The first sign of trouble is the polite but concerned call from the kids’ school. Dominik is in the midst of remotely supervising a jewel heist when his personal mobile rings. Not his work device, with its space-grade titanium case able to withstand being run over by a variety of armoured vehicles, or water pressure down to 50 metres, but the other one, the one with a photo tucked into the case of all four of them squished together in a photobooth that Bradley had insisted they take while on holiday in Florida. Dominik mutes his headset in order to answer. It’s a somewhat harried-sounding secretary. So sorry to bother him, they’re sure he’s quite busy at work, the school did however need to contact one of the parents, could he or his partner please come by as soon as they are able. No one has come to pick up the kids this afternoon.
His first thought is that Bradley has simply got caught up in traffic; it’s positively hellish in the city, especially at this time of day. But he would have rung to let the school know if he were delayed, and he’d have texted Dom if he were unavoidably detained. Dom checks his phone, both of them. No texts more recent than the one Bradley had sent this morning, wishing him luck with the De Beers heist. Although not in so many words. But nothing since then. The sudden pit of apprehension that opened in Dom’s stomach has resolved itself into a steady churn of anxiety. Something isn’t right.
He briefly resumes contact with his team, only long enough to officially hand off control of the mission.
“Are you able to oversee proceedings from here-on?”
“Uh, yeah, sure boss- is everything alright on your end? D’you need- ”
“Yes, yes, no, I’m sure everything’s fine. I must go pick up the children from school.”
“Okay then, I’ll report in at 22:00. Tell ‘em ‘Hi’ from us all-”
He terminates the feed. He is increasingly less sure that everything is fine.