Cage's Crew

by Martin Archer

  It was a plan that wasn’t going to work because there was no way we could get everything into the car. There was nothing to do but change the plan so that Tommy’s van carried his equipment and supplies to the jewelry store. We had a lot of time, so the few additional minutes my new plan required wouldn’t make much difference, at least I hoped not.

  “We’re going to change the plan a little,” I announced as I looked at Tommy’s van. Then I explained what I had in mind. The guys liked it.

  Now Norm would drop only me off at the rear door while Tommy waited with his van a couple of blocks away. I would enter through the rear and open the front door for Tommy to bring in his equipment and supplies into the store. He wouldn’t come until I called and, when he did come, he’d do it in plain sight and enter through the front door as a normal cleaning service would probably do.

  Once Tommy and his stuff were in, Tommy would set to work on the safe and I would close up the store and drive away in Tommy’s van. I’d park it a couple of blocks away in the big parking lot of a twenty-four-hour Safeway grocery store and walk back to again enter from the rear. I actually liked my new plan better than the old one now that I’d seen the signage on Tommy’s van; blatantly entering the store as if you belonged there would look less suspicious to anyone passing by.

  “If we are gonna do that, we ought to put Arizona plates on the van so it doesn’t look out of place while it’s unloading out front,” Norm suggested.

  “No problem,” I said. “We’ll swap the Oregon plates on Tommy’s van with the Arizona plates on the burner you’re driving.”

  Chapter Seven

  We checked our cell phones once again to make sure we still had each other’s numbers on speed dial in case we got disconnected, and then pulled out of the parking lot behind the motel at about fifteen minutes before three. Phoenix’s streets were deserted. We saw a few cars going back and forth and watched as a City of Phoenix police car pulled into an all-night coffee shop that had a couple of cars parked in front of it.

  It was going to be a long night so I had a phone charger in one of my overall’s baggy pockets for me and Tommy to use; Norm had two fully charged phones and a charger that plugged into his car’s cigarette lighter. Once we were in the jewelry store and cracking the safe was underway, Norm would listen constantly on both phones and the police scanner while waiting for us to call for a pickup or rescue. He’d talk only if there was something to report—such as an unexpected visitor or a prowling police or security company car.

  ******

  Norm drove around the corner of the long strip mall to drive behind it to the jewelry store’s rear door—and stopped in surprise. It was dark in the alley behind the deserted strip mall, but there was enough starlight and moonlight so that we could see the dim outline of two cars parked at the jewelry store’s rear door. The cars were dark and no one appeared to be about, at least not that we could see.

  “What the fuck is this?” Norm muttered.

  “I don’t know, but I’m sure as hell going to find out,” I said as I dug out my night vision scope and took a quick look.

  “They’re putting out heat, but it doesn’t look like anyone’s in them. Stay here in the car with the engine running in case we have to leave in a hurry; I’ll walk the rest of the way and check them out.”

  I started to tell Norm to use his night vision scope, but I didn’t when I realized he was already holding it up to his eye and adjusting it.

  Everything was still as I quietly opened the car door, got out, and then closed it only so far as the first click. Then I opened the right rear door and took the shotgun off the floor of the back seat and unrolled the blanket that had been wrapped around it to conceal it from prying eyes. It was already loaded and I was wearing gloves and a ski mask as my crews all did whenever possible when we were on a job. The hair from my ponytail wig was hanging out from under the back of my mask.

  I walked silently towards the two cars with my left hand holding my night vision glass to my eye and carrying the shotgun in my right hand with my finger near the trigger. I could clearly see the outline of the cars from the heat they were giving off so I knew they’d been driven in the past few hours.

  There was no sign of body heat. They were empty. Even so, when I reached the cars, I cautiously looked in the window of one, and then the other. Nothing. At that point, I waved a nothing gesture towards Norm and motioned him to stay put by holding up the palm of my hand. It was pitch dark in the alley behind the strip mall, but I knew Norm was watching with his night scope and could see me.

  After I finished checking out the cars, I moved to the rear door of the jewelry store and put my ear against it to listen. Nothing. I could hear nothing. I tried to slowly and gently turn the doorknob. It didn’t move. Locked. Once again I put my ear up against the door and listened. Still nothing.

  Very slowly and quietly I stood in the darkness and put my night vision scope in my pocket and pulled out the key Helen Douglass, or whatever her name was, had given me. I had a moment of trouble finding the key hole and getting the key inserted, but I got it done. Then I put my ear up against the door and listened as I turned the key. There was a soft click that I felt more than I heard as the key drew the lock’s bolt out of the doorjamb. I listened again. Still nothing. So I put the key in my pocket and grasped the door knob with my left hand and began slowly turning it, all the while holding my shotgun in my right hand.

  I turned the door knob as far it would go and very slowly eased the door open enough so that I could look in through the crack of the slightly open door. What I could see was a hallway dimly lit from the light in a room whose door was cracked open and a green light on the alarm panel to indicate the alarm was turned off. Suddenly, I heard a voice and a clattering metallic sound as something heavy was dropped or thrown on the floor. The voice had a distinct East Coast accent.

  “Fer chrissake, how much longer do you think this is going to take, Tomas? Someone’s gonna see the cars out back and come looking to see what the fuck we’re doing?”

  “Don’t fuckin worry about it, Eddie, don’t fuckin worry about it,” another voice said with some authority and sarcasm in it. “No one’s gonna come. Besides, we’re good if they do. We work for the owner of the fuckin building, remember?”

  “What I don’t understand is why the boss don’t just wait for Jack to show up and open it Monday?” someone else said.

  Three of them; there are at least three of them, I thought to myself. And at least one of them knows Douglass is never coming back and one of them doesn’t.

  ******

  I slowly reached up with my left hand to adjust my ski mask, all the time keeping a firm grip on my shotgun. I knew exactly why they weren’t waiting for Jack Douglass to come and open the place up, and I wondered who else also knew he was dead. One thing was sure; I wasn’t going to let anyone see my face until I knew more about what was happening here and why.

  “Holy shit,” one of the men screamed as I stepped into the room wearing my ski mask and pointing my buckshot-loaded shotgun at them. The men were truly surprised. They all three jumped and gasped; there was a loud clang as the man standing in front of the safe dropped a crowbar onto the floor and stood gaping at me with his mouth open. One of the men, the one closest to me, was so startled that he tripped over an acetylene tank and almost fell.

  I started to tell them to raise their hands. But I didn’t have a chance to get it out before one of the men reached for a pistol he had in a shoulder holster of the type police detectives and I sometimes use. The man’s move was almost an instinctive reaction instead of something that was well thought out and deliberate. It didn’t make any difference.

  “Boom! ... Boom!” went my 12-gauge. The shots followed one another so closely that they made what sounded like one long roar. The would-be shooter’s feet actually left the floor and he went flying backwards up against the wall with his eyes almost popping out of his head. Two rounds of buckshot in your stomach at close
range will do that for you every time, I thought as the man bounced off the wall and dropped to the floor. The noise was deafening.

  Then everything went to hell as far as I was concerned The other two men instinctively ducked at the tremendously loud noise and went for their guns. Another loud boom from my shotgun reverberated through the room and turned the head of one of them into a mass of red jelly as the buckshot slugs splattered the room behind him with blood and brains. It was almost as if a rope had been tied around the man’s legs and jerked them out from under him.

  The third man froze with his hand on the gun in the holster clipped to his belt. He hadn’t even had time to unbutton the leather safety strap that prevented his pistol from falling out when he leaned over. Then, to my absolute astonishment, he suddenly began to smile and unbuttoned the safety strap. He was about thirty-five years old, solidly built, and had a little pencil mustache.

  He grinned at me and proudly announced as he slowly and arrogantly began to pull out his pistol. “I counted; that’s three and you’re out. You’re mine, you bastard."

  The loud and reverberating boom from my fourth shot pushed the would-be shooter up against the wall and left him standing. He had an incredulous look on his face; he couldn’t believe he’d just been killed.

  “It holds five,” I said as the third man slowly slid down the wall leaving a big red smear behind him. “Three’s the limit if you’re hunting ducks; you ain’t no duck.”

  ******

  My cell phone was vibrating in my pocket. I had turned off the ringer when I entered the building. It was Norm.

  “I’m here,” I answered. “Did you hear anything?”

  “Did I hear anything? Jesus, what happened?”

  “They got stupid and went for their guns, that’s what happened.”

  Norm started to say something, but I cut him off.

  “Stay on your phone and listen. But shut the fuck up unless it’s important.”

  ******

  No one had heard the noise of my shotgun or, if they did, appeared interested enough to stop and check it out. Best of all, according to Norm, there was nothing about it on the local police radio. Even so, Norm put on his ski mask and drove his car forward and into position opposite the store’s rear door so he’d be able to pick me up more quickly if we had to leave in a hurry. He also checked to make sure all of the car’s doors were unlocked so I could get in quickly if necessary. Of course, he did; someone might have called it in.

  We waited for ten anxious minutes with me moving back and forth between the rear of the building and looking out at the parking lot in front to see if anyone was coming. Nothing.

  I decided to go ahead with the job at some point. I didn’t see any sense in leaving the diamonds behind just because some fools from one of New York’s crime families got themselves killed, particularly after my guys and I had gone to such lengths to get them for ourselves. I made the decision as I moved back and forth between looking out the front windows to see if anyone was coming and looking for the wallets and cell phones of the men I’d killed.

  After ten minutes, as our anxieties slowly subsided, Norm nodded in response to the thumbs up and “go ahead” wave of my hand out the back door, and drove off to his lookout position. I immediately called Tommy and told him to come on in, the coast was clear. He had not been on the line listening.

  Tommy and his van showed up at the front door of the jewelry store five minutes later. Norm had moved into his lookout position by the time I took off my hot and itchy, woolen ski mask and unlocked the front door to help Tommy unload his van and get his stuff inside. Tommy had been too far away to hear the noise and didn’t know there had been a problem. I didn’t tell him about it; I just unlocked the front door and went out to help him.

  A big industrial-size floor polisher was the first thing out of his van. Tommy placed it so that it would be the first thing anyone would see if they drove in to investigate the van. He placed a couple of cans of solvent next to it and then a carpet cleaning machine. Only when the decoy equipment and supplies were in place in the parking lot did we unload the explosives and cutting and drilling equipment and carry them straight into the jewelry store.

  The decoy equipment was the last thing we carried in before I locked the front door. Tommy pointed to where he wanted them—so they could be seen if anyone looked into the store to see what was happening. I smiled and nodded my approval when Tommy unscrewed the cap on the five-gallon can of cleaning solvent and laid it on the floor next to the can so it could be seen by anyone looking in the window and unrolled the electric cord of the carpet cleaner and plugged it in.

  Robbie had been right to suggest him for the crew; the man was a pro and there was no half way about it.

  ******

  Tommy didn’t find out about the shooting and the dead men until all of his equipment and supplies were inside, his decoy cleaning equipment had been set out where it could be seen, and the front door used by the store’s customers had been locked behind him. When he finally did see the backroom where the safe and the jewelers’ work tables were located, he nearly fainted. He wasn’t used to seeing dead men, and there was blood and gore everywhere. He turned white, began shaking, and turned around to run.

  “Oh my God; oh my God. What happened, Cage?”

  “Someone beat us here, that’s what happened. It was self-defense. They went for their guns when I came in and didn’t get them out fast enough,” I said as I blocked Tommy’s way to the door and grabbed him around the shoulders to keep him from leaving.

  It took only a short time for me to calm Tommy down. I had to convince him that what I’d done was done in self-defense, and that we might as well proceed with the job since we were already here. It didn’t take very long to convince him because it suddenly dawned on Tommy what might happen if he tried to back out and leave me and Norm in the lurch after having come so far.

  The reality was that Tommy knew too much and was either going to stay with us and share the take or go out feet first. I watched as he swallowed hard, shook his head as if to clear out some cobwebs, and got to work examining the safe and setting up his equipment. I began dragging the bodies out of the way so he’d have room to work.

  The plan had been for me to drive Tommy's van to a grocery store a couple of blocks away once it was emptied and walk back to the jewelry store. But now I didn’t trust him not to run. So I called Norm and told him to leave his car and walk over and get Tommy’s van. I went out the front door and put the key under the front tire on the driver’s side of the van so Norm could get it without having to come to the jewelry store door. It was gone thirty minutes later when I looked out at the parking lot in front of the store.

  A few minutes later my cell phone vibrated. Norm was calling in to report that he’d retrieved the van and driven it to the nearby Safeway shopping center where I had planned to park it until we were ready to leave. So far, Norm reported, no one seemed interested in the store and there had been nothing related to it on the police scanner. The sun was just coming up on what was almost certainly going to be another boiling hot day.

  ******

  “This isn’t going to work, Cage; I’ll have to blow it,” Tommy finally said as once again the safe defeated his efforts to cut into it with the torch and pry it open. It was just before ten on a sunny Arizona Sunday morning. The heat was already pushing one hundred. Norm had been running the air conditioning in his car constantly since the sun came up. He’d just informed us that he would have to get his gas tank refilled in another hour or so because “it’s goddamn hot out here in the sun and I got to run the engine to keep the air conditioning going.”

  I watched as Tommy began carefully molding what looked like Play-Doh and pressing it into the various cracks and holes he had drilled and pried into the safe's door. He must have known what I was thinking because he suddenly said, “Don’t worry about me, Cage; I won’t rat you out. I know what would happen to me if I did. I can do time if I get caught; I
can’t do dead.”

  “That’s good to know.” I finally said. I’d been thinking about it and had already decided not to kill Tommy. It would make it more difficult to recruit men and get gigs in the future. Running a crew is a tough business; you’re always walking a fine line between safety today and future opportunities

  About thirty minutes later, Tommy said he was ready. Norm, however, almost simultaneously announced the bad news. Someone had just parked in front of the dress shop two doors down and gone inside. We waited anxiously and Norm drove off to find some gasoline.

  More than an hour passed before my cell phone vibrated. It was Norm and he had good news.

  “She’s coming out. ... getting into her car. ... She’s gone; the coast is clear.”

  I nodded to Tommy and he nodded back. We’d been busy while we waited and had already run a line between the explosives and the back door. Tommy quickly and carefully attached the main line to various small wires he’d already stuck into the doughy explosives packed around the safe’s door. Then, after I made one last check with Norm to confirm the coast was clear, and looked for myself at the parking lots both in the front and rear of the store, Tommy and I pulled on our ski masks in case there was a camera we didn’t know about, and we moved out the rear door with me unrolling a spool of wire behind us and Tommy carrying a metal box

  Neither of us liked being out in the open, let alone being out in the searing heat of a summer day in Phoenix wearing ski masks. We’d have to rip them off if someone came around the back of the strip mall, but I wasn’t about to argue when Tommy insisted that we needed to get well away from the safe, put the bare concrete blocks of the strip mall’s rear wall between ourselves and the blast, and use the dead men’s cars for extra protection. He was the specialist; if he said we needed to protect ourselves by hiding behind the cars, then that’s what we were going to do.

  We weren’t out in the sun unrolling wire for long, just a few brisk seconds. Tommy connected the line he had unrolled to the metal box as soon as we got behind the dead men’s cars. Then he motioned for me to join him in hunkering down behind the cars for extra protection.