John Hall was enjoying the morning, in a state somewhere between awake and risen. “Enjoying” is the wrong word, for John was nervous. Today would be big, he’d been told, decisive. Something had to be. Nothing yet had changed any of this madness. He gazed into the darkness of the early morning through the open tent flap. A stiff breeze blew in, and for a second, John hoped it might dampen Paul’s resolve.
A three-inch-thick piece of glass stood between them, easily sufficient to withstand the large pressure difference. On the one side, fifty humans, and on the other, a hundred varieties of fish. A truly educational experience, to see so many of them in such a confined space.
Peter was desperate. Why could he not find himself a girlfriend? Admittedly, he was excitable, but wasn’t that just his enthusiasm shining through? So, when his workmate, Paul, mentioned a friend, Peter jumped at the chance, and a blind date was arranged. Would this finally be the woman of his dreams?
By midday the next morning, the team were finally into the bank. More than 12 hours after the escapade had begun, they were now 8 hours behind schedule. But there was one more wall to go before they reached the vault and the riches that lay on the other side. Thank goodness they had that extra day, thought Del.
Setting up the drill once again, there was no option but to sit it out, and by midnight they were finally inside the vault. In the corner stood a large, modern safe.
“Crikey”, said Albert.
“Well, jeez, I ain’t seen nuffin like this before, Del. What did it say on the plan? A 2400? Well, look, this is a SafeAsHouses 6000. Jesus, boy, where’d you get those plans? Off a fucking market stall?”
Before I start, here’s the thing. I had an idea for this, started writing, and when I was done I was at about 1,100 words. Give or take, that’s an 11 minute post, and way, way longer than I am happy to publish. So my plan is to post the first chunk today, to tease you all, then to publish the rest tomorrow.
Officially, they were retired. Moved lock, stock and two smoking barrels out to the Costa del Crime, to enjoy their ill-gotten gains in sunny opulence.
But greed had tempted them back. Del and Rodney, those unlikeliest of brothers – Del, short stocky, five foot nothing, and Rodney, a 6’5” beanpole, had agreed on one last job. And who could resist? A bank, bloated from a weekend’s takings? And a holiday weekend to boot – an extra day before the cash was scurried away to head office?
There had been teething problems, but Charlie was confident that they were now behind him. Sure, it had taken a while to get the business off the ground, but his late father had been right – “we come in wi’ nowt, we leave wi’ nowt, and all we’ve got is what’s in between”.