fight with police. Managed to get out to safe location. We still ready to make the deposit tonight?” The message said.
    It wasn’t long before the phone buzzed back with a telling message from “Kent”.
    “We lost some merch in the raid but we’re ready to make a drop tonight. Cooler found an alternate location he says is clean. We’re headed to 6th and 42nd at 0100. Buyer will be in a red Kia Sorento. Don’t be late. And make sure you’re not being tailed.”
    Sam texted back. “I’ll be there.”
    ***
Samantha shivered outside in the night air. The park and subway station were all abandoned, save for a few homeless. The streets were too quiet for a place like New York City. Only the distant roar of traffic and faraway music reminded her that not everyone was asleep at this hour. Right on time, an SUV pulled up next to her, catching her in its headlights. Four women with guns stepped out.
    “Long time no see, Jilly,” said one, a tall blonde with a leather jacket and an assault rifle at the low ready.
    “I could say the same to Kent,” she said, trying her best to address no one in particular. The blonde laughed, but didn’t lower her weapon. Instead, she nodded to the two women at her side. The gunwomen stepped forward and grabbed Sam by the arms. They stripped off her jacket and patted her down. Probably looking for a wire, thought Sam. She had taken a definite risk by not wearing one, but figured these guys would notice. She felt a tap on the crack on her neck.
    “What’s this, Jilly, you fucking up your suit, mate? The boss said these are mighty expensive, he’s gonna take it out on you when we make it back.”
    The rest of the gang laughed, although Sam had no idea if that was really a joke or not.
    “I got a tear running from the cops. Don’t worry, no one noticed shit. I just patched it up with some glue is all.
    The blonde one grunted. “Just keep it covered up until we’re out of here, alright? This is the wrong time to fuck up this whole job.”
    Sam nodded and zipped her jacket back up. “C’mon now, we got a long drive to the deal. Was worried the cops would be tracking your phone, but it’s good luck you bought a new one. Let’s get in.”
     The blonde hopped in the front seat of the SUV and the rest piled into the rear. Given the blonde one was handing out orders, Sam figured that would be Kent.
    “Cooler, he’s clean. Take us to the site.” Cooler nodded and the van sped off. Meanwhile, Sam noticed the three girls in the back reaching for the back of their necks, pulling and stretching their faces until they were revealed to be facades as well. Their former feminine features drooped on their chests, leaving the heads of three young men on top of curvaceous women’s bodies.
    “Jilly, you gonna take off your mask? Don’t tell me you like being stuck as that chick!” This produced uproarious laughter from all the men in the car.
    “Uh,I...the mask is stuck,” Sam said. This produced an even greater chorus of hoots from the entire vehicle.
    “You glued your fucking mask on didn’t you! Oh, fuck, you’re killing me!” exclaimed the robber to her left. “They’re gonna have to… they’ll have to cut you out of it!” He could barely form a sentence before plunging into another fit of laughter.
    “Hey, I dunno,” said a robber in the back seat. “Maybe Jilly wants to stay a chick forever! I mean, just look at those hooters!”
    “And you’d probably fuck him, Penn!” shouted the man to Sam’s left. “I mean, everyone knows he’s a world-class cocksucker, what’s a little more gonna do to him!”
    “Fuck you, Moody, I know you haven’t emptied your balls in years, but I ain’t gonna fuck you, so stop asking!” This produced another round of laughter until Kent silenced them.
    “We’re almost there, get your masks back on,” he ordered. All three crooks slipped their suits back on, zipping up their near-flawless disguises. They pulled up to a shuttered, empty gas station. Samantha slipped her phone out of her pocket and texted George.
    “We’re at the meeting site. I’ll send you the coordinates. Get backup here ASAP.”
    She hid it away before anyone could notice. As expected, there was a red Kia waiting for them. Three men stood around it, smoking cigarettes. Kent got out of the front seat and immediately started yelling.
    “Are you guys fucking braindead? Put those out or else you’ll get us blown up!” he said, gesturing to the pumps around them. They each dropped their cigarettes like they were poison and stomped them out.
    “Finally, let’s get to business, folks. 36 million dollars in diamonds, for your consideration.”
    One of the men brought out a crate from the truck and opened it in front of the buyers, pulling out a small sack from underneath a pile of junk. Even under a half moon the diamonds glittered.
    “You promised 40 million”, said one of the buyers. He stuck his hand into his pocket and the whole gang moved their hands to their belts.
    “Easy,” said Kent, raising his hands. “Easy. We had a little spill, that’s all. Of course, we’re willing to take a pay cut…” The buyer cut him off.
    “You stole those diamonds, you little rat. Who are you paying off, huh? You think you can steal from Boss Chino, well he’ll take your fucking head off and stomp on it!”
    “Fellas, fellas,” Kent said. “There’s no need for such foul language! You just tell the boss that you could only buy $36 million and he’ll pocket the rest! There’s no worries!” Sam glanced around, seeking out a police car pulling up or a semblance of relief from this situation, but the streets remained empty. Then, she heard a loud click-click and saw a man step out of the shadows, decked head to toe in body armor, brandishing a standard-issue police shotgun. He faced the group and their van with bravery, his shotgun at the ready.
    “NYPD, you’re under arrest,” he shouted. George really did have a knack for the worst possible timing.
    “You sold us out! You fucking rats!” shouted one of the buyers, whipping out his pistol. Kent was faster and cut him down with a burst of rifle fire. Sam threw herself to the ground and began crawlings towards the relative safety of the SUV as bullets zipped over her head. George knelt behind an ice cooler and blasted away with his shotgun. A couple of Kent’s gang were ripped apart by the gunfire and fell to the ground, blood running onto the pavement. The remainder ran into the SUV and slammed the doors shut. “C’mon, Jilly, get in!” yelled Penn, and grabbed her by the arm. Sam knocked his arm away and drew her pistol, shooting him in the head. The SUV sped off and left Sam and George in the dust, alone with the buyers. She ducked a spray of submachinegun fire that ripped through one of the pumps, close to dousing her in gasoline. That gave Sam an idea. She shot through a pump the buyers were taking cover behind and sure enough, sprayed them with gas. Then she took out her lighter.
    “George, get back!” she yelled and flung it towards the spill. A small flicker turned a small oil spill into a valley of orange in a snap. The red-hot inferno spread with incredible ease across the parking lot, engulfing the buyers as they tried to run, terrified. The two police officers sprinted away from the gas station before they could meet the same fate.
    “What the hell were you thinking!” Sam panted, totally out of breath, but at least a safe distance from the blaze. She pulled down her zipper, took off her thoroughly sweat-soaked disguise, and took a long gulp of fresh air. Whoever had designed these things had definitely not planned for breathability.
    “You should have brought in a whole company!”
    “Oh, I did,” said George. “But I told them to stay back just in case they were going to go quietly.” A group of patrol cars roared by and Sam could hear sirens wailing. A helicopter flying above them flicked on its searchlight. Sam just shook her head.
“Where’s your car? I say we chase these guys down once and for all.”
George grinned. “Exactly my thoughts,” he said, and started jogging down the road.
    “C’mon, I left it this way!” he shouted, the armor and guns on his person rattling with every step9. It was a real wonder how he could sneak up on anyone in that getup, but she decided not to trouble herself about it. He opened the door of his unmarked police car and slid into the driver’s seat. Sam jumped into the passenger side. George flicked on the sirens and stepped on the gas. They roared down the street, pushing towards the SUV in front of them. The helicopter painted the SUV with its spotlight, despite the latter’s efforts to shake them off. Sam grabbed the radio.
    “To anyone who can hear this; I repeat, to anyone that can hear this! I want you to block every bridge over the East River. Yes, all of them! We have a 10-43 headed towards I-495.”
    The patrol car started to close on the fleeing SUV. Sam tried to estimate the time until they reached the river, but everything seemed to slow down. Were they 4 kilometers away or 400 meters? No, she could see the lights ahead of her. Suddenly George stepped on the breaks, jerking her into her seatbelt. Ahead of her the van slid out of control, fishtailing across the road before crashing headfirst into a police car. She dashed out of the seat, only to see officers already surrounding the car. She dropped to her knees and urged herself to breathe deep, to try to push away the turmoil the past hour or so had brought her. She could see the perps being brought out of the vehicle, masks off and handcuffs on. She felt a hand on her shoulder and a reassuring voice spoke to her.
    “Detective, you just made a mighty fine bust here.” She turned to see her supervisor standing over her.
    “Thank you, Captain.” she said, and turned away into a faint.
    When she opened her eyes again, she was being wheeled into an ambulance.
    “Relax, officer, you took a hit out there.”
    “I...I did?” Sam said, confused.
    “You probably didn’t notice with all the adrenaline. You’ll be fine, it’s just a broken collarbone.”
    Now that everything was coming into focus, she could feel a sharp, twisting pain in her shoulder. “Can you follow my finger please?”, said one of the paramedics. Sam dutifly obeyed. The paramedic continued. “What’s your name, officer?”
    “Samantha Ryder.” She said. He nodded.
    “Can you tell me what you were doing out there?” Sam tried to nod “yes”, but the restraints stopped her.
    “I was about to catch some diamond robbers.” He started wiping down her arm with an alcohol pad.
    “I’m going to give you some morphine for the pain, is that OK with you?” Sam tried to nod again but the paramedic stopped her.
    “No moving right now. Yes or no?”
    “Yes,” Sam said, and she felt the syringe puncture her arm. That pain gently faded, as did the pain in her shoulder.
    “When we get to the hospital,” Sam said, “tell them the blonde one is the ringleader. They called him Kent… he must know about the suits.”
    The paramedic smiled. “I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time for that in the hospital. I think I saw them take away someone like that. She isn’t going anywhere”
    She grimaced. “Kent isn’t a she.” The paramedic seemed confused for a moment, but her smile diffused that confusion. Sam only said, “You’ll read about it in the paper.”
    ***
    Sam flicked through the channels in her hospital bed, trying to find something of interest. She didn’t realize how boring it would be sitting around with her arm in a sling. It was weird not having paperwork to file or new cases to pursue. Finally, she heard a knock on the door. Figuring it was the nurse again, she called them in. Instead it was George, who actually looked happy for once. He was beaming, holding a newspaper up to her face.
     “Front page of the New York Times, baby!”
    Sam took the paper and scoffed. “Yeah, but it’s below the centerfold. We lost out to the World Series?”
    George seemed undeterred. “They even have your name on it. Sergeant ‘Sam’ Ryder -- congrats on the promotion, by the way.”
    He began to read the article. “Ahem--Detective George Jennings cracking the case of the forty-million-dollar diamond heist, earning the admiration of New Yorkers everywhere. The five male bank robbers, who disguised themselves as women with Hollywood-style rubber masks and suits, were taken in thanks to the ingenious action of these two officers. The governor announced his admiration for the two and thousands of other state and local law enforcement officers’ yada yada...look Sam, you’re famous, think of the book deals!”
    Sam sighed and laid back in her bed. “I don’t want fame, George, and I don’t think I would have taken this job for the money. But I guess it’s nice to be appreciated.”
    George chuckled and dropped the paper in her lap. “Do you think I could get one of those suits? I keep telling my wife she’d make a great redhead.”
    Sam rolled her eyes. “In your dreams, George!” she said. “Don’t you have a case to get back to?”
“That I do. I’ll leave you alone now, hero. The Captain and Chief of Police will be around later today. Don’t forget to mention your old pal!” He walked out, leaving Sam to tune in to a rerun of Mission Impossible. Maybe, she thought, Maybe I do deserve a little break from the action.

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Diamonds and Disguises
    The newspaper headline read $40 Million in Diamonds Stolen! Police Stumped! Samantha sipped her coffee as she read it out in front of her coworkers.
    “Any ideas, Sam?”
    That was George, her partner. Although she was his superior, he was actually one of the older detectives in the department. He had spent years on the job, but was demoted to traffic duty after an accident involving a taser, the station chief’s ass, and a bungled raid.
    George continued. “These girls seem like professionals, but they didn’t even bother to hide their faces. You think these nutjobs are trying to get caught?”
    Sam shook her head.
    “If they were, why haven’t we nabbed them by now? The whole crew is a bunch of blank slates. We have their faces but no leads, George. No one seems to know who they are. No fingerprints or DNA at the scene either. It’s like they came out of nowhere. George frowned and looked at the news photo. It showed five criminals walking out of Brandeline’s in broad daylight, faces uncovered, clutching shoulder bags stuffed with diamonds.
    “What about an international job then? They could have flown out of the country by now.”
    Samantha shrugged. “The department already contacted Interpol, but I’m not counting on it. DHS searched every passport coming in or out of the country for the past 40 days and came out with nothing.”
    “Basically,” she continued, “They’re either new crooks with the skills and guts of professionals…or the faces are new.”
    George taped the photo to the board, putting it in the center and adding a large red dot to the top. Primary suspects.
    “Plastic surgery, then?” he said. “It’s possible. I’ll have medical look at it. Chances are they’ll just tell us the photos aren’t good enough.”
    She added a green string to the board connecting the photo to a new word. Financing.
    “They’d be set for life with the amount they just robbed, but first they need to sell their merch. There’s no way they would risk getting rid of the whole lot at once, so they’re probably going to several different fences. There aren’t that many in New York that could process enough. We just need to hit one.”
“I’ll tell the Captain we’ll need a team to set up surveillance over every fence we can find. We still have some favors to pull from the crew we busted in March. I don’t think we’ll get a better chance to use them.”
    Sam pushed her chair back and started writing. They’d need stakeout kit and at least three detectives per site to cover shifts, plus backup. Past that, it would be a matter of luck that they got a hit. Samantha groaned thinking of what would happen if they let the city’s biggest heist of the decade slip past their department.
    ***
    Sam yawned and rubbed her eyes, looking at her watch to determine that it was now 4 a.m. It had been three days into the most high-stakes surveillance work of her career, and it was starting to get the better of her. If the department didn’t get any leads on the diamonds tonight, there was a good chance the criminals were already gone. Stones weren’t like banknotes that could be traced by serial number. A good jeweler could recut a diamond with little effort to make it unrecognizable compared to its original. Even if they caught the thieves, the diamonds themselves would disappear, probably resold to pad the Swiss bank account of a big mob boss. Even nowadays, when all the dirty work was being done by freelancers, the logistics of turning stolen diamonds into cash never changed. But duty required Sam to stay alert as long as there was a chance to make a last minute bust.
    Sure enough, just as the night sky passed into the dim early morning, a van pulled up in front of the inconspicuous pawn shop that a newbie jewel thief had fingered in his plea deal. Five women got out and started unloading large crates of merchandise. Pawn shops don’t take early morning deliveries, she thought. Shaking awake her fellow detectives, they hoofed it down the stairs of their hotel and burst onto the street, guns drawn. Two of the thieves booked it into an alley, while the rest jumped back into the van and drove off, dropping a crate onto the street. Amid pottery fragments and broken toys, she spotted the glint of tiny stones spilling onto the pavement. Sam radioed for a squad to follow the van and, sprinting ahead of her team, ducked into the alley she had spotted the perps run into.
    Dodging trash cans and abandoned junk, she almost caught up to them as they reached the next street. They split up in opposite directions, Samantha chose the one on her left. This crook was a bit smaller than the rest of the gang, so Sam had a good feeling that any kind of confrontation would go in her favor. Despite her size, the perp was faster than Sam thought and she was running out of breath trying to chase her down. All of a sudden, a patrol car burst out of the avenue ahead of them, sirens screaming. The thief jumped over a porch railing, climbed onto an awning and jumped to reach a fire escape ladder just above her. Fortunately for Sam, she was a few inches too short. The criminal fell face-first onto the concrete with a hard crack. Samantha hauled her up and cuffed her. Despite having taken sidewalk right to the nose, the criminal was bleeding from...her neck? Her shirt was soaked with blood, but everything above it looked uninjured. It wasn’t until she cut the perp’s shirt open to try to stanch the bleeding that she noticed there wasn’t a visible wound at all. Instead, the blood seemed to come from under a slight tear in her neck. She could even reach her fingers inside, peeling back the second skin which stretched with an unusual ease. Pulling harder, she stretched the skin until the perp’s whole face came off with a pop, revealing it was nothing more than a silicone mask. Underneath the female disguise lay a young caucasian man with a light stubble and a hell of a broken nose.
    “So that’s how you did it!” she spat. “Just a mask! Send in the K9 unit and we’ll have an episode of Scooby Doo on our hands.”
    Sam hauled the young man into the waiting patrol car and handed him a bandage from her medical kit. “Lean forward and press that to your nose until the bleeding stops. You should be damn glad I didn’t do any worse than you did to yourself.” She popped into the front seat of the car and told the officer to head straight back to Sam’s home station. This arrest was their golden goose and she needed him in a cell before the rest of the gang could know he was missing. The car sped off, leaving a puddle of blood as the only evidence of anything unusual.
    Samantha read the report from the interrogator back at the station around three hours after the arrest. The guy had refused to blab about anything important aside from his name, which they learned was Arron Davis. On the flipside, they had his phone, DNA, and prints, and it was pretty clear how the thieves had managed to appear in broad daylight without being recognized, not to mention avoid leaving a trace of biological evidence at the scene. The suits were completely sealed, even including an integral particle mask and eye shields, and would be indistinguishable from human skin without a close inspection. The perp himself was a vetern jewel thief, currently on parole. He was well-known as someone had good connections to multiple crime bosses. That left the identity of the rest of the gang, and who this group was working for, a mystery. However, there was one good thing to report: the rest of the gang was still looking for him, and had sent several texts asking if he had escaped. It suggested more honor among them than the typical crook, but left them vulnerable. The precinct captain had just signed off an approval for an undercover operation and Samanatha was the one chosen to turn their secret weapon against them.
    ***
    “How’s the work going?” Sam chatted to one of the forensic scientists exiting the lab where the evidence for this case, including the disguise she had found, was stored.
    “Well, we managed to clean the blood out,” he chuckled to himself. “You must have done a number on that guy.”
    Sam shrugged. “Nothing he didn’t do to himself. What about the damage to the suit though?”
    “Well, if we were Hollywood or the CIA, I’m sure we’d know how these suits are made, but unfortunately, we’re not and we don’t have time to get them involved. The best we could do is patch up the area that ripped with some rubber glue. I’d recommend you wear a scarf of something to cover it up.” He shrugged, probably realizing how lame his suggestion sounded.
    “Fine,” said Sam, “Just give me the suit. I’ll deal.” The scientist gloved up and walked back into the evidence room, returning a few minutes later with the suit in hand, hanging it in his hands like a deflated balloon.
    “You’ve got an inch or two on the guy this suit was designed for, but we tested these and they’re very stretchy. Shouldn’t be a problem for you as long as you don’t do anything crazy.”
    “Well, thanks,” Sam said, rolling her eyes. “I can’t see anything like that coming up in a high-stakes undercover operation.”
    “Your idea, not mine,” said the scientist, and headed back into the lab.
    ***
    Sam headed back to the third floor, tucking the suit under her arm and trying her best to ignore the curious stares of other officers. There wasn’t much privacy in her office, which she shared with George, so she stepped into the women's restroom. There, safely locked inside a stall, she took a moment to admire her prize. The suit had long, voluptuous black hair, quite a contrast from her own closely cropped brunette cut. The suit had firm breasts made out of some sort of silicone. The hips and ass were clearly padded to create more feminine proportions and well-manicured pink nails hung from the suit’s artificial fingers. For once, Sam thanked herself for keeping that slim, toned figure that had gotten her teased as “boyish” in high school. With tact, Samantha slipped her body into an opening in the back of the suit. The suit’s more generous pair of breasts compressed her own to an uncomfortable extent, but otherwise it fit as if it had always been a part of her. She eased her head into the mask of the suit, trying with care not to stretch the neck too much until it settled down onto her own features. The dust mask created to block any DNA from escaping the suit made it feel stuffy, and it was hard to adjust looking through a thin plastic film all the time, but sure enough, she could move around and even feel the outside of her “skin” almost as if it were her own. It was incredibly stretchy and strong for such a thin layer, and she felt impressed by the suit’s technology. It had probably taken a serious chunk out of the $40 million just to get these things custom made. Samantha grabbed a set of street clothes out of her bag and donned them as fast as she could, readying herself for the challenges to come. She was sure that if she didn’t contact the robbers again soon, they would get suspicious.
    Samantha took out her phone and texted the number that the police had found in the suspect’s contact list.
    “Broke my phone in a fight with police. Managed to get out to safe location. We still ready to make the deposit tonight?” The message said.
    It wasn’t long before the phone buzzed back with a telling message from “Kent”.
    “We lost some merch in the raid but we’re ready to make a drop tonight. Cooler found an alternate location he says is clean. We’re headed to 6th and 42nd at 0100. Buyer will be in a red Kia Sorento. Don’t be late. And make sure you’re not being tailed.”
    Sam texted back. “I’ll be there.”
    ***
Samantha shivered outside in the night air. The park and subway station were all abandoned, save for a few homeless. The streets were too quiet for a place like New York City. Only the distant roar of traffic and faraway music reminded her that not everyone was asleep at this hour. Right on time, an SUV pulled up next to her, catching her in its headlights. Four women with guns stepped out.
    “Long time no see, Jilly,” said one, a tall blonde with a leather jacket and an assault rifle at the low ready.
    “I could say the same to Kent,” she said, trying her best to address no one in particular. The blonde laughed, but didn’t lower her weapon. Instead, she nodded to the two women at her side. The gunwomen stepped forward and grabbed Sam by the arms. They stripped off her jacket and patted her down. Probably looking for a wire, thought Sam. She had taken a definite risk by not wearing one, but figured these guys would notice. She felt a tap on the crack on her neck.
    “What’s this, Jilly, you fucking up your suit, mate? The boss said these are mighty expensive, he’s gonna take it out on you when we make it back.”
    The rest of the gang laughed, although Sam had no idea if that was really a joke or not.
    “I got a tear running from the cops. Don’t worry, no one noticed shit. I just patched it up with some glue is all.
    The blonde one grunted. “Just keep it covered up until we’re out of here, alright? This is the wrong time to fuck up this whole job.”
    Sam nodded and zipped her jacket back up. “C’mon now, we got a long drive to the deal. Was worried the cops would be tracking your phone, but it’s good luck you bought a new one. Let’s get in.”
     The blonde hopped in the front seat of the SUV and the rest piled into the rear. Given the blonde one was handing out orders, Sam figured that would be Kent.
    “Cooler, he’s clean. Take us to the site.” Cooler nodded and the van sped off. Meanwhile, Sam noticed the three girls in the back reaching for the back of their necks, pulling and stretching their faces until they were revealed to be facades as well. Their former feminine features drooped on their chests, leaving the heads of three young men on top of curvaceous women’s bodies.
    “Jilly, you gonna take off your mask? Don’t tell me you like being stuck as that chick!” This produced uproarious laughter from all the men in the car.
    “Uh,I...the mask is stuck,” Sam said. This produced an even greater chorus of hoots from the entire vehicle.
    “You glued your fucking mask on didn’t you! Oh, fuck, you’re killing me!” exclaimed the robber to her left. “They’re gonna have to… they’ll have to cut you out of it!” He could barely form a sentence before plunging into another fit of laughter.
    “Hey, I dunno,” said a robber in the back seat. “Maybe Jilly wants to stay a chick forever! I mean, just look at those hooters!”
    “And you’d probably fuck him, Penn!” shouted the man to Sam’s left. “I mean, everyone knows he’s a world-class cocksucker, what’s a little more gonna do to him!”
    “Fuck you, Moody, I know you haven’t emptied your balls in years, but I ain’t gonna fuck you, so stop asking!” This produced another round of laughter until Kent silenced them.
    “We’re almost there, get your masks back on,” he ordered. All three crooks slipped their suits back on, zipping up their near-flawless disguises. They pulled up to a shuttered, empty gas station. Samantha slipped her phone out of her pocket and texted George.
    “We’re at the meeting site. I’ll send you the coordinates. Get backup here ASAP.”
    She hid it away before anyone could notice. As expected, there was a red Kia waiting for them. Three men stood around it, smoking cigarettes. Kent got out of the front seat and immediately started yelling.
    “Are you guys fucking braindead? Put those out or else you’ll get us blown up!” he said, gesturing to the pumps around them. They each dropped their cigarettes like they were poison and stomped them out.
    “Finally, let’s get to business, folks. 36 million dollars in diamonds, for your consideration.”
    One of the men brought out a crate from the truck and opened it in front of the buyers, pulling out a small sack from underneath a pile of junk. Even under a half moon the diamonds glittered.
    “You promised 40 million”, said one of the buyers. He stuck his hand into his pocket and the whole gang moved their hands to their belts.
    “Easy,” said Kent, raising his hands. “Easy. We had a little spill, that’s all. Of course, we’re willing to take a pay cut…” The buyer cut him off.
    “You stole those diamonds, you little rat. Who are you paying off, huh? You think you can steal from Boss Chino, well he’ll take your fucking head off and stomp on it!”
    “Fellas, fellas,” Kent said. “There’s no need for such foul language! You just tell the boss that you could only buy $36 million and he’ll pocket the rest! There’s no worries!” Sam glanced around, seeking out a police car pulling up or a semblance of relief from this situation, but the streets remained empty. Then, she heard a loud click-click and saw a man step out of the shadows, decked head to toe in body armor, brandishing a standard-issue police shotgun. He faced the group and their van with bravery, his shotgun at the ready.
    “NYPD, you’re under arrest,” he shouted. George really did have a knack for the worst possible timing.
    “You sold us out! You fucking rats!” shouted one of the buyers, whipping out his pistol. Kent was faster and cut him down with a burst of rifle fire. Sam threw herself to the ground and began crawlings towards the relative safety of the SUV as bullets zipped over her head. George knelt behind an ice cooler and blasted away with his shotgun. A couple of Kent’s gang were ripped apart by the gunfire and fell to the ground, blood running onto the pavement. The remainder ran into the SUV and slammed the doors shut. “C’mon, Jilly, get in!” yelled Penn, and grabbed her by the arm. Sam knocked his arm away and drew her pistol, shooting him in the head. The SUV sped off and left Sam and George in the dust, alone with the buyers. She ducked a spray of submachinegun fire that ripped through one of the pumps, close to dousing her in gasoline. That gave Sam an idea. She shot through a pump the buyers were taking cover behind and sure enough, sprayed them with gas. Then she took out her lighter.
    “George, get back!” she yelled and flung it towards the spill. A small flicker turned a small oil spill into a valley of orange in a snap. The red-hot inferno spread with incredible ease across the parking lot, engulfing the buyers as they tried to run, terrified. The two police officers sprinted away from the gas station before they could meet the same fate.
    “What the hell were you thinking!” Sam panted, totally out of breath, but at least a safe distance from the blaze. She pulled down her zipper, took off her thoroughly sweat-soaked disguise, and took a long gulp of fresh air. Whoever had designed these things had definitely not planned for breathability.
    “You should have brought in a whole company!”
    “Oh, I did,” said George. “But I told them to stay back just in case they were going to go quietly.” A group of patrol cars roared by and Sam could hear sirens wailing. A helicopter flying above them flicked on its searchlight. Sam just shook her head.
“Where’s your car? I say we chase these guys down once and for all.”
George grinned. “Exactly my thoughts,” he said, and started jogging down the road.
    “C’mon, I left it this way!” he shouted, the armor and guns on his person rattling with every step9. It was a real wonder how he could sneak up on anyone in that getup, but she decided not to trouble herself about it. He opened the door of his unmarked police car and slid into the driver’s seat. Sam jumped into the passenger side. George flicked on the sirens and stepped on the gas. They roared down the street, pushing towards the SUV in front of them. The helicopter painted the SUV with its spotlight, despite the latter’s efforts to shake them off. Sam grabbed the radio.
    “To anyone who can hear this; I repeat, to anyone that can hear this! I want you to block every bridge over the East River. Yes, all of them! We have a 10-43 headed towards I-495.”
    The patrol car started to close on the fleeing SUV. Sam tried to estimate the time until they reached the river, but everything seemed to slow down. Were they 4 kilometers away or 400 meters? No, she could see the lights ahead of her. Suddenly George stepped on the breaks, jerking her into her seatbelt. Ahead of her the van slid out of control, fishtailing across the road before crashing headfirst into a police car. She dashed out of the seat, only to see officers already surrounding the car. She dropped to her knees and urged herself to breathe deep, to try to push away the turmoil the past hour or so had brought her. She could see the perps being brought out of the vehicle, masks off and handcuffs on. She felt a hand on her shoulder and a reassuring voice spoke to her.
    “Detective, you just made a mighty fine bust here.” She turned to see her supervisor standing over her.
    “Thank you, Captain.” she said, and turned away into a faint.
    When she opened her eyes again, she was being wheeled into an ambulance.
    “Relax, officer, you took a hit out there.”
    “I...I did?” Sam said, confused.
    “You probably didn’t notice with all the adrenaline. You’ll be fine, it’s just a broken collarbone.”
    Now that everything was coming into focus, she could feel a sharp, twisting pain in her shoulder. “Can you follow my finger please?”, said one of the paramedics. Sam dutifly obeyed. The paramedic continued. “What’s your name, officer?”
    “Samantha Ryder.” She said. He nodded.
    “Can you tell me what you were doing out there?” Sam tried to nod “yes”, but the restraints stopped her.
    “I was about to catch some diamond robbers.” He started wiping down her arm with an alcohol pad.
    “I’m going to give you some morphine for the pain, is that OK with you?” Sam tried to nod again but the paramedic stopped her.
    “No moving right now. Yes or no?”
    “Yes,” Sam said, and she felt the syringe puncture her arm. That pain gently faded, as did the pain in her shoulder.
    “When we get to the hospital,” Sam said, “tell them the blonde one is the ringleader. They called him Kent… he must know about the suits.”
    The paramedic smiled. “I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time for that in the hospital. I think I saw them take away someone like that. She isn’t going anywhere”
    She grimaced. “Kent isn’t a she.” The paramedic seemed confused for a moment, but her smile diffused that confusion. Sam only said, “You’ll read about it in the paper.”
    ***
    Sam flicked through the channels in her hospital bed, trying to find something of interest. She didn’t realize how boring it would be sitting around with her arm in a sling. It was weird not having paperwork to file or new cases to pursue. Finally, she heard a knock on the door. Figuring it was the nurse again, she called them in. Instead it was George, who actually looked happy for once. He was beaming, holding a newspaper up to her face.
     “Front page of the New York Times, baby!”
    Sam took the paper and scoffed. “Yeah, but it’s below the centerfold. We lost out to the World Series?”
    George seemed undeterred. “They even have your name on it. Sergeant ‘Sam’ Ryder -- congrats on the promotion, by the way.”
    He began to read the article. “Ahem--Detective George Jennings cracking the case of the forty-million-dollar diamond heist, earning the admiration of New Yorkers everywhere. The five male bank robbers, who disguised themselves as women with Hollywood-style rubber masks and suits, were taken in thanks to the ingenious action of these two officers. The governor announced his admiration for the two and thousands of other state and local law enforcement officers’ yada yada...look Sam, you’re famous, think of the book deals!”
    Sam sighed and laid back in her bed. “I don’t want fame, George, and I don’t think I would have taken this job for the money. But I guess it’s nice to be appreciated.”
    George chuckled and dropped the paper in her lap. “Do you think I could get one of those suits? I keep telling my wife she’d make a great redhead.”
    Sam rolled her eyes. “In your dreams, George!” she said. “Don’t you have a case to get back to?”
“That I do. I’ll leave you alone now, hero. The Captain and Chief of Police will be around later today. Don’t forget to mention your old pal!” He walked out, leaving Sam to tune in to a rerun of Mission Impossible. Maybe, she thought, Maybe I do deserve a little break from the action.