The Devil's Syndicate

by Chris Draper

  Byron took out the Glock 9mm from a bag beside him, made sure his homemade silencer was attached to the barrel, shoved it in the back of jeans, said “Wait here” and got out. He slipped out of the van and rushed over to the loading dock, swivelling his head in all directions for any sign of the security guards, then spotted the large steel door that led inside and knew from mapping out the warehouse with Randall that the weapon crates were just down a corridor in there. After his eyes adjusted to the darkness he could see the security camera above the door, and the motion sensor light just above it. He walked back to the van, pulled up his ski mask and spoke quickly but firmly.

  “We're good to go. Get your asses out and make sure to stay close behind.” The rest of them piled out of the van and began moving toward the loading dock with Byron in the lead.

  “Damn these ski masks are itchy.” Travis said yanking the bottom of the mask down to cover his chin. “Couldn't we just have used face paint or something?”

  “Face paint would peel off like wallpaper in this weather.” Byron said. “We gotta keep them on until the cameras inside are out. And we don't need some security guard making police sketches for the news either.”

  “Aww you mean you wouldn't want to see my pretty mug all over Fox news?” Travis raised up his ski mask with a grin and Byron reached over and yanked it back down.

  “No and I don't think you want to either unless you want to spend the rest of your days in the clink.”

  “Got it. Sorry Byron.”

  They approached the front of the loading dock. Three dark figures carrying duffel bags and wearing ski masks, work gloves, hair nets, long-sleeved shirts and Levis. The gloves were to ensure they didn't leave any fingerprints behind. The long shirts were to ensure that no one saw the tattoos that ran down their arms once they got inside, an easy giveaway to the cops. The hair nets were a last minute idea of Byron's when he passed a pharmacy on the way to Miami and remembered that the cops could find threads of their hair on the ground. It had happened to a buddy of his. He'd tried holding up a bakery and the cops matched a hair fibre from his scalp to what they had in the system. Next thing his buddy knew his house was swarmed by a swat team. Byron couldn't make the same mistake.

  When they were near the staircase and the motion light Byron whispered “Stay back” and inched a bit forward on his knees, staying low, took aim with his pistol and took out the light with a single shot. The silencer was something he'd made earlier in the day on a work table back at the Syndicate headquarters. He'd taken a piece of perforated cylinder pipe and had welded it to the muzzle of his Glock; worked like a charm. The bulb of the motion light burst inwards and then the entire entrance went dark. He waited another second to make sure no one inside had heard the sound then motioned for them to keep moving.

  When they reached the steel door, Travis opened up his bag, took out a large screwdriver and peeled off the top of the security code panel that granted access to the building. With a flashlight between his teeth he took out a laptop from his bag and attached a custom USB cable to the ports on the card reader on the panel then loaded up a black market software that would flood the security system with millions of codes. Byron and Randall looked over his shoulder at the screen as thousands of 6-digit combinations flashed by per second.

  “We just have to wait for the software to find a combination that works and then buda boom, buda bing we'll be open sesame.” Travis said. “This new software works like a dream. It's gonna make me rich someday.”

  “Yeah I'm sure you'd fit in with all of those other ass clowns on wallstreet.” Randall chuckled and they both laughed.

  Byron cut in, “How much longer?”

  “Just another a second, it's gone through more than half of all the possible combinations already.”

  Less than a minute later they heard a soft click from the door and Travis said “We're in” then made a motion to move inside.

  Byron grabbed him by the arm, said, “Wait a second,” put his ear against the door to listen. He counted one, two, didn't hear anything on the other side then slowly peeled the steel door back, cautiously peeking around the edge. He saw a long dark corridor with a shaft of light coming out of a room at the end, heard a radio playing some rock music, a mans deep voice saying something out of range, and knew the guards were just down the corridor to the right.

  “Let's move.” He said and they pushed inside.

  Security guard Dale Richards had been employed at Amarack for 20 years and was nearing his retirement. He was as lanky as a street post and downed more coffee on his shift than most people did in a month. He was sandwiched in a small office overlooking the storage area with his partner, Lester Womack, a large African American in his forties with 3 kids who loved his job. He said it was better than being a cop since he got to carry a gun and never had to use it. Although sometimes his eldest son would tell his friends at school that his dad could out shoot any man alive. In reality Lester had never drawn his gun before, except for perhaps a couple times at the shooting range with some college buds.

  At that precise moment Lester was bent over the back of the security console trying to figure out why one of the screens on his computer monitor had just went black.

  “Just can't figure it out.” He said fiddling with a few wires. “A minute ago this thing was working fine, everything seems good with the computer.”

  Dale shook his head, “They really gotta pump more money into the system here. Seems every month there's something going wrong and with all of the artillery we got stored...”

  “Yeah, well they figured it would be cheaper to hire those new guys I guess. Cheaper to pay someone a Chinaman's wage than overhaul an entire system.”

  Lester was referring to two new security guards, Chuck and Gurjap, that Amarack had hired a month ago that worked the front of the warehouse while he and Dale guarded the main storage area at the back.

  “They're good guys.” Dale said. “Plus we needed some younger blood in here, I only got me a year left then I'll be spending the rest of my days in Punta Cana.”

  Lester chuckled. “Sounds you got it all planned out my man.” He fiddled with some of the knobs on the dark monitor and shook his head. “I don't know, maybe I better go check the camera outside. Some bat could have taken a shit on it or something.”

  “Hold on just a sec, all this talk about shittin' is getting to my bowels, they ain't what they used to be you know.” Dale got up and headed for the washroom down the hall. “If that piece of junk ain't right when I get back I'll go outside and check it out with you.”

  “If it ain't fixed by then I might just call up damn public services myself!” Lester shouted. “But yeah, see you in a bit.”

  They were all inside now, creeping stealthily down the corridor towards the bright room at the end of the hall. The warehouse was exactly as Randall had described: A long corridor that branched off at the end to the left where the weapons storage would be and a few doors that he knew were separate storage units or closets. They moved down the corridor slowly toward the voices, each of them holding a gun and looking in the corners for cameras. Suddenly Dale came out of the room strolling towards them but couldn't see their figures in the dark.

  Byron whispered to move back as they folded into the shadows and waited for him to get closer. “He's probably going to the washroom.” Nodding his head towards a bathroom on the other side of the hall.

  A second later Dale disappeared into the bathroom and they continued making their way to the security room, shuffling like snails down the hall. When they reached the door Byron peeked around the corner, saw Lester sitting there shaking his head at a computer monitor, then moved inside. Lester looked up, saw the gun pointed at him, saw the masked faces, and threw his hands up.

  “No please don't kill me man.” Lester's voice was like a child's whimper. “I gotta wife and 3 kids at home. You gotta understand...”

  “Shut your mouth we get the point.” Byron stepped over keeping his gun level w
ith Lester. “If you're smart you'll play it cool old man. But if not, I'll make a widow out of your wife and your kids will be living off government food stamps for the rest of their lives. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes...yes sure, whatever you say. Take what you want man, they don't pay me enough for this shit.” Lester kept his hands up and sat back down on the chair.

  Byron told Travis to tie him up then looked over at Randall, “Go back out to the washroom and wait for the other guard to come out. When he comes out I want him in here.”

  Randall went back out of the room and waited outside the bathroom with a sawed off 12 gauge he'd brought in his duffel bag.

  Travis had finished tying up Lester on the floor and was now going over the Amarack security system. “I might need a few minutes here.” He said with his hands pouring over the computer. “Looks like a pretty standard setup. I'll shut off the cameras in the rest of the facility and make sure they don't have any other alarm systems we could trigger accidentally.”

  Byron nodded. “Good. Also make sure to remove any internal records as well – never know if Randall is listed in there someplace from when he worked here. The pigs look for shit like that.”

  “Good idea. I'll check on that too.”

  Down the hallway Randall was waiting against the right-side wall when Dale come out of the washroom pulling up the zipper on his pants with his back turned. He didn't notice Randall waiting there in the dark and in a flash Randall had the barrel of his shotgun shoved in his back. “Try anything and I'll splatter your dinner all over the wall. Now move your fat ass back towards that room there.” Dale nodded and put his hands up as Randall pushed him back towards the security room. When they were back inside Randall pushed him down on the ground and tied him up beside Lester.

  “Who the fuck are you guys?” Dale asked as Randall finished tying up his hands with the nylon rope from his bag.

  “The three stooges.” Byron said taking a seat beside Travis at the monitor.

  “Yeah, you guys do look like a bunch of clowns.”

  “What did you say?”

  “You guys, you look like a bunch of clowns.” Dale repeated. “You really think you'll be able to get away with this? We do work with the military man, the fucking U.S. of A. military. You just made the biggest mistake of your lives.”

  Byron looked down at Dale on the floor, then looked over at Randall standing by the doorway. “Randall put some tape over that sack of shit's mouth, but make sure he chews a bit of his own teeth first.”

  “My pleasure.” Randall knelt down, socked Dale hard in the jaw then took some electrical tape out of his bag and stuck a piece over Dale's lips.

  Travis was still going through the system commands and pulled up more camera views of the facility. He was checking the feeds when some movement caught his eye and he zoomed in on one of the camera views. In the front entrance of the building were two other guards sitting behind a desk, a little off camera, playing a game of cards, unaware of what was going on in the back.

  “Looks like we got extra company.” Travis said and Byron bent over to look at the screen.

  “Yeah no shit.” He looked over at Randall “Thought you said there was only two guards in this place?”

  “There were. Must have hired more recently.”

  “Well you better go over there and tie them up with these two. And make sure they don't go for that emergency alarm on their desk.”

  Randall nodded and took off for the guards at the front. Dale had been listening to them from the floor and looked over at Lester. Lester looked panicked, eyes wide darting back and forth, scared shitless at the thought of being killed by these lunatics. Dale had learned about tying knots in the military, had learned the different types and how they could be loosened. He had watched Randall tie the knot and knew it was a half hitch knot. Knew he could break free from it. He began working away at the bottom of the knot with the end of his pinky finger and felt it start to loosen. In another second he thought he could have his hands free.

  Byron and Travis were watching the camera feed as Randall skulked through the corridors, past the crates, toward Gurjap and Chuck in the front entrance. Chuck had just laid down a full house of cards and was smiling as he took a hand of poker chips away from Gurjap.

  In the back security room Dale had finished loosening the knot and felt it slip off his hands onto the floor. He slowly unholstered the 9mm on his hip, peeled off the tape over his mouth, then jumped up with his gun aimed toward Byron.

  “Freeze!”

  Travis looked up from the monitor with a surprised look on his face; Byron looked nonplussed, kind of like he was thinking give me a break dude.

  “Okay, now both of you get up against the wall!”

  They did as he said and moved toward the wall slowly. Dale kept his gun on them and started untying Lester with his free hand. What he didn't see and couldn't have known was that Randall had forgotten his shotgun on the table and was now making his way back to the room for it. When he got back he saw Dale and Dale looked over at him. That was all the time Byron needed to take out the Glock from his hip and unload three rounds into Dale's chest that sent him flying backwards over the computer desk. Lester saw him go down and screamed underneath the tape on his mouth. The sound of the shots echoed down the long corridors and on the monitor they saw Gurjap and Chuck spring up from their desks and peel off camera headed in the direction of the security room. Then a second later Chuck came back quickly on screen, hit an emergency alarm on the desk console, then took off again toward the back room. An alarm exploded throughout the building that tore at their ears.

  “Shit!” Byron yelled. “We gotta get that thing turned off or the security company will alert the police and we'll have a ton of cops here.”

  Travis was fumbling nervously through the options on the computer. “Just give me a sec. I know I saw the option to turn it off earlier, let me check system controls...”

  “Hurry it up man.”

  “Okay I found it but it needs authorization.”

  “What kind of authorization?”

  “Some sort of code, probably numeric...”

  Byron grabbed Lester's head, stuck the pistol to the side of his temple and ripped off the tape from his mouth. “Give him the password.”

  “I...I can’t think...”

  Byron gripped the back of his head harder. “Give him the fucking password!”

  Lester gulped, his face was a sea of sweat. “It's..I think it's 1167.”

  Travis entered in the password and a moment later the alarm shut off. The shrill ring was still pounding in their brains as Travis blew a sigh of relief. A moment later they heard the other guards racing down the hall and stop near the open door. Chuck and Gurjap were standing on either side of the security room with their guns drawn.

  Gurjap called out first, “Dale, Lester? You guys in there?”

  “Dale's dead!” Lester shouted. “They shot him man!"

  “Just hold on. We're coming in.”

  Byron and Travis overturned a spare desk in the room, got behind it and Randall crouched down in the corner nearest the door with his shotgun aimed at the entrance.

  Byron yelled, “There's three of us in here. Better come in with your hands up and we won't shoot.”

  He saw Gurjap peek over the door to look inside then heard him say something to Chuck. Chuck yelled out a second later.

  “Let the guard go.”

  “Like fuck we will!”

  “Then we'll have to blast you out.”

  “We're waiting.”

  Another second flashed by that seemed to last an eternity and then the room exploded into a maelstrom of bullets, ricochets and pieces of drywall flying in mid air. Gurjap was the first to go down. One of Byron's slugs found his skull and he folded over on the floor outside, the top of his head a mass of blood and hair. Chuck was still hiding behind the doorway in the corridor, peeking over every few seconds to fire a shot.

  “Get arou
nd the door and take him out.” Byron whispered to Randall who was closest. “We'll cover you from here.”

  Randall edged closer to the doorway, his back tight against the wall until he was right up beside the door's frame and could hear Chuck breathing heavily on the other side. He waited for him to peek around the door again and when he did, let off a round that hit him in the chest cavity with a thhhacck and his body fell limply to the ground. The room was infused with a scent of lead, blood, sweat and a lone mosquito buzzed by and landed on one of the monitor screens.

  Byron went over to check the bodies. “Dead” he confirmed and then: “Anyone hit?”

  Randall and Travis both shook their heads in unison then Travis went back over to check that the console hadn't been hit, mushing the bug on the screen with his index finger. “Looks like nothing was hit besides a few keys. I'll turn off the rest of the cameras.”

  “Do it fast.” Byron said. “No one's called from the security company yet to check on the alarm which means they think it was a false or else they're sending someone over to check it out. Either way I want us gone in the next 10 minutes.”