Heist

[Aardvark]

Three bandits. Guns. Nondescript car with stolen plates. Sitting in an alley at about noon. Waiting. Timing was everything. They'd planned this for a month. Carefully scrutinised. Watched guard rotations. Taken down a complete schedule. And struck paydirt.

 

When you do the same thing every week, week in, week out, it becomes routine. Your conscious mind tells your instincts the exact motions to go through. Then you run on autopilot constantly. Without actively thinking about the task, your instincts tend to erode. Not noticeably, they just dull a little. And if something changes slightly, they cannot adapt. The security flaw was when the armourvan came for cash collection. The target bank was in a high-cash area, so there was a daily cash collection. This happened midafternoon, when things tended to die down. But in the month they'd been watching, the armourvan had started coming five minutes later. But the time delay was activated at the same time, every day. The manager, in his fifties, had probably been doing this job since leaving highschool Old habits die hard. This was perfect. The time delay was open for a solid five minutes before security arrived.

 

The day was Friday. Time: 2:23. The time delay would crack in two minutes. In seven, security would arrive. There were three bandits. That was three more than the bank had guards. Beancounters had analysed the risks and the technology and had decided that paying a man twenty dollars an hour to stand around and look intimidating was no longer necessary with the advent of time delay, surveillance and commonwealth insurance. So they would be the only ones with guns. One with a shotgun for crowd control. There wouldn't be too many people around. The bank tended to go dead just after lunch. No problems here. One with an automatic rifle. Could be considered overkill in a robbery, but this one had rounds designed to penetrate the fly-up screens that most banks had, these days. And the third one had a phone. Well, they all had phones, but as number three's forte was more driving at high speeds without getting caught or killed, it had been unanimously decided that he would sit in the car and double as lookout.

 

2:24. After the safe cracked, the manager would then return to his office to begin the necessary paperwork. The only other staff around would be a few tellers, as the part time staffs' shifts end when the rush does. Three, maybe four people, including the manager. They'd counted three customers enter and none of those people leave. So at least three customers were still inside. They would give themselves three minutes. They could secure the bank in thirty seconds with ease. All staff were trained to co-operate in the event of an emergency and most customers should be rather compliant when faced with a gun. And those that weren't? Well, they didn't load the things for nothing. Two minutes to get as much loot as they could carry. The bank also had safety deposit boxes, which would also be a target for the trio. Get what you can and run. Jewels were more valuable to them than cash, as they were harder to trace. Final thirty seconds for fleeing. Simple enough

 

2:25. The car rolled out of the alley. No one had seen it sitting there, as it had been positioned too perfectly. They'd been surprised that the bank had a history of 0 robberies, 0 attempts with that blind alley just sitting in perfect view. There wasn't even a camera, not even a hidden one on the thing. And this trio knew how to find cameras. Out the front of the bank was a convenient free park. They knew that bank regulations stated that the parking in front of the bank must be occupied by an employee, for security reasons, but security was too lax here. It wasn't the least bit surprising that they missed this. The windows were tinted almost black, so no passers-by could see their weapons. The car came to a halt in front of the bank with the engine running. The two armed bandits donned their facemasks, cocked their weapons and charged inside.

 

2:26. "THIS IS A HOLD-UP! EVERYONE ON THE FLOOR, HANDS OUTSTRETCHED, PALMS DOWN AND DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT TRIPPING THE ALARM OR THE FLYUP SCREENS, OUR BULLETS ARE ARMOUR PIERCING!!" shouted the rifleman , his weapon darting from one target to another. Perfect. They'd caught the manager on his way out of the vault. As soon as he'd seen the guns, he'd realised his mistake. This was one of the old style banks that valued customer perception over security, so the counter was vaultable. He then turned to the customers. Two of them were on the floor. One was still standing.

 

2:26:10. "Didn't you hear me, numbnuts?" He said to the upstart. The shotgunner stood, training his weapon on the man. This had been a possibility. One of the customers could have a weapon. Their routine was to ensure this was not so before going for the vault.

 

2:26:26. "WELL??! ON THE FLOOR". To this, the customer turned. In the rifleman's mind, time had slowed. The turn was too calculated, too deliberate. Something was wrong. He panicked.

 

2:26:31. The customer's expression didn't change as the bullet passed through his torso, just missing his stomach. He casually glanced down as a bloodstain began to spread out on his white shirt. He looked back at the rifleman, who had no idea what to do. The customer was still standing. He wasn't screaming, clutching his wound or crying like a baby, which was to be expected from anyone who'd just been shot. He was staring at his wound.

 

2:26:44. His head slowly rose and he looked the rifleman directly in the eyes. The look on his face was one of puzzled annoyance more than anything.

 

2:26:49. "You shot me. YOU SHOT ME! WHAT KIND OF A WORTHLESS, STUPID, PATHETIC EXCUSE FOR A BANK ROBBER ARE YOU?? WHAT KIND OF ROBBER SHOOTS SOMEONE IN A ROBBERY?? WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING???" HE was screaming at the rifleman at this stage, his face bright red in a look of pure rage. In his entire criminal career, the rifleman had never encountered this reaction before.

 

2:26:58. The shotgunner was just as puzzled. He had no idea what to do. He was nowhere near as assertive as the rifleman, he was just in it for the ride. In his life, he'd never shot anyone, normally preferring a riflebutt to the face to keep people in line. But they were usually on the floor, first. He had no idea how to react here.

 

2:27:01. "I'm bleeding here, you've wounded me, YOU'VE SHOT ME, YOU SON OF A WHORE!!" Yes, it hurt. It hurt like hell. But he was totally in control of himself, his body and his mind. Some called him the xen master. Others called him a freak. He didn't call himself anything. Turning off pain was one of the many things he knew how to do. Another was to stimulate his body's own healing mechanisms. No one realised it, but in the short time since the robbery had begun, his bleeding had already ceased. The large bloodstain conveniently masking this for him. He had, however, lost quite a bit of blood. He could feel his mind beginning to slip. He had to fight it, control it. He wasn't done, yet. Not by a long shot. And predictably, the bandits had been too busy trying to figure out what to make of his rantings to notice him take calculated steps toward them.

 

2:27:07. The rifleman was taken aback. Had he meant to shoot him? Confusion began to set in. Then fear. Somewhere in his mind, the realisation that his crime had become more severe formed.

 

2:27:09. The shotgunner had noticed the steps the wounded man was taking. He didn't know what he was doing, but some part of him was telling him to stop this man. He stepped forward, holding his weapon back to strike.

 

2:27:11. Ahh, the silent one moves. Well, not as he'd expected, but he could still work with it. He kept up his steady rantings and slow paces forward.

 

2:27:14. The rifleman stood fast as the customer continued to rant. It was all hitting home. He'd bungled it. He'd gone from the perfect crime to a bungled burglar facing aggravated assault, weapons handling and attempted robbery charges. And he'd shot someone in cold blood for the first time ever. This was all getting too much for him. But he didn't know what to do. Normally so assertive, but now feeling cold and helpless.

 

2:27:18. When he saw his companion begin to swing the shotgun, his spirits lifted. He silently thanked the big man for having the strength to act.

 

2:27:19. Then his spirits sunk. The customer had stopped the powerful blow from the shotgun with one hand, without so much as batting an eyelid.

 

2:27:19.53. The weapon was knocked at an awkward angle.

 

2:27:19.89. His hand had moved toward the barrel of the weapon.

 

2:27:20.12. He gripped the weapon and spun it.

 

2:27:20.45. The weapon easily slid from the grasp of the surprised shotgunner.

 

2:27:20.86. The shotgun was his

 

2:27:21. A lateral spin aimed at the shotgunner's head stunned the large man. A sweeping kick floored him.

 

2:27:22. The rifleman tried to fend off the incoming blow by blocking it with his rifle. He was too slow. He'd never prepared for this situation.

 

2:27:23. The butt of the shotgun crashed into the rifleman's ribs. A sickening crunch, followed by a pained groan, emanated from the rifleman.

 

2:27:24. The rifleman hit the floor, doubled over in agony.

 

2:27:25. The shotgun-wielding customer unloaded the shotgun, tossing it aside. He then reached down and did likewise with the rifle. Then he did a quick search of the two bandits.

 

2:27:37. Satisfied that the bandits had been subdued, he picked up his phone, dialed the police, then let his consciousness slip away, relying on modern privacy invasion technology to bring the police to his location post haste. His last conscious thought was, I really didn't need to do that, did I?

 

The police arrived a few minutes after the security van, followed by an ambulance. The getaway driver had gotten away a minute after the first gunshot. That had been agreed on by all three from the start. If there was gunfire, the thing was canceled. If no one emerged in a minute, expect the worst and fall back to a secondary point, wait for a phone call for five, then get the hell out of dodge. Statements were made and all three injured individuals were treated at the scene. Within half an hour, all three were away.

 

The aftermath: The stolen plates were found discarded in a park a few suburbs from the bank. The getaway driver and car were never found. The manager was retired by the bank with full benefits, his potentially devastating oversight was conveniently left off the incident report. The few staff and other customers were all treated for shock. One is still undergoing psychotherapy. A camera was placed on the blind alley and a security guard was employed fulltime, in the event of a future attempt. The time delay safe was refitted so that it could only be activated when security or a higher bank official was in the bank, using a new dual code system. The rifleman is still recovering in hospital under constant guard. His trial date is still pending. The shotgunner pleaded guilty to accomplice to attempted robbery and is awaiting sentencing.

 

As for the wounded customer? After his first night there, he slipped away and was never heard of again. In an apparently unrelated incident, the evidence room of the police station was raided. thousands of dollars worth of narcotics went missing, which was reported. One flattened slug that had been pulled from a solid concrete wall also went missing. This was overlooked.

[Vlad]

As always, wonderful job Aardvark.

I really enjoyed the time by minutes, when it got broken into seconds. Though that was pretty neat. It was especially cool when you broke it down into hundredth of a second. It made me think back to the all-time best movie ever - The Matrix.

 

The last paragraph seems out of place. Probably because it leaves so many questions open. The first time I read through this story, I simply ignored it, but then it started bugging me. I hope that it means there's another plot in the works behind those beady little eyes of yours.

[Damon Inferel]

Good stuff... Sorry, lengthy reviews are reserved, but very, very, good stuff.