Day Twelve ∞ Tuesday
APOCALYPSE PAUSED only for two seconds. "You know what? I'll give you some time to think." He got up suddenly and put his chair aside. "You make sure you carefully consider how you are going to answer that question when I get back. Okay?"
He closed his case, put on his glasses, picked up the case and jacket and left without another word.
Selina withdrew her gaze from the locked door and looked straight ahead, stretching and flexing her fingers twice, then drew a couple of long, deep breaths. Gradually the burning pain dissipated and her arm began to feel normal again. She waited a while longer before releasing that part of her arm from isolation. Then she reflected on her encounter with Apocalypse.
One thing stood out for her: he was trying to elicit an emotional response from her. Fear. Panic. Annoyance. Anger. Anything that would make her lose her focus. But Aumegas were not emotional. Millennia had passed since the last ever-heard-of roused Aumega. She wondered if this man would succeed in getting her to that point—she did not doubt that he would try.
And if he came prepared to ask that question again, she would have to make a decision: enter that mind or corrupt herself by speaking an untruth. Because the truth was not yet an option.
She just had to ensure neither would happen before she was ready—before The One was ready. Only then could she speak the truth. Only then could she show her true colors.
∞
Jagg stopped at the street corner beside Lora and surveyed the area. There was nothing remarkable about the location this morning, just the normal pedestrian activity and traffic passing through. Toni and Pace were across the street at the two ends 'minding' their own business. Sleek and TJ were hanging out on their bikes beyond the corner at the other end of the block waiting for the signal, and Ramiro was likewise parked with the van engine running beyond where Jagg had left his bike, with a direct view of Toni.
They'd never done a bank job before. Planning this was a first for Jagg too—he'd sooner forget the only other instance when he as a teenager was accessory to a nasty close call. Today, however, he could only envision open doors ahead of them. He wasn't one for taking random chances. Having Lora outline exactly what she would do to facilitate this job before the planning session yesterday, was his way of making sure of that.
Satisfied with his initial sweep, he eyed Lora. She'd almost made them go off-schedule this morning because he'd done what he'd usually do when preparing for a job: arm himself. Before he could mount his bike, she'd distanced herself from him and returned to the front door. She wouldn't budge until he removed his underarm holsters and dumped them in the van. He still had his switchblade inside his left boot, though; she didn't seem to be aware of that—either that or she didn't care. But he knew TJ had already left with his gun on him.
Lora stood in her turtleneck like she owned the street—slowly scanning it 270 degrees. Phase one of the plan: stemming traffic to the bank. It only worked with people within her direct line-of-sight, according to her—initiating 'mental blinkers' that kept the bank out of mind for a period. But anyone from beyond the perimeter entering the bank during the heist were unlikely to notice anything out of the ordinary. If all went as he expected.
He watched her turn her head to bring her focus past his shoulder and then straight through him. Suddenly, he couldn't remember why he was there in the middle of downtown Albany on a Tuesday morning.
He was about to go back to his bike when her gaze came back to him—and he caught himself, realizing he was stepping in the wrong direction. "Stop messing with me," he said through gritted teeth.
"You wanted to know exactly what happens," she responded matter-of-factly, lifting her brows at him with a daring glint in her eyes.
He shook his head, tightening his eyes on her—she had the nerve to try provoking him. But she remained unfazed, meeting his gaze straight on as if she knew he was more amused than annoyed.
We're wasting time. He threw a sharp glance around before nudging her to step ahead of him. As they came to the entrance, he flicked his arm and glanced at his new watch: the countdown started in three. He turned his head to look at Pace across the street—one, and at Toni—two, and pushed the door open—three, knowing that Toni and Pace were signaling the count start to Ram, TJ, and Sleek.
Lora entered ahead of him, her eyes on the security guard inside the door—phase two—and Jagg glanced at him as he passed. The guard was staring straight through him as if he weren't there. He kept himself one step behind Lora while she proceeded with her two-pronged interference. He'd been somewhat skeptical about how effectively she could use her choker to target only the alarm system, and the security's radio comms, without disturbing the tellers' computers or the CCTV video surveillance. He could only assume that was exactly what she did since there was no reaction from behind the counter. Then she imposed mental blinkers on the dozen or so hushed customers, tellers, and a couple of personnel on the floor. She did the same to the other two guards. The people would simply continue with what they were doing, without paying the two any notice, as they headed for the customer service manager's desk.
The same woman he'd spoken to yesterday looked up from the client she was attending to, but the questioning recognition was instantly wiped from her face—phase three—and she excused herself and rose. The client remained seated at the desk without comment.
"Take us to security," Lora said quietly and the woman nodded without hesitation.
"Please follow me."
Jagg glanced over his shoulder as he followed through the door—it was uncanny how everything seemed so business-as-usual... A heist like this would normally be a very stressful situation for the people they encountered: being forced into submission by guns and commanding voices. If this continued as planned, then this method would be far better.
They made the woman leave them in front of the door to return to her desk. There was one guard in the room monitoring the security feed that was still working as normal as they entered; he jumped up as the door opened on him. He looked confusedly from the monitors that suddenly switched to static, to Lora and Jagg—his hand reaching for his holster. In the next instant, his hand dropped, and he sank back into the chair with his eyes on the monitors. He would remain unaware like that until his shift changed.
"Where is the recorder?" Jagg asked, pulling on a pair of gloves from his pocket. The man pointed, and Jagg retrieved the tape, then looked at his watch: thirty-five seconds. He returned to the passage where Lora was waiting, her face expressionless.
A door further down flew open with a man rushing out into the passage. "What's going on here? The security feed's down... Who are you?" he added as he saw the two in front of the security room. "The police is on their way; I've already activated the alarm."
"It works not," Lora said evenly, stepping toward the man as he paused and relaxed, his eyes focusing beyond them. Jagg assumed he was the general manager.
"Who has access to the cash vault?" he asked.
"I do," the man answered without batting an eye.
"Take us to it and open it."
"Of course."
Every step continued as planned. As soon as the manager let them into the vault he returned to his normal routine as if nothing was happening.
Lora exchanged glances with Jagg and left him alone with the piles and pouches of packaged banknotes and coins. She would go back upstairs and outside—phase five: a signal for Pace to forward to TJ and Sleek that it was their turn—and make a second sweep in case new people had entered the buffer zone.
One minute, thirty-five seconds. He had almost filled the first bag with used money when footsteps approached and he looked up. Sleek entered the vault while the customer services manager disappeared back upstairs. He looked behind Sleek, and then at Sleek's somewhat amazed expression.
"Where's TJ?"
"She wouldn't let him in."
Fuck! "I should've known she'd do that...," Jagg muttered and threw a folded bag to him. "Get to work. Used money first."
Two minutes, twenty-five. They exited the vault with three filled bags and closed the vault door, leaving just one pile of brand new banknotes and all the coins behind. Jagg turned the heavy handwheel lock until it couldn't turn anymore; it would add to the delay of discovery. Then he picked up two of the bags and made Sleek go ahead of him.
As they left the restricted area on the ground floor, Jagg saw two customers exiting the bank while Lora stood inside the door facing the security guard. Three minutes, five. She met his gaze for an instant before she pushed the glass door open. Her appearance—phase seven—was the signal Toni was waiting on to relay to Ramiro.
Jagg and Sleek stepped outside just as the black van rolled to a halt in front of the bank, the side door sliding open. Toni's face appeared with an O on her lips and Pace was next to her, grinning.
Jagg glanced at TJ who was silently fuming. "Release him," Jagg said to Lora, and threw the bags inside the van. He turned to TJ as TJ shook his limbs free in relief.
"The bitch locked me down!" TJ was finally able to vocalize and glared at Lora; she was eyeing him coldly.
"Cool it!" Jagg slapped a hand on TJ's shoulder to gain his attention. "My bad. The agreement is no guns; that's her one condition for working with us: no violence. I should've told you, but you'd left already. Now, get in the van." TJ shook Jagg's hand off and took a threatening step toward Lora but Jagg blocked him. "You don't wanna go there, TJ. Get inside!"
TJ scowled over Jagg's shoulder at Lora before climbing into the van after Sleek. Jagg turned quickly to Lora. She remained coldly expressionless, her eyes sweeping left and right before meeting his gaze. "All under control?" he asked.
She nodded once. She didn't look too winded; she stood erect—alert.
"Number two?" It depended on her.
She nodded again.
Jagg raised two fingers, and the door slid shut as Ramiro swung the van into the road to drive at an unhurried pace. He continued to the end of the block and turned; he would drop off TJ and Sleek where they'd left their bikes. Jagg put his arm casually around Lora's shoulders as they headed back around the corner, but remained watchful every step of the way. He neither heard nor saw any indication of alarm that an unarmed robbery had just taken place at the small bank.
∞
"Okay, guys. We've got work to do," Jagg said, placing the last two bags on the table. All in all, they had filled eight bags from two banks in less than an hour. The first bank had proved to him how capable Lora was; the second, larger bank had gone without a hitch even though there were many more people for her to mind force. He unzipped one bag and emptied its contents on the table while TJ did the other. Ramiro, Pace, and Toni helped to stack the bundles in sorted piles on the table.
"Everything must be counted and double-checked. And Ram, burn the tapes. That's evidence. We don't wanna have any of this lying around exposed for too long." Jagg looked around the table and then behind him. "Where's Lora?"
Toni looked up bewildered as Sleek replied, "She went to her room."
"I'll get her," Toni said.
Ramiro, TJ and Pace continued with the rest of the bags, but Sleek remained standing, waiting for his sisters. Jagg was holding his chin, watching the stacks grow and doing mental calculations when Toni returned alone and marched up to punch him hard on his arm. "You just had to overwork her, didn't you!" She glared at him with arms akimbo.
Jagg was in too good a mood to get annoyed with her. "What you talking 'bout?"
"It's the middle of the day and I can't get her to wake up!"
"What the hell?" Sleek burst out and tried to pass Jagg to head for the girls' room but Jagg stopped him.
"I get it that you're upset, babes, but she okayed the second hit so there's no one to blame here," he said with his eyes on Toni. "Okay? Now, y'all get to work here—I'll check on Lora." He said it matter-of-factly, not betraying the twinge of alarm he felt at Toni's words. He pointed at Sleek who looked like he was going to follow him. "Sit!"
Sleek sank down on a chair, but he was clearly worried.
Jagg went to the bedroom at the back and entered, closing the door behind him. Lora was halfway on the bed with her head on the pillow and her feet on the floor just like she had the first time she came to them: still wearing her boots. He bent over her and shook her shoulder.
"Lora." He shook her harder, but she didn't stir. "Lora!"
He frowned; this was not good. He felt the side of her neck without touching her choker—she felt a tad warm but not as if she had a full-blown fever. That was good news—but of small relief: he'd allowed her to overwork herself.
"Excess use tires me," she'd said when they were up on the tower—he'd almost forgotten that—so, hopefully, all she needed was a good night's sleep... But why should he care? She'd wanted to do it. Now they had over five hundred thousand bucks in the front room, maybe even twice that. And they could do it again.
He shook his head slowly. Why the fuck should I care? She was a newcomer; she was just a tool to help him put distance between his crew and the mob boss, and get a mansion for his crew. They needed at least two million for what he had in mind, and then some.
Use the tool till she's of no use no more; I don't care...
But he did care, though he didn't want to admit it to himself. His hand automatically moved her hair away from her mouth before he stooped to remove her boots for the second time. Then he lifted her legs and carefully moved her away from the edge of the bed.
∞
"If I didn't know better, I'd swear my old bike was still at home," Danny heard Nathan behind him as he did the final checks on the motorbike.
"Yup, me too," came Jason's voice as he joined his younger brother.
Danny straightened himself, running his gaze over its clean lines. It had been transformed from an old, rusted orange-and-black Honda XL175 to a sparkling new, fire-engine-red-and-black dual-purpose bike—a bike worthy of being ridden by a girl like Mickmi. He looked up to meet her gaze and nodded. She stepped aside to give him space to get the bike off the stand onto the ground and fill the tank with gasoline. Then he started it—it took a few kicks before the engine held its own, sputtering away. But as expected, it needed fine-tuning and he was already armed with a screwdriver which he used to adjust the air and fuel flow until the four-stroke, single-cylinder engine idled steadily.
"It's sounding good!" Aaron said loudly from under the hood of the fourth car he'd been working on for the day.
Danny mounted the bike, revved it up a few times then gave it a spin in the yard. He was satisfied; the bike was riding and responding the way it should. He parked in front of Mickmi and hopped off. "She's all yours," he said before jogging away to his truck. He returned with a black helmet he'd bought earlier and handed it to her as she sat, testing the feel of the bike.
"What'ya gonna call her?" Nathan asked. "I used to call her my Rumblebee." Aaron laughed and came over to use his brothers' shoulders as armrests.
Ray, on the other hand, circled the bike, nodding his approval. "I c-couldn't've done it better myself!" he said.
Mickmi rubbed the smooth surface of the helmet with her hand as she looked around at the guys with a serenely joyful smile on her face. She wasn't perturbed by having everybody's attention on her or her bike. Her gaze came back to Danny and her smile became wider as she mouthed Thanks to him. He nodded in reply as she slipped on the helmet, buckled it under her chin. Then she kick-started the bike. It started immediately, and she tested the rev with her right hand. In the next moment she moved off and they watched as she did two easy-going laps in the yard before returning to them.
"Why don't you take her for a spin on the road?" Jason said and Aaron gave her a thumbs-up. She grinned as she glanced back at Danny, and then she took off.
Danny watched as she turned left at the exit and accelerated up the road, disappearing out of sight. The other guys scattered to their respective work while he remained standing there, feeling like he'd accomplished another good deed: she finally had her independent mobility. He would have waited for her return if a hand hadn't landed on his shoulder, startling him. He turned, meeting Mr. Myers' smiling gaze.
"Come, son, I want to talk to you for a moment."
He threw a glance up the road before following Mr. Myers into his office.
"Well... I'm impressed! Where did you find her?" Mr. Myers said, turning to sit on the edge of his desk.
Danny chuckled. "I'm beginning to wonder that myself!"
"I was thinking, but I thought I should ask you first since you brought her here—and you two have a special relationship..."
Danny felt his ears heating up. Kissing at work was absolutely not one of his plans, let alone making a show of it. "I'm sorry, sir, I promise that won't happen again. I just had to—"
Mr. Myers waved him off, grinning. "Never mind that; I know my daughter. I'd like Mickmi to come work for me; she's just the right type of person for my shop. But does it make sense asking her?"
"Oh!" Danny's jaw dropped in surprise for a moment before he smiled. "I think she'd like that—she doesn't have anything else to do after this and she likes to keep busy..." But then he became thoughtful. "But..."
Mr. Myers cocked his head questioningly. "Go ahead, son."
Danny frowned as he weighed the pros and cons of the risk, then met his boss' gaze again. "Can I tell you something in confidence, sir?"
"Danny boy, you're family. Anything you have to say will stay between these walls." Mr. Myers nodded at him reassuringly.
He took a deep breath. "She doesn't remember who she is, but we're pretty sure she's here illegally. We don't even know what her last name is..."
"I see..." Mr. Myers thought for a moment. "Well... I'm not gonna try to give you advice about that—unless you ask for it; I'm sure you're already working on it and considered all your options..." He paused as Danny nodded. "I'd say, it doesn't need to be a formal arrangement, I just need a hand in the shop, running the inventory. It could be like a summer job."
"That could work," Danny said, nodding in relief. "I'll tell her you want to talk with her." He could hear the smattering of Mickmi returning to the auto shop compound before opening the door. When he came out, he found her parked outside the shop with engine running, head bowed, her hands resting on the helmet in front of her. "Hey...," he said. "How was the trip?"
She looked up at him with a slow smile; the look in her eyes was unmistakable.
"You're welcome," he said, grinning and held onto the handlebars, then he pointed with his head. "Go see Mr. Myers; he wants to talk to you." She nodded, cut the engine as she unmounted and went to the office—leaving him to park the bike.
"D'you think she'll do it?"
He turned his head to see Nathan's eager face. "What? You guys know about it already?"
"Sure we do," Jason said as he joined them. "Dad asked us first. And we unanimously approve!"
∞
Hours went by with continued assault on Selina's entire being. The cold and the noise were unrelenting, and although she countered the vibrations to enable her some relief, she was tiring. She was beginning to have difficulty maintaining the correct frequencies. In addition, her internal clock was being disrupted. She knew that the interrogation session had taken place at 3 a.m. and that the time she normally would have been served breakfast had passed hours ago. That did not immediately concern her. But since then she became aware of slippage in her rhythm and she could not be certain whether it was still morning or if time had entered the afternoon. Eventually she decided to conserve on energy. She stopped trying to counter the vibrations, stopped surveying beyond the room and floor, and maintained only an awareness of the presences immediately outside the room.
The sudden silence was deafening.
Before she could adjust to it, the vibrations of many feet approached and the door flew open. She readjusted the width of her wrists and ankles to take on the discomfort of the straps as man after man flooded in, filling the room. In just a few seconds, a dozen pairs of hard eyes were boring down into her.
She did not look at them but kept staring straight ahead, past the fatigues of green, black and brown, past the pistols at their waists, with the sense of apprehension growing from deep within.
They just stood there as a single pressing presence, their focus and minds aimed at her with targeted intent. It sent her senses into high alert.
Seconds went by.
Minutes.
She could not relax under so many eyes.
After several tense minutes, the speaker crackled and she heard Apocalypse's cold voice. "They have very special skill sets that make them... high-valued operators. They answer only to me—which may or may not help you. They are trained—well... you know what they're trained to do, don't you?"
— ∞ —
©2016/2017 by kemorgan65