Headlights slid over the gravel road as the stones could be heard

  grinding against one another beneath rubber treads. A weather beaten,

  motley sedan pulled into a nebulous spot marked by a rotting wooden

  parking stop. It was a sloppy parking job, one the driver had no

  intention of fixing, hoping no one would even see the car to begin

  with. The driver-side door squealed open, with rusted hinges

  dissenting loudly with every degree turned. Despite knowing not a

  soul would be found nearby, the driver cringed at the sound

  nonetheless. A pair of dark leather hiking boots stepped from the

  cabin one after another, crunching the gravel and shifting the stones

  beneath. The driver stood from the seat but turned around

  immediately, knowing the consequence losing focus.

  “Wait,” came a barely spoken command. The 120 pound bullmastiff

  was already half way across the center console but stopped at the

  word and stood there; waiting for his master’s next words. “Stay

  close,” came from her mouth as the driver stepped aside and was

  nearly bowled over as the dog flew from the door. The dog bound its

  way towards the grass beyond the small lot in six strides and lifted

  a leg. The driver pulled a single strap bag from the car and pulled

  it over her head. Despite the wool layer between, the metal door

  managed to sap a modicum of heat for the short closing duration of

  contact. She gave a quick whistle now that the dog’s business was

  done and began to walk towards a long abandoned, overgrown path. The

  slabs had been slotted between a patch of mature coniferous trees

  which blocked what little light the crescent moon provided. The

  driver struggled between watching her own step and making sure the

  dog was still following and not distracted, which he was, having

  found an interesting looking stick. After a short time, the pair

  found themselves yet again under the stars, walking a golf cart track

  embedded between separate greens. The driver waved her hand and spoke

  softly,

  “You’re free,” the dog heard the phrase and loped through the

  fields, sniffing each spot he stopped at. The woman kept her head

  forward and began scanning the track for any movement that would end

  the mission. No silhouettes or lights, and Chester hadn’t noticed

  anything, all clear. She continued down the path toward a small club

  building placed next to a roundabout that acted as the nexus for the

  cart paths. Chester followed at a distance as his owner walked along

  the path and to the patio of the club. She stopped near the front and

  fumbled with gloved hands for the small flip phone inside her pocket.

  The hinge of the phone cracked as the driver flipped the screen up,

  casting pure white light across her face. She had received a text:

  “lmk when ur there – LJ,” the simple pixelated text

  disappeared as she began her response on a new blank screen.

  “here c u l8r” she labored over the more than two dozen key

  presses required to type such a simple message. “How did people put

  up with this?” She muttered to air while returning the phone to her

  pocket. She passed by the patio furniture and stepped along a stone

  laced path down one side of the building. It lead her to a set of

  metal stairs, which she stopped at and whistled again for the dogs

  attention. Chester proudly ran up to the woman, barely stopping in

  time before ramming her into the siding. “Good boy,” she gave him

  an affectionate pat on the head before scratching behind his left

  ear. She pointed at a group of trees and commanded “lookout.” The

  dog gave a brief look back at his master before running to the spot

  and laying in the shadows of the nearby trees, nearly motionless.

  Confident the dog wouldn’t be spotted by anyone happening to pass

  by, the woman started up the steps.

  This wasn’t her first time here, but it was finally the time she

  would enter. She pulled at the strap of her bag until the pack rested

  on her chest and she began fishing through its contents. She didn’t

  need the full B&E kit but it never hurt to be prepared for

  anything. She pulled the one tool expected for the job, a thin card

  with magnets embedded on one end, from the bag and closed it again.

  Pulling back the weather strip, she began to work the card between

  the door and its frame along the top third. A bit of resistance told

  her she had hit her mark and let go of the card, letting it rest less

  than half a foot from the top of the door. She pulled a tension

  wrench and rake from her back pocket and rested both within the

  door’s lock. After a few seconds of sawing, the final pin locked

  into place and the mechanism tumbled open. She pressed on the handle

  but found that it too was locked, and after a repeat performance, the

  door finally opened.

  The time spent in the pale moonlight gave Robin’s eyes enough time

  adjust, allowing for a working vision in the windowless room. She

  stepped in quickly and began to turn the card along its magnets,

  taking care not to trip the ancient alarm. With the task completed,

  she closed and locked the door again before removing and returning

  the card to her bag. The upstairs of the clubhouse had been converted

  from excess storage to a simple one bedroom apartment. Robin was

  standing in a dark, hardly used kitchen. The table and chairs, which

  hugged the same wall as the door Robin entered through, were covered

  in a layer of dust that must have been there for a year at the least.

  On her far left, Robin could barely make out the silhouettes of a

  fridge, a small oven, and a sink all tucked within a kitchenette no

  more than eight feet wide.

  “And still, its bigger than mine.” an exhausted sigh escaped her

  mouth at the sight before turning her head to check the door

  immediately to her right. It took her a second in the dark, but she

  realized that the sign on the door had probably never been removed.

  It depicted a simple drawing, one of a man and the other a woman with

  a line between, nothing but a mixed use bathroom. Robin opened the

  door and checked inside regardless. The room was empty aside from

  extra toilet paper and other cleaning supplies. She closed the door

  gently and turned her attention to the final door and what must be

  her goal. She opened the final door to a small bedroom. A dusty queen

  sized bed hogged the majority of the space in the room and blocked

  the door from opening completely. Pushing past the wedged door,

  Robin’s face was washed in moonlight from an uncovered window

  overlooking a cheap, self-assembled dresser in the opposite corner of

  the room. She closed the door, which had been hiding a bedside table

  topped with more dust. Rummaging through the drawers, Robin found

  nothing of interest, and walked to the dresser. The first drawer was

  laced with documents pertaining to various businesses and holdings of

  the owner, some documents being older than Robin herself. Wishing now

  that she had brought a disposable camera, She quickly made mental

  notes of the juiciest details, hoping her friends would be able to

  find something more substantial later. She closed the first drawer

  and opened the next one down. More documents, and more memorization.

  Getting rather frustrated at still not finding the target, she

  slammed the drawer and with equal force, yanked open the third and

  last drawer. Despite the rage induce exertion, Robin could tell right

  away something was wrong. She peered down only to find a completely

  empty drawer. Robin new immediately she was looking at a false

  bottom, the weight of the drawer alone told her to keep looking. At

  first, Robin tried simply poking at the corners and edges, expecting

  an opposing side to rise and allowing her to remove the board. When

  this failed, she pulled out the flat tension wrench and began to

  squeeze it between the wall of the drawer and its false bottom. While

  it did slide between the wood, it hardly dropped an eight of an inch,

  giving her no freedom to find purchase on the hook. Growing

  frustrated at the impossible task, Robin dropped the tool and sat

  back on her heels, having been kneeling there for nearly five

  minutes. She was contemplating if she should take the information and

  come back another day, when she heard the wrench slide across the

  wood a short distance then stop abruptly. A fraction of a second

  later, Robin heard a small click emanating from the drawer.

  “No fucking way,” The tension wrench waited motionless at the

  center of the drawer, sitting no more than half an inch from where

  she had dropped it. She gave a gentle tug on the tool and felt

  magnetic resistance along with the scraping of wood on wood. Excited,

  she raced to remove the board, only for it fall back into place,

  wrench firmly in her now raised hand. This time, Robin took care to

  give the magnet as much surface area of the tool as she could manage.

  She pulled the hook instead of the handle, which in turn lifted the

  front side of the panel. She had just managed to stick a finger in

  the gap before the tool slipped once again. Although she appreciated

  not having to lift the bottom again, her left middle finger did not.

  She pried the board from the drawer and was greeted at the sight she

  was hoping for from the start. The true bottom of the drawer was

  supporting two standard Good Delivery gold bars.

  “why does nobody learn?” the rhetorical question hung in the air

  as Robin thought back to a certain senator. Like then, these gold

  bars had been used to bribe a man with political power to take a

  position antithetical to his responsibility. Robin felt it was only

  right to return that wealth to some of the congressman’s

  constituents. And so, with effort and care, the first bar was hoisted

  with both hands from its cotton cloth base and shoved irreverently

  into the first and largest pocket of the bag. Robin’s back

  instantly felt the nearly thirty pounds of pressure coming in from

  the strap. She had tested the pack before with forty pounds but this

  would most certainly be the stress test. With the first bar secured,

  the process was repeated but with a separate pocket, desperately

  trying to distribute the weight as much as she could in such a small

  space. Both bars settled, Robin replaced the false bottom and closed

  the drawer, nearly slamming it back into place with it newly

  established weightlessness. She stood and shuffled the bag so it was

  back in proper position. The reinforced stitching near the bottom

  looked and felt fine, but something about the tension of the strap

  told Robin to hurry back to her car. Satisfied at a virtually

  complete mission, she turned back to the door but froze at the sound

  of Chester’s halfhearted bark., someone was approaching.

  Robin rushed on feather steps to the door and placed her ear to its

  cold paneling. Another bark, another person spotted. The world fell

  silent for a few seconds before the muffled thuds of rubber soled

  boots on metal panels rang through the building.

  “Shit, shit, shit! Why is he here?! He’s not supposed to home

  for another couple of hours!” the muttered agony did nothing to

  quell the growing fear and anxiety. A second set of steps began,

  lighter and with two distinct points of contact per step. The sound

  of keys jangling in gloved hands came next, followed by those same

  keys dropping on the metal landing.

  “Let me help you, sir. You’ve had a fair amount to drink

  tonight.” The woman’s voice was barely audible through both

  doors.

  “Leave me alone! I can hold my liquor, and I certainly know how to

  open my own damn door!” the rough and slurred words nearly loud

  enough to drown out the sound of a short shuffle followed by the set

  of heels rapidly dropping two steps. The woman muttered something

  short. “You better be. Stay out of my way and remember you’re

  only here until the deal is over. After that I don’t want to see

  your face again.”Another inaudible response came as the keys were

  retrieved. Robin could feel her blood boiling but knew she had to

  tamp down on the frustration. She ran back to the window and began

  feeling around the frame for a latch. The congressman found the right

  key as Robin discovered the latch, both turning in tandem. Robin

  tugged at the pane only to get stiff resistance from the rarely

  opened glass. Artificial suffused the floor as the pair entered and

  pressed the switch near the first door. With the window just barely

  open enough for Robin to slip through, She took a peek through. The

  ledge she would have to hang from was hardly even three inches,

  followed by a ten foot drop onto the concrete patio between two

  tables. With no other options presenting themselves, She pulled

  herself up and onto the window sill. She swung one leg out after the

  other and slowly lowered herself to the point she was holding onto

  the metal window frame with her legs dangling helplessly. She nearly

  lost her grip trying to closet the window. It was loose compared to

  when she had first tried but with one hand, and all her focus on not

  dropping, Robin wasn’t able to completely close it. She went for

  the second pass when she noticed the doorknob turn, causing her to

  lose focus and slip.

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

  She had been somewhat prepared to drop second but the fall still

  surprised her. Robin’s legs bent beneath her and nearly gave out,

  unlike the bag whose strap broke at the moment of impact. A hearty

  thud came from behind as the gold impacted with the ground. Her legs

  still trembled slightly as she straightened up and turned around to

  retrieve the bag. She stooped down and wrapped the strap around her

  hand before hoisting the load onto her shoulder. A quiet yet piercing

  whistle in the style of her namesake bird escaped Robin’s lips as

  she began the walk back to her car. Not daring to run, both out of

  discomfort from the drop and not wanting her footsteps to be heard,

  she ambled across the patio and back to the golf course path. A few

  steps later, Chester padded up and continued sniffing the area as if

  the last twenty minutes meant nothing.

  It wasn’t until the patch of trees before the car park that Robin

  finally let herself relax somewhat. She still had to drive home, but

  for the most part she had pulled this off. She smiled at the thought

  of her biggest heist yet. Around six million dollars worth of gold

  weighed down her shoulder. She couldn’t control the laughter that

  spilled from her mouth as she left the path and began approaching the

  car. Still chuckling, Robin pulled the key from her pocket and

  unlocked the trunk. She lifted the spare and its carpeted cover,

  revealing a hollow space where she dropped the bag of gold. She let

  the spare come to rest and was satisfied enough to close the trunk

  and begin her attempts to shepherd the mastiff back into the

  passenger seat. After ten minutes and another restroom break, Chester

  was finally seated and ready to go.

  The ride back had been as boring as the ride there since Robin

  refused to bring commercial smart devices on any mission. The car’s

  radio had removed long before Robin picked the car from the junkyard,

  so she was forced to find peace in the silence of the road. It was

  nothing but fields and her own headlights for the first thirty

  minutes, but as she approached the metro area, the scenery changed to

  dilapidated and abandoned single family homes. Spaces between the

  neighborhoods were crammed with sheet metal roofs, tarp walls, and

  two by four frames. Although it was extremely early in the morning,

  Robin could still spot some faces. They were mostly lit by barrel or

  pit fires, though occasionally by a phone or flashlight. She passed

  by a man sprawled face down across the sidewalk and it took every bit

  of will power not to pull over and check on him, but she knew she

  couldn’t stop. The moment she had the gold safe and sound at home,

  she could pour all her attention back here. She drove for another

  five minutes before she spotted a checkpoint in the distance. Chester

  barked twice to indicate he too saw the guards standing around,

  waiting for something to happen.

  “Good boy, but you don’t need to be on lookout anymore.” she

  responded while scratching the back of the dogs neck. She slowed to a

  stop and manually rolled the window down to talk with the officer.

  Beneath reflective vests, their attire was entirely black with white

  text plastered across their chests and backs with a single commanding

  word: POLICE. One man wore a pin denoting his time serving as a

  customs enforcement agent. The pair split and approached the car on

  either side, the man with the pin luckily taking the passenger side.

  “Morning, officer.” Robin pulled the most polite and tempered

  voice she could muster while screaming internally at her anxiety

  there wasn’t a checkpoint when she left. It wasn’t impossible

  they had already discovered the theft but it seemed unlikely.

  “Good morning, ma’am. Your ID please.” He was young and she

  heard no malice in his voice, although she did hear the other officer

  scoff.

  “Of course, one moment while I grab it from the glove box.” she

  wanted nothing more than to avoid escalating the situation.

  “There wasn’t a checkpoint up when I left this morning, did

  something happen?” She wanted to keep the officer talking in a calm

  tone, momentum would be her best friend.

  “Domestic terrorism over night. We know they haven’t left the

  city.” Domestic terrorism, a term that was used to encompass acts

  as vile as bombs and poison, all the way down to spray painting

  public property.

  “Oh no,” trying to muster proper fear and concern a regular

  citizen would show “how dangerous is it? Which neighborhoods should

  I avoid?”

  “I wouldn’t worry about it, ma’am. We’ve already cleaned

  most of it up.” meaning it probably wasn’t large enough to

  warrant checkpoints, but that wouldn’t stop the state from cracking

  down. Robin pulled the handle and the compartment swung open. The

  space was hollow aside from two pieces of paper folded in thirds,

  registration and insurance, a business card, and Robin’s actual

  drivers license. She pulled the ID and business card and handed both

  over to the officer. He glanced at the ID with little care then

  examined the business card.

  “What is this?” He looked back at her quizzically.

  “Your boss owes me a couple favors and I’m too tired to be

  searched. I just want to go home and crash.” Nothing could be

  further from the truth, at the moment her body was coursing with so

  much adrenaline she could lift the car, but she wouldn’t have made

  it this far in life if she couldn’t keep a poker face.

  “Fucking rich people,” the officer spoke under his breath and

  reached for the radio on his shoulder.

  “Don’t call it in you fucking moron, just pull her out and lets

  get this over with. She’s lying, look at this piece of shit.” The

  other officer was getting red in the face now. The man standing next

  to Robin’s window ignored the ridicule and continued with his call.

  “Control, This is officer Moore at the south west checkpoint six.”

  He released the talk button and waited a moment for the response.

  “Go ahead, officer Moore.” A woman’s voice sounded through the

  radio

  “I’ve got a 10-37 asking me to repeat the phrase ‘the robin

  answered the call of the blue-footed booby’ Is there anything I

  need to know before searching the vehicle?” Again, the button

  released, and again silence. The silence was longer than before, so

  much so that even the officer looked confused.

  “I told you, you mor–” the radio came to life with the words

  of an exhausted man.

  “Let her through officer. no search” the response ended with a

  sigh.

  “Uh, well, I guess you’re free to –” His eyes were wide with

  confusion and shifting back in forth as if doing mental calculus. He

  was snapped into attention when the other officer spoke up.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me! This is bullshit!” He was

  shouting into the radio. Apparently this wasn’t the first time as

  the response came back fast and hard.

  “If you question my authority one more time, Jenkins, I’ll have

  you riding a desk so fast your head will spin! If you touch that

  woman, I’ll drive down there myself just to strip you of your

  copper and lead! Do I make myself clear, officer?!” All the color

  drained from his face in an instant as he stammered to blurt out a

  faint yes-sir. Robin looked up at the officer at her door. He shook

  his head, waved her on and walked away.

  “have a nice day,” She pressed lightly on the gas pedal and

  waving out the window. She chuckled when she noticed the one officer

  still watching her drive away dumbstruck.

  Robin pulled up to the keypad of her gated apartment complex. With

  the adrenaline gone and the stress of the night wearing her down,

  Robin typed in the code and waited for the slow mechanism to move the

  gate out of her way. She waved at the few other tenants awake at this

  time of morning, first shift going out and third shift coming in. She

  pulled the car into an empty uncovered space opposite her building.

  “Ok, were home, boy. Time for the leash.” The dog whimpered at

  the sight of the five feet of red nylon. “I know,” she clipped

  the leash onto the dog’s collar and opened her own door. Not

  realizing just how much she was relying on the seat to stay upright,

  Robin nearly fell over as her knees almost gave out again. Bracing

  against the car for the first few steps, Robin walked with Chester to

  the trunk, from which she retrieved her prize. She was practically

  dragging across the asphalt until she ran into one of the tenants.

  “Morning, Miss Robin. I don’t mean to pry but you seem to be

  struggle with that, would you like some help?” He was a jovial man

  with a wife and three kids, two older boys and a girl. He worked as a

  maintenance technician at a factory nearby and usually began his walk

  to work at this time.

  “I’ve told you before, Michael, please drop the miss, it makes

  me feel old. And I’m fine, thank you. I’m already half way

  there,” the last part was an obvious joke, she had made it less

  than thirty feet and still had more than a hundred to go, not to

  mention two flights of stairs. She had meant to chuckle at the joke

  but it came out so pathetically she couldn’t even force herself to

  keep it up. Michael burst out into the hearty laugh that his wife

  absolutely swooned over, and pulled the bag from her hand and

  shouldered it himself.

  “Nonsense, you’ve done so much for us, I’d feel so much shame

  if I just let you walk away like this. Not to mention what Carla

  would think of me.” And with that, he strode off in the direction

  of Robin’s apartment. She couldn’t help but smile and followed

  slowly after him.

  “Let me know if your boss gives you shit for being late again.”

  Michael slowed slightly to let Chester catch up. The dog plodded

  along next to the man, enjoying the scratches on the head he always

  received when Michael stopped by.

  “I don’t think that’ll be a problem again. Mr Lee apologized

  to me himself after you worked your magic.” They walked to the

  steps and began in front of them and began to climb.

  “Good, good. I know how hard you work, and I’d hate to lose one

  of my favorite neighbors,” they reached the top and Robin held her

  hand out for the bag, “I can take it from here. Thank you so much,

  it would have taken me an hour to climb those steps without you.”

  He chuckled again and lowered the strap gently into her hand. She let

  the bag sink nearly to ground and smiled as Michael wished her a good

  rest and left the way they came. She didn’t bother grabbing her

  keys and just swung the bag at her door letting the thud alert her

  roommate she had returned. A stout man opened the door, towering over

  her and taking up a majority of the door way. The smile on his face

  spread from ear to ear as he pet Chester and pulled the bag from her

  hand and walked silently into the apartment. Robin let the leash go

  from Chester’s collar as he followed the man in as she followed

  suit.

  “Domestic terrorism?” She asked into the room as she closed the

  door behind her.

  “Couple of broken windows at the capital

  building.” He brushed spare electronics and other material aside as

  he placed the bag on the kitchen table. “We got the gold obviously,

  but how’d it go otherwise?” He pulled the first bar with a single

  hand and examined the LBMA marks. “PAMP SA, I love Swiss gold in

  the morning.” He laughed at his own joke and set the bar down to

  retrieve its partner. Robin walked over and opened the sliding glass

  door that led to their cramped deck, letting fresh air into the room

  and allowing Chester to relieve himself of the turf they kept

  outside. She slumped into the couch and started pulling off her

  gloves, followed by her shoes and socks, only then did she process

  the question.

  “Bring me a pen and paper, I found some interesting documents

  while looking for the gold. It went mostly to plan until Senator

  douche-nuts came home early; I had to jump out his damn window.” He

  handed her the pad they had stuck to the fridge, along with a glass

  of water.

  “Thank you, John.” She downed the glass as he searched for one

  of they many pens they had scattered through the room.

  “Found one,” she had spotted one beneath a food wrapper from the

  night before, two nights ago Robin reminded herself. She pulled it

  out and scratched the page until ink spilled out. She wrote the

  important details she could still remember after the morning’s

  events. “Take anything you can learn to Tommy, I’d rather not

  target the same person twice through illegal means.” She passed the

  note to John who read it twice and slipped it into his pocket.

  “More businesses to add to family fortune.” He didn’t always

  approve of Tommy’s work, but he understood there was nothing and no

  one better for the work ahead.

  “Remind him he owes me, try to get as many of them in my name as

  you can if I’m not awake when you talk.” She let a yawn escape

  and pulled a pillow beneath her head as her eyelids slipped down.

  “No way in hell am I talking to him alone again. I may have passed

  the bar but that man is truly a snake.” She could hear him drop

  into the chair next to her, and chuckled at the statement.

  “Why do you think dad kept him around?”

  “Because they grew up together and share the same sick desire for

  limitless wealth?” They both laughed. John opened his laptop and

  started typing away, searching for any trace of the documents or

  their contents. She fell asleep to the erratic typing, and slept a

  dreamless sleep.