by AJ Kirby
Chris and Mark were inside Edison’s Printers perimeter; they had gone over the top, to face the machine gun fire of their destiny. They had scaled the fence towards the rear of the site, at the foot of a gently sloping grassy knoll which led towards the succession of squat, concrete blocks which made up the printing and distribution facilities.
Mark’s ears rang with the dizzying silence which surrounded them; his rapidly pounding heart would surely be heard for miles around; he felt that his senses were about to explode; he was close to a faint. There was the occasional whirr and hum of the printers in the first of the blocks, but otherwise they were alone with this intrusive quietness.
Mark was almost compelled to shout; I’m here! Come and find me! I’m going to rob you! and laugh as he struggled to regain his composure.
Chris shook him from his reverie by grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and snarling: ‘Come on Mark. We are here now; don’t go all jelly-legged on me. The adrenaline’s going to be kicking in right about now; just go with it. You might feel a little light-headed, drunk even, but this is not a game. Why the hell do you think I couldn’t trust Danny in a place like this? He’d be trying to set off the security lights right now… Downing whisky from a hip flask…’
‘Sorry. I just froze. I’m okay now,’ breathed Mark. His heart was beating so fast that he thought it might be about to explode. A heart attack whilst trying to pull off a heist; he hardly dared think about how typical of his luck that would be.
Chris stayed still and stared into Mark’s eyes. ‘Do not fuck this up for me,’ he snarled. ‘Now’s the time to do or die.’
Mark smiled in agreement. Chris was right; they had no choice in the matter now. As though guided by the hand of fate, they were coursing toward their destiny. Nothing would ever be the same again.
Mark led the way, sticking close to the white concrete walls of the first of the buildings and trying not to give in to the pain in his leg. He ran his gloved hand along the smooth, cold walls, laying an imaginary trail for them to follow on their return.
They crunched along the gravel pathway, wincing at the noise of a thousand small stones rubbing together, announcing their presence. If the CCTV was alerted to their exaggerated tip-toeing advance, it would all be over; but Mark knew that if they were careful, they could avoid the cameras’ watchful gaze. There were so many cameras on site that monitoring them all was impossible for the MMC staff; Mark and Chris would only be spotted if they set an alarm off, and the Intertel Shift could help them with that. Faults in the communication network would allow them to slip through the net unnoticed.
As they rounded the first corner, they saw the panopticon towering over them in the distance; the ever-watchful eye. Mark had his fingers crossed that its gaze was distracted by the dummy system which he had set up, and he whispered a silent prayer that Danny would not fuck this up for them. He sincerely hoped Danny hadn’t brought along a hip-flask; Mark knew that Danny got drunk too quickly and was prone to bouts of melancholy when in that state. Would Danny’s suicidal tendencies drag them all down with him? Surely even Danny would recognise the importance of their mission; how it had the potential to change all of their lives. He would not fuck it up…
‘Just over there,’ he whispered, pointing to one of the low-lying buildings. ‘That’s the Precisioner unit; where all the money’s kept.’
‘And the printer,’ said Chris, softly. ‘Fort Knox, my arse.’ There was a glint in his eyes as he mentioned the printer. Mark chose to ignore it. Chris seemed so wired that he resembled the mad colonel in Apocalypse Now. His eyes were ablaze like he was high on drugs and his hands were clenched into tight balls. Adrenaline was fucking with him, too.
Mark had tried to tell him how well protected the Precisioner unit actually was. He wanted Chris to know just how difficult it had been for him to undertake the technological aspects of the plan. This was his baby. Although it was outwardly unremarkable, the building was protected by the most sensitive detection systems. The integrated door entry and camera systems also worked the steel locks and there was a direct communication channel to the police if these locks were interfered with. Because of network technology, this communication channel no longer had to be cabled; instead it was simply converted into a data stream which was then interpreted on the other side.
Technology had served the needs of the people; no longer was it necessary for a complete security team to be on site to respond to emergencies. Wages for security guards had been hiked by new licensing laws and working time directives, and Edison’s were immediately sold on the EyeSpy Security cost-cutting idea. Unfortunately for them, in installing the system, they robbed themselves of the all important human control. It meant that once the system was bypassed, the burglars would be left with a virtual open goal.
It was at the entrance to the Precisioner Unit that Mark’s dummy system was to prove invaluable. At that exact moment, Danny would be able to see them from his vantage point of the van, but nobody else on the entire site would be able to see their entry. It was Danny’s job to disable the door entry system, which otherwise only allowed access when it was presented by two separate identity passes. They had to be able to rely on Danny being so seduced by the money that he would not let himself make any mistakes, and perhaps that was where the human element became a problem; humans were notoriously prone to emotions, to distractions and to mistakes.
Mark’s hammer-and-tongs heart had now leaped up into his mouth. Now really was the time to do or die.
The Outside Man
Danny’s hand shook with cold and nerves as he saw Chris and Mark slip into the view of one of the cameras which had been allocated to the dummy system. Not quite believing his eyes that they could simply walk into a place such as Edison’s Printers, he quickly glanced at another view they had intercepted; that of the Main Monitoring Centre. There, just as Mark had predicted, sat the two watchers, and they had seen nothing. There was no tell-tale panic, no rushing to the phone, no flicker of interest; they were so used to reliance upon this technology that they no longer questioned what they saw.
Danny looked back to the previous view again; that of his two companions. They were now approaching the Precisioner unit; he couldn’t believe how easy it had all been. He almost wished that he could have been there instead of them. The Intertel Shift had seen them past the Intruder System on the perimeter. There was seemed to be no extra security on site, no patrols checking the fence. For the robbers, the Intertel Shift idea had been their very own Trojan horse.
It’s too easy, Danny said to himself. Fair enough, the next bit of the plan does require a bit of skill; not everybody can wire up a dummy system like Mark did, but surely any Joe Public who knew about the Intertel Shift should have been literally queuing up outside places like this on the night of the Intertel Shift, taking advantage of the back doors being left open. Maybe, across the country at this moment, there are little groups of people that actually have the balls to do something about their ideas. Maybe they are waiting outside Banks, Art Galleries and Building Societies and then simply walking in and pillaging the night away.
Something told Danny that he was a part of a brotherhood of people who were prepared to stand up and take what was theirs; who wouldn’t say no when opportunity came knocking. He grinned to himself, the throbbing heat of the diesel generator reminding him of his goal; basking on a warm beach.
To think; I will remember this moment for the rest of my life. I will be lying there on that beach in Mauritius, and I won’t be able to stop myself from smiling at the memory of this rusty old van and how we pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes. Getting that money will let me realise my dreams!
Danny looked back at the camera view from the dummy system and was suddenly alerted to the fact that Chris and Mark could no longer be seen. Where had they gone? They were supposed to signal to him when they required the door entry system to be de-activated for a few seconds, but he had not seen any signal.
Danny
began to panic. Mark had instructed him; only de-activate the door system once. Any more than that and a signal really will be picked up, and they’ll know it’s not as a result of the Intertel Shift.
Danny’s forehead was soaked with cold sweat; he didn’t know what he should do. Perhaps he had cursed the whole plan by getting arrogant a few seconds back… by imagining the crisp newness of the money already in his hands. That sign had been a false prophet; it had lured him into complacency.
On screen a new figure emerged into view; a burly figure, who was walking at some pace towards the entrance of the Precisioner Unit. The figure was wielding a baton as though it was a sword; he was threateningly rolling his shoulders as though spoiling for a fight.
Danny punched at keys on the keypad Mark had provided, frantically typing in the code which would override the automatic door lock. He hadn’t seen any signal. Had he blacked out? Had he missed it?
A frosty dread descended on him; maybe he would remember this moment for the rest of his life, but he wouldn’t be remembering it from a sun-bed on a beach, he would be remembering it from a similarly confined space to the back of the van; a prison cell.
Blindness
Jim Hunter was watching the monitors closely; something was not right. The reception of the images looked weak, static was at a premium. Even Callum Burr began to notice the poor image quality, especially that of the cameras which were around the Precisioner Unit.
‘It’s probably the weather though, boss.’
Jim was always struck by the sarcasm which crept into Burr’s voice when he called him ‘boss’.
‘I still think we should take a quick tour round the site, just to be on the safe side,’ Jim suggested.
‘Don’t you worry yourself, I’ll go, boss. You just stay here; you’re always saying that I need the exercise,’ said Burr. He tried a laugh, but there was something strange in his voice. ‘Anyway, I need to make a phone call.’
‘Make your call here Callum. I have heard all that stuff before; you don’t have to worry about me listening in to you telling your wife that you love her.’
Hunter was testing the water; was there more to his colleague’s apparent desire to be out of the Security Lodge?
‘What? No, it’s not the wife, it’s….’
Burr was suddenly cut off by the high-pitched screech of the alarm. It was the alarm for the door entry system at the Precisioner Unit. Hunter swiftly tried to access the camera for the Precisioner Unit, but as he switched, the static became far worse; they would have to physically go and check.
What the fuck is going on? Oh don’t let this be something serious. Not on my watch…
He continued manipulating the controls, sweat now starting to pour from his forehead. He heard Burr climb out of his seat and turned in his swivel chair to see the big man fish something that looked suspiciously like a bottle of whisky from his rucksack before bursting from the Security Lodge like a caged animal. Jim was no longer as fit as he used to be and struggled up out of the seat to follow him.
‘Callum; come back! We’ll cut through the distribution building!’ he shouted, before noting that Burr was already heading in that direction.
The distribution building provided a shortcut to the Precisioner Unit; Burr would wait for him in order that they could both present their identity passes and get through the door entry system. Burr, however, didn’t stop at the door; he paused to present two badges and then ran through, closing it firmly behind him. Hunter reached the door seconds later and leaned against it in a bemused state, thinking: How has Burr got through there without me? How has he got hold of two identity cards to access each building? Why is he behaving so strangely? I’ve been blind. I’ve been blind.
Without having to look, Hunter knew the answer; his own identity badge was not in its holder on the lanyard around his neck. Burr had taken it; Burr was involved in something; suddenly Hunter knew that his old warning antennae had still been working when he had sensed danger earlier that day. He should have trusted his instincts…
Because of his lack of an access badge, Hunter was forced to run almost the entire perimeter of the site in order to get to the Precisioner Unit; the technology which barred access to intruders was now indiscriminately barring entry to the potential rescuer of the situation...
‘Danny knows that we’re outside the Precisioner building doesn’t he? But how do we know that he knows?’ whispered Mark. His confidence had deserted him again. This was the moment he’d had nightmares about.
‘I tested everything when I set up his dummy system, but whatever I tried, there was only ever one chance; whatever happened, on the second occasion, the alarm always went off. If Danny doesn’t see the signal and we try the door, we’ll set the alarms off. We’ll be caught.’
‘Mark,’ hissed Chris, ‘just make the signal. He’s not blind!’
Mark raised both arms into the air and extended his palms; in anybody else’s book, it was the signal for surrender.
‘Right; in we go!’ said Chris, his excitement evident in his wild eyes.
It was Mark who approached the heavy door to the Precisioner Unit. He grasped the cold steel of the handle and closed his eyes in hope and expectation. Then he pulled; nothing.
Chris bundled him out of the way and tugged at the door with both hands, desperation starting to set in; still nothing. Mark had to pull Chris back from making a third attempt at the door. In the still silence of the Edison’s night, their rattling of the door sounded unnaturally loud.
‘We have to get out of here. Now! If Danny hasn’t got that door open now, he’s either been caught or he’s run off. Whatever. We’re here with our head in the lion’s mouth, and believe me; it would have felt us pulling at its teeth like that. The alarm must have gone off.’
‘But we can’t hear it,’ said Chris, looking confused.
‘Of course we won’t hear it. But the security staff will. Right now, that alarm will be blaring up there in the MMC and in the Security Lodge.’
The full horror seemed to sink into Chris’s face in that moment; Mark observed his eyes begin to fill with tears. ‘I’ve let him down. I’ve let him down,’ he mumbled.
This time it was Mark’s turn to be strong though: ‘Come on. We can at least run for it; make it back to the van. You haven’t let Danny down at all!’
‘Not Danny; Todd,’ Chris stuttered. ‘I needed to do this for Todd.’
Momentarily confused, Mark was left standing by Chris’s sudden surge of energy as he burst out of the blocks like an athlete. He swallowed up great swathes of the path and then rounded the corner, out of sight. Mark gritted his teeth against the pain which shot into him from his ankle and he forced himself to follow.
As he was running he thought he heard a terrible sound; it was like a squeak of shock from a child. Then he heard a muffled thud.
Something’s gone wrong, God told him. When you get round the corner, you’ll see that I’m right. You’ll see…
The sight which met him as he careered around the corner chilled his blood. All of the muscles in his legs seemed to seize up. He could no longer run; he wanted to collapse onto his knees in a real symbol of surrender; they were not alone.
A huge bear-like man was standing over the prone body of Chris Parker, who had a stream of blood pouring from a cut on his head.
‘Chris?’ shouted Mark, before he could put a leash on his voice. He was always saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, and this time, the wrong thing alerted the huge man that was standing over Chris. The man turned his head at the involuntary cry which escaped from Mark, and suddenly his face was in full view.
‘Callum Burr?’ Mark could barely gasp, ‘I…’
‘Mark? What the fuck are you… Wait a minute; you’re with this one, are you?’
Mark could almost see the cogs in Burr’s cannon-ball sized head begin to click into place as he finally realised that Mark was a part of the heist. Suddenly his eyes narrowed.
‘This isn’t
what it looks like,’ begged Mark.
‘Oh, yeah? Well what is it then?’ asked Burr, his voice sounding more Scottish in anger. He was now moving towards Mark, but he paused to give Chris a sly kick in the head as he prowled past him.
‘It’s all a test… part of this Intertel Shift thing.’
‘You shouldn’t be here,’ growled Burr. ‘But I’m pleased that you are; this way I get to be the hero, just like he said.’
‘Like who said? What do you mean?’ cried Mark.
Burr didn’t answer, but Mark saw him start to wave his baton aggressively back and forth. The man had a baseball swing like Babe Ruth… It all seemed so unreal, like a movie.
And then Burr was on him; was raining blows down onto his body and face and it became painfully real. Mark stretched out his arms in a weak attempt at defence, but it was no good. He fell backwards and onto the black sports bag, winding himself in the process.
Another swing of the baton, another connection with his already wrecked leg.
You’re going to die, Mark, if this carries on. The last face that you’ll ever see in the world will be the mad, sweating red-face of Callum Burr. The last sounds you’ll hear will be the crack of his baton against your leg.
Burr was laughing as he worked on Mark. There was something of the victory dance about the way that he bounced around the body, searching for new, unguarded places onto which he could throw down new blows from the baton.
He’s laughing at you Mark; he thinks that by doing this, he’ll win. He’ll become the hero of the hour and you’ll be that forgotten piece of rubbish that allows him to get what he’s always wanted.
Mark rolled over and tried to breathe. Suddenly, he found that he had the cable cutters in his right hand, and he was unsteadily climbing back to his feet. He staggered away from Burr, but the man was back on him again like a wild animal.
