Needle In A Haystack

The salvage yard has a shop with all of the equipment required to tear down a vehicle.  We stripped the getaway car and the panel truck.  We flattened the remaining shells with the crusher.  And loaded everything onto a trailer, along with parts from other vehicles.  A few days later, a truck showed up and hauled the trailer to a recycling center.

We used saws and grinders to turn the shotgun into a pile of metal filings.  The same thing happened to the security guard’s gun.  

All of the wigs and clothing we’d used in the robberies, along with the shredded remains of the purse, went into the dumpster.  To discourage human scavengers, each bag contained rotted meat we’d left out in the sun.  

A garbage truck hauled everything to the gigantic Apex landfill north of Los Vegas.  Soon a bulldozer would bury it under a layer of dirt, with countless tons of other garbage. 

Five days after we rolled into Henderson, every bit of physical evidence that could be tied to the robberies was gone.  Except for the money.  We used that to fund a well deserved vacation.

We decided a trip to Cancun was in order.  In the terminal at McCarran International Airport, waiting on our flight, we started planning how we would rob Alberto.

I texted him, and told him our plans had changed.  I made up a story about being offered a contract to work in Texas for a few months.  I told him I’d keep in touch and let him know when I’d be back in Corona.

We spent three months in Cancun.  It was relaxing.  We hoped that would give the law enforcement agencies in Los Angeles time to get distracted by other crimes.  At the pool, waiters brought us fancy drinks. We talked through the next job.  Compared to a bank, Alberto was going to be child’s play.

Unlike our previous jobs, I didn’t need to be the driver.  The victim picked me up at the airport.  He was as happy to see me as I was to see him, for different reasons.  He didn’t know the rest of the girls had flown to Henderson, then drove to LA in my van.  They checked into a hotel, and were waiting for me to send the “go” message.

The plan was for me to hang out with Alberto a couple of days before we robbed him.  To learn his routines and where he kept the keys.  Once Alberto was subdued and the keys were in our hands, the rest would be easy.  Spending a few evenings with the victim beforehand was icing on the cake.

It didn’t take long to figure out that the keys never left his pocket.  By day three, I’d cased the house and noted his habits.  I knew the times of day he’d be likely to have visitors.  He got his business done during the day.  I’d done my best to give him something else to do after the sun went down.  That afternoon, I sent a text to the girls.  Go time was 9 p.m. tonight.

The two of us were snuggled up on the couch.  At five minutes to nine, I told him I needed to potty.  Sasha texted me at 8:57.  The girls were in the van, and would be at the front door at exactly 9 o’clock.

The lights were low and I’d been doing a good job of distracting Alberto.  It was easy to get close without him noticing the taser in my hand.  He went rigid, spasmed for a few moments, then was still.  I saw his chest move up and down.

I ran to the front door and unlocked it.  Then ran back, pulled the keys out of Alberto’s pocket, and headed to the bookshelf.  I heard the door open behind me.  The girls came in.  By the time I’d got the bookcase open, they had cuffed Alberto’s hands and ankles, and sealed his mouth with duct tape.  

Barbie gave him a double whammy.  The dose of morphine she injected in his vein would hit him quickly, and keep him sedated for about 20 minutes.  The dose she injected in his thigh would give him a hell of a buzz for several hours. 

I unlocked the filing cabinets and looked through the drawers.  The cabinet on the right was filled with packages of drugs.  We weren’t interested in that.  The remaining four cabinets were stuffed with cash.  From the looks of it, mostly tens and twenties, and some hundreds.  This was far more money than we’d ever got in a bank robbery.

It took fifteen minutes to pack the money in duffel bags.  Barbie kept an eye on Alberto.  We knew he wouldn’t call the police and tell them he’d been robbed.  Our only concern was making sure he didn’t stop breathing.   A dead body would give law enforcement an unnecessary reason to come looking for us. 

By the time the van was loaded, Barbie declared Alberto safe.  He would rouse up when she poked him.  She took the tape off of his mouth and removed the shackles.  She turned him on his side and propped him up with pillows and cushions from the couch.  He began snoring.  I locked the front door on the way out.  Alberto was probably waking up about the time we pulled into Henderson. 

It takes a while to count 4,837,680 dollars.  When we emptied the duffel bags into a pile, Candy’s comment was, “Girls, I don’t think we’re going to rob any more banks.  I feel retired.”

We ended up in Panama.  A country very friendly to Americans with money.  We all bought houses in a modest suburb of Panama City.  In a place like that, the money we stole from Alberto will last a lifetime.

Our appetite for criminal activity appeared to be sated.  Candy and Barbie started traveling. They spend a lot of time in Europe.  Sasha, always the artistic one, began painting.  When the weather is nice you’ll find her on the beach in Coronado, in front of an easel.  People pay good money for her works.  

And me, I play with cars.  It took a while for the mostly macho car culture in Panama City to accept me.  Having money, and being able to outdrive many of the men, eventually did the trick.

If I was as smart as I thought I was, I would have realized I stood out like a sore thumb.  There aren’t a lot of tall, freckle-faced American women involved in street racing in Central America.  I wasn’t worried about any of the surveillance photos that were made during our robberies.  Sasha’s makeup jobs had completely masked my appearance.

But that didn’t apply to Alberto.  He knew what I looked like without makeup.

After five years, we’d quit worrying about getting caught.  When the doorbell rang and I saw Alberto through the peephole, I was stunned.  He must have sensed me on the other side of the door.  He broke into a grin, and pulled the lapels of his jacket open.  Loud enough for me to hear through the door, he said, “Look Jozefien, no gun!”

I had one, and it was pointed at his chest when I opened the door.  I backed up and said, “Get inside and close the door.”

He picked up his suitcases.  As he walked in he said, “I was hoping for a kiss and some help, one of these is quite heavy.”

I said, “Very slowly, open the suitcases, and empty them on the floor.”  One contained clothes, shoes, and a toiletry kit.  The other was filled with money.  Bundles of cash spilled onto the floor.

I kept the gun pointed at him, and told him to sit down.  “How did you find me?”  

He said, “Criminals have a network, not unlike law enforcement.  Still, It took a long time.  I had people searching in many countries.  Every day, I looked through the photographs they emailed me.  You were a needle in a haystack.”  

“But people in Panama will talk about a tall freckled American lady who knows about cars and won’t take s**t from anyone.  After a thousand false leads, my efforts paid off.”

“What is the money for?”  

“I’ll bet you still have plenty of what you stole from me.  But just in case, I brought more.”

“Why are you here?”

“It’s quite simple.  For a man like me, making money is trivial.  It did not take long to get back on my feet after your little stunt.  On the other hand, meeting a woman like you?  It only happened once.”  

That caught me off guard.  I didn’t say anything.  He continued.  “So, I just have one question, Jozefien.  Should I get in the car and return to the airport?”

I put the gun on the table.  I turned the phone to silent and placed it by the weapon.  I sat on the couch, next to Alberto. “I think it would be best if I keep an eye on you for a while.”