Burglary

Once the Watchdogs had a guess as to the criminal’s next target, they committed to staking the place out. In teams of two, they arranged their schedules so that most evenings, they could monitor the banks, and were poised to call 911 as soon as they saw something suspicious. At least, that was Whitey’s plan, but he wasn’t there; Fat Tony had other ideas.

Seventeen days after spotting the bandits on the main street, Fat Tony, Corky, and Karma were parked down the road from the banks, on the same side of the street so they could keep the minivan pointed in the right direction. They opted to bring Scarlett’s blue minivan so they could keep a low profile. Fat Tony’s truck and Corky’s construction van were too suspicious and identifiable considering it was after 1am and the streets were otherwise deserted. The fact Karma was slobbering and shedding all over the immaculate minivan interior didn’t bother Justin in the least. One couldn’t say the same for Scarlett’s reaction when she discovered it.

The guys were talking about random things—sports, work, kid’s upcoming school events—when suddenly, an alarm started blaring down the street. With nothing more than streetlights lit up, they couldn’t pinpoint which bank had been targeted, and no other vehicles were on the road. Fat Tony worried they’d miss their chance, and the criminals would escape from the back of the building. Rather than drive around to the rear entrance, Fat Tony hopped out of the van, pressing the button to open the rear door, and released Karma.

“Go get ’em, girl.” He issued the command to the world’s friendliest guard dog, and jogged along behind her, grateful he did that yoga class last month to get in better shape. Who knew chasing criminals would be so physically demanding?

Instead of running behind the bank, Karma darted across the street, down an alleyway between the bookstore and a politician’s office.

Fat Tony whisper-shouted at the dog, “Karma. Karma! Where are you going?” To his surprise, she didn’t reply, so he shrugged his shoulders and set off in the direction she went. Before he ventured off into the darkness after his favourite girl, he turned to his friend. “Corky, you stay here in case they come out of the bank. The cops are probably on their way because of the alarm, but we can’t let them get away.”

With a sheen of sweat accumulating over Corky’s straight ash brown eyebrows, he nodded in agreement with Fat Tony. He had his cellphone in hand and waved to show that he was ready to do his part. “Sure thing. I’ll stay here in the shadows and call 911 if I see anything happening over here.”

“Watchdogs: Assemble,” Fat Tony declared as he ran off into the dark

Karma was no longer in Fat Tony’s sights, so he worried his loyal companion was off facing the bad guys alone. He grabbed the bear mace from his belt holster, ready to pull the trigger should the need arise. He tiptoed along the back of the Member of Parliament’s headquarters, inching his way around dumpsters, fire escape ladders, and neglected shrubbery before he found himself standing behind a jewellery store with Karma sitting patiently, wagging her tail.

“What have ya got there, girl?”

Gord, Nelson, and Earle planned this heist to a tee. They knew exactly what to grab for the best score. They disarmed the alarm system, knew their escape routes, ETA for police to show up, everything. They staked the place out twenty-four hours a day in shifts over the previous week to determine the best time to hit it, and they’d never been so confident.

Confidence could be costly.

Something went wrong. Whether Earle failed to disarm the alarm system properly, or one piece they picked up had its own individual alarm, none of them knew, but what they did know was that the alarm was loud and bound to attract attention.

“Grab your loot and haul ass. We gotta get out of here,” Gord shouted to his counterparts through his black ski mask. He was sweating like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. He thought they had done enough jobs that they had learned the ins and outs. They’re skilled enough, their risks should have been minimal. They planned well enough, their contingency plans had contingency plans. But none of those plans involved the alarm going off. That was a given. A foregone conclusion that Earle would eliminate the alarm without issue.

Nelson and Earle didn’t need Gord to tell them what to do the second the ear-searing alarm sounded. They did one final arm sweep, scooping as much as they could into their bags, and turned for the back exit.

The three of them ran through the small space, shouting over each other about who failed to do their job right, but struggling to hear each other over the sound blaring in their ears. They stopped at the door to listen for commotion on the other side, not wanting to walk into an ambush, and once they were satisfied the coast was clear, they opened the door to rush into the darkness.

Gord took the lead, heading back to their cargo van with Earle and Nelson trailing behind. The man might be approaching fifty, but his long limbs provided an advantage neither of the other guys had. The van was parked seventy feet away, and Gord ate up that distance in just a few strides. The alleyway was dimly lit by a few neighbouring security lights and the full moon overhead, so they had to be cautious without losing time. In moments like those, every second counted.

As Gord opened the driver’s door, tossing his bag of loot inside, he heard Nelson shout, followed by a thud.

“Woah, doggy. Hey, there. Where did you come from?” Nelson’s voice was shaking as he addressed the massive dog that tackled him to the ground. He quickly understood the dog was only trying to lick his face. Nelson didn’t mind dogs, but he didn’t like them enough that he wanted a strange one licking his face; especially not when he was fleeing the scene of a crime.

Gord and Earle came running around the van and found Nelson on the ground, arms over his face, trying to fend off an eager dog’s tongue. They were equal parts irritated and relieved.

“Shoo. Get out of here, you mangy mutt! Scram!” the big man yelled. The dog didn’t rush off, but she unpinned Nelson and allowed him to get up. The bandits scrambled into the van while eyeing the dog, not willing to turn their backs on her. Once they were safely inside, they burned rubber, flinging up loose gravel in the alleyway as they made their escape.

“Where the hell did that dog come from? I didn’t even hear her coming, and next thing I knew, I was on the ground. For a second, I thought I was a goner.”

“She must be a missing dog. She had a collar, but no one else was around. You’re just lucky she was friendly,” Earle replied.

“I don’t know if I’d call being tackled and slobbered on lucky, but better than having my throat ripped out.” Nelson rubbed the sleeve of his black hoodie over his face, making noises of disgust. “That stupid dog licked my tonsils.” He tried to compose himself, and in the process, made a discovery. “Dammit. I dropped my bag.”

Gord nearly slammed the brakes at Nelson’s realization but thought better of it when he remembered why he was driving like a felon on the run. “What do you mean you dropped your bag?” Gord seethed through gritted teeth.

“Gee, Gord. What do you think I mean? I mean my ears were ringing from the damn alarm EARLE here didn’t disarm, so I got tackled by a bloody mammoth dog, and at some point, between when I was fearing for my life and protecting my face from drool, I lost my bag.” Nelson’s voice increased in volume the longer he spoke, so by the time he finished his rant, he was yelling.

Slamming a fist on the steering wheel didn’t ease Gord’s frustrations one bit. That was a third of their score, gone. All the planning and expense they put into that store, there was no margin for error. His fury blinded him enough, he drove back toward town, determined to find out who that dog belonged to. Whoever that person was would pay for their dog’s mistake.

Nelson patted himself down and made a second discovery, which he kept to himself. Somewhere along the way, he lost his cell phone. If Gord’s tantrum was any indication, his temper was at its limit, so that bit of information would remain Nelson’s secret.