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Feb. 20, 2010 It wasn’t a bank. It was something more secluded. It was a nondescript building of two stories located at the bottom of four hills. There were roads and the city up top, and it was cold- perhaps autumn and late autumn at that. There were five of us and we went down there and either two of us got a door open fast, or the door was open because it was an inside job of some sort. We had to go down to a basement, and this basement area was crisp and clean- very office like. There filing cabinets, the fire proof kind, that stretched along a long wall, and it was predetermined that we would systematically sit in a chair in front of them and open them to go through the contents and take the money out. Each person had about five drawers to go through horizontally and five vertically. This meant twenty five drawers each. Everyone seemed surprisingly calm considering the situation. It was far in the middle of the night- and quiet, quietude like the world did not exist or was put on stop. We didn’t wear masks and were dressed in regular clothing. The only difference was that we each had a large black duffel bag. There we sat, about four feet from each other, going through the drawers, and nobody looked at each other or talked to each other or talked out loud. I noticed right away that it was a safe place for documents and money for some very rich elite people. As I began to open and go through the bottom drawers of the filing cabinets assigned to me, I saw identifications such as passports and birth certificates, many blue papers clasped together that I didn’t understand, and each drawer, but not all,- not all of mine anyhow- seemed to contain one or two large envelopes full of cash. I opened one of these and thumbed through the money. They were twenty dollar American notes- and they were thick stacks, larger than a large thick hardcover book. I started to think of some things that I could do with the money if I stopped and got out right away- escaped- because I had this feeling that the heat was going to come and surround us. Another party entered- some extra person- and stood at the doorway to our right. He was tall and dressed in jeans and a normal coat. I didn’t know who he was- but the others hardly looked up so I didn’t worry too much but didn’t like him for some reason. Then I began to break rank as it were- I stood up- I thought I was going to get out of there- because I had enough money- and it was early on. The others had done this before, - and it seemed it was their practice to rifle through these cabinets for an hour or more, possibly all night.
I went through a side door. As I ventured up an embankment I could see far on the other side that there were five police cars parked. The gig was up, and they were well into a formation that would surround the building- surrounding it first so that when they went in or we came out nobody had a chance at escape. But my feeling was right- I still might have a chance cause they were still settling in. I went to the other side of the building and up a ways- carefully staying low in close to some bushes- that side was full of officers also, now out of their cars- a sgt. or leader of some sort was calling out in a plain volume voice to head down the perimeters and block all exits off. I then went a third a way- and saw that there was some people, some regular civilians, some oriental working class men, three of them, standing at the top of the hill near a bus stop. The police had either not told them to leave, or they had arrived just then, not knowing there was going to be any trouble. I thought quickly because there was about fifty feet between where I was and they- plus I had the duffel bag with the envelopes of money- all those beautiful crisp twenty dollar notes in white envelopes neatly placed in there with bands around them, like a special writers script or engineers instruction book. Something in my legs started moving me up towards them. They were waiting for a bus, or a ride- it must have been four o’clock am and they were on their way to work somewhere. I made it up and stood beside them. I made light conversation, but not too much. They hardly cared for me either way- me- now a pedestrian, a Joe on a city street in an early morning weekday before the sunrise. I could tell somehow that the police squadron was getting ready now to begin its move on the building and the others. They would be arrested, and if there was a shootout or anything- possibly killed. The traffic started getting heavier where I was- and there seemed to be a world ahead that I could make out-it looked grimy and cold, full of greyness and impersonal or even mean buildings and roads. But it least it was a world.
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