Four friends plan the bank robbery that will make them rich.
Planning
Here we are, a bunch of guys. All raised in stable homes, university-educated, with bright futures ahead of us. And yet, here we sit, planning a bank robbery.
The bank in question is one of the few remaining in Sweden that still handles large amounts of cash. By pure chance, a hookup from a few weekends ago when I ended up in bed with a woman who works at the bank, I found out about it. After having probably had far too much to drink, she told me that a large sum of money, close to a billion, was going to be transferred from the bank to the central bank’s vault.
There will be a tactical police unit on site protecting the transport, which takes place at night. But classic bank robberies like the one we’re planning haven’t happened in Sweden for over ten years, so security will probably be pretty relaxed.
My name is Christoffer, and my partners are Fredrik, Jonas, and Muhammed. We met and got to know each other during the engineering program we just finished after four tough but fun years.
Getting into this whole bank robbery thing is really just a stupid bet to prove that we dare. And probably because of unhealthy peer pressure.
At first, everyone except me, the one who came up with the idea, was reluctant. But the thought of the amount of money, and what we could do with our lives with it, has pulled everyone in. And with real enthusiasm, too.
Jonas, who has traveled all over the world his whole life, has a lot of contacts. He’s managed to smuggle in some old Russian assault rifles with ammunition from Ukraine, via the Czech Republic.
We’ve been planning the robbery all week and feel very confident that we’ll succeed. The amount of beer consumed during the planning sessions has probably done its part to boost everyone’s confidence.
Fredrik, who’s an excellent driver with several years of racing experience in folk racing, is the obvious getaway driver. The getaway car is a BMW 535i that we managed to steal the night before. It should have enough power and speed to get us away.
I’ll act as the leader and take point on the armored transport. Muhammed will be with me, loading the bags of money into the car. Jonas will keep watch and keep the police and the transport guards in check.
Tomorrow night is the night, so we decide to turn in early to be well-rested.
The seriousness of what’s about to happen affects all of us. The usual lighthearted, joking atmosphere is gone, replaced by something stiff and quiet. Everyone is nervous and rightly so. But we’ll pull this off.
We call it a night and go to bed. I can’t settle down, tossing and turning for a long time before finally falling asleep. From what I can hear, the others are having just as much trouble.
We’re all sleeping in my apartment. My friends are on air mattresses and in sleeping bags, while I sleep in my bed.
The creaking of the air mattresses is deafening tonight, but eventually it fades as everyone finally falls asleep.
I wake up late in the morning, not feeling rested. My eyes feel gritty, and there’s a dull pounding in my head. We only had a few beers, so it’s probably just the bad sleep. I lie there listening for a while, but only hear faint snoring from the living room.
I grab my phone. 11:39. I scroll through Facebook. Fredrik shows as online, so I’m not the only one awake. I mindlessly scroll, liking a few posts before putting the phone down and sitting up.
My gaze lands on the pile of clothes on the floor. Black military gear bought online. We’ll all be dressed the same. The tactical vest with magazine pouches filled with AK47 magazines lies there too. I hadn’t expected the ammunition to be this heavy. Six magazines in the vest and one in the weapon might be overkill, considering the goal is not to fire at all. But it is what it is, we can’t leave anything behind.
After the robbery, the car with all the clothes and weapons will be burned deep in the forest on a logging road to eliminate all traces. My old Volvo 850 is already parked there so we can leave with it and all our money.
I wonder how long we’ll need to hide the money before using it. Maybe exchange it abroad. We haven’t even discussed that part. Oh well—we’ll figure it out.
The Robbery
After a silent drive, we’re now parked outside the bank.
As soon as the doors open and the carts with money bags start rolling out, we’ll move fast, guns raised and hopefully catch the guards and police off guard before they can react.
Everyone is nervous. Foot tapping, fingers drumming, sighs, whistles, every possible nervous tic fills the car. Everyone except Fredrik, who sits behind the wheel, eerily calm.
Then the doors open.
My pulse spikes. My hands tremble. Now.
We pull down our masks and rush out.
A guard sees us, but before he can react, I fire a short burst into the air.
“Get down! Nobody gets hurt, we just want the money!”
At first, it goes well.
Then a black-clad officer appears, weapon raised, an MP5. I instinctively fire. He drops.
And then all hell breaks loose.
Gunfire erupts. Glass shatters. I drop to the ground and close my eyes. I hear my heart best, my breathing. Muhammed and Jonas is firing beside me.
Seconds feel like minutes.
I open my eyes and get up and push forward, firing into the bank. Another one goes down. The rest scatter.
How many are there?
We grab as many bags as we can and drag them back. They’re insanely heavy.
We move in rotation, two carrying, one covering. Like commandos. Adrenaline pumping.
We reach the car. Fredrik floors it. Tires screaming.
At first, no one follows.
Then, a police car.
Jonas and I turn and fire. It doesn’t take long before the police car stops. Officers jump out and dive for cover.
We’re free.
Cheers erupt. High fives.
Then we notice Muhammed.
Blood pouring from his chest.
We try to reach him.
But his breathing fades… and stops.
The Escape
We follow the plan, burn the car, ditch the weapons.
We leave Muhammed by the roadside.
We take what money we can and head for the airport.
A few hours later, we’re at Arlanda.
We board a flight to Las Palmas.
As the plane takes off, relief turns into smiles.
I lean back.
And fall asleep.
Reality Catches Up
A voice.
“DON’T MOVE MOTHERFUCKER!”
I open my eyes.
Three police officers stand over me, weapons aimed at my face.
The closest one has three bullet holes in his vest.
It’s him. The one I shot.
Pain explodes in my chest.
I look down. Blood.
I look left, Muhammed lies motionless on the steps.
Jonas curls on the ground, clutching his stomach.
Fredrik lies face down, handcuffed.
Then I realize
I can’t feel my legs.
Or anything below my chest.
Darkness creeps in.
And I understand.
There was never an escape.
This was the moment I never survived.
And now…
I drift away.
Forever.
It didn't seem right for Sweden. But then didn't mass murder either until that happened at the camp that time–Terrible.
Your initial description was rather flat, and followed American movies and myth about the way bank robberies are done. So, it wasn't interesting, until the tables were turned with that surprise ending. I really liked the ending, but a careful rewrite of the buildup to the robbery would keep the reader interested to arrive at that cool conclusion.
Books 1 & 2 of Never Leave Your Monastery, both in one volume. This Collector's Edition features the ORIGINAL ART of the Author, over 25 hand-drawn illustrations.
Although available elsewhere; the author urges you
Planning
