I BARELY MADE it around the corner before one of them stormed into the hallway. I could tell his gun was leading the way, but didn’t bother peering around the corner. It was the same with him; he stopped halfway up the corridor before turning and running back to his friend. I caught some of the exchange before tip-toeing down into the row of darkened offices.
“Jeeezus Haddock! What the hell, man? I almost shot you.”
“Sorry man. Hey, don’t use my name. What if the guy hears you?”
“Then he’ll think we’re using fish as codenames.”
“Oh, ha ha.”
It went on like that for more time than I wanted to give it. But it confirmed that these guys weren’t professionals. So who were they? So far, the operation appeared to be a fairly straightforward bank heist. Using a low-yield explosive to disable the door controls and drive in a cube van. Maybe these were some last-minute hired goons. With fish names.
I could hear them proceeding down the corridor after me, but more cautiously this time, and paired up. It would be more challenging to take them out unless I could find a way to separate them. Also, there was still the third guy to contend with; the one who was sitting at my workstation. I had to make sure not to get boxed in.
I circled back to the low-walled cubicle farm that was opposite my desk, and hid under one of the soul-destroying cubical desks. I pulled the chair in as close as I could, and there I waited, perched on a plastic footrest beside a small wattage space heater. Didn’t need that tonight. I checked to make sure it was off before I died of heat exhaustion.
I could hear them closing in on me, and watched two sets of combat boots stomp past the cubicle entrance, before pausing and coming back.
“He’s in here somewhere. Leblanc would have seen him pass the security room.”
That seemed unlikely. The security room desk faced away from the door. If this guy was performing some kind of hack, he’d never see me coming. That was good to think about.
They made a lot of noise, going from cube to cube, and I could tell exactly where each of them was. Right now, they were practically kissing each other on the far side of the room, which gave me at most a five second head start to run back the way I came. So I reached up over my head and grabbed a bottle of correction fluid. Marveling that people still used this stuff, I crouched by the doorway and chucked it down the corridor. The cylindrical shape of the bottle got it rolling, so it went much farther than my noisy throw could have.
One of them took the bait and ran after it. Perfect. The other followed, but not too closely, opening up a route between me and the lunchroom. I moved as fast and as low as I could until I got to the grey linoleum tiles, then ducked into the lunchroom, past the empty serving tray while my stomach grumbled. I grabbed a coffee pod. The guy who wasn’t named Haddock was heading this way, but I kept below the windows of the lunchroom, so he didn’t see me. I opened my coffee machine and dropped in a pod. There was no way to reach the cupboards for a cup, so I did this the hard way. I’d probably have to clean it up later.
The coffee maker had maybe a 3-5 second delay before it started pumping super-heated water through the pod, so it gave me time to hide behind the door. Sure enough, the guy not named Haddock burst in and ran to the coffee machine as it spilled almost a dollar’s worth of coffee on the floor. He glanced down at the mess before I was on him. One good strike to the back of his head, and he went down into a pool of hot coffee and didn’t come back up. I dragged him by the feet back to the door and stowed him there. It was good enough for now.
Listening for the other guy, Haddock, I could see his shadow moving back to the cubicle farm. He was taking his time now, being extra careful because of my diversion. He kicked at the chairs in the cubicles, trying to provoke movement from around the desks.
“Hicks! Where are you?” he whispered in my direction. “Hicks?” After getting no response, he made his way to the grey linoleum, and I was waiting for him. However, he turned back to the security room and grabbed the third man, Leblanc.
I could hear snippets of argument from them, and as they approached the hallway, it cleared up.
“… was over by the other end of the cubicles. No, nothing. I think he made it to the stairwell.”
“Okay, well, sort it out. Find Hicks, secure the floor, and get this guy. Kill him if you have to. I’m heading to the truck for more gear, then back upstairs. If I see him in the stairwell, I’ll kill him.”
“Hicks?”
“No, you idiot. The guard.”
“Gotcha.”
“Now, retrace your path and meet back up after you deal with him.”
“Will do.”
Leblanc headed to the elevator and hit the buttons in both directions. When neither lit up, he nodded, then headed to the stairwell. That left just me and Haddock. As soon as the stairwell door closed, Haddock turned around, and I struck his gun with the baton, following it up with a backhanded swing to his jaw. I quickly grabbed his gun, ejected the magazine, locked the bolt to the rear. An unspent cartridge clattered on the floor. I moved the selector to FIRE and, with my apartment key, pushed out the captive receiver pin. The gun broke in half, and I tossed it on the floor.
I figured I had maybe another five to ten minutes before Leblanc was back upstairs, so I grabbed Haddock and dragged him into the lunchroom as well. I took Hicks’s gun and pocketed the spare magazine from Haddock. Since the old coffee machine wasn’t doing anything, I tore the power cord from the wall and the back of the machine, and used it to tie the two of them up. It wouldn’t hold them for long once they woke up. But then again, I did hit them pretty hard.
I walked back to the security desk and looked at my desktop computer. It was unplugged by now, and the monitor, keyboard, and mouse were also unplugged and thrown on the floor. Okay, scratch whatever plan I had that made use of the desktop. The phone handset was missing, and the phone was smashed, so I had to find another way. Luckily, the place was lousy with phones, so I ran back to the lunchroom and used the phone on the wall. I just had to dial 9 to get an outside line. I did so, and was greeted with an eerie digital silence. My first thought was that I screwed up somehow, so I tried another three or four times, but wasn’t able to get an outside line. I could call the offices, and when I dialed one of the nearby cubicles, I could hear it ringing. But no outside lines. Fair enough.
I pulled out my cellphone and dialed 9-1-1. It rang, and my phone went into emergency mode. I’m still laughing about the conversation.
“This is Emergency Services. Are you calling about an emergency?”
“Uh, yes.”
“Are you aware that you’re calling from a 519 area code?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Do you want me to transfer you to a 519 operator?”
“No, I’m here in Pickering.”
“Okay, what service do you need?”
“Police.”
“Transferring you now.”
I looked at my phone and raised an eyebrow, waiting for it to connect. When it finally connected, a gruff, middle-aged woman’s voice greeted me.
“Police Emergency Services.”
“I’d like to report a break-in at the Whitevale Bank in Pickering. I’m a security guard working there, and there appear to be at least three individuals with guns—”
“Sir, are you aware you’re calling from a 519 area code?”
“… Yes, I am aware of that.”
“But you’re in Pickering.”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“I see that your wireless provider has you pinging off a cellular tower in Pickering.”
“… Yes, I am aware of that.”
“And you say you’re at the Whitevale Bank?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Sir, the bank is closed.”
“I know. I’m a security guard.”
“And why aren’t you calling this in through the bank’s phone system?”
“They’ve cut the internal phone lines.”
“And so you’re calling from a cell phone registered in the 519 area code?”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“Okay, sir, are you aware that it is a crime to make a false emergency call?”
“I am aware of that.”
“We’ve already received a call from the business in question. They say they’re being harassed by some local individuals. They say someone’s been making a lot of prank calls to both the bank and Emergency Services.”
“Look, I don’t know about any of that. This is a serious call. There’s been a break-in at the Whitevale Bank in Pickering. The internal phone system isn’t working. This is my personal cell phone.”
“Sir, I’m logging this call.”
“Thanks so much—”
“If you call here again, we will charge you with making false emergency calls.”
“Yeah, but—”
“I don’t think you understand what kind of trouble you’re in—”
And just like that, she hung up on me.
I decided maybe another approach was necessary. I called Sarah instead.
Except it wasn’t working. My phone suddenly had no cell signal. I guess I didn’t understand what kind of trouble I was in.