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March 2015 · AIIB Mission Month 10

T he bank robbery resulted — as so many outlandish things did in the first year that Dust lived with The Company — from a night of drunken conversation.

The entire crew had agreed to watch a movie that night. They let Vashvi choose the flick, and of course she’d chosen some stupid crime thing set on an ivy league campus with math students going to Vegas to count cards. They tried to give her a hard time about it — none of them had really ever gotten over the fact that Vashvi had once gone to a school like that, working complicated theoretical math before discovering her love of mayhem and how neatly a vast understanding of physics and a quick-calculating mind translated into sniper work.

Wayles had fallen asleep across Herron’s lap (who was also snoring softly by the end). Vashvi had made it through the entire two hours, enthralled by a movie she’d probably seen ten times over. Dust had managed to talk Leta and Carrow into a drinking game involving taking sips, gulps, and shots based on the name dropping and first-world problems mentioned throughout the movie.

But when the credits rolled, Vashvi, Herron, and Wayles had all retired, leaving Dust with the oldest members of The Company.

“Have you ever ripped off a casino before?” Dust asked, rolling a bottle cap idly across his knuckles.

“Hell no,” Leta said quickly.

“We don’t touch Vegas,” Carrow added. “Way too much security. You’d never get out of the desert, no matter how good the score was.”

“Fair enough,” Dust said. “How about a good old fashioned bank robbery?”

A smile and a knowing look pulsed between Carrow and Leta.

“Yeah,” Carrow said, looking affectionately between the two of them. “We’ve done a few.”

“What he means to say is that before The Company, me and Ansel did bank work almost exclusively.”

“What, seriously?”

“Leta convinced me,” Carrow said. “And it wasn’t here. We were on a different continent at the time. But yeah — it was like a shot in the arm. She got me back on my feet doing banks.”

“Wow. Bank robbery as a restorative activity,” Dust said, laughing. “Not something I’d have imagined but, in retrospect, I can’t say it surprises me.”

“What about you? Ever knocked one over?”

“No,” Dust said. He took a long draw off the beer he’d been using to chase shots, his stomach turning a little at the half-flat taste. “But I can’t say I don’t think about it.”

Leta grinned wide at him and twisted a curl around her fingertip.

“So? You can’t leave us hanging,” she said. “How would you do it?”

They’d liked it . Both of them had laughed hard at Dust’s dream plan — Carrow so much so that he was slapping his knee and wiping away tears by the end.

The conversation had continued after that, touching on other topics, everyone gradually growing drowsy enough that they wanted to retire.

Dust thought it was a moot point until, just as he was drifting to sleep, Carrow buried his face in the skin behind his ear and murmured, “I think we should do it. The bank job.”

That brought him back to consciousness.

“What, seriously?”

“Mhm.”

“I was half joking, you know.”

“I know,” Carrow said. “But it’s a good idea. I think it could work. And you know the crew would like it…”

And so it was settled, as easy as that. Carrow put the job into Dust’s hands, and the younger man went to sleep, dreaming of his plan.

Two days later , Carrow called a meeting.

Anyone in The Company was welcome to suggest a job, plan a heist, or request a change. The thing was this: nobody ever did . It wasn’t because they weren’t ambitious or because they didn’t have ideas. The members of the crew were simply pleased to go along with any of Carrow’s ideas. Barring the odd one-off that happened when old vendettas surfaced or random jobs came through contacts with one member of The Company, Carrow was always the planner. He was great at it — and admittedly, it was what he was born to do: moving talented criminals around like an excellent game of chess.

But he was more than happy, that day, to hand the reins over to Dust.

He’d done a remarkable job, too, asking Carrow for his advice in every step of the planning process. He’d consulted with each member of the crew to ask their opinion, never assuming that he could understand the full ramifications of each person’s role. It was a good quality for a leader to have — to respect the jobs of the people around him — and Carrow took an odd sort of pride in seeing Dust display the hallmarks of someone who could effectively direct a crew.

Dust paced the aisle in front of the glass boards as he explained the bank job.

The score wouldn’t be all that incredible — just the contents of one armored truck.

It was the execution that would be key.

“We’ll hit them on a Monday, first thing in the morning,” Dust said, passing a copy of the timeline around the table before gesturing to a map he’d stuck to one glass panel. It displayed two blocks of Las Abras in the northeast section. “The city is scheduled to start a sewer repair here that morning.”

He gestured to the map, pointing to a spot half a block from the bank.

“So, the area to concentrate on is this corner: Wood and Vine.”

He pointed to another spot just steps away from the front door of the bank.

“On the Friday before, we post an ad on Craigslist — ‘Help Wanted.’ We pose as a contractor for Las Abras — Wayles, if you can track down whoever got the contract on the sewer job, that would be perfect. We create a post stating that we need day laborers for the Monday of our job. ”

Leta was already snickering.

“We give a generous figure. Maybe guaranteed eight hours of work at 25 bucks an hour for anyone who shows up on time, at the corner of Wood and Vine wearing the proper gear. That’s the vital part.”

“And what’s the proper gear?” Vashvi asked, leaning in.

“I’m glad you asked,” Dust said, winking at her. He produced a cardboard box from under his seat at the meeting table.

“Respirator,” he said, producing one and tossing it to Wayles. “Blue shirt,” he said, pulling one out and throwing it to Herron. “Orange safety vest” — this one went to Vashvi.

“And protective eye wear.” He produced large shaded glasses and put them on his own face.

“Oh shit,” Vashvi said, smiling at Leta as if she’d just gotten a joke.

“What?” Wayles said, a whine inching into his voice. “I don’t get it. Where does the robbery come in?”

“He hasn’t gotten to the robbery yet,” Herron explained through a placid grin. “But he’s just talked us through our cover.”

“Bingo.”

Dust fired a finger gun at Herron and Carrow bit down a laugh. The kid was really getting off on leading this meeting.

“We’re going to hope that the shitty state of the Las Abras job market brings plenty of strapping young men, women, and others down to the corner of Wood and Vine to wait for their sweet day of well-paid work,” Dust explained. “We’ll have our own work gear, on of course. All we have to do is blend in with the crowd until 7:45.”

“And at 7:45?” Wayles asked.

“The armored truck company will make their scheduled stop, just before the bank opens,” Dust said. “And we can cause some chaos.”

Fifty work-seeking residents of Las Abras donned blue t-shirts, reflective orange vests, respirators, and glasses on Monday morning. Some of them walked, others rode the bus, and some of the lucky ones had cars to take, struggling to find parking within a mile of the intersection of Wood and Vine. Some showed up early, some late.

But by 7:40, there was a huge gathering of people milling about on the street in front of Trinity First Bank.

They struck up idle conversations. Some of them recognized each other from different jobs, similar types of “just show up” gigs. A few worried that the offer of work was too good to be true, felt anxious that far too many people had responded and that the hourly rate would be slashed at the last minute — or, worse, that most of them would be turned away.

No one worried about the black sedan that circled the block once before parking on a side street. Nobody spoke to the two young guys who walked up late, silent and not smiling, or the tall person with a braid down their back who cracked their neck and kept sweeping eyes across the crowd. They didn’t question the shorter, younger woman with straight black hair who seemed to materialize in their midst. Everyone needed work, and that united them.

In the end, even the outsiders who infiltrated them had something in common with the crowd that grew increasingly impatient as the morning wore on: they were all there for money.

The Company was using a scaled-down version of the comms units that day with near-invisible earpieces and mics clipped just inside of their royal blue t-shirts. Carrow would act as the hub of communications while standing by with an escape vehicle.

It was an unusual job for them — operating in plain sight, in broad daylight, with no grand gestures of explosives or gunfire. If all went according to Dust’s plan, there would be plenty of confusion, and no one would even guess that The Company was behind the theft.

Carrow sat in the air-conditioned cab of his sedan, comfortable and smiling behind deeply tinted windows. Leta had taken one of their sleeper cars, a vehicle that looked like a beat-up wreck but housed a powerful, spotless engine. She’d parked a block away in the opposite direction. Carrow could watch the entire scene unfold from his vantage point in the car — and he’d be ready to speed away with his employees and their bounty.

The armored humvee pulled up right on time: 7:45 sharp.

The men and women who were waiting for work didn’t move to get out of the way of the entrance to Trinity First Bank, and Carrow thanked them silently for the way that the sea of sunglasses, goggles, blue, and neon orange held steady in its thick cluster there in front of the bank.

There was an odd moment of hesitation on the part of the men in the armored truck.

Dust had done his homework — had told The Company exactly how long the men would wait in the truck, getting organized and marking down paperwork, before exiting the vehicle to complete their scheduled drop. On average, it took them two minutes and 45 seconds to get out and get to work — and never longer than three and a half minutes.

Carrow watched the seconds tick by. They were into minute four. Something was wrong. Did the men in the truck sense that they were being set up?

If someone didn’t exit the truck, Dust’s entire plan was going to have to be scrapped and they’d all be walking away empty handed.

He scanned the people around him. Vashvi, Wayles, and Herron were all in position at the front of the crowd, doing their best not to stand out.

“Come the fuck on,” Dust muttered under his breath.

As if on cue, the back two doors of the armored truck opened slowly.

Vi, Wayles, Herron, and Dust pulled their respirators up, their safety glasses down, and were in action immediately.

There would be one driver, one hopper, and one guard on duty. Dust had done as much research as he could about the company, but there was no telling how each individual would react — and no doubt that all three would be armed.

A tall woman was the first to come out of the back — the guard, Dust noted immediately. She raised a hand to someone in the back — the hopper, the man who would move the money from the back of the truck to the bank. The driver would stay in the truck no matter what, and he’d surely report the crime as soon as they began. The outside of the truck was outfitted with cameras.

“We’re going to need you to clear a path,” the woman announced, addressing the people gathered on the corner. Almost no one acknowledged her.

Vashvi elbowed Dust in the ribs, laughing.

“Misogyny is finally working in my favor today,” she said so that only he could hear.

Dust tried not to laugh but couldn’t help. It was sad but true.

“Hold position until the hopper is off,” Dust said quietly into the comms. Wayles and Herron nodded in his peripheral vision.

“Clear a path, please,” the woman said again. A few people stepped away.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” said a voice in the back of the truck. The man with the money began to exit, pulling the dolly and several heavy canvas bags full of money down with him.

He was taller and louder than his female counterpart on the ground.

“Hey! She asked you to clear a path,” he said, booming.

“That won’t be necessary,” Herron said, their voice chilling.

Wayles and Herron had stepped forward, Vi and Dust pulling their weapons and stepping up behind them. Dust kept his gun fixed on the hopper and Vi took the guard.

The guard’s hand was on her gun immediately, but the hopper gave her a cautioning look.

“Not worth it, Shawna. Not today,” he said, backing up. He gestured to the dolly as if to say “go ahead.”

“Smart man,” Dust said, smiling behind his respirator.

It was exactly what they wanted: a well-trained team that was intelligent enough to know that a few bags of money weren’t worth it. Nobody was going to be a hero that day. No blood needed to be shed.

Wayles took one heavy bag and Herron grabbed the other. They fell back between Vashvi and Dust.

“Sorry about that, baby,” Vashvi said to the guard. “Hope your Monday gets better after this.”

They turned back to the crowd. Remarkably, no one seemed to notice what had just happened. A big diesel dually truck had pulled up down the street at the worksite, and all attention on the corner had shifted to the pickup instead of the armored vehicle. They thought their work was finally coming through — and Dust instantly felt worse for the people he’d tricked into acting as their cover than he did about ripping off the bank.

Herron and Wayles had already disappeared back into the crowd. Vashvi and Dust had no need to keep blending in, and they sprinted through, dodging people left and right as they made their way towards Carrow’s sedan.

Vashvi crashed into the back seat of the car, breathless.

She was short but damn could she move fast when she needed to. She’d outpaced Dust by a good clip, and Carrow watched as he loped behind.

Dust was just a few paces from the street — just feet away from where the sedan and safety awaited him — when a black van pulled up so fast and close that it almost blindsided him.

It wasn’t one of theirs.

Every muscle fiber in Carrow’s whole body came to life. He couldn’t see what was happening on the other side of the black van. He couldn’t see Dust.

“Stay here,” he growled at Vi.

“What? Boss —”

He was already out of the sedan. Movement to his left caught his eye — Dust, sprinting away from the van. A man in a suit pounded the pavement behind him, his long legs speeding him towards Dust. They rounded a corner and Carrow lost sight of them.

“I’ve got Wayles and Herron here,” Leta said cooly into the comms. “What now, boss?”

Carrow was pumping his legs, was working on instinct, brandishing his gun and sprinting down the pavement. The chatter in his ear only barely registered .

“Boss is on the move, Leta,” Vashvi said. “Hang close until I touch back, ok? We might need more manpower here.”

Dust’s mind raced as he tried to flee. He had memorized the streets and alleyways around the day’s score, but everything became jumbled the minute he started running from the van full of men from AIIB.

He’d barely had time to register what was happening. The van had been mere inches away from broadsiding him. Carrow and his escape had been so goddamn close before that van had cut him off and opened up to reveal Dust’s worst nightmare.

His lungs on fire, Dust took a hard left around a blind corner. The man was at his heels — and he’d run himself into a dead goddamn end: a brick wall, two locked doors, and a line of dumpsters. This was it. In the second he had to prepare before the agent rounded the corner, Dust pulled his handgun, took a strong stance, and aimed straight at the man who would soon be barreling towards him.

The agent appeared and trotted to a stop, holding his hands up immediately at the sight of Dust’s gun.

“Dustin, we just need to talk to you.”

“Jesus Fucking Christ, you’re all broken records with the talk shit,” Dust said, trying to control his shaking muscles. He had never felt so scared. This would be the last day — the end of it all.

“You’re not in any trouble,” the man insisted, stepping closer.

“Stay where you are,” Dust commanded.

Goddamn him, the agent knew that Dust wasn’t going to shoot. This was useless. It was over.

“Dustin, we’re going to help y— ”

Dust watched the man’s face going strange before the sound of the gunshot even registered. The agent’s mouth fell open in shock. Then two more shots. The man crumpled.

Carrow.