by J. A. Marley
“He’s with me. No him? No me…”
The grey-haired man grunted and hit a button on the dash that unlocked the doors. As he and Ciaran climbed into the car, Danny couldn’t help but feel they had both just crossed some kind of Rubicon.
The grey-haired man told Danny he was Cardell’s head of security, but he wasn’t so forthcoming with a name. Danny was fine with that. If he really needed to know he could find out through Harkness or June.
“I’ve had to pull some strings to get us this after-hours access, so we play it cool once we arrive.”
“The amount of money the Cardells are paying that convention centre, you should be able to get in any time you like, day or night.”
“And we do, but I don’t think you guys would want to be seen by too many night staff on the way round.”
Danny just nodded. He knew the man was talking sense.
Ciaran hadn’t shaved, but he had changed out of his Disney attire. Small victories, Danny had thought. The journey to Miami was made in relative silence. Ciaran took the opportunity to snooze, whilst Danny watched out of the window, marvelling at the flow of traffic even at this late hour, pondering what everyone was doing.
After ninety minutes, their destination came into sight.
Even in the dark of night, the Miami Urban Convention Centre was impressive. Lit up like an architect’s Christmas tree, the complex looked like a twenty-first century cathedral. Glass and white painted steel girders shot into the air, meeting at impossible angles at dizzying heights. Visible as it was from the interstate, Danny was looking for exits. He was pleased that it was so close to easy-access infrastructure. When the time came for them to get the hell out of there, the proximity of the freeway was going to be nothing but a blessing.
The bulk of the centre itself was a simple rectangle shape. Being crowned by not one but two huge glass and steel spires, it meant the eye was drawn upwards when looking at it, therefore concealing the brutal efficiency of the huge box of the building underneath.
Danny was assimilating information about the outside of the centre as fast as he saw it. His mind flicked through various options open to them for access and egress. He subconsciously timed the drive from the Interstate to the boundary of the complex. He noted where the stoplights were, the road layout and the positioning of the concrete bollards that heralded the realities of living in an age of suicide bombers and lone wolf terrorists who might drive vehicles into crowds at speed.
Running around the outside of the arena was a four-lane ring road dissected by pedestrian crossing points and ramps that led to underground parking garages. This was another feature Danny liked. If a job went south, complicated parking structures were always a good spot to do two things: he could firstly evade capture on foot using the parked cars to mask his progress, and second, steal a car when it was time to complete a swift exit stage left.
What he didn’t like was the dividing meridian between the lanes of the ring road which had been planted with mature palm trees at intervals of about fifteen feet. Punctuating them were huge spotlights mounted at the halfway point between each tree. If a high-speed getaway did become necessary, crossing lanes to reach the nearest exit against traffic flow was going to prove tricky.
An automatic traffic light halted their progress near the main front entrance to the centre, and Danny felt a nudge at his elbow. Ciaran was pointing to the eaves of the building where the steel joist met the glass canopy over the doors. Every ten feet or so, small security cameras hung in pairs, angling away from each other to guarantee that no inch of pathway around the structure was not covered.
“Feck me,” was all the Irishman could say, a gentle awe in his voice.
“Can you make a complete circuit of the outside, please?”
“I think it’s an interrupted route. At the back of the building, there are security gates. Authorised vehicles only. Do you want to go inside straight away?”
“Okay, take us as far round as you can. And, yes, let’s go in. I’m going to be back here in daylight anyway.”
Their grey-haired driver had been right. Three quarters of the way around they were met with security gates which were manned by several men in beige uniforms.
“Are they packing?” Ciaran couldn’t quite make out until one of the guards approached their vehicle.
“Fuck.” Danny was disappointed. They were packing, not just pistols on their hips, but he could also see pepper spray canisters hooked into the guards’ belts too. That upped the ante for them right off the bat. He had to consider being armed. He had been hoping to avoid that, with his keen aversion to collateral victims.
“Good evening, Mr Norby. Little late for you this evening?”
Danny almost laughed out loud. The guard had just given the grey-haired man’s name away, despite his careful efforts to not reveal it.
‘Yes, sir. We’ve had a few audio-visual questions come up last minute. These engineers here will hopefully have a solution for us.”
“Are their names on the manifold?” The guard looked like every other retired cop Danny had ever seen. The guard started pointing his torch directly in his face, blinding him temporarily.
“Like I said, this is all a bit last minute, but these boys should be on your list. We phoned ’em in earlier.”
“Excuse me while I check. Who’m I looking for?”
“Mr Luke and Mr Matthews.”
Danny tutted under his breath. Shit, even our aliases are biblical references. These guys aren’t even subtle.
Once they were allowed in, Norby parked them up in a spot next to a huge articulated trailer that had been backed up against the loading dock delivering Coca Cola. Before they exited the car, Danny and Ciaran put on baseball caps, pulling the brows low over their eyes. No sense in making TV stars of themselves from the get-go.
Standing by the car, Danny couldn’t resist a little mischief. “Nice to meet you, Mr Norby.”
“Go fuck yourself, you Brit piece of shit. You need to know I don’t like this idea… any of it. I think Cardell is nuts for trusting you. Just so we’re clear…”
Danny was about to answer when Ciaran stepped between them.
“Now listen to me, big man. How ye answer my next question will determine whether you get to eat normally ever again or be fed through a wee tube down yer throat. Are you going to be a problem? Have we already got a rat in the pantry?”
Norby was immediately flustered. Ciaran may have only come up to his shoulder, but Norby wisely didn’t push his luck with the Irishman.
“My loyalty lies with Mr and Mrs Cardell. That’s all you need to know.”
Danny touched Ciaran on the shoulder, the gesture calling on his friend to stand down. “Let’s go inside, gentlemen. We need to get on with it.”
It took them an hour to walk around the inside of the structure, Danny and Ciaran making mental notes all the way. They tried to memorise where fire exits were placed. They counted out the steps from the centre of the cavernous room to the nearest doorways, and toilets. Inside the gents, they noted the lack of windows or direct access to the exterior of the building, which Danny didn’t like.
After about twenty minutes of quiet measuring, Danny suddenly had a thought. “Hold on. Will this entire space be used?”
“We will have over fifteen thousand pilgrims per night, so yes. And they will be seated.”
Ciaran swore under his breath. Once they had established the rough pattern of the seating rows, they did their walking measurements again. A couple of times, Danny could hear his accomplice mumbling under his breath.
A few minutes later, when they were some feet away from Norby, Ciaran spoke outright what he’d been grizzling to himself about. “I don’t like it, Danny. It’s like a big, feckin’ coffin to me. All these cameras, all these people, all the bollix of the trees and the spotlights outside. And have ye had a chance to look up?”
Danny nodded, taking the opportunity to glance up above their heads for probably the twentie
th time in the last hour. Whilst the ceiling was high above them, the overhead lighting gantries which hung from it were clearly visible and festooned in not just lights, but more security cameras, too.
“Ciaran, what have I told you before?”
“Get a feckin’ shave.”
Danny grinned as he replied. “No. We turn disadvantages into advantages.”
“I can’t see how a bollock load of cameras can ever be an advantage.”
“We’ll find one. I promise.”
Next, Danny asked Norby to show him where and how exactly the stage would be laid out, again walking the perimeter of its boundaries. He and Ciaran then tried to judge where it sat in relation to everything: exits, toilets, and then the most important one.
“How do you go from the main altar area here out into backstage?”
“I’m not exactly sure where the access points on the dais will be.”
“There’s going to be a band, right?”
Norby nodded. “On the left-hand side of the dais from where the main pulpit will be.”
Danny walked over towards that end of the huge room, trying to predict which of the doors at that end would lead to backstage.
“I’m going to need a full stage plan, Norby. On paper… I don’t do emails or mobile phones.”
“I’ll see if Mr Cardell is happy for you to have access to it.”
“Ye’ll just feckin’ deliver.”
Danny cut across his friend before he could warm to his theme. “Is there going to be a sound and light desk?”
“Again, I’m not sure…”
“Do ye know feckin’ anyting?”
“Leave it, Ciaran. We’ll need to know that, too. We need everything you can give us in advance. How many security personnel on the floor? How many personal security for the Cardells on or around the stage? Every detail. If we are to pull this off… the devil is in the details.”
“I’ll see what we can do.”
They continued on with the tour of the facility, taking in the backstage area, which included various rooms that could be used as dressing rooms, meeting spaces, storage areas. They even looked through the locked glass doors of a canteen area.
As they walked away, Danny’s stomach growled. He couldn’t remember when he’d last eaten. This was a sure sign that he was in flow, preparing for a big job. It wasn’t a discipline matter. He was simply so occupied, he forgot to eat. In each new area they visited, Norby used a credit card-sized piece of white plastic to open locked doors. Danny made a mental note. They would need some of those.
Danny realised, as they worked their way back towards the car, that Norby had been methodical with his tour. He had taken them to the furthest point for their transport and slowly worked them back towards it, without leaving an area unseen. It made Danny think. Norby, you’re either ex Old Bill or you were a tea leaf, just like me.
Danny could sense they were close to finishing. They were by a block building that was only about sixty yards from the loading dock. Three floors high, with its own front door and set slightly aside from the main structure, Danny guessed these were the administration offices.
Norby confirmed it. “This is where the convention centre runs its business. Do you need to see inside? I’m not sure I can get access.”
“It’s absolutely where we need to go.”
Norby arched a quizzical eyebrow in response.
“To quote Tom Cruise, Norby, ‘Show me the money’. You’ve pointed out everything except where they are going to store, keep and count the donations. Logic dictates it will be in these offices… probably in a basement that is accessible by a tunnel from the convention building. Not holding out on us, are you now?”
Norby looked deflated. Danny could only guess that he had been hoping the two thieves were amateurish and would not have spotted the most important detail. He really didn’t want the job to go ahead.
“Open the feckin’ door, or I’ll open it wit’ yer head.”
Danny’s instincts were proven correct. Norby showed them through a maze of corridors that led to a door at the foot of a stairwell. But there was a problem.
“My passkey does not open this one. It has a punch key system.” Norby pointed to a numbered keypad to the right-hand side of the doorframe.
“What’s behind the door? The counting room?”
“Yes, and it has another door on the other side of it that leads to the tunnel that you anticipated. It links to the conference hall. The money is brought through there in carts and deposited through a timed slot in the wall, straight into the count room. Once we are done totalling it, an armoured transport arrives at the end of the day to take it away to the bank.”
“How is that done? The money will weigh a lot.”
“They have a freight elevator that rises up to ground level behind this building.”
“Makes sense,” Danny mused. “It keeps the money van away from the main conference building. Do they have their own exit out onto the freeway?”
“Yes and no. They have one that takes them away from the conference centre ring road, but it doesn’t lead straight to the freeway. They still have a half-mile of public road to navigate. But at least it’s quicker.”
Ciaran and Danny looked at each other. Was that short stretch of road the ideal place to put the hit in?
They spent a few more minutes measuring distances and trying as best they could to count the number of security cameras. After about ten minutes, they exited the office block and made their way back to the loading dock where their car was waiting.
As they reached it, Danny nudged Ciaran. “Count the security cameras here, too, mate. I want to look at something.”
Norby waited as Ciaran walked around the loading dock. Danny climbed up onto the dock, using the cab of a forklift truck to boost himself up. He then paced out the dock, measuring the distance roughly in his head.
Ciaran joined him. “Not as many cameras here. Mostly covering the dock doors, so they can see if someone sneaks in during a load.”
“What do you think of it all now, Ciaran?”
“I feel a bit better. I think I can see where we might get busy…”
“Oh, I do too. For the first time, tonight. In fact, for the first time in a long time.”
Ciaran turned to Danny, puzzlement written on his face.
“I was never quite sure if I wanted to pull this job. But after tonight, I do. I know exactly how we do this… I just need a few more details.”
“That’s feckin’ nice for ye… When the time’s right, I trust ye’ll share wit’ the group?”
“When the time is right, Ciaran, I will. But I know one thing for sure.”
“Wha’?”
“You will definitely have to shave off that fucking mess of a beard…”
“Ah, ye fecker….”
27
Of Mice and Men
“I hear you brought a little helper with you the other night.”
With a burnt orange sunset flaming in the sky above them, Danny, Harkness and June Cardell sat in the Lorelei Cabana bar at a table that was slightly removed from the crowd enjoying their rum cocktails and the gentle live music. Right on the sea front, the outdoor bar was popular, always busy, and a good place to meet that would not attract second glances.
Danny ignored Harkness’s statement, not seeing Ciaran’s presence was any of his business. “There are a lot of gaps. Your husband’s head of security, Mr Norby? He thinks our criminal enterprise is a load of bollocks.”
“He’s Vincent’s plaything, not mine. I engaged you, not my husband.”
June had an unusual steel in her voice that evening. She seemed preoccupied. Danny didn’t like it. He wondered if she had been spooked. Had her husband discovered her real intentions? Had he challenged her? Had Harkness changed his deal with her? Danny didn’t know, but whatever it was had her pulled tight like piano wire in a hitman’s grip.
Harkness sat forward, a slight grimace on his face. “Is he going t
o be a problem? Do we have a trust issue here?”
Danny stopped before answering. Depending on the answer he gave he might set Harkness off on one of his lone wolf missions. “Unnecessary roughness” they called it in American football. Danny didn’t need that on his conscience.
“No, he’s playing ball, for now. If that changes, I can control him.”
“You thought you could control your friend Enda, Big Man Boom in London… remember?”
Danny ignored the insult and turned his attention back to June. “Do you want to know what I’m thinking?”
“Every detail you have.”
“I’ll give you the important parts. If you want to know the whole plan we could be here ‘til midnight.”
“He’s like this… won’t share… ‘does not play well with others’. Do you, Danny boy?”
“If you speak across me once more, I will plant my fist into the middle of your face, Harkness.”
June sighed. “Once you arseholes have finished measuring each other’s dicks, can we please get on?” She took a gulp from her martini like a man lost in a desert. It was her second. Danny’s curiosity flicked up another notch. She was stressed.
“They move the money from the conference hall to a counting office via a tunnel. The counting office is protected by a keypad system, unlike the rest of the setup which is all keycard. I’m presuming the door code is on a need-to-know basis. That’s a problem, but one we can cope with. Once the dosh is counted they send an armoured van to pick it up. I think it’s a Loomis they use. The counting office is in the main admin building, and it has a separate exit out onto the public roads. Makes sense, as it allows money, supplies, deliveries, all that shit to leave without having to battle the ordinary traffic. Once out, it has about a half-mile stretch of private road before re-joining regular traffic and onto the freeway. As soon as it’s on that last stretch, we will hit it and liberate the cash.”
“Liberate… I like it. Aren’t armoured vans too difficult to get in and out of nowadays? Airlock systems, fingerprint and iris recognition?” Danny and Harkness turned to June as if she had just spoken for the first time. Her knowledge surprised them. She bridled at the looks on their faces.
