'OK guys.'  Al clasped them both on the shoulder, they'd got used to him doing that, being physical, at first they'd been diffident but now they accepted, it was his way of saying, we're a team.  'I'll go in.  The Sanchez woman knows me.  I'll make up a story.  If there's no-one else in I'll send you a one word text: NOW.  And in you come with the bags, helmets over your heads to disguise you.  Act like security until I get behind you to the door to lock it and say 'Now' out loud.  Then you take one each.  Dwayne, you take the Bitch.:Sanchez.  Aaron, you take the Cunt: Weil.  Arms cuffed behind them and blindfolded as fast as you can.  Both of them face down on the floor.  The keys to the strong room should be easy.  Then we take them in there and improvise.  No rush.  We got all night.'<br/><br/>Al smiled.  His heart was pumping, but they needed him to seem sure, confident.  He didn't ask them if they had any questions.  They trusted each other.  High-fives all round.  Then he was out of the truck.<br/><br/>As he strolled across the lot in front of the bank, blinking in the late afternoon sun, surreptitiously typing the letters of N O W on his phone ready for his message, he glanced around.  No-one in sight within a block.  Hey, and the front door was open.  He pulled.  No customers inside.  Whoo-woo.   In his pocket he clicked SEND.  The Bitch, the Sanchez woman was over at the desk behind the counter.  He nodded to her and strolled diagonally across to the Cunt – Sally Weil  - what a pretty, kind of untainted thing she was.  She looked up at him with a bored smile.  'Ms Weil,' he said, 'those friends of mine in Peru need a money transfer again, am I too late...?'