Roscoe tapped his pencil against the building plan, there was nothing more that could be changed, it was perfect. He rolled it up, and placed it in the waterproof tube then securely fastened the lid. He checked his pocket watch intently waiting for the second hand to race around to the top. He spun in his chair, and flipped the switch on a large pile of metal and wires that had been configured into a radio receiver.  Within seconds, a voice chimed over the airwaves commanding all units, “Right on time.” Roscoe flipped the switch off, and the contraption went dead. He picked up the long fuse, and stuck the end in a cigarette to delay the fuse. Lighting the cigarette with a match, he placed it down on the side of the ashtray, and walked out the front door. 

He checked the straps on the carriage, and outfitted himself with a white doctors lab coat before climbing up onto the carriage. He took a look down at the small chest on the carriage shelf next to him, and smiled before grabbing the reins, and giving them a slight whip. He had clocked the trip multiple times at this time of day, he was sure to be on time. 

Roscoe arrived at a crossroads by the river bank, and pulled off to the side of the path. He checked his pocket watch, his eyes fixated on the second hand that raced around the face. He snapped it shut, and placed it in his pocket. He turned his attention down the road, and watched as the small black motor vehicle raced over the dirt hill. It turned towards his carriage, and came to a skidding halt a few feet away, the passengers quickly exited the vehicle, and began to load half the contents of the trunk onto the center of the carriage.

The driver of the vehicle slowly opened the door, she casually strolled up to the carriage, and looked expectantly at Roscoe, “The rest of the plan?” She said as she outstretched her arm. Roscoe pulled from his lab coat a rolled up note of instructions, and placed it in her hand. She quickly tore into the note to read it and memorize the contents. Roscoe pulled a lever on the carriage that dropped the contents into a false bottom secret compartment that left nothing visible. He dropped the chest next to him into the carriage, and snapped the reins to command the horses onwards. 

The heist went off successfully, planned to the second.  Roscoe had done it again. He had developed a reputation across the criminal underground in Europe, everyone wanted to be in on his next job because everyone gets paid and gets out. Roscoe developed his talents while honing his skills as a world renowned architect, years of his life spent wasting away in front of blueprints seemed to give him a sight for weaknesses, sometimes intentional when he hit the buildings he himself had designed and erected years prior. Eventually the authorities would recognize a pattern in that his buildings seemed to get hit, but no one could ever prove it was Roscoe, he made sure of that. 

Roscoe’s carriage was no more than twenty minutes down the path before he was joined by the local Norway farming population, all riding very similar carriages, and all headed towards the docks for the manure delivery day, if it were not for the white lab coat he wore, he’d blend in perfectly. It was only a few more minutes down the path before the sounds of sirens began to approach from the rear. They were inspecting any carriage with any cargo, and Roscoe’s was no exception.

“Please pull your carriage off the road sir.” Roscoe complied and preemptively opened the chest in the carriage, the medical supplies and medicines inside did not seem out of the ordinary for a man in a lab coat headed towards the docks. “I’m urgently needed at the docks for a deck hand that… erm… lost his hand. Could you guys give me a lift?” The officers looked at each other before answering, “We are under strict orders to find some criminals at large in the area, but take the motor path down the center, and stop for no one, hope he makes it.” Roscoe gives them a nod, and pulls back onto the pathway and into the center, and begins passing the queued up carriages waiting to get to the port. 

Roscoe was greeted by the stable boy, who was expecting his arrival.  The carriage was pulled under an open air barn, and the contents of his carriage were loaded onto a cart, the dock hands looked to Roscoe for a tip, “Here, this is for you, and this is for you, please take it to The Faithless.” Roscoe gave them each a sizeable tip, and pointed to the vessel he had designed 7 years prior to navigate the northern waters for polar expeditions. He stopped over at the Inn where he found Captain Rob to let him know he had arrived.

Captain Rob insisted he stay for a drink, but Roscoe was more concerned with keeping a schedule that was planned long ago. The Captain nodded, “Fine. Fine, didya hear we got another companion staying in the cabin next to yours? Hic!” He finished the statement with a drunken hiccup. “I did, that investor of yours with the fancy whiskey distillery right?” The captain swayed down the docks in a hurried pace to keep up with Roscoe who was moving in a direct path. “Ayup, Hic! I got me the man who built the boat, and the man that funds the polar expeditions to find a Northern passage. Did I ever tell ya why I named the boat Hic! The Faithless?” The captain smiled to his well rehearsed story.

“You wife’s name is Faith, and she hates to sail, yes. And it's a ship not a boat.” Roscoe had heard the story multiple times before the ship was even finished. The pair walked silently the rest of the way to the ship, and boarded just before the dock boys began to pull the mooring lines. 
The ship was built for open water, and the rough northern fields of ice that covered the ocean, but night time travel was still very rough. Roscoe faked many sea sickness nights to excuse himself from the captain and his ramblings, but mostly because he still had work to do.

The first night he swapped all the charts and maps to redirect the ship towards the path he needed.  The second night he ventured into the cargo hold to inventory the other passengers' whiskey supply. It was all perfectly sealed, and worth a small fortune, but Roscoe was headed to The United States whose government was very against alcohol currently.  It would fetch a high price, but it wasn’t worth trying to sneak it in. No, Roscoe had it all worked out. Satisfied with the packaging of the whiskey, he made his way back above deck to check the positioning using the stars. They were right on track, just one more night. 

Roscoe laid in his bed till late morning running through the plan over and over in his head. He stood up, and made his way to the mess for a late breakfast.  The shiphands had already repurposed the area for some dice games, so Roscoe decided to join them.  He picked it up very quickly, and it wasn’t long before everyone had given him all their money and cigarettes, complaining and uttering phrases such as ‘beginners luck’. He took a single cigarette, and left the rest on the table as he got up, and walked away. He made his way down to the cargo area after the sun began to set, and he prepared his half share of the heist for transportation.

The cargo area of this ship had a small crane like device inside with a few levers that helped with the loading in port days. Roscoe removed the control panel face plate and reached inside.  He felt for a hidden handle that he had squirreled away long ago to be used tonight. It was hard to pull, but all at once it budged. The hull of the ship itself began to lower itself like a draw bridge exposing a hidden sea craft built between two layers of the hull of the ship. He loaded it up with his half of the heist loot, and looked back longingly at the whiskey, he’d taste it someday, but like most things in Roscoe’s life, he needed to wait for the perfect time. 

The ice cold waters splashed up into the cargo area as Roscoe was readying the sea craft for launch. He pulled a metal hatch across the top, and secured himself inside. He held his hand on a small lever, and checked his pocket watch. The sound of the bow bells signaled an impending collision.  Roscoe had switched out the captains maps and charts taking them on a less northern route than expected through a shallow reef. He heard the bells toll, and pulled the lever.  The small sea craft plummeted into the ocean nose first. and resurfaced almost immediately.  He pulled the hatch door open, and watched from the water as half the crew struggled to avoid a collision, while the other half prepared a life boat.

They’d likely live, but they have no idea where their ship is sinking because they believe themselves to be in the polar regions of the atlantic. They’ll be looking for that treasured whiskey in all the wrong spots. But Roscoe knew, he’d have to wait a decade or two before coming back.  Prohibition's end would be a good time to come back, but it didn’t really matter how long that would take, the cold waters and the perfect seals will leave that whiskey appreciating in value for the next century. Roscoe pulled the hatch door shut again, and raised a sail, his plan was working, but he still had to put up with 3 days of traveling, and this time it was by boat and not a ship. 

The sound of bells tolling on the third morning signaled the nearby port, he was close. He dropped the sail, and coasted on into an empty dock.  An American dock boy questioned his arrival, but was willing to look the other way with a generous tip. Roscoe unloaded the craft, and pulled off the mooring lines. He pulled two ropes, the first raising the vessels sail, and the second pulled a cork in the hull just above water line.  The small boat would float out to sea, slowly taking on water, and ending up on the ocean floor just outside harbor waters. He was done with that boat, and his buildings in New York were calling his name.

He had been to New York twice before to oversee the finalization of some of his earlier works, but with his popularity growing in the states, he needed to be here permanently for the finalization of his newest towers that had been commissioned just a few years prior. It was time for Roscoe to build a life here in the Americas.  He looked down at his cart of valuables, and eyed up the tube that laid on top. He was definitely going to need to find a new team, the perfect plan was waiting but he couldn’t do it alone.