Ian ripped the covering from the pile of booze. He grabbed the first case of beer and decided that the bathtub would be the perfect for the priming. The others could worry about sorting out the sleeping arrangements. He was not concerned about that, just interested in getting a few beers down his throat in as short a time as possible. He was in his element, dealing with a bunch of beer and entertaining a bunch of friends.
He laid the beer in the tub, grabbed the ice bucket and headed to the corridor. Moussa caught his attention.
"Do you need help?" Moussa spoke in thickly accented English.
While Ian usually did like to work alone, he was feeling a bit connected with this crew. "I can always use a hand", replied Ian.
The two of them walked down to the ice machine. Ian had the ice bucket, while Moussa had a bag from thegarbage can in the room. It was a simple task to collect ice, so they ended up working in silence. Once the bucket and bag were full of ice, they returned to the room. They filled the tub with water and ice, immersing the beer.
Ian took the time to ask a question of Moussa. "That's a bit of an accent. You are obviously not from around here, are you?"
Moussa, a large African American looked with a bit of a quizzical look. He, like Ian, was not among the majority in Great Plains. Extending his hand, he replied "I'm Moussa. I am from west Africa. I came to Great Plains to work. I immigrated." he said if that explained everything.
Shaking the big hand, Ian replied "Umm, I am Ian." This was as far as Ian wanted to go for having anyone know anything about him. He appreciated that Moussa felt comfortable enough to reveal his status as an immigrant, but this was almost too much for Ian to accept quite yet.
They checked the temperature of the beer in the tub, decided it was cool enough for now and they passed out a beer to each person. Dean, who was in a pretty good mood, called for a moment.
"Let us not forget, that we have conquered the system." Ian started to wonder where this guy was going. "We have overcome. We are THE TEAM!" With that, he started hooting and hollering like at a GPSU football game.
Everyone else started to drink and have their own conversations. Obviously, they had similar thoughts about Dean as Ian did.
Feeling a bit uncomfortable about Dean's performance just now, and his revelations in his apartment, Ian decided to spend the time to get to know everyone else. He took two gulps of his beer, and took a look around the room at his "colleagues".
Two of them that he had already gotten to know were talking to each other. Lauren, who was a really nice woman, but not one for Ian, was talking to Moussa. Moussa, the rather impressive looking black man, had an air of confidence that just oozed. He seemed to carry himself as if there was nothing that could stop him. He was a handsome fellow, with an erect back, thin waist and broad shoulders. He looked impressive, perhaps even martial. Despite his earlier reluctance to talk much with him, Ian would definitely try to talk to him some more.
Given that Lauren would not be interested in him for romance, there was some serious conversation going on. What was keeping them gripped in conversation? She had not indicated any interest in Ian, but who knew. They could be talking about global climate change for all he knew.
Ian then looked to the right. Rab was there talking to Bill. Bill was an interesting person. Ian already knew that Bill was a computer security expert. He was the one who would defeat the bank's security without getting into the bank. Bill seemed to look the part, too. He was of average height, full head of slightly longer than usual hair, and had not shaved in about three days. He was slightly overweight, but not because he over ate. But he seemed the person to pass eighteen hours a day in front of a keyboard.
Ian, the perpetual computer idiot, would no doubt marvel at whatever Bill said in any conversation about computers.
Ian looked again at Rab. He was slightly taller than Ian's five ten. He was slender, but has a muscular physique about him. Knowing that he had dug his way into the bank, Ian could easily imagine him as a miner. He had the look of an honest labourer.
Ian finished his beer, saw that Dean, chugging his third beer, was the only person other than him not involved in conversation and decided that Bill was going to be the first person with whom he talked.
Someone turned on the TV to a station playing classic rock music and the party seemed to start. The room keys were handed out, and everyone's tongue started to loosen up. For the first little while the talk seemed to be centred around two groups of participants. However, as the effects of the alcohol started to become evident, the groups slowly merged into one.
Lauren, surprisingly, was the first person to openly discuss the heist. Apparently, the bicycle getaway made an impression on her. She was quite animated as she described the actions surrounding her evading people, fences, traffic and hiding out in the van, apparently with police unknowingly surrounding them, but later moving off. Ian enjoyed this, especially considering that he was there and he knew exactly where she was embellishing, and what was an outright lie.
Lauren, not telling her story in chronological order, was goaded into commenting about how it was she that sorted them out when it came to getting across the road. She countered. "I thought the woman was supposed to be late to the party. I'm telling you, it took Dean a full two minutes to get himself out of the bank. It was hilarious. Ian was blocking traffic, I got across the road, and Dean just would not come out."
"What took you Dean?" The question was from Rab.
Ian was starting to sweat. Would Dean give up the fact that he was actually ripping off the bank?
"Uhhh, I did not know that the others had left. I was busy checking out the tellers." He gave a small smile. Ian breathed easy.
"How did you guys get through the floor of the bank?" Dean seemed to be trying to get the conversation away from him.
Bill jumped in. "I hacked into the bank's security system. Once Lauren had blocked out the cameras in the main part of the bank, I managed to capture the whole stream of imagery and metadata from the bank. I decrypted the metadata, rehashed the time synch, and looped a frozen image from all four cameras with updated time hashes. It was reencrypted, and put back into their original stream. So, when Moussa and Rab were inside the vault, the security people at their headquarters would not notice at all, until the vault was opened. Actually, I let the timing of the release sit until three in the morning. That way, it would appear that nothing had happened until the middle of the night. That also gave me time to remove any electronic trace of my presence." Most of this was techno mumbo jumbo to Ian. And he assumed that Bill was either lying, or not telling a full truth. What expert on conducting any illegal activity actually tells a rookie what it is that he did?
However, Bill seemed excited with the telling of his tale. Ian was not going to challenge him. It was as if he had never been able to tell his information technology tales to anyone who was even remotely interested in it, who also did not have a more powerful computer in their bedroom than the CIA.
But, Ian had to ask, "Just where did you get the ability to do all that?"
Bill looked Ian up and down quite thoroughly. Ian sensed that he was evaluating Ian's ethnicity against the stereotype of being technologically savvy. Bill stammered an initial response, "My degree..."
"No, I mean the looping, and the meta whatevers. I have a friend who is excellent with the computers and he says that anything for defeating security systems is very, very complex, and it requires the work of hundreds to do it."
Bill, conflicted between suspicions of Ian's question, and swelling with a bit of pride, responded plainly "I am good. Besides, I got all my software off of the internet."
Rab piped in "You can't get that stuff on the internet. I've looked."
"You have to know where to look." Bill winked at Lauren, the first indication that he even fancied her. Lauren smiled back. Ian would definitely like to follow up with Bill later on.
The conversation then moved into Rab and Moussa's realm. They told of the deafening blast to get into the vault. They told of how they had about thirty minutes to set the little charges. Once the doors were blasted open, it only took them one moment to get the package, and a few seconds to scatter the contents of the rest of the boxes.
They told of the adrenaline from the rush back to hole and whether the police would be waiting for them. Ian could identify with that feeling.
Once the last of the heist stories came out, the conversations moved to the potential payoff. No one had opened their envelopes, yet. And they agreed that they would not until they parted ways. What would each one of them get for their participation in the heist? Ian needed about ten thousand dollars to pay off enough of his debts to provide him comfortable breathing space to sort the rest out. He would be happy with any amount, as he had already received five thousand dollars. But, it would be hard to justify what was in that package that was worth at least forty thousand dollars, the cost of money paid, cost of the room rentals, plane tickets, and other costs, and the cost of any other payouts. In reality, it was a one hundred-thousand-dollar payout.
However, the beer started working on him again, and he quickly forgot those questions as the gang started to drink, celebrate, and explore the other rooms that had been rented for them.
Each of them started working in and around the conversations as they saw fit. Ian tried to make as much conversation as possible. He was feeling pretty good. He actually liked each of them, even Dean. He tried putting the moves on Lauren, one more time, and she succeeded in brushing him off again. He thought that was funny. Later, he saw her actually arm in arm with Bill. Who'd a thunk it.
As the clock slowly ticked towards midnight, someone ordered pizza. While waiting for the pizza, they exchanged social media information. Ian, without a social media presence immediately felt left out. They knew it was contrary to the Benefactor's direction, but they were well greased at this point and felt like they had nothing to lose, and plenty to gain. Even without a ready connection, Ian started to feel a true camaraderie with these people.
He wondered if this is what people in combat felt. He had no military connection in his family that he could talk to about it. But he felt a connection to these five other people. They had risked and won together. They worked hard together. They overcame challenges together. And here, they were celebrating together. This was a team, and this team was his team. He could feel it and he was certain the others were feeling it too.
The pizza arrived and as they were munching on slices of supreme delight, Dean approached Ian.
"Thanks for not ratting me out about my reward."
"I'm not a rat. You secret is safe is me."
"Great. I'm glad. I like you. You have your life sorted out. I can't seem to sort mine out."
"Eh, man. I haven't got it totally sorted. I have some serious issues." That was the beer speaking. Ian did not want to reveal too much about himself to anyone, but he could not resist, in vino veritas.
"I got to sort myself out. I need a job."
"Really? I might be able to help you out with that." Ian was thinking about Dave's standing offer for the job at the gas station for Ian. He could swing a thing or two to get Dean that job. After all, it's not fair to assess Dean on just the one afternoon's worth of stressful escape and evasion work. Standing offer in mind, Ian continued, "I think I can get you some work at a gas station, if that will do."
Dean was very gracious, which surprised Ian. He expected Dean to resist the menial work, but Dean surprised him with "I have to start a straight life somewhere. May as well be at an honest job pumping gas."
An honest job. Ian had never thought about employment like that. He definitely did not want to do menial work. He wanted to be launched immediately into middle management. But he too knew in his heart that he needed to start somewhere. He needed a job.
The effects of the alcohol were really starting to wash over him. Ian started to think about that job. Money was in that envelope for successfully completing their mission. He could live for about nine months on the money that was left from before and the money he was likely due. For a job, he wanted to talk to someone like Bill. He was smart enough to work this job completely independent. Maybe he would take computers at school and try to become an expert in information technology. But then again, he did not like the little boxes and did not understand in the least how they worked. He doubted that he would be able to learn something like that in a classroom, considering that in his experience, people like Bill had been doing the computer job for well over the course of their teen years.
Perhaps he would apply to join the military. He loved the camaraderie he was feeling now. That would be a good feeling to have as he worked. He knew a neighbourhood boy from his youth who joined the army. He was, after five years in, a lieutenant in the artillery. His parents kept him up to date on what was going on back home. He seemed to always be away doing something new and exciting. He was currently in Afghanistan, operating a pair of howitzers firing at the Taliban and Al Qaeda. That was an honourable job. The responsibility and discipline were something that did not sit well with Ian, but that might be more offset by the adventure, travel, pay and honour involved in being a soldier.
He knew that one job he would like to do would be to own his own business. He was not sure that he would have the know-how, or wherewithal to operate a business. Dave had that acumen, and he was sure that Dave would be able to run the business, but Dave was far too conservative to take that risk of leaving the financial security of school and the job at the gas station to gamble it on establishing his own business.
But the challenge still remained, what type of business would he like to run? Rab was a miner. Bill in IT, Moussa worked demolitions. What did Lauren do? Something secretarial, it appeared.
Regardless of the business, he had nine months of sitting back, having only to worry about school, to figure out what he was going to do. He would not likely risk the money on starting a business, but would go the way of all his friends, get a job, and hope that it was not too respectable.
Was there an opening for someone to test bank security?