Post by JAMES MORIARTY EDWARDS on Jun 29, 2011 22:29:57 GMT -5
8 minutes
Twelve guards in the armored car, a motorcycle blockade, and a pressure sensitized case that the vase was kept in. It was impossible to penetrate. Or so they said.
James adjusted his hands on his gun, looking over at him 'teammates' that sat in the armored car with him. Taking out one of the hired guns was easy enough, a tazer did wonders, and getting into the clothes was even easier. Passing himself off as a hick Texan with greying blonde hair and a facial scar the easiest of all three. A face covering hid his lower face and contacts disguised his true eye color, a small fat suit paired with the bullet proof vest made sure that his somewhat distinctive form and gait. No one thought twice that Timmins may not be Timmins, not even the ones he has worked with for nearly twenty years.
Idiots.
James glanced at his (Timmins's actually) watch. He had to wait until precisely the right moment. 5 minutes 32 seconds to be exact.
7 minutes
A bump in the road and James started feeling fidgety. The adrenaline was running high, knowing what was to come. A week before hand, James had planted small explosives along the armored van's walls, both sides. He had planted such devices on every armored care that could have been used so when James would push the button they would all go off, spreading the police department thin. When detonated by James (walkie talkie? yeah right) it would simulate gun fired, jolting all the guards into action. One explosive was set to disarm the case as the 'gunfire' continued to sound. While the others would go out to secure the area, James...sorry, Timmins would volunteer to stay behind and guard the only entrance to the van and to the vase.
And this was supposed to be security?
5 minutes....32 seconds
Every armored vehicle was set with a certain frequency, like a black box from an airplane. Nothing else on the planet shared the frequency, making it easy to track the vans if they should be stolen. It also made it very easy to rig a bomb to explode once the van passed by it. Hearing the dull pop of the explosion that took out a car, the van screeched to a halt and James smirked. Show time. He pressed the button on his radio and gun fire rained down.
"MOVE MOVE MOVE!" James shouted, bracing himself of the vase. "I'LL COVER HERE. GET YOUR ASSES OUT THERE!" One of the pluses of having impersonated the officer in charge of the unit was that people reacted without waiting for him. They all stormed out of the van, leaving James with a split second to open his gun bag and remove the replacement vase, a very passable replica and trade it with the original. Tossing a note into the vase's mouth, then replacing the cover, James placed the original back into the bag. Rushing out of the van, James raised his gun and ran in the direction of another bomb he had set to go off at 5 minutes and 08 seconds.
Other team members moved in the same way but James directed them to care for the civilians that had been hit. "I'll clear the alley, you take care of them!" James snapped, his Texas accent holding strong. He moved into the alley way, proper stance, until he was halfway down and out of the way. Kicking in the door to an establishment, feeding the cook a bullshit line about canvasing for suspicious persons, James made his way to the bathroom.
3 minutes
James walked out of the pub dressed in a fine suit and carrying a cello case, a pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. Seeing the carnage, James feigned an asthma attack and was rushed out of the area by the man who had sat next to him on the bus.
Once away from the scene, James hailed a cab and made his way to his penthouse. Punching in his 13, 10-digit security codes, James walked inside and loosened his tie. Setting the case against his chair, he switched on the television and laughed. Live news coverage of the scene. They already had to know that the vase wasn't the real one, the vase would have been moved already, and the note discovered.
James remembered typing up the note on Sebastian's typewriter....
To Whom it May Concern,
I was afraid I had lost my touch. Thank you for presenting me with the opportunity to find out if I had. Consequently, I haven't. Enjoy your knock off. It's worth about $200, a small trade off for the $15 billion real deal.
-M
P.S. You should hire a smarter squad next time you need to move something.
