Page 67 of The Company We Keep

“And at 7:45?” Wayles asked.

“The armored truck company will make their scheduled stop, just before the bank opens,” Dust said. “And we can cause some chaos.”

Fifty work-seekingresidents of Las Abras donned blue t-shirts, reflective orange vests, respirators, and glasses on Monday morning. Some of them walked, others rode the bus, and some of the lucky ones had cars to take, struggling to find parking within a mile of the intersection of Wood and Vine. Some showed up early, some late.

But by 7:40, there was a huge gathering of people milling about on the street in front of Trinity First Bank.

They struck up idle conversations. Some of them recognized each other from different jobs, similar types of “just show up” gigs. A few worried that the offer of work was too good to be true, felt anxious that far too many people had responded and that the hourly rate would be slashed at the last minute — or, worse, that most of them would be turned away.

No one worried about the black sedan that circled the block once before parking on a side street. Nobody spoke to the two young guys who walked up late, silent and not smiling, or the tall person with a braid down their back who cracked their neck and kept sweeping eyes across the crowd. They didn’t question the shorter, younger woman with straight black hair who seemed to materialize in their midst. Everyone needed work, and that united them.

In the end, even the outsiders who infiltrated them had something in common with the crowd that grew increasingly impatient as the morning wore on: they were all there for money.

The Company was usinga scaled-down version of the comms units that day with near-invisible earpieces and mics clippedjust inside of their royal blue t-shirts. Carrow would act as the hub of communications while standing by with an escape vehicle.

It was an unusual job for them — operating in plain sight, in broad daylight, with no grand gestures of explosives or gunfire. If all went according to Dust’s plan, there would be plenty of confusion, and no one would even guess that The Company was behind the theft.

Carrow sat in the air-conditioned cab of his sedan, comfortable and smiling behind deeply tinted windows. Leta had taken one of their sleeper cars, a vehicle that looked like a beat-up wreck but housed a powerful, spotless engine. She’d parked a block away in the opposite direction. Carrow could watch the entire scene unfold from his vantage point in the car — and he’d be ready to speed away with his employees and their bounty.

The armored humvee pulled up right on time: 7:45 sharp.

The men and women who were waiting for work didn’t move to get out of the way of the entrance to Trinity First Bank, and Carrow thanked them silently for the way that the sea of sunglasses, goggles, blue, and neon orange held steady in its thick cluster there in front of the bank.

There was an odd moment of hesitation on the part of the men in the armored truck.

Dust had done his homework — had told The Company exactly how long the men would wait in the truck, getting organized and marking down paperwork, before exiting the vehicle to complete their scheduled drop. On average, it took them two minutes and 45 seconds to get out and get to work — andneverlonger than three and a half minutes.

Carrow watched the seconds tick by. They were into minute four. Something was wrong. Did the men in the truck sense that they were being set up?

If someone didn’t exitthe truck, Dust’s entire plan was going to have to be scrapped and they’dallbe walking away empty handed.

He scanned the people around him. Vashvi, Wayles, and Herron were all in position at the front of the crowd, doing their best not to stand out.

“Come the fuck on,” Dust muttered under his breath.

As if on cue, the back two doors of the armored truck opened slowly.

Vi, Wayles, Herron, and Dust pulled their respirators up, their safety glasses down, and were in action immediately.

There would be one driver, one hopper, and one guard on duty. Dust had done as much research as he could about the company, but there was no telling how each individual would react — and no doubt that all three would be armed.

A tall woman was the first to come out of the back — the guard, Dust noted immediately. She raised a hand to someone in the back — the hopper, the man who would move the money from the back of the truck to the bank. The driver would stay in the truck no matter what, and he’d surely report the crime as soon as they began. The outside of the truck was outfitted with cameras.

“We’re going to need you to clear a path,” the woman announced, addressing the people gathered on the corner. Almost no one acknowledged her.

Vashvi elbowed Dust in the ribs, laughing.

“Misogyny is finally working in my favor today,” she said so that only he could hear.

Dust tried not to laugh but couldn’t help. It was sad but true.

“Hold position until the hopper is off,” Dust said quietlyinto the comms. Wayles and Herron nodded in his peripheral vision.

“Clear a path, please,” the woman said again. A few people stepped away.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” said a voice in the back of the truck. The man with the money began to exit, pulling the dolly and several heavy canvas bags full of money down with him.

He was taller and louder than his female counterpart on the ground.

---