San Fyfe and Jay Mohr, two experienced security guards with Pender Security, are making a gold run for the Northeaster Mining Company. The van they're driving has special security-tight features, designed as a come-on highlighting Pender Security's top-notch devotion to keeping high-value items safe. Intended as a showcase run, it turns into a run gone wrong...
Showing posts with label thewildnorthrun. Show all posts
Showing posts with label thewildnorthrun. Show all posts
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Introduction
“Yes, sir, it’s worth it.”
Ben Fyfe was talking about the new truck that the Pendler Security Company had commissioned. There being thefts reported from mines, albeit in Mexico, Pender saw an opportunity and was moving in. The “miner special” van was a loss leader, for now, but the losses could easily be budgeted to advertising expense. None of the big companies had even thought of it, even though its competitive edge was essentially peripheral improvements.
The vehicle looked like any other from the outside. The size of a small cube van, it was made of hard-to-penetrate steel. Large rivets bracketed the sides behind the cab. Steel doors at the back kept the outside world from pawing the inside contents. It was strong enough to be bullet-proof, of course, but it didn’t have quite the room that the others of its size had.
That was for two reasons, both of which Ben and his co-guard Jay Mohr were about to show their new client. The “sir” in question was Ed Cox, the mine manager.
He had been persuaded to hire Pender not only by Pender, but also by the police – albeit indirectly for the latter. Although Mexico was a far-away land, crime was international. There was no way of telling when a local band of criminals would get the same idea and implement their own local version. The Pender Double-Secure Van – the loss leader – was Pender’s showcase vehicle for the gold mining, and later the diamond, industry. The subtracted room didn’t matter all that much for goods with high value per weight.
Ben turned his head at “Shotgun Jay”’s direction, nodded, and turned back frontwards to Cox and a few others who had gathered. Pulling out a key and showing it to his audience, he said: “Now you’ll see how hard it is to get in.” As all of them knew, the same model of van sans improvements had been successfully jacked down in la familia land. Turning around to the door, he inserted the key upwards into a small protruding cube, about 5 cm a side. “Gather ‘round,” he continued as Jay stepped back to make room; his audience did so.
“Whoever designed this had a sense of humour,” he continued as he shifted aside to make room for Cox and the others to see the now-exposed scan plate. Ben, having placed the key back on his belt chain, now raised his middle finger in the traditional salute of disrespect. Turning it downwards to his right, he eased the exposed fingerprint onto the plate which stood just below hip height. A second passed, and a clearly audible click called attention to the doors.
He turned his torso and head back to the audience. “A thoughtless designer would have made it the thumbprint, but not our guy. Added security.” He then opened the door.
Cox, expecting to see the interior of the cargo bed, raised his eyebrows when he saw another door less than half a metre in. Looking past Ben, he discerned an electric latcher-delatcher. That was why the double set of doors weren’t beside each other; they couldn’t be.
“Now, it – yes?” Ben stopped for Cox.
“How do you guys get in if the electrical system shorts out?”
Shifting almost invisibly from foot to foot, Ben replied: “In extremis, we can torch it open at headquarters. The alloy we use requires a special torch. But,” he continued with a smile on and restlessness gone, “the system’s been thoroughly tested. We even discussed surrounding it in a Faraday cage to protect against an EMP.” That part about the special torch was a bit of blarney, needed because torching was how the ones in Mexico were jacked.
The next part wasn’t blarney. “There’s a heat sensor built into the alloy. If it detects a torch flame, it mounts an automatic call to 911. The system can’t be disabled without the van specs – I don’t even know where it is – so that’s another reason why it has to be cut at headquarters.”
It was an impressive pitch, and the people around him were impressed. Jay made his excuses, moved forward, and climbed up. “Just enough for knee room,” Ben supplied jocularly. His partner pulled out his own key, put it in the bottom of another cube that was at eye level for him, and exposed a clear glass surface at the top of the cube. Shifting slightly, he put his right eye to the glass. Nothing happened.
“Right eye, no workee,” Ben continued.
Jay shifted again, this time to the right, put his left eye to the glass plate and held still. Another second passed and he got a click. “Left eye does the trick,” Ben said for him. Having done his duty, Jay got back down from the ‘tween-doors vestibule and pulled the inner pair open. All eyes now saw the interior bed.
“Perfect for your gold,” Ben concluded after turning back to the audience. “You see,” he added as exegesis, “it takes both of us to open it up; both ways. Not only that, but the biometric data is counter-intuitive. Thumb and right eye is more intuitive.
“Mr. Cox mentioned the possibility of a breakdown. I gave the straight goods here, but I wouldn’t be averse to telling a whopper to any criminal who tried to jack us. ‘Sorry; it’s an experimental system. I tried my thumb and it doesn’t work. I guess it broke on us.’”
Jay now added his bit. “Same with me. ‘Sorry, I put my eye there but it must be broken. There’s no way to get it open except at headquarters.’”
“That’s if we’re surprised in the middle of an open,” Ben added. “If such a possibility could ever occur,” he added with the air of a fellow who had thought of everything.
This time, one of Cox’s subordinates asked a question. “What if both doors are open?”
Ben fielded it easily. “At that point, we’re at our destination. If push comes to shove, the refiner has a responsibility.”
Cox nodded, moving the words into his head by bobbing it. The pitch sounded good, and gibed with what Pender had told him. The mine was eight hours away from the refiner, though long stretches of mostly two-lane highway. The sun was barely coming up on a nice summer day; the pair of security guards had arrived last night and bunked over. The refiner didn’t keep convenience-store hours.
That had been good for the pair: an easy drive up, accommodations on someone else’s dime, and lots of overtime.
“Great,” he himself concluded. “I’ll show you where the two dore bars are.” About 90% gold, they looked it. Each weighed an unusually compact thirteen-plus kilograms, a little more than the standard 400 oz bar. Measurements had been carefully taken to ensure that each dore bar had almost exactly four hundred troy ounces of gold in it. Not only was this a convenience for the refiner, but it was also a check-safe for the mining company. Each dore bar would result in one good-delivery 400 oz 99.9% 24 karat gold bar. It had better.
The two bars represented about two weeks’ worth of production from Northeaster Gold's Mandalo Mine. It was small but profitable.
The bars were half- surrounded by custom-cut Styrofoam in which they fit snugly. Ben and Jay each got in front of one, laid out on a central table that commanded the loading bay. They were only eight centimetres wide, twenty long and five thick. A half a centimetre would be removed from the thickness in the final refining process to produces a NYMEX acceptable bar. After letting the two men gawk, one of Cox’s assistants deftly put Styrofoam caps on top of the bars and taped them up. Both guards, being new on the gold beat, were surprised at how heavy their bundles were.
They were strong enough to heft the packages into the open van and strap on a pair of added belts for each. The bars wouldn’t move at all during the entire journey – the entire Pender Company plus the suppliers had made sure of it.
Ben Fyfe was talking about the new truck that the Pendler Security Company had commissioned. There being thefts reported from mines, albeit in Mexico, Pender saw an opportunity and was moving in. The “miner special” van was a loss leader, for now, but the losses could easily be budgeted to advertising expense. None of the big companies had even thought of it, even though its competitive edge was essentially peripheral improvements.
The vehicle looked like any other from the outside. The size of a small cube van, it was made of hard-to-penetrate steel. Large rivets bracketed the sides behind the cab. Steel doors at the back kept the outside world from pawing the inside contents. It was strong enough to be bullet-proof, of course, but it didn’t have quite the room that the others of its size had.
That was for two reasons, both of which Ben and his co-guard Jay Mohr were about to show their new client. The “sir” in question was Ed Cox, the mine manager.
He had been persuaded to hire Pender not only by Pender, but also by the police – albeit indirectly for the latter. Although Mexico was a far-away land, crime was international. There was no way of telling when a local band of criminals would get the same idea and implement their own local version. The Pender Double-Secure Van – the loss leader – was Pender’s showcase vehicle for the gold mining, and later the diamond, industry. The subtracted room didn’t matter all that much for goods with high value per weight.
Ben turned his head at “Shotgun Jay”’s direction, nodded, and turned back frontwards to Cox and a few others who had gathered. Pulling out a key and showing it to his audience, he said: “Now you’ll see how hard it is to get in.” As all of them knew, the same model of van sans improvements had been successfully jacked down in la familia land. Turning around to the door, he inserted the key upwards into a small protruding cube, about 5 cm a side. “Gather ‘round,” he continued as Jay stepped back to make room; his audience did so.
“Whoever designed this had a sense of humour,” he continued as he shifted aside to make room for Cox and the others to see the now-exposed scan plate. Ben, having placed the key back on his belt chain, now raised his middle finger in the traditional salute of disrespect. Turning it downwards to his right, he eased the exposed fingerprint onto the plate which stood just below hip height. A second passed, and a clearly audible click called attention to the doors.
He turned his torso and head back to the audience. “A thoughtless designer would have made it the thumbprint, but not our guy. Added security.” He then opened the door.
Cox, expecting to see the interior of the cargo bed, raised his eyebrows when he saw another door less than half a metre in. Looking past Ben, he discerned an electric latcher-delatcher. That was why the double set of doors weren’t beside each other; they couldn’t be.
“Now, it – yes?” Ben stopped for Cox.
“How do you guys get in if the electrical system shorts out?”
Shifting almost invisibly from foot to foot, Ben replied: “In extremis, we can torch it open at headquarters. The alloy we use requires a special torch. But,” he continued with a smile on and restlessness gone, “the system’s been thoroughly tested. We even discussed surrounding it in a Faraday cage to protect against an EMP.” That part about the special torch was a bit of blarney, needed because torching was how the ones in Mexico were jacked.
The next part wasn’t blarney. “There’s a heat sensor built into the alloy. If it detects a torch flame, it mounts an automatic call to 911. The system can’t be disabled without the van specs – I don’t even know where it is – so that’s another reason why it has to be cut at headquarters.”
It was an impressive pitch, and the people around him were impressed. Jay made his excuses, moved forward, and climbed up. “Just enough for knee room,” Ben supplied jocularly. His partner pulled out his own key, put it in the bottom of another cube that was at eye level for him, and exposed a clear glass surface at the top of the cube. Shifting slightly, he put his right eye to the glass. Nothing happened.
“Right eye, no workee,” Ben continued.
Jay shifted again, this time to the right, put his left eye to the glass plate and held still. Another second passed and he got a click. “Left eye does the trick,” Ben said for him. Having done his duty, Jay got back down from the ‘tween-doors vestibule and pulled the inner pair open. All eyes now saw the interior bed.
“Perfect for your gold,” Ben concluded after turning back to the audience. “You see,” he added as exegesis, “it takes both of us to open it up; both ways. Not only that, but the biometric data is counter-intuitive. Thumb and right eye is more intuitive.
“Mr. Cox mentioned the possibility of a breakdown. I gave the straight goods here, but I wouldn’t be averse to telling a whopper to any criminal who tried to jack us. ‘Sorry; it’s an experimental system. I tried my thumb and it doesn’t work. I guess it broke on us.’”
Jay now added his bit. “Same with me. ‘Sorry, I put my eye there but it must be broken. There’s no way to get it open except at headquarters.’”
“That’s if we’re surprised in the middle of an open,” Ben added. “If such a possibility could ever occur,” he added with the air of a fellow who had thought of everything.
This time, one of Cox’s subordinates asked a question. “What if both doors are open?”
Ben fielded it easily. “At that point, we’re at our destination. If push comes to shove, the refiner has a responsibility.”
Cox nodded, moving the words into his head by bobbing it. The pitch sounded good, and gibed with what Pender had told him. The mine was eight hours away from the refiner, though long stretches of mostly two-lane highway. The sun was barely coming up on a nice summer day; the pair of security guards had arrived last night and bunked over. The refiner didn’t keep convenience-store hours.
That had been good for the pair: an easy drive up, accommodations on someone else’s dime, and lots of overtime.
“Great,” he himself concluded. “I’ll show you where the two dore bars are.” About 90% gold, they looked it. Each weighed an unusually compact thirteen-plus kilograms, a little more than the standard 400 oz bar. Measurements had been carefully taken to ensure that each dore bar had almost exactly four hundred troy ounces of gold in it. Not only was this a convenience for the refiner, but it was also a check-safe for the mining company. Each dore bar would result in one good-delivery 400 oz 99.9% 24 karat gold bar. It had better.
The two bars represented about two weeks’ worth of production from Northeaster Gold's Mandalo Mine. It was small but profitable.
The bars were half- surrounded by custom-cut Styrofoam in which they fit snugly. Ben and Jay each got in front of one, laid out on a central table that commanded the loading bay. They were only eight centimetres wide, twenty long and five thick. A half a centimetre would be removed from the thickness in the final refining process to produces a NYMEX acceptable bar. After letting the two men gawk, one of Cox’s assistants deftly put Styrofoam caps on top of the bars and taped them up. Both guards, being new on the gold beat, were surprised at how heavy their bundles were.
They were strong enough to heft the packages into the open van and strap on a pair of added belts for each. The bars wouldn’t move at all during the entire journey – the entire Pender Company plus the suppliers had made sure of it.
First Run
More than ten kilometres of two-lane pressed-earth road was between the loading depot and the highway. Once on, and once traveling at speed, the two men would get to the refining company by 5 PM. It would be about twenty minutes back to headquarters in the same city, and then relaxation. Both settled in with hope for a long, steady, relaxing drive. Ben was at the wheel, and would be so for the whole trip.
It was two hours on the highway when the pair saw orange pylons on the centre of the asphalt, with a police car blocking their path. Stopping, Ben unlocked the door, undid his seat belt and stepped out. Jay stayed in, but tensed up.
“What’s wrong, officer?”
The police officer, like Ben, had a neatly-trimmed moustache; both were dark-haired and brown-eyed. Ben had several centimetres on him.
“We’re cordoning off this part of the highway,” the officer explained. “There’s a gang of robbers on the loose, and we got word they’re between this roadblock and the other one. Until we find them, no-one gets in or out except local traffic.
“Just turn right, go down about one and a half kilometres to Halagon Avenue; it’s rural-residential. Follow it all the way – about eight kilometres – and you’ll get back on the highway. One you reach Halagon, turn left and keep going.”
Halagon – left, Ben noted. It would slice a bit off the time buffer, but public safety was public safety. Far better to have the police on the job than to run the risk of being “inconvenienced” in another, menacing way. The officer added:
“What are you guys doing here, anyway? Mine job?”
“Yes, that’s it. We’re ferrying gold for them,” Ben confirmed.
“Be careful,” the officer said with his eyes widened slightly to get the point through. “It’s only a matter of time before those banditos get copycats up here. It’s the kind of crime that everyone’s surprised no-one thought of earlier. That says someone’s going to try it.” Ben’s own eyes made the officer conclude that the point was made.
“Thanks,” Ben added, and got back in the van.
“We have to make a detour: crooks,” he explained to the still-tensed-up Jay. “Right here, left at Haligon, eight kilometres along ‘til we get to the highway again. It’s residential, so we’ll be a little slower, but it’s not much time out of the day.”
“Gotcha,” Jay agreed, now relaxed but alert. “Small inconvenience considering the risk.” So, Ben turned the van and headed west.
About half way down Haligon, they were stopped again. This time, the car was not a police car – but the fellow who stopped them was in a police uniform. Ben rolled down the window, but kept the car locked. Jay, out of the corner of his eye, noted the bridge under which a small river crossed. They were close to the near edge of it, which would explain why the cordon had stretched over to this street too. The river wouldn’t take a boat, but it would take a guy escaping while covering his tracks.
“Sir, could you please get out of the car and stand alongside it? Tell your partner to do so too.”
“Officer,” Ben replied, “we’re security personnel on a delivery for a mining company. I know you’re looking for a gang of thieves, but we’re not part of them.”
This fellow, a bit taller than the other man who stopped them, began to insist. “Sir, I have to ask you and your partner to step out of the van and stand alongside it.”
Something about the situation made Ben note the fellow’s appearance. Dark hair, cut short, clean-shaven, square face, medium build, a little less than 180 cm, a fighter. Looked like a cop, but the car didn’t. Something was off: why was a uniformed man in a plainclothes car? The whole situation said risk.
Still, the risk was slight. If need be, Ben or Jay could have several cruisers over right away simply by pushing the alarm button on the remote device that each of them had in their right pockets. About the same size as a wallet, they hooked into the same circuit as the heat detector. All it would take was a reach for the “wallet” with a defeated look and the device could be activated. Given the cruiser five-and-a-half kilometres away, both guards could go through their act and buy enough time for help to arrive. There was still a risk, but not much.
“Now, please. Both of you.”
“O-kay, we’ll co-ordinate for you.” Unlocking the door, Ben looked over at Jay who had unlocked his own and had undone his seat belt; his hand was on the door, and a smile was on his face.
“And a one – two – three.”
When Jay had debouched to the ground, he felt a sharp pain in his chest. Training and experience got his eyes jerking down to the miscreant with the dart gun, who had obviously snuck up from the under edge of the bridge. His last conscious gesture was a yank at the tranquilizer dart. It had been guaranteed to work swiftly.
As did the one on Ben. His own blend of training and experience got his belting out “Jay! Watch it!” before he keeled over.
Both came to just behind the back of the insanely opened doors of the cargo bed. Needless to say, it was now empty, as Jay found out when he had staggered to his feet.
That was the first thing he had thought of. The second thing was done when his right hand entered into his right pocket.
Ben was a little behind, and would have been more so had Jay not shaken him a bit. The two waited by the back of the van for the real police to get here. Neither said a word.
The senior man’s regretifier had working swiftly. Jeez – I could have pressed the alarm and seen if it was a real cop. It would have taken only seconds: the call made, he would have gotten summoned by the dispatcher had he been legit. Within seconds. If not, Ben and Jay could have stayed in the van and waited behind the bulletproof glass. If only he had thought of it…
He kept running and re-running the scenario through his head while waiting for help. Intermixed was his reinforcement of the description of the fake cop who jacked them. That was one thing he could do.
And that’s the first thing he said to his rescuers after explaining that he and Jay had gotten robbed. It was really the company, but that didn’t matter. Out here, Ben Fyfe and Jay Mohr were the company.
“Cripes,” the sergeant said while turning his face eastward to the highway, “we’ve got two gangs.” He turned to his partner, a constable. “We’ve got more running loose here.” He had no way of knowing that the impersonator had been the tip-off man who got the cordon running. It had been well and deliberately timed.
With those words, now that there was someone to tell, Ben consciously realized what the robbers must have done. He told the two policemen about the safety features built into the van, concluding that the biometric data much have been fetched from their unconscious bodies by manhandling both of them to the scanners. The two keys were gone, which was perfectly all right. After the jack, the locks to the sensor cubes would have had to have been changed anyway.
“Hell of a break,” the sergeant responded. Whoever designed that truck had been really clever. There was no way that such a heist could have been undertaken without it being an inside job.
“Do you remember telling anyone how those gizmos worked?”
Ben understood with the question. “Only the mine manager and a few of his boys. Ed Cox, over at the Manaldo Mine. About two hundred kilometres north of here.”
The junior police officer pulled out what was evidently a smart phone and began clicking. “Got it.”
Sam Pender had known something was wrong right when the alarm signal was pressed. Most of him was concerned, but a small part of him sighed when he realized it was the new flagship van. It had been the perfect moment for Murphy’s Law to intrude. He had suspected that it was an inside job – not involving his men, but someone at the mine – but he didn’t allow himself the luxury of believing it
Having reassured himself that his two men were okay, he still insisted that they got checked out at the hospital. Tranquilizer guns were for animals, not people; even if the formula had been adjusted for criminal use, there were no guarantees against any lasting damage.
Next was the insurance. They would pay – he had made sure of it – but the premiums would likely be adjusted unless he could show that it was a matter truly beyond his company’s control. Even then, he might get charged more simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He had known Matt for a long time, though, so he wouldn’t have to threaten to walk; Matt could fix it for him.
As for the scanners, there had to be a way to distinguish the iris of an unconscious man from that of a conscious one. There were ways to detect stress in voice…now, I think of it, he added bitterly. In retrospect, a voice recognizer would have been less impressive but more serviceable…
His duties kept him at his office until the evening, in part because he dragged them out to allay the shock. So he was at his post when the call came from Ed Cox.
“Hello? Is this Ed?... You’re using a different number…. Right; I don’t know who it was either…. So you want to make another run… The last ride was conspicuous, eh?...” Stifling the momentary urge to defend himself, he shrewdly let Cox continue. “So conspicuous worked… I see…
“Now that’s an idea!... Yes, I’ll be glad to get my men prepped for it… Yes, I will be sure to tell them that.”
It was two hours on the highway when the pair saw orange pylons on the centre of the asphalt, with a police car blocking their path. Stopping, Ben unlocked the door, undid his seat belt and stepped out. Jay stayed in, but tensed up.
“What’s wrong, officer?”
The police officer, like Ben, had a neatly-trimmed moustache; both were dark-haired and brown-eyed. Ben had several centimetres on him.
“We’re cordoning off this part of the highway,” the officer explained. “There’s a gang of robbers on the loose, and we got word they’re between this roadblock and the other one. Until we find them, no-one gets in or out except local traffic.
“Just turn right, go down about one and a half kilometres to Halagon Avenue; it’s rural-residential. Follow it all the way – about eight kilometres – and you’ll get back on the highway. One you reach Halagon, turn left and keep going.”
Halagon – left, Ben noted. It would slice a bit off the time buffer, but public safety was public safety. Far better to have the police on the job than to run the risk of being “inconvenienced” in another, menacing way. The officer added:
“What are you guys doing here, anyway? Mine job?”
“Yes, that’s it. We’re ferrying gold for them,” Ben confirmed.
“Be careful,” the officer said with his eyes widened slightly to get the point through. “It’s only a matter of time before those banditos get copycats up here. It’s the kind of crime that everyone’s surprised no-one thought of earlier. That says someone’s going to try it.” Ben’s own eyes made the officer conclude that the point was made.
“Thanks,” Ben added, and got back in the van.
“We have to make a detour: crooks,” he explained to the still-tensed-up Jay. “Right here, left at Haligon, eight kilometres along ‘til we get to the highway again. It’s residential, so we’ll be a little slower, but it’s not much time out of the day.”
“Gotcha,” Jay agreed, now relaxed but alert. “Small inconvenience considering the risk.” So, Ben turned the van and headed west.
About half way down Haligon, they were stopped again. This time, the car was not a police car – but the fellow who stopped them was in a police uniform. Ben rolled down the window, but kept the car locked. Jay, out of the corner of his eye, noted the bridge under which a small river crossed. They were close to the near edge of it, which would explain why the cordon had stretched over to this street too. The river wouldn’t take a boat, but it would take a guy escaping while covering his tracks.
“Sir, could you please get out of the car and stand alongside it? Tell your partner to do so too.”
“Officer,” Ben replied, “we’re security personnel on a delivery for a mining company. I know you’re looking for a gang of thieves, but we’re not part of them.”
This fellow, a bit taller than the other man who stopped them, began to insist. “Sir, I have to ask you and your partner to step out of the van and stand alongside it.”
Something about the situation made Ben note the fellow’s appearance. Dark hair, cut short, clean-shaven, square face, medium build, a little less than 180 cm, a fighter. Looked like a cop, but the car didn’t. Something was off: why was a uniformed man in a plainclothes car? The whole situation said risk.
Still, the risk was slight. If need be, Ben or Jay could have several cruisers over right away simply by pushing the alarm button on the remote device that each of them had in their right pockets. About the same size as a wallet, they hooked into the same circuit as the heat detector. All it would take was a reach for the “wallet” with a defeated look and the device could be activated. Given the cruiser five-and-a-half kilometres away, both guards could go through their act and buy enough time for help to arrive. There was still a risk, but not much.
“Now, please. Both of you.”
“O-kay, we’ll co-ordinate for you.” Unlocking the door, Ben looked over at Jay who had unlocked his own and had undone his seat belt; his hand was on the door, and a smile was on his face.
“And a one – two – three.”
When Jay had debouched to the ground, he felt a sharp pain in his chest. Training and experience got his eyes jerking down to the miscreant with the dart gun, who had obviously snuck up from the under edge of the bridge. His last conscious gesture was a yank at the tranquilizer dart. It had been guaranteed to work swiftly.
As did the one on Ben. His own blend of training and experience got his belting out “Jay! Watch it!” before he keeled over.
Both came to just behind the back of the insanely opened doors of the cargo bed. Needless to say, it was now empty, as Jay found out when he had staggered to his feet.
That was the first thing he had thought of. The second thing was done when his right hand entered into his right pocket.
Ben was a little behind, and would have been more so had Jay not shaken him a bit. The two waited by the back of the van for the real police to get here. Neither said a word.
The senior man’s regretifier had working swiftly. Jeez – I could have pressed the alarm and seen if it was a real cop. It would have taken only seconds: the call made, he would have gotten summoned by the dispatcher had he been legit. Within seconds. If not, Ben and Jay could have stayed in the van and waited behind the bulletproof glass. If only he had thought of it…
He kept running and re-running the scenario through his head while waiting for help. Intermixed was his reinforcement of the description of the fake cop who jacked them. That was one thing he could do.
And that’s the first thing he said to his rescuers after explaining that he and Jay had gotten robbed. It was really the company, but that didn’t matter. Out here, Ben Fyfe and Jay Mohr were the company.
“Cripes,” the sergeant said while turning his face eastward to the highway, “we’ve got two gangs.” He turned to his partner, a constable. “We’ve got more running loose here.” He had no way of knowing that the impersonator had been the tip-off man who got the cordon running. It had been well and deliberately timed.
With those words, now that there was someone to tell, Ben consciously realized what the robbers must have done. He told the two policemen about the safety features built into the van, concluding that the biometric data much have been fetched from their unconscious bodies by manhandling both of them to the scanners. The two keys were gone, which was perfectly all right. After the jack, the locks to the sensor cubes would have had to have been changed anyway.
“Hell of a break,” the sergeant responded. Whoever designed that truck had been really clever. There was no way that such a heist could have been undertaken without it being an inside job.
“Do you remember telling anyone how those gizmos worked?”
Ben understood with the question. “Only the mine manager and a few of his boys. Ed Cox, over at the Manaldo Mine. About two hundred kilometres north of here.”
The junior police officer pulled out what was evidently a smart phone and began clicking. “Got it.”
Sam Pender had known something was wrong right when the alarm signal was pressed. Most of him was concerned, but a small part of him sighed when he realized it was the new flagship van. It had been the perfect moment for Murphy’s Law to intrude. He had suspected that it was an inside job – not involving his men, but someone at the mine – but he didn’t allow himself the luxury of believing it
Having reassured himself that his two men were okay, he still insisted that they got checked out at the hospital. Tranquilizer guns were for animals, not people; even if the formula had been adjusted for criminal use, there were no guarantees against any lasting damage.
Next was the insurance. They would pay – he had made sure of it – but the premiums would likely be adjusted unless he could show that it was a matter truly beyond his company’s control. Even then, he might get charged more simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. He had known Matt for a long time, though, so he wouldn’t have to threaten to walk; Matt could fix it for him.
As for the scanners, there had to be a way to distinguish the iris of an unconscious man from that of a conscious one. There were ways to detect stress in voice…now, I think of it, he added bitterly. In retrospect, a voice recognizer would have been less impressive but more serviceable…
His duties kept him at his office until the evening, in part because he dragged them out to allay the shock. So he was at his post when the call came from Ed Cox.
“Hello? Is this Ed?... You’re using a different number…. Right; I don’t know who it was either…. So you want to make another run… The last ride was conspicuous, eh?...” Stifling the momentary urge to defend himself, he shrewdly let Cox continue. “So conspicuous worked… I see…
“Now that’s an idea!... Yes, I’ll be glad to get my men prepped for it… Yes, I will be sure to tell them that.”
Second Run
This time, more people were gathered in the loading bay; the recent jacking had brought them, which Ed Cox didn't mind. Neither Ben not Jay could believe what they were hearing from him. “A truck?”
Pender had told his men that they would be going in a “different vehicle,” but he had left it to Cox to specify. Despite his love of security, that kind of subterfuge had bothered him because it left his men in the dark. In order for the plan to succeed, however, they had to be.
“Yep, a company truck. Someone else is picking up your own vehicle and taking it to the shop,” Cox replied firmly.
“Here’s what you need to know,” he added: “that gizmo of yours is conspicuous around here. Since it was found last time, we’ve decided to go with camouflage.”
Yes, but… Ben’s voice failed him when he saw Cox had very much made up his mind. The question about how it would help foil an inside job died in his head. It was replaced by a thought, which calmed him. They were part of a track-and-detect.
The truck they were to drive, both had already noticed; they thought it was there for a more quotidian pickup. It had a cap on its bed; Ben and Jay walked over to the back to see how to put the new box inside. What they saw, after Ben lifted the window, was some camping equipment that probably was from the exploration department. No box was visible, but the bed wasn’t empty.
“Already loaded, isn’t it.”
“That’s right,” Cox confirmed from just behind them. “I loaded it myself.
“As it turns out, we had enough to make another bar and we need the money.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Ben said, his tone reflecting a bit of admiration. It was pretty slick. Old Ed was probably here last night making it look like he was assembling another bar from production backup. There was no rule saying that the gold’s gotta go the day after it was smelted, so there probably was enough backup to make it look like there were a real bar there. Ben was sure they were carrying nothing except the camp gear.
“Okay, Jay, we might as well get going. Mr. Cox here has everything looked after.”
Jay had figured it out too, but both were too tempted to not stop and check. So, just before the highway exit, they pulled over and riffled through the bed. Both were surprised to see a Styrofoam package that concealed the same amount of heaviness.
It was Jay who was the first to speak this time. “Son of a gun…he’s really going for it.”
Ben turned his torso and head around, gazing at the empty road. Based upon Cox’ lacunae, he had assumed the mine manager had been dissimulating to the crowd. That assumption, he revised.
“We’re being tailed.” This time, the action was starting sooner. Ben deliberately slowed down the truck once they had hit a long stretch of straight road that allowed for passing in the opposite lane. If the fellow in the SUV was innocent, he or she would be motoring past them and moving ahead.
Sure enough, the vehicle did pass. A he was behind the wheel; he took as close a look at Ben as Ben did at him. Sandy hair, light eyes, look about average height based upon sitting height and position of the driving chair. It passed, but slowed down to his speed soon afterwards.
That got the men looking at each other. First Ben, then Jay: each pulled out their hand cannons. Both had fourth-generation Glocks with ample magazines filled with twenty-two .40 ammunition cartridges. The Internal Locking Systems were still on, but both men flicked theirs off when a car began tailing them. They also took off their seat belts.
It wasn’t long in coming. The SUV – a recent-model, gray “Trailplower” built by Michigan Motors – hit the brakes on a sharp curve; so did Ben. As soon as the car stopped, Ben jumped out; his feet managed to hit the asphalt a split second before the robber’s did. But the robber had beat him with the gun manoeuvring.
The next thing Jay knew, his partner was belting out the howl of the wounded and limping in a pain-stupor to the other side of the road. Automatically, Jay’s gun hand came up and fired right through the safety glass. The armed assailant went down.
That made him realize how vulnerable he was; Jay ducked down before a shot came though the back window. But only one, which exited through a different part of the windshield. Instead, the unseen gang were rifling through the contents of the truck bed while Jay lost his shock. Had he looked, he would have seen the cop-impersonator.
He had managed to ease open his door when the largely unseen car belted away without a parting shot. Rather than being reassured, Jay was worried. For thugs, they had been in an awful hurry.…
Having gotten the door fully open, he slipped out when he heard the highway horn. Panicked, he ran headlong into the field in front of him as a fully-loaded transport truck – unable to stop in the tight cornered turn that hid the two remaining vehicles from sight – knocked them into a lethal agglomeration of ceramic, metal and glass. Jay had gotten out just in time.
The truck driver got to Ben first. Although the accident was not his fault, he was still stricken as the man was a pro. After losing his much deeper shock, Jay went over to see if his partner was still breathing. He explained in short bursts to the trucker that they had been jacked.
This time, Pender had shown up in person after seeing to what needed to be seen to at the office. It was the first time in his business life that one of his boys had been wounded. Had Ben been wounded to unconsciousness, Pender would have been up right away. Each man's family had beaten him to it.
Thankfully, the now-dead assailant – the pile-up had seen to it if Jay’s bullet hadn’t – had missed Ben’s knee. He needed surgery, but chances were good that he’d walk again. They were both in the same hospital room, as Jay was held for observation.
As their worried-up boss got into the four-bed room, seeing the two men beside each other with thankfully empty beds on the other side, he smiled with the best cheer-up for the situation. He had received the news on the way up to the local hospital.
“I’ve got some great news for you. The others were caught and the gang’s been busted!”
Jay’s eyes lit up. Ben’s didn’t because they were blurry with morphine-induced disconnect. He needed every drop, which made him feel dopey and passively edgy.
“Great, boss!” Jay replied for both of them. “So who was it?”
It had been two people, both with the same pressing need. Cox’s assistant and a secretary had both bought Northeaster stock on margin just before the price of gold had taken a tumble. Anticipating a huge gain at the start of production, they had not realized production had already been discounted – in fact, overly discounted. Their life savings plus more had been put in that one company, one whose top management encouraged share ownership by employees like them. They had come to the conclusion that the company “owed” them when their accounts were liquidated to meet margin calls. Their cut was going towards buying back in to make up for their losses once the bad news faded.
“So I guess we were being tailed by friendlies too,” Ben added leadenly as he shifted around. The narcotics weren’t bringing him any joy; that was for sure.
Pender shook a nugatory Ben's way as his grin widened. Walking over between their beds, he sprung the surprise:
“No, it wasn’t that. The bar Ed Cox used was from his home.”
Jay’s eyebrows arced. “You mean, he had a tracker in it?” Not very feasible, maybe, but who knew these days?
Still grinning, Pender supplied the answer. “Nope; it was made special for a party he threw a year ago. It’s gold-plated tungsten.”
Pender had told his men that they would be going in a “different vehicle,” but he had left it to Cox to specify. Despite his love of security, that kind of subterfuge had bothered him because it left his men in the dark. In order for the plan to succeed, however, they had to be.
“Yep, a company truck. Someone else is picking up your own vehicle and taking it to the shop,” Cox replied firmly.
“Here’s what you need to know,” he added: “that gizmo of yours is conspicuous around here. Since it was found last time, we’ve decided to go with camouflage.”
Yes, but… Ben’s voice failed him when he saw Cox had very much made up his mind. The question about how it would help foil an inside job died in his head. It was replaced by a thought, which calmed him. They were part of a track-and-detect.
The truck they were to drive, both had already noticed; they thought it was there for a more quotidian pickup. It had a cap on its bed; Ben and Jay walked over to the back to see how to put the new box inside. What they saw, after Ben lifted the window, was some camping equipment that probably was from the exploration department. No box was visible, but the bed wasn’t empty.
“Already loaded, isn’t it.”
“That’s right,” Cox confirmed from just behind them. “I loaded it myself.
“As it turns out, we had enough to make another bar and we need the money.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Ben said, his tone reflecting a bit of admiration. It was pretty slick. Old Ed was probably here last night making it look like he was assembling another bar from production backup. There was no rule saying that the gold’s gotta go the day after it was smelted, so there probably was enough backup to make it look like there were a real bar there. Ben was sure they were carrying nothing except the camp gear.
“Okay, Jay, we might as well get going. Mr. Cox here has everything looked after.”
Jay had figured it out too, but both were too tempted to not stop and check. So, just before the highway exit, they pulled over and riffled through the bed. Both were surprised to see a Styrofoam package that concealed the same amount of heaviness.
It was Jay who was the first to speak this time. “Son of a gun…he’s really going for it.”
Ben turned his torso and head around, gazing at the empty road. Based upon Cox’ lacunae, he had assumed the mine manager had been dissimulating to the crowd. That assumption, he revised.
“We’re being tailed.” This time, the action was starting sooner. Ben deliberately slowed down the truck once they had hit a long stretch of straight road that allowed for passing in the opposite lane. If the fellow in the SUV was innocent, he or she would be motoring past them and moving ahead.
Sure enough, the vehicle did pass. A he was behind the wheel; he took as close a look at Ben as Ben did at him. Sandy hair, light eyes, look about average height based upon sitting height and position of the driving chair. It passed, but slowed down to his speed soon afterwards.
That got the men looking at each other. First Ben, then Jay: each pulled out their hand cannons. Both had fourth-generation Glocks with ample magazines filled with twenty-two .40 ammunition cartridges. The Internal Locking Systems were still on, but both men flicked theirs off when a car began tailing them. They also took off their seat belts.
It wasn’t long in coming. The SUV – a recent-model, gray “Trailplower” built by Michigan Motors – hit the brakes on a sharp curve; so did Ben. As soon as the car stopped, Ben jumped out; his feet managed to hit the asphalt a split second before the robber’s did. But the robber had beat him with the gun manoeuvring.
The next thing Jay knew, his partner was belting out the howl of the wounded and limping in a pain-stupor to the other side of the road. Automatically, Jay’s gun hand came up and fired right through the safety glass. The armed assailant went down.
That made him realize how vulnerable he was; Jay ducked down before a shot came though the back window. But only one, which exited through a different part of the windshield. Instead, the unseen gang were rifling through the contents of the truck bed while Jay lost his shock. Had he looked, he would have seen the cop-impersonator.
He had managed to ease open his door when the largely unseen car belted away without a parting shot. Rather than being reassured, Jay was worried. For thugs, they had been in an awful hurry.…
Having gotten the door fully open, he slipped out when he heard the highway horn. Panicked, he ran headlong into the field in front of him as a fully-loaded transport truck – unable to stop in the tight cornered turn that hid the two remaining vehicles from sight – knocked them into a lethal agglomeration of ceramic, metal and glass. Jay had gotten out just in time.
The truck driver got to Ben first. Although the accident was not his fault, he was still stricken as the man was a pro. After losing his much deeper shock, Jay went over to see if his partner was still breathing. He explained in short bursts to the trucker that they had been jacked.
This time, Pender had shown up in person after seeing to what needed to be seen to at the office. It was the first time in his business life that one of his boys had been wounded. Had Ben been wounded to unconsciousness, Pender would have been up right away. Each man's family had beaten him to it.
Thankfully, the now-dead assailant – the pile-up had seen to it if Jay’s bullet hadn’t – had missed Ben’s knee. He needed surgery, but chances were good that he’d walk again. They were both in the same hospital room, as Jay was held for observation.
As their worried-up boss got into the four-bed room, seeing the two men beside each other with thankfully empty beds on the other side, he smiled with the best cheer-up for the situation. He had received the news on the way up to the local hospital.
“I’ve got some great news for you. The others were caught and the gang’s been busted!”
Jay’s eyes lit up. Ben’s didn’t because they were blurry with morphine-induced disconnect. He needed every drop, which made him feel dopey and passively edgy.
“Great, boss!” Jay replied for both of them. “So who was it?”
It had been two people, both with the same pressing need. Cox’s assistant and a secretary had both bought Northeaster stock on margin just before the price of gold had taken a tumble. Anticipating a huge gain at the start of production, they had not realized production had already been discounted – in fact, overly discounted. Their life savings plus more had been put in that one company, one whose top management encouraged share ownership by employees like them. They had come to the conclusion that the company “owed” them when their accounts were liquidated to meet margin calls. Their cut was going towards buying back in to make up for their losses once the bad news faded.
“So I guess we were being tailed by friendlies too,” Ben added leadenly as he shifted around. The narcotics weren’t bringing him any joy; that was for sure.
Pender shook a nugatory Ben's way as his grin widened. Walking over between their beds, he sprung the surprise:
“No, it wasn’t that. The bar Ed Cox used was from his home.”
Jay’s eyebrows arced. “You mean, he had a tracker in it?” Not very feasible, maybe, but who knew these days?
Still grinning, Pender supplied the answer. “Nope; it was made special for a party he threw a year ago. It’s gold-plated tungsten.”
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