The Blueprint

An old Grand Cherokee Jeep, without a registration number, pulled over across the street, just opposite the EMB Bank. Deacon and Sam occupied the front seats while Christian and Wayne perched at the back. The latter pair held a detailed site plan for the central business district. After a quick scan of the map, Wayne opened the dialogue, "This is it."

"We can pull this," Sam added voice to the developing conversation before pointing towards the bank. "Seven meters from the bank is a manhole."

"Right," Christian confirmed with the site plan. "So, what's the plan?"

"We walk in, get the cash and stones. Retire to the van and disappear," Deacon weighed in.

Wayne was clearly lost in thought. He sought clarity form his cohorts. "How? The Police will surround this place in ten minutes. How do we just disappear?"

"Look." Sam took a deep breath and elaborated. "The bus will be customized to have a door or whatever you can call on the floor. It will gobble almost the entire floor at the back. That's one. Two - The Van will be parked above the manhole. Once we are done with the operation, we retire to the van and descend into the belly of the city. Yah?"

Wayne nodded. His countenance shone with satisfaction.

"Men," Deacon spoke in a soft but firm tone. "I can't over emphasize the need for all of us to be agile and in one accord. We can't afford any clumsiness. Stick to the roles you have been assigned to. Lest I forget, the bank opens at 8am. The Cash in Transit guys come at exactly 9am to pick the cash. The bank usually receives its first few customers before 8am. So, we don't have a window, whatsoever, to fool around. Remember, this is not a dress rehearsal. It's either we get it right or we go to jail. Okay?"

The trio nodded and Sam drove away.

The light flickered on. It could not dispel the darkness completely, but it gave Deacon and his men the much needed illumination to see and focus in an old building. Beneath the dimly shining light, a table was set. Thereon laid the site plan for the town center, guns, two bombs and several explosives. The porcupine masks were also a part of the cast on the table. The Kingpin stood a few metres from his men – he held a phone to his ear. He nodded a few times. And after removing the phone from his ear, he took a deep audible breath. He looked to the ceiling of the building and another deep breath ensued from his mouth before announcing, "We have a problem. Pope says that the vault has a two way locking system. Pope has the keys. But there's need for a code. Pope does not have it."

Christian bent over the table and wondered aloud, "A code. Like how many digits?" Deacon walked to the table and replied. "Pope said that it's a six- digit code. Only the bank's HQ knows it."

Wayne, who had been quiet for most parts of the conversation, gently massaged his head and voiced out, "Just so we are on the same page, who's Pope? Why are they never in the meeting? I mean, we crack our heads but Pope is never here. I thought we are team. We need to know and trust each other."

The men, except Deacon, nodded in agreement with Wayne's thought. "Look, need I not remind you." Deacon presented his disagreement. "This is business. And every business has rules. We all agreed that we should not use our real names. Pope is not a real name. It's a disguise. But so is Deacon, Wayne, Sam and Christian. We all don't know each other."

"Focus men. Focus." Sam called for order. "How do we crack the code?"

Silence swept across the room. "I know a man who can crack it. But he is not in a good shape. He's been through hell. So I just wonder if he will be game."

Christian walked around the table and stood face to face with Deacon said, almost in a whisper, "We need the burns he suffered in hell. As long as he can work under pressure, he is our guy. Get him, by all means."

Deacon nodded emphatically and walked out of the room. And after a moment, the car's engine was heard pulsating with life before he drove away.

The old Jeep's headlights beamed in their majesty at Mateo who sat alone at the edge of the bridge. This had become his repertoire four months after Junior's burial and his divorce with Dianne. He took pleasure in watching water roar as it gushed end to end of the river banks. He was lost in thought. Silence was all he had. Deacon, driving the jeep, brought the machine to a smooth halt a few meters from the lone- lost- in- thought- figure. He stepped out of the vehicle and doubled towards Mateo. By the edge of the bridge, Deacon sat next to Mateo and observed a moment of silence with him.

After a lengthy moment, Mateo opened up and inquired, "How did you know I was here?"

"I see you every day." Deacon replied. "I just never had the strength to come over and say hi with you. I mean, you have literally walked on the coals of hell."

Mateo took in a deep breath and wondered, "So, have you come to see how am doing? Or, if am about to throw myself in the river?"

"No." Deacon was quick to answer. "I have a proposition. One that would change our lives and earn us some respect. I need you to crack a code to a vault."

Mateo, exhaled heavily, and gave response, "I don't think am your guy."

"The streets talk, Mateo. They say you have fingers for cracking and building systems." Deacon fetched a small neatly folded paper from his breast jacket's pocket and placed in Mateo's palm, "I'm not here to beg you. You will find us at that joint detailed there. We will be waiting for you. Tomorrow. 9pm."

Deacon tapped Mateo on the shoulder, stood up and walked to his car, and drove away. Mateo tucked the small note in his pocket and resumed looking at the troubled river.