Tim barely slept that night. He even repelled Josephine’s advances and did not share his concerns with her. His conversation with Jon replayed numerous times in his mind. He was stressed about the burglary, but, unfortunately for him, he also had other things to worry about. Should he succeed, the loot from Bradford’s house would most likely be enough for him to buy her the necessary equipment, but, even so, he still had no idea about the person who had hired Kirkland. The only female scientist on her staff, Dr. Silver, was blonde and stood at an impressive 5’11”. As time went by, Tim believed less and less that Laura was responsible; she simply did not fit the profile. In his overwhelming confusion, it occurred to him that he still had not met her father. Burt Maddox was the only man who had a motive and a possible confrontation could provide him some answers. Nevertheless, he would not attempt such a thing, less than 24 hours before the burglary. He had to focus on the job; meeting with Maddox could only distract him.

As promised, Jon picked him up at midnight. Tim had had to cope with an emotional Josephine; she could not hide her concern and kept hugging him, long before Jon even arrived. He tried to convince her that everything would go well, but he failed quite miserably. His girlfriend was way too upset to believe him.

Ninety minutes later, Jon turned his massive Chevrolet pickup truck right, entering a grove, more than fifty yards away from the entrance of Actors Colony Road. As soon as it was brought to halt, he turned off the lights and lay back in his seat. Much to his surprise, Tim pulled a black uniform out of his backpack and started taking his clothes off.

“Dude, a uniform?” He wondered, turning his head to the right to face him. “Really?”

“The rain just stopped.” Tim muttered, removing his shoes. “It’s going to be muddy as hell out there. I’ll to have to crawl through a hole and run on the mud. I’ve brought an extra pair of shoes, too. I’ll get rid of everything as soon as we’re done. Imagine being pulled over by the cops. What’s a pair of muddy jeans going to look like?”

“Smart thinking,” Jon remarked. “What are you going to do with the money?”

“I haven’t thought about it yet.” Tim replied, putting his black, ski mask on. “What about you?”

“Jamaica, baby!” He cheered. “I want to buy a house there.”

“Just hack the damn thing.” Tim urged. “I’ll do the rest.”

“Yes, sir,” Jon saluted him. Just when he finished his sentence, the two men noticed headlights in a distance. They belonged to a red van, with a large, ancient helmet mural on the side and a big, bright sign on the roof, in black letters:

“Spartan Security”

“Showtime…” Jon murmured, starting the massive engine of his truck. He then put it in reverse and backed out of the grove, before turning left. All four tires picked up mud and gravel from the road, as he put his foot hard down on the gas pedal. He climbed the uphill road and then turned right, into Actors Colony Road. Tim had never felt so stressed about a burglary. His heart was beating so loudly that he could hear it, as they passed by one luxurious mansion after another. Predictably, the expensive, suburban neighborhood was empty and quiet. Bradford’s house was located at the end of it and to the right. It was by far the largest and most extravagant in the neighborhood, featuring a huge, grey, iron fence gate. Jon eased up on the brakes, allowing his truck to roll slowly down the road.

“Alright,” Jon started. “Get over there and wait. I’ll tell you when I’ve disabled those sensors. Bradford’s bedroom’s on the first floor, second door on the right. Remember: You got two minutes, before all hell breaks loose. Good luck.”

Tim merely nodded to his friend, before opening the passenger door. Crouching low, he ran towards the gate, with a large sports bag in his hand. He put his hands on the 4ft-tall, stone column, jumped over it and into the garden. The mud sank beneath his feet. He cast a furtive glance right; the lights were out in the house closest to Bradford’s. Bringing his gaze forward, he raced along the wide garden. Upon reaching the rear garden, he slowed down and stopped. He threw another glance right; fortunately, the neighboring house was completely dark.

Turning around, he faced the glass, back door. Then, Tim sat on his knees, throwing the sports bag onto the ground in front of him. Anxiously waiting to hear Jon’s voice in the intercom, he unzipped it and pulled out a black, pistol-like, laser glass cutter. For the first time ever, his fingers trembled as he raised it at shoulder height. He shut his eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath. Josephine’s smiling face flashed through his mind.

“I want to make you smile again.” He thought to himself, as his eyes snapped open. In a split second, his grip around the glass cutter handle grew immensely tighter.

“All set.” Jon’s signal sent his adrenaline into the ozone layer. Tim pointed the device at the door and pressed the button. A tiny puff of smoke went up in the air, as the red beam made contact with the glass. Slowly and steadily, it began to cut out a glass circle, from left to right. He held out his left hand, as the cutter reached the top. The large chunk of glass fell outward and into his palm. Tim put the device back in his sports bag and used both hands to ease the piece of glass down onto the ground. He put his hand into his sports bag and pulled out his flashlight, before tossing it through the hole.

“One minute and thirty seconds.” Jon spoke through the intercom, as he crawled through the hole. Using his left hand, Tim once more grabbed the sports bag and jumped up. He turned on the flashlight and pointed it across from him. There was a staircase, more than fifty feet away from him. He sprinted across the massive living room, the sound of his heavy footsteps echoing back at the walls. Climbing the stairs, he pointed the flashlight right. The door to Bradford’s bedroom came into view, just when he reached the top landing. It lay at least thirty feet down the hall. Tim rushed towards it, a drop of sweat dripping down his brow. Stopping before the door, he threw the sports bag onto the floor and pointed the flashlight down at the doorknob, on the left side of the door. Much to his disappointment though, the door was locked.

“Fuck!” He cried, his stentorian voice bouncing off the walls.

“One minute.” Jon said, adding to his immense frustration. Tim raised his right leg and kicked at it. His first attempt failed. One more, even more violent kick sent the door more than ten feet across the bedroom. He picked up the sports bag and entered. Noticing Bradford’s bed, he went to the left. He pulled a small explosive charge and a detonator out of the bag and planted it on the door of the safe, just below the lock. Finally, he crouched low, covering his ears and pressed the button. The powerful blast rocked the bedroom. Hundreds of chunks of concrete and metal were ejected across it. His ears started buzzing, as he waved the smoke away.

“Thirty seconds. Hurry up!” Jon’s spoke once more, as the smoke cleared. An unbelievable sight met Tim’s eyes. Numerous stacks of green bills were piled on top of one another. Without wasting any time, he brought the bag in front of him and reached out his right arm. Tim started throwing large stacks into it, feeling his heart ready to explode. The fact that he still held the flashlight did not help him, but he didn’t have much choice. Second by second, his sports bag became heavier.

“Fifteen seconds. Get your ass out of there!” Jon’s last sentence forced him to stop. He turned his body left and jumped out of bed, holding the bag tightly in his hand. It was so heavy that he could barely lift it. Tim turned left and sprinted along the hall, as fast as he could. He was so stressed that he began to jump over the steps.

“Ten, nine, eight…” Jon’s countdown began, as soon as he landed on the living room. He made a dash towards the back door, fixing his gaze on the hole. His friend’s voice quivered, as the he counted down the last few seconds.

“Five, four, three…” Tim tossed the bag through the hole, before lunging through it. He landed flat and hard on his chest, just next to the sports bag, banging his head against his left forearm. His hands sank into the muddy soil, before he rolled over onto his back, gasping for breath. Before he could address Jon though, his ears were filled with the loud, piercing sound of the alarm. Picking up the sports bag, he jumped up.

“Jon, what the hell?” He spoke through the intercom, his voice riddled with tension. “Why did the goddamn alarm go off?”

“You must have destroyed the touch sensor on that door.” Jon his voice filled with panic, yelled, “Where are you?”

“I’m on my way.” Tim replied, hurtling towards the gate. As he approached it, he realized that Jon’s truck was facing in the direction that they had come from. Tim quickly zipped the bag and tossed it over the gate. It landed on the sidewalk as he put his hands on the stone wall. Tim jumped over it and grabbed the bag. He moved around Jon’s truck and threw it inside, before opening the passenger door. Tim got in, but Jon didn’t give him enough time to close the door. Instead, he slammed his foot hard down on the gas pedal. The massive engine roared as Jon drove off, with both men casting frightened, furtive glances around them. The two friends had been lucky. Everything had happened very quickly and the alarm had not awakened any of Bradford’s neighbors. The house closest to his was still dark and the same could be said about the one across from it.

“Man, what the hell happened out there?!” Tim protested, pulling and closing the passenger door.

“The backup system kicked in and tried to get a signal from a touch sensor. It didn’t.” Jon explained, as his truck sped up the road. “How did it go?”

“You were right.” Tim sighed in relief, tilting his head back. “If I had enough time, I’d need a wheelbarrow to carry all that money. I did take a lot, though.”

“How much do you think?” Jon inquired, easing on the brakes, as they reached the end of the road.

“I don’t know; I couldn’t see that well.” Tim claimed. “Just drive us out of here, will you?”

“We made it, baby.” Jon positively affirmed, glancing at the dark road on the right, as a broad smile spread across his face. Tim ignored him; he couldn’t share his enthusiasm just yet. Yes, the security van was not there, but many things could still go wrong.

“Take us back to New York,” Tim urged, still feeling the adrenaline in his veins. “I still have to ditch this uniform.” He added, pulling his mask up and over his head.

“Aren’t you the least bit curious about how much money you stole?” Jon raised his tone, turning to him.

“Sure. Pull over; let’s count it right here. We’ll tell the cops that we took it for a stroll around the park.” Tim’s voice was dripping with sarcasm. “We’re going to your place. I don’t want to wake up my sister.”

“Whatever you say, big Tim.” Jon smiled up at him, before turning his gaze to the road up ahead. “Whatever you say.”