PONS Kurzkrimis: Murder in the Fog - Mörderische Kurzkrimis zum Englischlernen (A1/A2)

2. ROB FROM THE RICH

The sun is high above Canary Wharf. High and hot, and looking down on the crowds of people1 which wait on both sides of the empty road.

We are standing there, the three of us, in front of the bank. We are standing there in front of the glass doors, and no one is looking at us. They are all focused on the road, and in the distance I can hear the music and the commentator, and I know that the race is starting soon.

I look at our reflections2. We all have the same white and orange uniforms, the same caps, the same silver sunglasses. I almost3 do not recognise the two men beside me, and I think that from a distance people cannot see that I am a woman.

“Okay, this is it. Ten minutes exactly. Remember your jobs, and remember: no real names. I'm Robin, you're Little John…” one of the men says to the other. “And you're Marian,” he says to me, the only woman, and he gives me a quick smile.

Little John looks up. “The camera is still in position. It can't see us enter or leave.”

I feel sweat4 running down my neck.

“Here he comes. Remember the music, Marian,” Robin says.

And then the guard is at the door, a short fat man who looks at us, smiles and then opens it without a single question. “You're quick: the air conditioning only broke this morning.”

“We know,” Little John says, “we broke it.”

And the guard's smile disappears5. But it is too late: Robin pushes him back into the bank and John follows with the ladders6 on his shoulders. I can see Robin's gun appear in his hand, and then I am inside too, and I pull the door shut7.

“Music, Marian!” Robin says.

There is no stopping now, so I pull the small stereo from one of the black bags on my shoulder, and I press play.

Beethoven's Piano Concerto No. 2 fills the marble8 stairs.

We run up the stairs together, Robin with his gun at the guard’s back. Then Little John stops to cover the first camera. He climbs up the ladder in a second, and we run into the main room of the bank.

It is a large room with oak9 tables, a dark marble counter10 and expensive leather sofas. Behind the counter there are two women. “Out here! Now!” I shout at them.

To my left I see the short fat man sit down on the floor with his hands on his head; then Robin runs to the office and kicks open the door11.

The two women move, but slowly; one of them looks down at the counter, where I know there is a secret alarm. “Not if you want to live!” I shout. “On the sofa!”

I pull two blindfolds12 from a bag and cover their eyes. Then I tie13 their hands, and I look at my watch. “Seven minutes!” I shout to Little John, and he covers the last camera with plastic.

I take a deep breath14.

The music is so loud, and the bank, so hot. Can we do this? Can we really do this?

Then Robin leaves the office, and he has the manager, Mr Charles M. Hastings.

Hastings! I hate the name, and I hate the man. Tall, arrogant, dressed in his expensive suit15 and with a watch that costs more than most people make16 in a year.

“What is this?” he says, and he looks nervous but not nervous enough.

“What do you think?” Robin asks, and he tells him to sit at one of the tables.

Hastings looks around. “You can't be serious? A bank robbery17?” And for a moment he looks surprised, but then he laughs. “You idiots! This is an investment bank! There's no money here! Everything is done by transfer18 .” And he looks at us all like we are children, with that arrogant expression on his face. “Good Lord19, you should20 leave now before the police get here, and maybe you can still escape,” he laughs again, “but I doubt21 it.”

Little John puts a blindfold on the guard. Only Hastings can see now, but we stand behind him. And for a few seconds there is only the sound of Beethoven as the music begins to reach its molto allegro.

“That's okay,” Robin says, and he picks up22 one of the bags and puts it on the table, “we brought our own money: twenty thousand pounds in small notes. Banks are difficult to rob. But houses aren't. Even big houses with alarms and safes. Like yours…”

“What?” Hastings says, and then he looks at the bag. “My house? My money? You robbed my house?”

I can see sweat on Hastings' face now, but it is on mine too. I look at my watch. “Four minutes!”

“But… but what do you want? You have my money.”

“Ha!” Robin laughs. “We don't want it. Not that: we're not common thieves23 !” And he throws the bag to Little John. “Get it ready,” he says, and Little John takes the ladders back down the stairs to the glass doors.

“Then what?” shouts Hastings.

And this is my part; I take the laptop from the bag and put it in front of him and open it, “Do you know what this is?”

He looks. “It's a bank account. A transfer. So?” he says, arrogantly.

“So we need you to enter your details and then transfer two hundred and forty thousand pounds to this account. Do it, and then we go.”

And he looks more than nervous now. He looks scared.

“No! I can't, I don't have that sort of money. I can't… I…”

I put the newspaper down on the computer. “Really?”

He looks at the newspaper for a moment but says nothing.

“One minute!” says Little John.

“Read it!” Robin shouts.

Hastings is silent, but Robin points the gun at him. “Read it!” he shouts again.

“Okay, okay… Bank manager receives two hundred and forty thousand pound salary despite bank failure.” He stops and tries to turn to look at us, but Robin pulls the trigger back on the gun. “You don't understand,” Hastings shouts, “it's more complicated than that!”

“We understand that hundreds of local businesses are in serious trouble24 because of25 you and this bank,” I say. “And you now have a decision to make because we have no time. Enter the details, or…” I say, and I know that this is it26. It has to be now.

Beethoven fills the silence again, and I look at Robin and see that there is sweat on his face too, but Hastings does not move.

“Then goodbye, Mr Hastings,” Robin says, and he moves the gun, but…

“No! Please! Look…” and Hastings enters his details.

I do not believe it, and I take the computer.

“Well?” Robin says.

“It's done. It's gone. Direct. No one can trace27 it!”

Then the music stops.

And I want to smile, but there is no time. In the distance I hear the sound of a gun, and the crowd outside cheers28.

Robin takes the last blindfold from the bag and puts it over Hastings' eyes.

“And what now?” Hastings says. “You think you can just walk out of here?”

Robin laughs. “Something like that29,” he says quietly.

“The police are out there. They'll see you. They'll stop you!”

Robin then puts his mouth to Hastings' ear. “Not if there's a big enough distraction30,” he says. “Oh, and just to let you know31, there are no bullets32 in any of our guns.”

Hastings starts to shout, but we do not listen. This is it, we have to go now. We take our uniforms off and put them in the bag.

Then we are at the doors. Outside we hear the crowd cheer, and we see the first runners pass by33. Then there are more, many more, hundreds more, thousands more.

And now we start to smile, because we know we are...