F-F-F #38 The heist

I didn’t really want to burst their bubble, but it was unavoidable. They had searched for so long in that large pile of rubble, but I knew their toil was all in vain. You see, I had already removed what they were looking for.

Oh, who am I kidding? Of course I would take pleasure in seeing their faces the moment they discovered the truth. That awful, gut-wrenching truth.

I watched them through my binoculars from my vantage point overlooking the old quarry. Sweat poured off their bodies and they were getting mighty cranky, each accusing the other of pulling a swifty. They had guns and I knew this might get ugly at any moment. But did I care?

They had planned the heist so carefully, those three. But there’s always one idiot who has to go and spoil it all by getting drunk and boasting about it in the pub. I knew what they had done and where they had hidden their loot.

I heard the chopper approaching from the distance. I had timed its arrival just right. Excitement was mounting and my hands were sweaty holding onto that precious bag. I could retire on that lot.

A fight broke out in the quarry. Gunshots! One of them was down, wounded but not dead. The other two were scrabbling in the dirt. As the chopper landed close to where I was hiding, they all looked up in astonishment. They recoiled in horror as I waved their bag of loot before their eyes - their sad, disbelieving eyes - and climbed into the helicopter.

And yes, of course I returned it all to its rightful owner. You do believe me, don’t you?