The immediate priority now for Max and Star was to locate the drop point for the drug money. They knew most of the locations, but not this code name.
The routine they had established was working well. Star’s job was to carry the large satchel of keys that covered every known drop. After following the dealer to the drop, they would wait to see which locker was used. Then Max would take the specific key, remove the bag of cash, after checking that no one was watching the locker.
It was important to start the day early and stake out the dealers’ base. Today, the drug dealers’ car arrived at 9.00am. A short while later, three other men, each carrying a small canvas bag, entered the building separately.
“It looks like they are collecting the money from all the small dealers, and putting it into the single bag for the locker,” guessed Max, based on what he had seen at the previous base prior to rescuing Alf.
“I’ll get the scooter running and we can follow when they leave for the drop,” Star said, now very familiar with the routine. The last thing they needed was the scooter refusing to start at the last moment.
“Thanks Star. As soon as they come out with the bag, I’ll be with you.”
The minutes ticked by; another car arrived, one they had not seen before. Four men got out; one was carrying a large, black fabric sports bag, typically the type they used to carry money. It looked heavy and lumpy, probably full of cash. Max could only assume that a very large purchase of drugs was about to go down. Their buying power was greatly increased by combining forces with other dealers, reducing the unit cost of the product.
Because of trust issues, both sides would count all the cash together and take it all in one car to the drop site. The chances were that two men would each take a key to the middleman for him to pass on to the courier. The other two men would keep an eye on the lockers. Max did not want this complication. However, it was possible the watchers did not know the identity of the courier. It was just necessary that both watchers saw the money collected. “This is a very risky situation for me,” thought Max.
Max and Star had to make this robbery work; then they could go into hiding using their new identities and vanish abroad.
Max ran to Star from his observation point behind an abandoned car.
“Star, leave the scooter here. Disguise yourself as Anna, and go by taxi to the flat. Use her car, and I will phone you with the address where we will meet. There will be two bags of cash. We can’t manage them on the scooter, so we’ll need the car.”
“Will there be time to do all that before the courier arrives?”
“We’ve got to try. I think it will just work. Go for it!” urged Max.
Max sat on the scooter and donned his crash helmet. Dressed in the well-worn hoody, jeans, and trainers, he blended in perfectly with other riders. About an hour later, the driver, his passenger and two other men came out, each with a large sports bag. The bags went in the boot, the four men got in the car after a careful look around, and drove off.
Max was less familiar with the scooter than Star and the bulky satchel filled with keys was awkward to keep in place. Following the car and weaving in and out of the aggressive traffic flow was best done as a couple. At the same time, Max was also considering his plan of action on reaching his destination. His heart rate had climbed to 150 beats per minute and he sensed the roar of blood in his head over the ambient traffic noise.
Star called him and he touched his Bluetooth earpiece to take the call. “Hi Max, I’m at the flat. Oh hell! Anna’s father is here. Either he has come to tell me the funeral arrangements, or he’s found out I resigned from my job. This is not going to go well.”
“I know you’ll do what you can, but the priority is to get the car and meet me. The men are on the way to the drop, and they have both bags. Good luck!”
Star walked up to Anna’s father, breathless from rushing and on the verge of a panic attack. She tried to look him full in the face while retaining a noncommittal expression. He was smoldering with pent up anger and frustration. Star cringed and wanted to run.
“Anna, I tried to phone you at work, but they said you had resigned. What has got into you?”
“I needed the time off and they started to pressurize me.” Star retorted angrily.
“Who the hell do you think you are? Of course they pressured you, a multimillion Euro commission rested on your shoulders. If you do not complete the project, the company can kiss that goodbye, as well as their reputation. They even offered you a senior partnership if the commission was a success, as it would have been. Now it’s unlikely you will ever get another job in the industry. I’m deeply hurt. I had to pull strings to get you into the company, and they gave you the chance of a lifetime. I was so proud of the way you built on your skills and achieved so much. I always knew you were a spoiled brat. I should have knocked that out of you, but accepted that was the price to pay for your brilliance. How wrong I was.”
Star wanted to leap at the man and slash his throat to shut him up. With her own burden of shame, she did not want those of the girl she had murdered as well. It was getting more and more difficult to shut out the voices that were shouting louder and louder in her head. They were trying to tell her that Anna was special, not the empty-headed, spoiled, rich bitch that Star knew, but a truly gifted, deeply respected and loved girl.
Many would mourn Anna after learning of her horrendous murder. She was not in need of fixing, but Star (in the guise of Anna) was broken and seriously mixed up.
Her psychiatrist’s report flooded her mind and she blurted out, “Father, deep down inside I am broken. I’m deeply unhappy and cannot face myself. The achievements you mention are my way of hiding from my true self, a distraction if you like. Nothing about me is normal. Appearance is superficial and easy to apply, my sexuality is abhorrent to me, and I need to change. I recently met someone I want to be with, and I hope he’ll want me for who I am. Please don’t be cross with me, give me space to sort myself out and I’ll make you proud again.”
Mr. Short had never before seen such a powerful reaction from his daughter. Always presenting a strong and controlled persona bordering on the aloof, she was clearly deeply troubled. Pressuring her had never worked and obviously would not work now. He recomposed himself and reached out for her. She instantly ran to him, arms around his neck, hugged him tight, and kissed his cheek.
“Thank you Dad,” she mumbled in his ear. “I knew I could rely on your support.”
She pulled away and without looking back, scuttled towards the basement garage, her heels clickety-clacking on the marble floor.
Star became focused again. Pressure was mounting and time was against her. Traffic was bound to slow her down during the morning rush hour, and driving a strange car required great care.
Cars were parked with the flat number on the beam over the parking bay. The rich blue BMW flashed lights as she pressed the ‘unlock’ button. She slipped in behind the wheel and felt reassured by the solid clunk as the door closed. The sumptuous smell of newness and leather calmed her as she familiarized herself with the controls. The car glided out of the bay and approached the security door. A female voice politely announced the vehicle was authorized and to wait in line until the door was fully open.
“Door fully open, please proceed.”
A gentle touch on the accelerator caused a shriek from the tires as they slipped a part turn on the smooth grey painted floor.
“Lively little thing, aren’t you?” Star remarked at the silky smooth acceleration up the ramp into bright sunlight.
It was a blessing to have automatic transmission, so Star could devote her full concentration to weaving through the traffic.
At the traffic lights, she darted ahead at every opportunity, gaining seconds that could make the difference to the challenge ahead. Until Max called to give her the cash drop location, she headed towards where she had left him with the scooter.