5:28 P.M., Fade In…

In these next few moments my investments of time and planning will reap the dividends…

I’ve calculated the odds, run the data a million times, every detail designed to inflate those figures to my favor (The Masters in Statistics paying off)…

I take the last few seconds and steps to finalize my mindset:  controlled, fast, calm, the blood pounding in my ears…

Susan Moncrief approaches the door with her key, right on time…  Too late she notices me, confusion at first, then panicked realization, same as most managers…

I pounce on the double glass doors, raise my parkarized friend…

I bark orders, angry but precise, (a convincing façade)…  I reserved forty-five seconds for initial crowd management…

Brian Kelly, new employee, just out of college, more dollars then sense, wants to negotiate…  The butt of my piece between his eyes and negotiations are over, everybody drops (The Martial Arts paying off)…

I’m at the tellers; I jump atop the waist-high counter from a stand still, agile, slick. (The intense exercising paying off)…

The military watch hidden under my coat sleeve buzzes.

5:29 P.M.

I know the layout, the employees, the customers, the procedures, the SOP for a hit… (The reconnaissance and homework paying off)

I thrust the satchel at them and they fill it, never taking their eyes off the end of my right hand…

I know which bundles not to take, what part of the drawers set off alarms and hide dye-packs…  I’m thorough, focused, disciplined and smart, not letting greed influence me, not deviating from the statistically proven plan (The years in the military paying off)…

This will mark some forever, they’ll never set foot in a place like this again.  The Asian teller, Kim, is one of them.  Others will have a burning hatred for me forever…

I leap off the counter and out the door, satchel in hand.  Feels like forty to fifty thousand.  Statistics right again, always the most money on Friday, right before closing. 

Phase two of my tactical plan begins... 

Outside, I hear the wail of the approaching good intentioned cavalry.  No matter, my selections, rural wooded areas, works against them, from the road they come, through the woods I go.

My watch buzzes again.

5:30 P.M.

Open my hidden hole, place the money in the cooler filled with ice water.  Any surviving tracers laid to waste.  In goes the gun, mask, coat, gloves.  Cover the hole, come back when things cool down.

I hop on my waiting mountain bike, ride to my van, bike in the back.

My watch buzzes once more.

5:31 P.M.

Drive the half mile to the on-ramp…  Freedom.

Fade Out…