Day 223 - Repeat Offenders - Chapter 8.4 - (1195 words)

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REPEAT OFFENDERS

By Wayne Webb

 

CHAPTER 8.4

George stepped through the bank, picking his way through the outlines of bodies, wondering what on earth these people had deserved to be treated this way, to be killed in such an off hand manner. The taped outlines that marked out how and where the corpses were created were bringing some context to the blood stains, not one of them had died cleanly, each had come with an outpouring of life's most vital of fluids. There was a smell of death, within it the coppery taste of what could be described as open warfare, or perhaps more appropriately a massacre. This was a bank, and robberies like this one were attempted, usually with much less bloodshed and much more loot being taken. This made no sense to George, he was first on the scene and it would not be long before the higher ups decided to bring in everyone on the case, they were probably already on their way to calling in the cavalry, but he still had time to take it all in and see what he could see.


They had a sharpshooter on the building opposite within minutes, and had the miscreants in his sights, ready to take the shot. It was all happening so fast, it was going everywhere and nowhere all at once. Nothing had been taken, to look at the video, they did not even try. They turned up, they killed some folk, appeared to not take it seriously and then vanished, literally vanished.


The men who had done this had disappeared into thin air and had not been seen since. The sniper was flummoxed, he was watching the little red dot like his life depended on it, not just the lives of all the people in the bank but his own as well.


There had been carnage here, and it was all for very little at all. The men came in, they weren't random at first, they took out the armed guards, killing the one that was a threat straight away, keeping the other one stunned and bleeding, unwilling to take action following the shocking death of his partner. What followed made no sense though, it was less strategic and more random, capricious even. The collateral damage that took out the assistant manager, the stray bullets that hit the woman that to all accounts so far was identified as an accomplice, only to have her executed in the guise of mercy? There was no sound on the video footage that showed the self proclaimed euthanasia of the woman, the some time assistant to the manager, but the footage he had seen correlated with the witness statements.


The people who ran from the bank before the armed police got inside, they stumbled over themselves to get out. No one saw where they went, the men who had so easily and callously killed right in front of their eyes. They were there, then they were not. The few had had their eyes on them the same way that the sniper did, they all told the same tale of being there and then instantly gone. The man on the roof looking down the lens was sure he saw them just poof out of existence. He was not alone, his partner with a spotting scope was watching the same scene as him. Each man double checked with the other, there was nothing to see in a split second.


Access to the cameras gave George all the proof that he needed, these robbers, murderers or terrorists maybe, they were magicians. Their causal attitude, the lack of care and attention to the getaway was proof positive that it was a trick, why else would they be so confident, so cock sure of themselves?


George swathed the tapes on the local loop, they weren't tapes anymore, the days of analogue had been long gone, but he was a cop with some experience, they would always be security 'tapes' even though these were digital and on flash drives, easily copied and exported. A sign of the times that crime scene techs carried portable media to store files like this on. It was still transferring while he watched it through the software client before his walk through. He got a sense for the men, the dynamic of the team. He could see the leader, he exuded the power and confidence of the man who knew he was in charge, knew where the exits were and already knew the outcome before it happened. The muscle, the larger man who grinned when he exacted violence, he acted with glee and a visible sense of an opportunity taken, there was something unleashed in his face, like he too knew the outcome, was assured of escape and or victory in the matter. Not in charge but nothing holding him back either.


The third man was the mystery entirely. He looked out of place, unfamiliar with acting out his violence, a shaky and nonthreatening proposition even with his stammering hold on the weapon. It was the indecision, the lack of experience and the fear in his eyes that caused the boy, the young fool who saw his dreams of heroism rise and fall within a split second, to take the chance that made the more experienced men take the harshest of actions.


Even then, it was perfunctory and efficient in it's execution. They killed him in reaction to his actions, but it was reflexive, not defensive. It was not something that mattered to them, it was an incident, something that merely occurred and became a part of their interactions.


Then the sniper scoped them and they were gone, at the speed of light they disappeared. As soon as the red circle of light found it's home and the light made it to the visible spectrum by their eyes, gone.


Maybe this was a message to the people who used this bank, it was known enough that it was being legally used for illegally gained monies, much harder to prove than just knowing of course. Still it would be an interesting way to let the family know that they were vulnerable. Illustrate that very weakness, the chink in the armour without actually showing their hands. They had things delivered here, there were safety deposit boxes, untouched this time. Maybe it was only this time that mattered, and the message had made it's way to the intended recipient.


Four bodies, people injured and in shock, some scarred for life by the trauma of whatever it was that was going on. The price was high for a simple message, but nothing was taken, there was no other price to pay, it made no sense at all.


It was like hearing only one half of a conversation, hearing nonsense responses to questions you have no context for. They would ID these three guys, but already he knew that with the magic trick they pulled off in getting out of the bank, the way they did not care about the cameras, they did not care about being identified, they did not fear being caught.



George was sure this was the closest he would ever get to these men.