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Jason awoke in a sweat again. The red digital display of the clock radio

told him it was 15AM, and although he wanted to go back to sleep, he knew

he wouldnÕt be able to - he hadnÕt had a good nightÕs sleep since his last

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job with Mat Johnson. It was the First National Bank on High Street. As soon

as they started grabbing cash the cops were there. Jason had noticed and had

ran out the back door, but Mat was too slow - he got shot in the head. It

had been the end of Jason LennoxÕs career as an armed robber, even though he

thrived on the feeling he got when running out of a bank, a bag full of cash

in one hand, a sawn off rifle in the other. He loved out-running the police,

jumping fences and dodging through thin alleyways, but since Mat died, he

couldnÕt bring himself to do it again even though he wanted to.

Although Jason was no longer an armed robber, he still had to get money, and

now he had to resort to a different way of thieving. Now, he would visit a

bank at about two or three oÕclock in the morning, pick the lock on the

door, destroy the security system and crack the vault. This method was a lot

slower than armed robbery, and a lot less fun, but it brought in as much as

a hold up, sometimes even more.

It was September 14th, two thirty am. Jason stepped silently from the small

red hatchback parked in the street outside of the Federation Bank Building.

He stood for a moment, letting his eyes scan the street, and on finding no

one, grabbed his bag and jogged quietly across the road to the front doors

of the bank. There were two pin tumbler locks protecting the doors, but he

quickly picked them both and entered the building, immediately scanning the

room for security devices. There was a movement sensor in the far left

corner of the room, focused to the right of his head. He slowly and

carefully drew his gun and put a bullet through the sensorÕs lens. With the

security out of the way, he made his way to the back of the bank and down

the small corridor to the vault. The vault was protected with a large metal

grill, and although it had a lock on it, when he tried to pick it, it only

bent his tools. Although this hindered him, he had another plan, and dug

through his bag of equipment to find his electric drill and a small bit. He

quickly drilled through all six pins in the lock and he gently pushed the

grill open.

When he reached the vault, Jason knew exactly what to do. It was a

combination-style lock, but also needed to be opened with a key. Jason

quickly removed a hacksaw from his bag and after a few minutes of furious

sawing, had removed the dial from the vault. Pulling out his drill again, he

began to drill through the pins of both the key, and combination locks. He

had drilled through two of the pins on the key lock when he heard the noise.

He stopped instantly and crawled out into the main room of the bank. There

was a security officer on the other side of the glass shining his torch in!

As the beam swung towards Jason, he quickly ducked into the corridor and

immediately drew his gun. He could here the door opening and loaded his

pistol. As he lifted his gun and got ready to fire, he remembered poor Mat.

He just couldnÕt bring himself to do it. Instead, he ran quickly (but

silently) down the corridor, retrieved his bag of equipment and climbed to

the top of the open grill. The footsteps came down the corridor and the

torch beam of the security officer was on the vault. He started running, and

was soon inspecting the vault.

Jason stood on top of the grill, breathing hard, a bead of sweat trickling

down his face, landing on his sports shoe. It was like the old days for him.

The hiding, the chase, the fear and the adrenaline mixed together in a

potent cocktail. The security guard turned and surveyed the room quickly and

radioed in his find. Jason saw this and quickly and quietly climbed down to

the floor and ran. He emerged from the corridor and out into the main room

of the bank. He was jogging at a reasonable speed, but as he turned to get

to the door, his sports shoes squealed deafeningly on the tiled floor, and

the footsteps from down the hall became louder. Jason stopped for a moment,

wondering what to do, but soon, his old reflexes returned to him and he ran

at full speed out of the bank and to his car.

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