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May 2000

This hiss of the rope as it slid through the near-frictionless pulley near his head was all he could hear over the rush of adrenaline infused blood pounding in his ears. Even the sound of the few late night cars driving on the street far below him was lost in the intervening distance. This was one of the more exciting parts of jobs like this, beating the odds to pull off the theft, making the seeming impossible appear as easy as breathing. They might joke about his "trained monkey act," but with it he'd pulled off some major hauls, leaving both the former owners and the cops scratching their heads as to how the job had been done.

Cracking the safe, once inside, would almost be a letdown in comparison. He'd been doing it for so long, with an ever-increasing repertoire of toys and tools that he could do so with a minimum of effort on his part. Most of the work these days came from finding the targets, casing the places and setting everything up just right so that the actual theft went off without a hitch. In the last five years his targets had become more and more high end, though he was very careful not to impinge on the territory of others. In fact, he had this odd preference for stealing from those who walked the edge of legal themselves. Oh, he was no fool and stayed away from the local mobsters and high end dealers and launderers, but politicians, businessman, hell, even lawyers who he knew were a bit more ... liberal with their personal views of the law were fair game in his mind.

This place was a perfect example, owned by a commodities trader who had nearly gone belly up recently, that is until he'd begun trading certain items for one of his clients under the rose bush. His hands were quite dirty by this point, but since he still played the part of a legit businessman, no one suspected he had already fallen down that slippery slope. The guy probably hadn't even realized he was in a hole he'd never get free of at this point.

Reaching the target floor he hopped smoothly over the balcony rail, detached the rope from the climbing harness, adjusted his tool bag and then lifted the balaclava up to reveal his features. He still sported the mustache and goatee he'd begun growing over a year ago. Glancing back over the railing to get the full vertiginous effect of his climb he grinned unabashedly.

He was reminded of a quote as he dug his lockpicks out of the bag and headed for the French doors that he would be using to gain entry to the apartment. That which is done out of love always takes place beyond good and evil. Darien chuckled as those words rolled through his mind, finding them oddly apropos for the current situation. He could remember reading Beyond Good and Evil back in college, but it was the early 19th century copy 'Chele had gotten him for Christmas that he was currently thinking of. 'Chele would be the one person who would understand that he loved his job.

This job.

He occasionally wondered at the deeper meaning of that love, but he generally refused to look too deeply at his penchant for acquiring other's property, as Michele called it. Psychoanalyzing himself on the subject was not something he was overly interested in.

With a quick efficiency he used the picks on the sad excuse for a lock and swung the doors wide as he entered. Granted it was the 23rd story, making the likelihood of a break-in via the outside balcony at least a million to one. He snorted softly. Guess that made him number one. He swapped the picks for a flashlight and scanned it about the room to make sure everything was still as it had been when he'd cased the place. With a barely restrained glee Darien spoke into the darkened room, "Oh yeah."

With unconcern for his bared countenance he strode to the portrait hanging on a nearby wall. He knew the security for this building was focused on intruders coming in through the interior, so cameras and alarms were focused in the exterior hallways and main doors of the apartments themselves.

He stuck the flashlight in his mouth and lifted the frame off the wall; he made sure to hit the hidden trigger that deactivated the first of the security measures for the safe that was revealed. He set the picture against the wall near his feet then removed the compact power drill from the bag he carried and set to work. Within minutes he had the hole drilled to the depth he needed and put the drill away. Next, he withdrew a small case that looked golden in the light of the flash and inside of which were eight small homemade explosives that were chemically very similar to plastique. Those few chemistry courses he'd taken back in college had paid off, though admittedly in an unusual way. Choosing two, he carefully packed them into the hole and added the pre-wired detonator cap. He attached the wires, double-checked all the connections and then fed out the wire, making sure they didn't tangle as he ducked around the corner of the wall.

The other end of the wires he set into the awaiting places on the handheld detonator that he had to search a bit to find, but after a moment found it stuffed into an odd spot in the bag. He shifted the flashlight from one side of his mouth to the other as he waited a moment for the small green LED to spring to life, signaling the connection worked and was active. Then he flipped the switch.

The bang was no louder than someone dropping a fair sized plate to the floor and should go unnoticed by the neighbors as the construction of this place virtually guaranteed soundproofing between floors, or so the blueprints had assured him. With a prize this valuable he'd made sure to do his homework. Stepping around the corner he nodded in satisfaction at the open door. He quickly coiled the remaining wire and tucked it away along with the detonator. In exchange he withdrew a small electronic device that looked oddly like a PDA, but had alligator clip wires trailing from it.

He activated it and proceeded to set the clips onto specific places on the electronic lock that was on the second safe door that took up about half the interior. He ignored the tightly bundled bills in the open section of the safe, his goal far more valuable than the, comparatively, small change the cash represented. With what was inside this other safe he could actually quit for a while, just like he'd told Casey a week ago when they'd been celebrating their anniversary.

He dragged himself back to the here and now at the beep that told him he had established a connection. He used the pen to tap a series of commands onto the screen. The lock was tricky, but he managed to override it in just under two minutes. Not his best time by any means with that style of lock, but definitely not his worst either. He would have to remember to send 'Chele a thank you gift for providing him with this newest piece of gear.

He turned the handle and was rewarded with the door swinging open easily. He grinned as the contents were revealed to him and pulled the flashlight from his mouth to examine them in more detail. "Sweet," he crowed sotto voce as he realized there was not the expected single bundle, but two. A gloved hand reached inside and removed one to shine the light over and make sure it was indeed what he was after. Through the multiple layers of clear plastic he could still make out the words 'pay to bearer' and 'Bank of Sierra Leone.' Without hesitation he shifted the empty backpack he wore around and shoved the bundle inside, followed by the second one, once he ascertained it was identical to the first.

He quickly set about closing the safe doors and replacing the picture back to its spot on the wall. The longer it took for the items to be noticed as missing the colder the trail back to him would become.

He'd have to make a point at hanging out at that bar more often if there was even the slightest chance of overhearing conversations like the one that lead to this bounty. One last check and he retraced his steps through the French doors, which he locked, and out onto the balcony. With a swift economy of motion he attached the rope to the climbing harness and swung over the side. He compensated for the additional weight on his back, adjusted the traction on the pulley and let himself just slide down the rope at a near free-fall. He counted the floors as he whipped past them and applied the brake so that he touched the ground with no more force than if he was stepping down off a curb. With a practiced flick of his wrist the rope detached itself from the specially rigged carabiner high above to fall in coils and loops about him.

He quickly coiled the rope and tossed it over his shoulder then jogged for the nearby alleyway where he'd left his current incarnation of a vehicle. It wasn't much, just old '65 Dodge Dart GT in dark green that he'd stumbled across and bought spur of the moment. It had cost him a couple thousand to purchase and he'd put a couple more into it to fix it up. Someone had redone the engine and exhaust system so the beast at least got more than 10 miles to the gallon. He couldn't explain why, but he liked the car.

He opened the trunk, shifted the rug and lifted the floor panel, which revealed an empty spot where one would expect the spare tire. He stripped out of the harness and balaclava, tossed the kit bag into the space after removing the lockpicks and replaced the cover. He set the backpack down and removed his jacket, turning it inside out to reveal the reversible side, which was a dark gray and then placing the lockpicks in an inner pocket. He ran his hands through his hair to make it stand upright again and then glanced at his watch. 1:30 AM, Casey would beheading home from her late shift at Cabrillo in half an hour. With a grin and a sudden urge to celebrate a job well done, he decided to sit on her front stoop and give her an enthusiastic greeting when she arrived home. If he worked things right, they'd be seeing the sunrise before either of them fell asleep.

He had one more thing to do before he could drive over to her place. He grabbed the backpack and slammed the trunk shut before trotting around to the driver's side door. Sliding inside, he reached under the passenger seat for the US Postal service box he'd left underneath. The to and from address sections were already filled out. The to one of his aliases that he used for his PO Boxes and the from a local beauty shop, Mona's, where he bought most of his hair supplies and who he'd worked for a couple years back as a model. They regularly shipped items; another box of this size would go unnoticed among the dozens they sent out during the week.

Still wearing the gloves, he slipped the paper-ream sized bundles out of the backpack and into the box, thankful he'd gone with the larger one since he'd stumbled onto the unexpected windfall. A couple strips were peeled off and it was sealed and ready for mailing. He started the engine, pulled out of the alleyway and turned left onto the one way street. Mona's was just a couple blocks over and he headed there. He parked on the street out front, got out and carried the now nondescript package to the bank of postal boxes that were used by several of the shops on this block. With a quick use of his lockpicks he had the pick-up box open and his box in with the letters and other packages waiting for the local mail carrier to appear in the morning.

He locked the box and strolled back to his car, doing his best to look completely nonchalant and at ease. The few people who drove by would probably have no memory of him or simply assume he was walking back to his car from the bar three doors down. He stripped off his gloves as he got behind the wheel, his fingers grasping and releasing the leather of the steering column as he finally allowed himself to add up the total of his take for tonight. Two bundles at roughly 500 sheets per, with a face value of $1000 each....

Oh yeah, he was going to be retiring for a while. Maybe take Casey on a cruise to Acapulco once he'd cashed in some of the bonds. Just kick back, relax and enjoy life for a while.

Damn, he loved his job.