Page 52 of Devil’s Disciples

Tito handed the portable torch to me, and then a pair of goggles. I pushed the equipment through the hole. “Brother Ghost, take off that shirt and fan that motherfucker like your life depends on it.”

“Roger that, Bake.”

Light from the flame flickered through the opening as the sound of the torch cutting steel hissed in the background. With my asshole puckered and my muscles tense, I waited for the fire sprinklers to engage, the cops to show up, or the fire department to come crashing through the front door.

“Three and fifty,” Tito said.

My bowels ached from the nervous tension. As I counted silently to calm myself, the sound of Goose’s voice broke the eerie silence.

“We’re in,” he shouted. “So far, we’re good.”

In a matter of seconds, three gold bars were placed at my feet. It was one and a half million dollars’ worth of gold. I picked up two of them and grinned to myself at their weight.

I refrained from expressing emotion as I handed them to Tito. “No more than eight bars to a bag.”

“Got it, Boss.”

I picked up the third. Before I handed it to Tito, the clank from three more being placed at my feet caught my attention. My heart began to race at the thought of making a three-million-dollar haul. I picked up one of the three and handed Tito the two bars.

Before I grabbed the remaining two, there was another clank. Then another. And, another.

I looked down.

Five bars were on the floor. My heart raced as I did the math in my head.

Jesus.

Four and a half million.

I knelt and peered into the dimly lit vault. “How many more bars?”

“Three,” Goose said. “And a hell of a lot of cash. And jewelry.”

“We’ve got two and thirty,” Tito said.

“Two and a half, fellas,” I shouted through the hole. “Let’s get to cracking.”

Three more bars were set at my feet. Then, Goose shoved a backpack through the hole. “Probably weighs one fifty. Gold and diamonds.”

“Cash?” I asked.

Another backpack slid through the hole. “That weighs about the same. All cash.”

“Is that it?”

“Short of watches and shit, yeah,” he said. “There’s another small safe, but--”

The men knew not to fuck with watches. Despite their worth, they were too easy for the police to track, as all high-end watches were serial numbered.

“We don’t have time for the other safe,” I said. “We get greedy, and we’ll get got.” I turned to Tito. “Time?”

“One and fifteen.”

I leaned in front of the hole. “Get the torch and get out of there.” I faced Tito. “Get that shit on the roof.”

Within thirty seconds, Cash had everything hoisted everything on the roof. Fifteen seconds later, we stood at his side.

“Tool check,” I said.