Napoleon Solo

The stained-glass windows of the mansion outside Rome let in only soft moonlight. Napoleon Solo stood before a heavy 19th-century safe, hidden behind a Caravaggio canvas. No rush, no unnecessary movements—just slender fingers in kid gloves slowly turning the combination dial. For a former master thief, this lock was nothing more than a pleasant pre-dinner workout.
A small portable camera was already warming the inside pocket of his impeccably tailored tuxedo, but the main goal of the night remained the original documents. Those very papers that could shed light on a new underground network threatening the global balance.
A soft click—and the massive steel door quietly gave way. Solo pulled a thick leather clipboard from a deep niche. A quick glance at the first page: seal, code, signatures. The documents were in his hands.
“Too simple, Napoleon,” he whispered quietly to himself, smiling faintly, and was already preparing to hide the folder.
At that very moment, a soft shuffling sound came from the depths of the hallway. Solo instantly froze, turning to hearing. A gentle gust of air stirred the heavy curtain, and a streak of light slid across the parquet floor.
The safety catch clicked. The brass door handle slid smoothly downward, and the heavy oak door slowly began to open…