The black sports car
zipped through traffic like a grasshopper on a hot skillet. Finding a
space, it cut off a car in the middle lane, a truck on the left, and
finally charged across two lanes to the right. Surprisingly, no one
honked or even seemed perturbed by the behavior. Taking the change in
traffic flow in stride, they kept going.
Seated behind the wheel of the black car, Anton Pepper concentrated on moving through the maze of vehicles as quickly as possible. Intent on his destination, he hardly noticed the cars he passed. To him, they were mere blips on the horizon, obstacles to get around. Reaching a less congested area, he stepped on the gas, and his Spyder leaped forward.
Schematics, blueprints, floor plans, time tables, equipment, everything was prepped and ready. Now, it was a waiting game. Timing was second only to patience. His phone rang and he answered with his hands free device.
"Yes?"
"We set?" the gruff voice demanded.
"Do I tell you how to do your job?"
"What?"
"Do I nag you?"
"What? No!"
"Then afford me the same consideration."
"I just want—"
"You hired me to do a job.
"And I paid you a shit ton of money."
"Which I'm earning. Trust me to do the job you hired me for. Don't micromanage, and no further contact."
"Ant—"
"And don't say my name!" He hung up. It was a mistake letting the client get involved, but Rick Butler had insisted on being part of the caper. He got off on the adrenaline rush of planning a job. He wouldn't pay for equipment unless Anton included him in the planning. He wanted to be in on the actual heist, but Anton refused. That didn't stop Rick from being a pain in the ass about it.
Anton normally wouldn't have taken such a job, but after meeting Rick, he knew he had to. The man was reckless, dangerous. Anton could curtail his more violent impulses, where another man might not be able to. The target presented an interesting challenge, and the pay was good. Taking Butler out of play was cream.
Anton was convinced that Rick would do something stupid, run his mouth at the wrong time, or possibly tell their plans on purpose, in order to enjoy their downfall. He was a thrill seeker with the heart of a trembling mouse. Because of this, Anton and his team had other plans that Butler wasn't privy to.
Making a final long, diagonal cross from left to right, Anton took the exit at high speed. Tapping his brakes, he took the nearly 360 degree cloverleaf turn faster than the posted limit, but expensive tires held the road with ease.
Reaching the downtown area, he slowed to a near crawl as he merged onto the congested street. Glancing at his clock, he made a mental note of the time. Quick calculations made him curse. Still too long. As he'd been saying all along, escape by car was extremely risky. Rick insisted. Anton suspected he wanted to be the getaway driver, but there was no way in hell that would happen. Equally as unlikely, an escape by car at all. This was going to require finesse. He'd love a helicopter, but was sure Rick would refuse—or, God forbid, want to fly it himself.
The car ahead of him screeched to a halt at an intersection. Their light was green, but a person on a bike peddled slowly across. Though others around him cursed, Anton smiled. Here was his solution. Bikes were easier to conceal than get away cars. They were light, maneuverable, and not hard to dispose of. The snarl of city traffic was nothing for a man on a bike. His team members were all athletic. A bike ride to a designated area, one free from the traffic snarl, would be nothing.
If the gig went as planned, they would be in and out so quickly, they'd have plenty of time to blend into the landscape. Smiling, his mind clicking into high gear, Anton left the city, heading to a house in the country.
Not exactly the suburbs, the house was surrounded by farms on three sides. Across the street was another home, set far back from the road. Covered in white tongue and groove siding, it was the original farmhouse in the area. As the years passed, the family sold off parcels of land. His property was from one of these sales.
Shortly before moving in, he'd made sure to introduce himself to the two elderly ladies across the street. The Roeder Sisters, Cynthia and Lydia, were delighted to meet such a handsome young man. While they shared tea and cookies, they filled his ears with local gossip. He might have started by meeting them for his own selfish reasons, but he found himself very fond of the two elderly spinsters. He had always had a firm policy of getting to know his neighbors. Some of his criminal colleagues thought he was crazy, preferring to keep a low profile, but he thought that made him look more suspicious. On several occasions, being the good neighbor had kept him out of trouble.
He pulled into his circular drive and clicked his garage door opener. The door scrolled up and he drove in, shutting the door before turning off his engine. Once it was closed, he let himself into the house. The alarm beeped as he shut the door, locking it once more.
©2021 Dellani Oakes
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