6 Hours 42 Minutes, page 2
part #5 of Vigilante Series
“Alrighty, I’ll see you then,” said Sandy. “Love you, honey, and do stay out of trouble.”
“Love you back,” Chris grinned, “And, what kind of trouble could I possibly get into?”
Chapter 2 – Plan Review – Wednesday evening, July 14, 2010
Bull exited off Autoroute 440 heading south on Industrial Boulevard and turned left onto Cunard Street in the heart of Laval’s main industrial park. The warehouses and factories along the way were dark, the parking lots deserted, except for the Provigo distribution centre where the evening shift was busy loading dozens of semis for overnight deliveries to the grocery chain’s supermarkets.
Cunard ended at Francis-Hughes Avenue where the thirty-two year old Italian turned right, driving slowly as he searched in the dimming light for the building where he was meeting the others. Mistah B had clearly explained where it was located but Bull had not been paying close attention, as was often the case when the obnoxious Mistah B spoke. A little further on, a realtor’s sign came into view which somewhat jogged Bull’s memory. Maybe, he had been paying attention a little after all.
Turning into the vacant building’s lot, he examined the property as he drove at a crawl towards the rear. The windows at the front had all been boarded up to keep vandals and other unsavoury characters out. However, this had not had any deterring affect on local graffiti artists who had used most of the visible walls and plywood as their canvas over time. The pavement which covered the lot was cracked and potholed and determined weeds had sprouted in victory through crevices everywhere.
He reached the back of the building and found two elevated shipping docks as well as a regular garage door at ground level. He rolled to a stop in front of the door as he pulled his cell phone from a pocket and speed dialled a number.
“Yo, it’s me,” he announced when the call was answered. “I’m at the back. How do I open the fucking door? - Okay.”
He flipped the phone shut and a moment later, the door rolled upwards, allowing him access to the wide, empty interior of the abandoned warehouse. He drove quickly inside and the heavy door rumbled back down behind him.
“Just so you know, Mistah B’s pissed at you, bro. You’re late,” Shade warned Bull as he climbed out of the Mitsubishi Eclipse GT. “Nice wheels, by the way, brutha. Bet you B will be pissed about that too.”
“Ask me if I give a fuck, Shade,” Bull sneered at his dreadlocked friend. “The Mistah’s always pissed about something anyway.”
“It’s just that B had suggested we get inconspicuous cars is all I’m saying,” Shade shrugged as he gestured towards the Caravan, Fusion and Malibu parked in the warehouse, some of the windows and chrome already masked with newspaper and tape.
“Too fucking late now,” Bull grinned and winked. “At least I’ll be driving something with balls under the hood. Ain’t nobody gonna catch us, brutha.”
He followed the Jamaican towards a door leading to some offices located at the front of the building and they soon entered a large room which might have been an executive’s office or conference room in a previous life. The others, seven of them, stood or sat around chatting, some sipping from bottles of beer as they waited.
“If I remember correctly, I had said eight o’clock,” said Mistah B who sat behind a folding card table on a matching chair.
“You should consider wearing boxers, Mistah B,” Bull shot back with a grin. “The briefs you wear are squeezing your cojones and making you too uptight.”
Mistah B stared at the tall, stocky Italian for a moment before resuming in a quiet tone. “You think you’re fucking funny, Bull? Can you hear everyone laughing at your brilliant wit? Everybody else was here at least half an hour ago, you goddamned prima donna. We have work to do and plans to go over in order to be certain that we’re ready for tomorrow. None of us has ever done a job like this before, ever, and that definitely includes you, Mister fucking comedian. I don’t want any fuck-ups and your fucking attitude might very well result in precisely that, a fuck-up. This is a fucking team effort and everybody has to pull their weight, and that also definitely includes you. Capisce, Bull?”
Bull glared back at Mistah B then glanced around the room at the others. Some looked back at him while others gazed off into space with bored expressions but none were smiling.
“Okay, sorry, everyone,” Bull raised his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry for being late and for trying to lighten up the mood. Not to worry, there won’t be any fuck-ups because of me tomorrow. There won’t be any fuck-ups, period. By the way, where are the big boys? Are they late too?”
“As I told the others before you got here, Maurice and Christian decided that this was a little too heavy for them. Besides, I think that the eight of you will be enough to do the job. In fact, ten people would be too many.” Mistah B replied. “Should we suddenly need Maurice and Christian’s help for something, they’ll be on stand-by and will do whatever we need them to do for much less than an even cut. Any other questions that I might have answered before you arrived or can we get started?”
“Nah, I’m good,” said Bull as he cranked open a beer.
“Pleased to hear it,” Mistah B responded with sarcasm then stood and started pacing. “First things first, I’ve received confirmation of the Brink’s delivery in the morning at nine, one hour before the bank opens.”
“Do you know how much it’ll be?” asked Krystalle.
Mistah B turned slowly to look at each of the eight others in room with a smile, ending with Krystalle. “How does two point five million sound?”
“Two point five million dollars?” Sparks exclaimed. “Jesus Christ, that’s more than twice what you had originally estimated.”
“The original number I had suggested was back in the spring,” Mistah B explained, still smiling. “Now, we’re right at the peak of the summer vacation period and tomorrow’s payday with tens of thousands of people going off on vacation on Friday. That translates into a lot of required cash.”
Mistah B let the amount sink in with the others for a moment then returned to the card table.
“Okay, people, you now know what the prize we’re aiming for is so, let’s keep going. We have a plan to review as we want no mistakes.”
The eight others approached as Mistah B unfolded a large scale satellite map of their area of concern and laid it out on the table.
“Let’s start with equipment,” Mistah B continued. “Guns?”
Ben reached back for a pizza box and opened it with a flourish, proud of his acquisition.
“Voilà,” he said as he displayed the contents to the others.
“You’ve only got six,” stated Mistah B with a cold gaze.
“I don’t mind not having one,” Krystalle offered.
“Same here,” Juice agreed without hesitation.
“Everyone has got to have a gun and everyone is going to have one,” insisted Mistah B. “How the hell do you plan to intimidate anyone otherwise? Through persuasive conversation?”
“Relax, there are guns for everybody,” explained Ben. “Bull and Goose told me they’d supply their own.”
Mistah B turned to Goose and Bull. “You two are good with guns?”
Both men nodded and Mistah B continued. “Good. Next, the bomb.”
“I’ve got it in the car,” Bull confirmed. “Want me to go get it?”
“Not unless you feel you need an opinion,” Mistah B replied.
“I worked with Louie to put the thing together,” Sparks spoke up. “It’ll work.”
“What do you mean by, ‘It’ll work’?” asked Ben with concern. “Do you mean it might blow up?”
“It’s a dud, Ben, a fake,” Bull laughed. “It just looks very convincing. Take it easy, dude. Killing ourselves is not part of the plan.”
“Moving on to the subject of cars,” Mistah B stepped in and forged ahead. “I commend you for an excellent inventory selection, Wheels.”
Their car theft expert nodded and smiled at the compliment. “You said reliable and invisible so that’s what you got.”
Mistah B turned to Bull. “You did look after getting the fourth car?”
Bull nodded and Shade smirked.
“Is something funny?” snapped Mistah B. “Do share because I’d like to know what it is.”
“Ain’t nothing funny about a fucking glow-in-the-dark-orange Eclipse, right Bull?” Shade snorted, causing at least half the group to smile, however involuntarily.
“It’s not fucking glow-in-the-dark-orange,” Bull mimicked as Mistah B glared at him once again. “It’s more like bright copper. Anyhow, it won’t even be that once we’ve painted the damned thing. You’ll hardly notice it.”
Mistah B stared up at the ceiling for a moment before continuing. “Next on the list is paint and plates.”
“All set with paint,” said Goose. “One hundred percent water based and it comes off really nicely in your regular high pressure car wash even after a couple of days. I tested the three colours; charcoal, dark green and brown and they all cover perfectly and come off well.”
“And we’re covered for plates,” added Juice. “At least for the cars that Wheels got us. I lifted plates from same model cars at the long-term parking at Trudeau Airport.”
“We’re good for the Eclipse too,” said Bull in an attempt to redeem himself. “I switched plates with another Eclipse after I stole the one I got.”
“Glad that you’re thinking sometimes,” muttered Mistah B before addressing the group once more. “Next are disguises. Cameras will be off once you’re inside the bank but there will be witnesses so, change your appearances but don’t come in looking like clowns.”
“We’re on it, boss,” Shade grinned. “I’m gonna be a white boy.”
“Last item is keys,” said Mistah B, ignoring the comment and associated chuckles while reaching into a pocket to pull out a handful of keys for distribution. “When you enter the bank, you’ll lock the doors behind you but, be careful. My guy sawed through these keys a bit so that they’ll snap more easily. On the way out, you’ll be relocking from the outside and snapping the keys in the lock. Good so far?”
All nodded and Mistah B moved on. “Now, I want to hear about the plan, in chronological order. The floor is yours.”
“Krystalle and I will be arriving at around nine to make sure we get a parking spot here near the front door,” said Goose, tapping the location on the map. “That’s the door we’ll be using to go in at ten.”
“Me and Ben will be doing the same thing as far as parking goes,” Wheels volunteered, “But we’ll be going in through the mall entrance to the bank.”
“And Shade and me will be parking here at Carrefour Laval,” said Bull, pointing on the map to the major shopping complex across the street, “But we’ll be cutting through the mall to come in by the back door of the bank when it opens.”
“So far, so good,” Mistah B nodded. “Sparks?”
Sparks stepped forward. “Juice and I will be using the Caravan. I’ve got electrostatic decals for the van that will go on and come off real easy. I also made ID tags for both of us and even got us some work shirts and pants at Walmart. I also thought of making these this afternoon. We can slap these suckers in the doors once we’re in, to handle any curious customers.”
He handed Mistah B three eight and a half by eleven inch electrostatic films on which, below the bank’s logo, was printed,
Temporarily closed due to network problems.
We apologize for any inconvenience.
“Good thinking, and very professional work,” Mistah B nodded in approval. “Go on.”
“We’ll be parking right here behind the building, near the back door,” Sparks continued. “It’s an area restricted to visitors, maintenance contractors and delivery vehicles dealing with the bank. I’ll be going in with Juice at nine forty-five to look at the faulty A/C in the computer room which is also where the telecom and alarm lines come in. I looked over the blueprints and the pics and it’s a no-brainer as long as they’re expecting us at the bank.”
“Everything is set,” Mistah B confirmed. “I’ve arranged for the A/C to malfunction in there and you’re listed on the maintenance roster for an appointment between nine-thirty and ten.”
“Then it’s easy,” Sparks smiled. “At ten, just as the doors are opening, all communication and security lines will be cut.”
“What’s next?” Mistah B quizzed the group.
“We each come in by our assigned door,” Bull took the lead as he spread a floor plan of the bank on the table. “While one of us blocks the view, the other one relocks the door and puts up those signs Sparks made. Then one person stays closer to each of the doors while the others move to the customer service area. I pull out the bomb and say my spiel while the others gather everyone inside together. Sparks and Juice will make sure that anyone in the back comes up front and Goose and Wheels will go up to empty the management offices on the mezzanine level. We’ll be asking everyone for their cell phones.”
“It’s sounding pretty smooth to date,” said Mistah B. “How are you going to get the vault open?”
Bull grinned at the group as he tapped on the floor plan. “Ian Howard, the bank director’s office is here and Simon Chase, the assistant director’s is the next one, here. Once everyone’s together downstairs, these two guys will open the vault, we take the money and the job is done. The bomb stays with a warning that we’ll set it off if anyone tries to mess with it or tries to leave the bank in the fifteen minutes after we leave. Everybody goes out by the door they came in through except Shade and me. We’ll be going out through the front door with Goose and Krystalle. We lock the doors on our way out and snap the keys in the locks.”
Bull put the floor plan aside and indicated on the map once more. “Once we’re in our cars, Shade and I will head north on Daniel Johnson to the 440, Goose and Krystalle go south; Sparks and Juice go west on Carrefour and Wheels and Ben head east. If any of us has a chance to run through a carwash quick along the way, we do it, otherwise, we’ll pressure wash the cars here. Any questions?”
“What if it rains?” Shade taunted.
“Nothing but clear skies in the forecast,” was Mistah B’s curt response.
“What about other customers who are there for the opening?” asked Wheels.
“Customer traffic is usually light at that time,” Mistah B replied. “However, any such customers who might get in will simply have an exciting story to tell over dinner tomorrow night. Anything else?”
The question was answered by indifferent shrugs and the shaking of heads.
“Excellent. Now, we’ve got some cars to paint. Let’s go.”
Chapter 3 – Thursday morning, July 15, 2010
With a population of approximately three hundred seventy thousand, the city of Laval is the third largest municipality in the province of Quebec and Montreal’s largest suburb, located directly north across the Des Prairies River. Though Laval does not have a downtown core per se, anyone’s guess would be the quad delimited by Autoroute 440 to the north, Autoroute 15 to the east, St-Martin Boulevard to the south and Chomedey Boulevard to the west. Within and in close proximity to this sector, an estimated thirty-five thousand or more were employed in various office towers, hotels, car dealerships, restaurants, not to mention Carrefour Laval, a sprawling three hundred plus store shopping complex as well as several municipal and provincial office buildings, a couple of high schools and numerous warehouses and manufacturing plants.
To the west of Carrefour Laval, across Daniel Johnson Boulevard which bisected the quad north to south, was the city’s main branch of the Imperial National Bank where Chris Barry had a nine thirty meeting with its director, Ian Howard.
Barry had made his fortune some thirteen years earlier when his employer, a solid and progressive firm in the field of computer security development, had been acquired in a friendly takeover transaction. As Chief Operating Officer and second in command, his holdings of company stock and options had translated into over half a billion dollars once the deal was complete. Though only thirty-five at the time, Chris had decided not to take on subsequent employment or start up any type of going concern. He had however remained active and respected in the world of business, sitting on the boards of a number of well-known corporations and other organizations.
Having recently been elected to serve on the Imperial National Bank’s board of directors, Chris had booked one-on-one meetings with the heads of several of Imperial National’s major branches across the country in order to get a better sense of the bank at the operations level. His meeting with Howard was his last in the Greater Montreal area before a two week cross-Canada trip to Toronto, Winnipeg, Regina, Edmonton, Calgary and Vancouver.
With more people off on vacation at the height of the summer, traffic was light as Chris made his way from Nun’s Island on Montreal’s south side, where he and Sandy kept a penthouse condominium as a place to stay when in the city. What often would have been an hour’s drive to cross Montreal on Autoroute 15 took under half and hour and, as a result, Chris was pulling his Lexus LFA sports coupe into a visitor’s slot of the reserved parking area behind the bank at nine fifteen.
“Quite an impressive set of wheels you have there, Mister Barry,” someone called out as Chris was climbing out of the car.
He turned towards the voice and recognized Ian Howard whom he had met at a corporate function a few weeks earlier. “Hi Ian. Yeah, one of my weaknesses, I guess. Some people like opera, others, football. As for me, I like sports cars. My wife cringes when I mention some new model I like because I invariably end up buying it.”
They chatted about the vehicle for a couple of minutes while Howard, a car aficionado himself, examined it in detail then headed into the bank. Having ushered Chris into a conference room on the second floor mezzanine, Howard went off to the bank’s staff lunch room to get them a requisite cup of coffee after which they started to discuss their official business.
