Indiscreet while Undercover

"What if you had a friend that would ..." She swallowed hard and didn't complete her question. I was left wondering if she meant that she could be the friend.

"I would always welcome a friend," I offered keeping it deliberately vague.

Then I considered how I might keep her from being arrested. I knew the guys would wear gloves when loading their weapons or when in the armored truck but had anyone considered that Brandy may not know about precautions. "Brandy, have you wiped all your fingerprints off the stroller?"

"No?"

"Do that in the morning with a cloth soaked in soapy water and then wear gloves. There is every chance that the stroller will be crushed and left at the scene. You don't want to leave any evidence for the police." I felt slightly comforted thinking that if Brandy just disappeared after the heist, maybe no one would ever find out who she was.

My thoughts on how to protect Brandy were constantly being side-tracked by her appearance and feminine gestures. This distraction resulted in me staying silent. After a while I realized this was a little embarrassing so not having a reason to linger, I stood up to give my farewells. Just as I began to turn, Brandy held my arm and pressed a kiss to my cheek. Her affection was evident as she added: "Please be careful tomorrow."

"You know, that is exactly what I wanted to say to you ... keep safe." Finally, I said: "Good night."

For the rest of the evening, I kept thinking how Brandy could escape and avoid being arrested. Of course, I had to consider when the Bureau should intervene. They needed to be able to convict Miguel, so it would have to be after the weapons exchange. They also wanted to snare the Wyoming group. Maybe knowing Bill's cousin's name would be enough?

It was Friday, the day of the heist. In the morning we relaxed before Bill and I changed into our uniforms at midday. Bill had given me the full tactical belt in which I placed my pistol and spare magazines. We both preened ourselves and rehearsed giving our police directions in front of the mirror.

I then placed my duffle bag in the back of Earl's GMC Sierra so that I would have a change of clothes at the warehouse. As I hadn't brought much to the club, it contained all my belongings. Bill and Brandy had already done likewise with their bags. Rosie then introduced us to a stooped old lady.

Brandy had been decked out in a plus size, below the knees, red and white gingham check, swing dress over which she wore a knitted white cardigan. She looked completely different as her body had been padded to increase the size of her bust and stomach. The grey wig, wire rimmed glasses covering a solemn expression, completely changed her sweet countenance.

Bill claimed that Rosie had stolen a tablecloth to make the dress. Terry called her Granny May. I was pleased that she was wearing white cotton gloves. They just added to the appearance of eccentricity. Terry had somehow dyed his hair grey and wore dowdy clothes.

At 1.30 pm, Terry placed the stroller in Bill's car as Brandy and I joined them. We then moved off after Earl and Victor left in the stolen Ford Raptor. Tyrone had already departed in Earl's GMC so he could be in position. Our team arrived at the destination carpark just after 2 pm. We waited a little while to limit our exposure on the streets.

Terry accompanied by Brandy pushing her stroller, sedately made their way to the coffeehouse. Bill and I followed ten minutes later.

There were about twenty shops either side of the road. Bill and I strolled casually looking in each shop and then stopping regularly as if to consult. The wait was longer than we had expected. This delay just added to the tension and my internal conflict. I hated crime, yet here I was hoping the heist went off without problems.

When Terry and Brandy stepped out of the coffeehouse, I knew it would be only a few more minutes. Bill and I entered and while I sat down, he ordered two coffees. I had a seat that gave me a clear view of the pedestrian crossing.

It all happened very quickly. I was first alerted by the screech of tires. When I stood almost everyone else in the coffeeshop did likewise. Bill followed me outside to the scene where Brandy was putting on a hysterical performance. It was so convincing that my first thought was to check to see if she had really been hurt.

"My baby!" Was her sorrowful cry. She really appeared inconsolable.

In spite of the truck's engine still running, Terry awkwardly crawled under the front of the truck towards the bent stroller which was trapped on its side below the drive shaft. Terry had been instructed to be first to the stroller, but to slow the rescue until we had the guards out of the cab.

As I had hoped, the non-driving security guard had already dismounted. I immediately pretended calling on my broken radio: "This is 2-Adam-8, Code 6. Suspected DWI at serious pedestrian accident. Baby involved. Send ambulance." After a pause, I confirmed the message with: "Acknowledged."

As I moved to the driver's side, Bill tried to control about a dozen spectators.

I tapped on the driver's window. He looked down at me without response prompting me to order loudly: "Please turn off the engine and step out!"

He turned off the engine but just sat there. It wasn't stubbornness as I could see he was uncertain about what to do. I summoned up my sternest look and emphatically directed: "Get out now!"

The implied threat seemed to work as he opened the door partially to explain: "The rules are that I am not to leave the vehicle other than at a destination."

I gave a look of incredulity and sarcastically questioned: "Do you have rules for running over babies?" As he looked back at me blankly, I exploded: "Have you been drinking? Get down now!"

He reluctantly complied. Just as he finished locking the door, I grabbed his keys saying: "I will hold these until I ascertain if you are competent. Move to the sidewalk."

Bill had moved all the spectators back inside the coffeeshop and was holding the other guard back from the truck. Vince had arrived, but he was quickly under the truck with Terry. Earl had appeared and was now comforting a debilitated and forlorn Brandy.

Once the two guards were together, I surreptitiously passed the truck keys to Bill. Making a pretense of conducting an interview, I pulled a notepad from by pocket.

With perfect timing, Victor appeared with a bundle in his arms declaring: "The baby's alive but we should take her to the hospital."

Earl shouted to Victor: "I have wheels. We cannot wait for an ambulance. Bring the baby. Madam, please get in my vehicle."

No one questioned these actions. Terry had now retrieved the bent stroller that looked to be in surprisingly good condition as he wheeled it away.

Earl then shouted: "Can you move the armored truck to let me through." This had not been rehearsed, but as there were now a dozen cars behind Earl's, this development was a perfect improvisation.

The driver turned to move, but I grabbed him saying: "You are not going anywhere until I know you are safe to drive." As the armored truck started, I reassured him with: "My partner will just take it around the corner and remain with the truck until backup arrives."

As the truck moved off followed by the Ford Raptor, I said: "This will be easier if we sit down. Let's grab a table in the coffeehouse."

I led and the guards obediently followed. I pointed to seats for them to occupy. I remained standing, however as I wanted them to believe everything was normal, I ordered them: "Get out your company ID's and ..." indicating the driver, "... I will need to see your driver's license. I am just going to contact my watch commander. He will call your security company to get a replacement crew to take charge of your truck. I also need to cancel the ambulance. Stay here while I make my calls."

I then stepped outside and started talking into my radio. "This is 2-Adam-8. Request 2 Lincoln 10 contact California Armored Security for a replacement crew." While I continued talking loudly, I started walking in an easterly direction down the sidewalk. "Also cancel the ambulance. Patient has been taken to hospital ... Roger ... Yes, Acknowledged ..."

I was now over 30 yards away from the coffeehouse. Just ahead of me was a narrow laneway. I turned into it so I couldn't be seen from the street. At the back of the shops was a solid timber fence with a backer rail at a convenient height for me to step onto as I jumped over. I was now in a small park. Walking calmly, it was less than two minutes before I joined Terry in the car.

"Is that all of us now?" Terry enquired.

"Yes. Bill's in the armored truck and Brandy is with Earl and Victor. Let's go."

It was only ten minutes to the warehouses. As we approached on the rear street, the black warehouse service door opened. Terry reversed in and parked between the Ford Raptor and Earl's GMC. Bill met us after he closed the door.

Terry didn't bother changing his clothes before he went next door to assist Earl. Bill and I gathered our bags from the GMC and changed out of the uniforms. I had just pulled on a cotton t-shirt and was about to pull on some chinos when Brandy appeared from behind a partition. Dressed in pleated shorts and a patterned tank top, she looked refreshingly appealing as if she was on vacation. Seeing me partially undressed, she gave a cheeky wolf whistle.

Finally, I then pulled out a light jacket to conceal the pistol I had placed in my waistband holster. Bill placed his bag in the back of his car. I hadn't been told which vehicle I would be leaving in, so I decided to put my bag in the back of the Ford Raptor. For some inexplicable reason, Brandy followed my lead.

Bill led us all to the missing panel in the adjacent wall where we sought out Earl. He was by the truck and ready to give directions. "Before you touch anything here, put on a pair of gloves. Bill, grab that rag and bleach, then wipe down all the surfaces you touched in the cab."

Indicating Brandy and myself, he said: "Over on that table sort the money from the cashboxes into stacks by denomination. Most of the notes are bundled in 100s so it won't be difficult. Then using the largest denominations, make up 300 grand for me to check. Here are two bags. One for the 300 grand; the other for the remainder."

Brandy and I started by sorting the cash into their respective piles. This was easy as each of the bundles had a distinctive color currency band indicating the size of the denomination. By the time the last cash box was emptied, we had also finished sorting. Brandy was counting aloud the numbers in each pile. "We have three stacks of 100s ... thirty-six of the 50s ... how many of the 20s do we need to make 300 thousand?"

I did a quick calculation and replied: "forty-five."

Brandy had pulled out a pencil and on one of the paper currency bands checked before confirming: "Your right!"

Brandy added the forty-five bundles of 20s to the 50s and 100s. With a nod from Earl, I picked up the black bag to stow the 300 grand.

"Wyatt, put the money for the exchange in the blue bag, please," Brandy appealed with the most pleading look.

"Are you superstitious or something?"

"No ... it is just my favorite color, and it just makes sense."

Ever willing to please her, I swapped the bags and packed the notes into the blue bag.

We then did a quick count of the remaining money. I called out the numbers as Brandy wrote them down. "There are another fifty-five 20s, thirty-three 10s, twelve 5s, one of 2s and seventeen 1s. There are also three fabric bags on the ground filled with wrapped coins." I then placed the notes into the black bag.

"That is an additional $150,900 without the coin," Brandy revealed.

Victor and Terry had completed packing up the tools and were taking them to the vehicles. As Earl joined us, I explained what we had. He directed: "Place both bags in my truck."

I carried the black bag and Brandy insisted on carrying the other. Earl followed us to the vehicles. Brandy then followed me as I returned for the three bags of coins.

We had just bent over by the table to pick up the bags when there was a cry: "Hello ... anyone in here?" We instinctively stood up and I felt a little dumbfounded when I looked at a LAPD policeman. He was standing inside the pedestrian doorway that can't have been locked.

Trying to remain calm, I replied: "Yes ... we are here?"

The policeman said: "What are you doing here. I thought this warehouse was vacant."

I just didn't need police interfering in the plan at this stage, so I found myself desperately thinking of a reasonable answer. I glanced towards the metal shed and was relieved to see that the guys had properly shut the door concealing the armored truck.

"We use this location for rehearsals, so we are not disturbed," I offered with unwarranted confidence.

Brandy quickly came to my aid when she contributed: "We don't normal have an audience so would you like to stay and hear us sing?"

The policeman remained silent for what seemed like an eternity. I am sure my own mind was following his thought processes as he considered our credibility and then Brandy's offer. He finally just said: "Lock up properly when you are finished."

He had turned and was leaving when a shot rang out ... quickly followed by several others. I knew that Tyrone was meant to be monitoring the street, so it had not occurred to me to wonder where he had been. His position on the elevated catwalk along the street side of the building was now obvious. He shot again into the street, before he turned to glare at Brandy and myself.

As if everything was happening in slow motion, I watched as he raised his pistol and aimed directly at Brandy. I heard her gasp as she also detected his intent before dropping to the ground just as he fired. Simultaneously I had been going for my own pistol. It seemed like my hands were sluggish as I undid the clip ... pulled the pistol from the holster ... aimed ... and pulled the trigger.

After jerking backwards due to the bullet's impact, Tyrone fell forward over the railing to the floor. I had aimed for his chest. He now lay completely still.

My training kicked in as I picked up my discharged cartridge case and placed it into my pocket before turning to Brandy. She was crouched in a squat with her head faced down. I leant over and gently touched her tensed shoulders and calmly whispered: "It is alright now."

A moment later we were joined by Earl who squatted beside us. "What happened?" he enquired as he stared towards the open swing door. I then realized he had not seen me shoot Tyrone. I wasn't certain if Tyrone was dead, but I deduced that if he was still alive, he would not be willing to confess the truth.

Keeping it brief, I explained: "A cop turned up. Tyrone opened fire and he must have been shot in return."

I followed Earl to where Tyrone lay. Earl tried to find a pulse but quickly concluded he was dead. He turned to Bill and Terry and sternly commanded: "Grab Tyrone and get him out of here."

He then handed me the keys for the Ford as he implored: "Cover us until we get out and then take the Ford truck."

"OK!"

Just before he ran off, he added: "Give us at least two minutes."

It was only seconds before I sprung up the stairs to the catwalk. Although bullets could penetrate the side of the building, I would remain concealed and peek from various positions from below the row of open windows.

The policeman that had come to the door was lying in a culvert on the other side of the road. He would be safe if he didn't move which is what I wanted. The police car was facing away further up the road to the west. I then noticed the partner was behind the vehicle. I assumed he had already reported the shooting as he was now moving to the trunk of the car. I needed to stop him.

Both the police carried sidearms, but their return fire would be ineffective if I constantly moved. I wanted to stop the partner accessing the higher velocity rifles that would be locked in the trunk.

I carefully aimed and fired one round into the rear of the police car. It had the desired effect as he scampered back behind the wheels of the vehicle. I immediate repositioned myself.

My intention was to make them believe they would be shot while expending the least amount of ammunition. Occasional well-spaced shots would make it less obvious when I finally made my retreat.

Although it had seemed a long time, I guessed it had only been about one minute. I now checked my watch and continued to observe. My intent was to only fire if they moved. I hoped they were smart enough to wait for their backup rather than be heroes.

Two minutes was almost up. The partner was occasionally bobbing his head over the rear of the car to observe. A final shot to quell his enthusiasm before I left was required. This time I aimed away from him into the right side of the vehicle so he would hear the impact. I then bolted.

I stepped into the adjacent black warehouse and took a moment to lean the removed panel back into position. I then dragged an old desk to fix it in place.

As I ran for the Ford, I noticed someone had helpfully left the door wide open for my quick entry. It was only then, as I stared the motor, that I noticed Brandy standing by the service door with her hand ready on the button to close the chain mechanism.

I rolled out of the warehouse and just as I stopped, Brandy was opening the passenger door. Once she was in, I drove off to the east.

As I drove, I scanned in all directions for any police response. After a few minutes of no sightings or sirens I started to relax. I looked at Brandy and we both sighed with relief. I then presented each of my hands to Brandy so she could remove my gloves.

It then occurred to me to question why she had waited behind: "That was a foolish risk you took waiting for me."

"I didn't like that you were left on your own. Plus, the alternative was unattractive," she declared in a dogmatic tone.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I didn't fancy going with Terry and Bill who have been tasked to quietly dispose of Tyrone and then disappear until Monday. I didn't like the idea of being with Victor or Earl. Victor is dull and I have been avoiding being alone with Earl for the last two months. Besides Earl needed someone to give you instructions."

"What are they?"

"We are to stay together all the time and keep a low profile." As an aside she added: "I still think Earl has trust issues." Then reciting in a bland manner, she continued: "We are to ensure that neither of us makes any outside contact. Then you are to bring this pickup to the agreed RV on Sunday morning, but you need to be there half an hour early. Earl will meet you there with the cash."

Having finished her dictated instructions she asked: "Does that make sense to you?"

"Yeah ... that's clear, thanks."

"Do you know where you are heading."

"Until now, I have just been content driving and keeping off the major roads. What do you suggest?"

"We should find a nice motel somewhere quiet."

"$200 won't go far. What did Earl say? Find a cheap motel."

"I also have a $200 package, plus some of my tip money."

I then suggested: "If I head a little south, we will be in Anaheim. There are plenty of hotels there." I would be happier outside of LAPD's jurisdiction, plus it wouldn't be any further from Long Beach.

"Do you think going to Disneyland would count as being low profile." This was said 'tongue in cheek' which impressed me that her perkiness had not been affected by the shooting.

As we drove down South Harbor Boulevard, I was looking for vacancy signs. Most of the hotels were full so at the first available vacancy, I drove in. It looked a little more expensive than I would normally select, but at least it pleased Brandy.