Chapter One - Last Job
It's now nigh on thirty years since I received my degree in Economics and finally decided that the easiest, most efficient way to make money was through crime; thirty years of not undetected, but rather unprovable, jobs. But the odds are shortening. Soon the cops will find a way to pin something on me, so I've decided it's time to call it a day. This one last job before I retire, then I'm ready to sail my boat away to some soft, sunny spot, find myself a dusky maid to keep me entertained, and live off what they insist on calling my "ill gotten gains".
At first glance the surveillance report Sean has prepared implies our targets are your classic family of husband, wife and two point four children. Strike the point four, they've only produced the two, a boy away at university, who can be ignored, and a foxy young broad in her late teens whose handling could well provide the final straw to crack any resistance from the man.
However closer study reveals that, as one would expect of a bank's high flying manager, he is hardly typical. While the woman - well how many mothers of two in their early forties do you know that can still pass for mid twenties, even in full sunlight? Svelte, elegant, with full, round breasts that have yet to show the slightest droopage, apparently she's often mistaken for a trophy wife.
The key to my plan is the location of their house - it being big, detached and set in extensive landscaped grounds that back onto the golf course. Easy to take the family prisoner, get the man to cough the bank security codes, then hold them hostage while we go and clear out the vault.
Together with Sean I've recruited Tom and Hank to make up my team. A couple more men could be useful but would mean smaller shares all round and since my strategy is take a limited and easy, though still worth-while, haul - one there is likely to be less hue and cry over - I'm going with just the four of us.
Early Sunday morning, with the upper limb of the summer sun still well below the horizon, Sean drops us at the far side of the golf course so that Tom, Hank and I can approach the rear of the garden from across the sixth fairway. We're unlikely to be spotted in the false dawn.
No high wall; no movement detectors; no dog; security is non-existent. They'll know better in the future. Still who can blame them, bank robbery is a crime of the cities where hauls can be massive, not of small county towns.
Over the fence, then we pause to cover our eyes with simple cloth masks before crossing the dew laden lawn to the rear door. It's locked but Hank soon has it open and heads for the daughter's room while I quietly lead Tom to the master bedroom.
Carefully twisting the handle I ease the door wide to be welcomed with gentle snores. Drawing my eight inch switchblade I flick my wrist and it clicks open. I creep to the edge of the bed. On my signal Tom hits the light switch and I rip away the bedclothes.
Good, they sleep in the nude. That simplifies matters.
Eyes open wide, mouths part to shout.
Swiftly Tom is upon the woman, one hand between her teeth muffling her scream, the other firmly mashing her tits, keeping her flat on the mattress.
'Silence! Roll over! Face down!' I wave the knife before the man's nose. A gun is the conventional tool, but it doesn't allow for degrees of threat - it's immediate and all or nothing. Anyway, my career has taught me that a blade creates much more stark fear.
Staring, the mark hastens to comply. I yank the rope from my pocket and bind his hands behind him.
'On your feet!' A jab of his arse shows I mean business. There's an upright chair by the still curtained window - that will do. I push him down and firmly tie him to it.
The woman sobs quietly as Tom cops a feel of her smooth mound. She needn't worry, he's only pretending - Hank and he are gay, which is why I like them in my team. It means whatever entertainment we find along the way comes to me.
'Good morning, sir,' I address the man quietly. 'I hope we didn't disturb you too much, but we're in need of some information.'
The man just stares at me but his wife blurts out, 'What do you want? Let us go!'
I turn to her, 'Good morning to you as well, Mam.' Deliberately I put an edge in my voice. 'Now, listen to me and listen well. If your husband here let's us have the keys, the security codes and the combination to the bank safe we can leave you to go back to sleep. But if not, then we are going to have a little entertainment. Entertainment provided by you and your daughter.'
I reinforce my words by waving my blade menacingly close to the naked balls of my cowering prisoner. I've never believed in violence, never used it - in any case it's often counter-productive - but the occasional threat of it can work wonders and is a necessary part of my tool kit.
'Please Bob, give them what they want. Don't let them touch our Penny,' the woman pleads.
'No,' he says, 'I mustn't.'
He seems quite brave, convinced I can't afford to take things too far. Force, he's calculated, is of no use to me - only he has the information, so he just needs to hold out for a while and someone will come looking for him. He's forgotten it's Sunday and he won't be missed for a good thirty hours.
'Oh, I don't plan to hurt you that much.' Can he see my grin behind the mask? 'It's your wife and daughter who will really suffer for your silence.'
I pause to let him reflect. His imagination is better than any threat I could make.
'Well, we'll start by finding out how good a fuck your old lady is.' I glance across to where Tom is busy roping the woman to the bed with her arms and legs spread wide.
'Of course you could be one of those kinky guys who gets his rocks off watching other men shaft his piece of work, so if seeing us all roger your woman doesn't persuade you, why there's always your daughter to provide a bit more sport.
'And if you do prove a real hard guy, why we can always try lopping off a few of their bits - fingers, tits, toes, nose. I'll let you choose.'
He goes white. He isn't going to give us much trouble. Certainly he won't call my bluff about mutilating the bitches. A bit of straight forward bone jumping of his women will be enough to get him to comply.
That does it. 'Please, please don't hurt them,' he gabbles.
'Well, let's be having the info.'
'Can't. Mustn't.'
'So be it. You brought it on the bitches.'
I want him to have a ring side seat from which to watch me screwing his wife so I move him closer to the bed head and then, standing at the foot, I look down at the naked woman - studying what's on offer.
