Two Thieves in a Bunker – Part Eleven

Chuck looked around carefully and slipped out of the hidden corridor. The other thief had closed the manhole cover – good boy – which left the tunnel dark once more. Thank christ. He was happy to be rid of the guy. He was like a small puppy bouncing around his ankles, talking all the time, what a pain in Chuck’s ass. Lifting his mask slightly, he rubbed at his eyes and with a flick of his torch, turned the light on the ground and backtracked along the tunnel they had travelled down.

He looked for the little marks he had placed at the top of the walls last week, yellow chalk marks turned to green and when he spotted the blue one he stopped and shone his torch light carefully along the wall. At the crack he found there he slid the painting, packing crate and all, into it. The black edge facing outwards, it fit snug and disappeared from sight. Then he turned the torch up to find another ladder and another manhole cover. Quickly he stripped off his mask and gloves, pulled his dark jacket off and black shirt over his head. Beneath the shirt was a bight Hawaiian shirt. He turned the jacket inside out and put it on so the light side was on top, pulled a pair of brightly colored sunglasses from his pocket and quickly scaled the ladder.

In seconds he was on the surface of the side street. He replaced the cover and walked quickly across the road, it didn’t look like anyone had seen him. He slowed to a causal walk, put one hand in his pocket and pulled his phone out, he thumbed it on. Two messages, he sighed loudly and raised it to his ear. “It’s done,” he snapped when it was answered. He didn’t wait for a reply.

He headed off down the street. At the corner he walked passed a row of shops, the freshly baked bread smell wafting from the bakery on the end was tantalising and within minutes he returned to the street biting great chucks off the warm baguette. Heaven.

As Chuck passed a shop filled with retro TV sets the news broadcast displayed on the multiple screens caught his eye. “Thief caught red handed.” A picture of Manny filled the screen being handcuffed and pushed into a police car. The image repeated over and over. Chuck shook his head sadly. Figures! He continued past and stopped. He shook his head. No, he was not going; Manny had gotten caught – with the jewels on him no less, fool. Chuck couldn’t help him now, he wouldn’t help him. He walked another few steps and stopped again, then shook his head. No! He walked on. Another two steps and he dropped his head to his chest. Christ.

 

Go to Chapter 12

 

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