FicWad

“Where’s Bob?” Ray asked as he folded the blueprints carefully.
Frank put a cigarette to his lips and lit it, drawing on the nicotine with a satisfied smile. Tipping another from the pack, he offered it to Ray.
“Thanks,” he muttered, looking expectantly at Frank while he reached for his lighter.
“Bob’s out meeting an old army buddy; getting equipped for the job. Apparently the vault isn’t the only problem. The jewels are in a mini vault inside the main one, but blowing the door is likely to damage the contents and we just can’t risk it.”
“So what’s he getting?”
“Some sort of hi-tech device, experimental apparently,” Frank shrugged.
“Experimental in that it might not work?” Ray replied, his eyes widening at the idea and surprised that Frank seemed to think it an acceptable risk.
“Oh, no!” Frank laughed. “Not that experimental. It works all right, just not in manufacture yet.”
“Won’t the army miss it if there’s only one of them?”
“We have a two day window,” Frank explained. “It’s finished trials and is about to go into discussion for production. The manufacturer can’t meet with the army for another two days, so, it’s going into storage. The theory is, no one’s going to be looking for it for two days.”
“That theory has to hold.”
“Even if it doesn’t, they won’t know where it is and they’re hardly going to announce to the press that they’ve mislaid a multi-million dollar investment, are they?”

Ray smiled; it seemed as though Frank had thought of everything. But then, that was Frank’s chief role in the team. Frank was the planner; detail was his strength and he played to it perfectly.

Frank Iero had met Ray Toro and Bob Bryar in prison. At the time, the trio were all small time crooks; their biggest mistake being that they had both extended themselves beyond their areas of expertise and had been caught. Frank could see the bigger picture, he would choose the target and carefully orchestrate the operation. The attention to detail he managed had always astonished his two companions, but they had their own special talents. Each of them were aware of the unique and vital roles they all played and knew that they depended upon each other heavily. Another of Frank’s roles was as fence to the stolen goods. His contacts were seemingly innumerable, positioned worldwide and above all, very discreet. There was always a market for the proceeds of their thefts and their wealthy customers wanted their identities kept secret as much as the trio.

Ray Toro’s speciality was electronics. Having trained both as an electrical engineer and computer programmer, Ray had found he possessed a natural affinity for all manner of complex circuitry and mechanics. With his talents, he had secured himself what he had hoped would be a job with good prospects but despite his obvious abilities, his lack of a college education appeared to give his employers the excuse they needed to continue to pay him poorly and overlook him for promotion. Toro found himself in the exasperating position of having to train less experienced and less able co-workers to perform jobs that, by rights, should be his. He fumed with frustration as talentless idiots on twice his salary had to be constantly bailed out by him. Many were the occasions when he would work late into the night to fix a project that had been bungled by one of the team he worked in. It was during one of these late lights that Ray Toro decided he should be remunerated properly, even if he had to do it himself. Hacking into the accounting system, the young engineer began siphoning off company funds. Just small amounts – he would never describe himself as greedy – Toro was able to raise his salary to an amount that he considered fair for the work he did. Finally, an amount he could actually live on in reasonable comfort. And so his existence continued for almost two and a half years only to be interrupted by the discovery of his thefts when the company installed a new accounting software package. Ironically, Toro would normally have been involved in installing the new software and would have been able to cover his tracks easily, but he was away on vacation when the discovery was made. Arrested and brought to trial, Toro was sentenced to three years.

Far from teaching Ray the error of his ways and putting him on the straight and narrow, prison had formed a partnership that would make Ray a very wealthy man. Now with Ray handling the computers and alarm systems, Bob with his army training in explosives and weaponry and Frank’s meticulous attention to detail, the three men had formed a formidable and successful partnership.

“What now?” asked Ray drawing on his cigarette.
“I think you should meet our visitor, he should be awake now and then we can discuss our plans with his brother.”

*

Mikey looked up as the door at the top of the stairs opened and he saw two figures descending.
“Look who’s awake!” Frank grinned.
He and Ray stood only a couple of feet from their captive looking down with superior smiles.
“I guess you’re wondering why you’re here?” Frank asked, giving nothing away.
From his position on the thin mattress, Mikey stared up, fearful and not recognising either man as his attacker.
Frank dropped to one knee next to Mikey and removed the gag. Mikey remained silent, too scared even to make a sound. Smiling wickedly, Frank played with his hair. Drawing the index finger of his right hand across Mikey’s lips, Frank pushed his left hand between Mikey’s thighs.
“You’re going to be our sex slave.” He spoke calmly but with a wicked gleam in his eyes.
“Get your fucking hands off me!” Mikey screamed pulling away from him.
Frank stood up, laughing uproariously at Mikey’s reaction.
“You’re here to make your brother help us get what we want and we want the contents of the bank’s vaults.”
“You…” Mikey stared up. “You’re bank robbers?”
“Congratulations!” Frank smirked. “I can see that intelligence runs in the family.”
“Are you going to let me go?” Mikey asked. His voice dropped almost to a whisper.
The question was a simple one and one anyone would reasonably ask, but Mikey’s phrasing, full of fear, somehow made Frank feel suddenly and inexplicably guilty.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “When we have what we want, we’ll let you go.”
Frowning Frank tapped Ray’s arm.
“Let’s go.”

At the top of the stairs with the door closed, Ray turned to Frank.
“You’re going to let him go? He’s seen us!”
“No,” Frank shook his head, “of course I’m not. Not him, or his brother. But did you see him? Those eyes? If you can tell him, you do it!”
“We stick to our areas, that’s what you said. Computers and security, that’s me. You do the planning.”
“Yeah, well I did the planning. But as it turns out, kidnapping is out of my area too! We’ll be okay. I’m just saying whatever feels right. We’ll stick to our areas, don’t worry.”
“And him?”
“Bob handles disposals, we’ll be fine.” Frank took a deep breath. “Now, come on we have things to do.”

*

Gerard turned the key in his apartment door. It had been a wearing and trying day and he was exhausted. In itself, the work hadn’t been difficult; he doubted he had actually done that much and what he had done was probably completed all wrong.

Unsurprisingly, his mind had been preoccupied. That morning he had been confronted by what seemed to be the head of a gang of bank robbers, a gun had been held on him, he had been threatened and, worst of all, he had discovered that his brother, Mikey, had been kidnapped and was being held hostage to ensure his cooperation. He didn’t dare cross them. He had no doubt in his mind that they would carry out their threats; they had already proved their disregard for life. In a terrifying revelation, the man he supposed was their leader, Frank Iero, had revealed that they were responsible for the severe injuries inflicted upon the bank manager. They had caused his accident solely to be certain that they would deal direct with Gerard, the assistant manager. Iero didn’t seem to care that the manager had almost died in the car crash. In fact, he had suggested quite the opposite; leaving Gerard with the distinct impression that the manager’s death had been their real intention. Gerard couldn’t risk them hurting Mikey; he had no choice; he had to help them.

The more he thought about it the more Gerard flushed with a mixture of fear and anger as he realised how long they must have been watching him, waiting to make their move. Now, as he opened the door to the darkened apartment, he thought again about his brother and what he might be suffering. They were violent and ruthless and, he sighed helplessly, they had Mikey.

Closing the door behind him, he threw his keys on the table and slipped off his coat. Turning to switch on the light and with his hand within inches of the wall, Gerard was pulled sharply back by an unseen assailant. A hand covered his mouth, trying unsuccessfully to prevent the loud cry that immediately burst forth from his lips. With his mouth already open, one or two of the man’s fingers slid between his teeth and Gerard snapped his mouth shut. With a yelp, his attacker, pulled back, wrenching his hand free before smacking his palm viciously against Gerard’s forehead with a force borne of a combination of anger and frustration. Gerard staggered, his back hitting the wall as he gathered his senses. The pain of the bite seemed to have weakened the man’s grasp on Gerard’s arm and, taking advantage of the loosening of the man’s grip, Gerard strained against him, clawing at his fingertips in a desperate attempt to free himself. With his concentration fully on the man holding him, Gerard failed to notice the second man approach from the right, but it didn’t take much for him to get Gerard’s attention.

The pain was excruciating and seemed to permeate every last fibre of his body. His head spun, spots of bright light danced before his eyes and all his remaining senses were dulled. Sinking to his knees, Gerard groaned in agony as he held his crotch with one hand and supported his weight with the other, his palm flat on the floor as he gasped for breath. Finally losing the last of his strength as the crushing pain sank into his abdomen, he slipped to his right, to lie on the floor curled in a position of both protection and submission.

Switching the light on, Frank Iero smirked down at the crumpled form on front of him. He had never been interested in sports, but back in high school, he had been forced to play football. Being so short, but strong, he always landed the position of kicker in the team, finding, much to his surprise, that he had quite a talent for it, managing to score many extra points from as far back as the thirty yard line and beyond. After all these years he was pleased to discover that his aim was just as accurate as it had always been.