36.
Tony chilled in a taxi cab outside the armored car depot. From across the street, he scoped the road, mapping his route. Coffee, and a cigarette. Relax mode. He pulled out a map, tracing his escape roads with a Hi-Lite pen. A day-glow stripe colored down one route. Tony pulled out two more colors. Secondary, tertiary breaks. Side streets.
The cops are tough to out run on main roads. Funny thing.
The depot wasn't that far in distance from the cul-de-sac and railroad tracks. Morsemere Community Bank was out of business.
Swallowed up. The building's still there, and still houses a bank. A newer, big ass bought them over. A squad car pulled up. Two cops. Local badge. Morsemere Park.
"Everything okay buddy?"
"Just fine officer, thanks."
"Waiting for somebody?"
"The dispatcher told me to hold it up--he's waitin' on a call."
"Sounds good to me." Tony watched the prowler fade off.
Tony wheeled into the barn, handed in his keys, and let the dispatcher check him out.
"We liked havin' you around. You were pretty reliable. Good too. Know the area, never needed direction. That's a real a bonus in this business," The dispatcher said.
"The union hall called me back."
"That's what I heard."
"Well, you know how these things go. They slow down again, I'll be lookin' for a job."
"Without a doubt. Good luck." The phone rang, and Tony slipped out. Scram hacked his final shift. The big job, two days out. Tony wanted to eject from real life, and get into heister mode, full force.