He could be a teacher and even a janitor; he was a master of disguise. No contract was too big or small for him. He had the mark of an experienced thief, leaving no traces behind, bypassing security easily with his excellent disguises. Steven tucked the neatly folded Ziploc bag containing the gold coin of Croesus into the breast pocket of his uniform as he walked towards a bespectacled security guard who was dozing off in a corner. "Lenny, wake up!" He shook the security guard hard. The man, who was now in his late sixties, gave a noncommittal grunt, mumbled something incomprehensible before lumbering off on his turn for the night shift. But the moment his back was turned, the Steven pressed lightly against a pressure point located on the neck and the old man was out cold.
The impostor bent down to check for pulse and heaved a sigh of relief; the man was alive but unconscious. He was an impostor and thief, but he was not a killer. Steven got up and moved surreptitiously towards the main entrance of the British Museum. There were no other guards present, a good sign as they were likely to be patrolling the other exhibits. His watch read 7:58 p.m. He had 2 more minutes to escape. The main door slid open easily as he punched in a 6 digit code and he walked out into the cool night air. "7.59 p.m." He tapped his foot impatiently. The watch beeped 8 o'clock.
A grey Toyota rounded the corner into Great Russell Street and screeched to a halt. The door opened and Steven hastily scrambled in.