Cash wasn’t his real name. As far as robber aliases go, it was a little on the nose, but it got the job done. His crew only knew him as Cash. At this moment, though, Cash wasn’t his name, either. His name was Robert Lewinsky, the Brinks Security guard. So as Cash entered the bank vault, involentarly smoothing out the front of his fake Brinks uniform, Robert Lewinsky swallowed hard. This was it. They had made it. They were in. It was the moment of…well, not truth. Theft. There were two long rectangular tables in the middle of the square room, with silver metal cubbies lining all the walls. Three armed guards lined one wall. Cash was anxious about his disgusie, but it had done its job so far. His crew had made it past the security check points. Their fake badges had cleared, thanks to their forger Miles, a lanky fellow with a beak of a nose. Miles was about five feet ahead of Cash, keeping a cool head, walking towards the steel money lockers. He slowly stole a glance at Cash, his expression measured. Cash figured Miles was making sure he was still there. Miles wasn’t the trusting type. Behind Cash lumbered Davis; he could hear him huffing with every breathe. That wasn’t his nerves, though. He was always breathing like that. Loudest breather alive. Davis was short and stocky, a thick mustache hiding his mouth. He was the one who had somehow got them cleared in the system to be the ones picking up the loot today. The vault was lit in a blinding florecent brightness. It was very unforgiving. Cash felt a bead a sweat trail down the back of his neck as Miles unlocked the lockers, placing the stacks of hundred dollar bills on the middle tables for Cash and Davis to stuff in big duffle bags. They worked as casually as they could. They didn’t rush. No one talked. Just three guys working for a security company transferring someone’s assets to a different branch. That’s all. Boring, really. Cash looked up at the three guards. They were in blue, very alert, guns holstered, but their hands were resting on them. Two men and a woman. He knew the woman. And she knew him. Julia. Their eyes met from across the room. Neither of them flinched. Well, not much. Not enough to be noticed. Cash hoped. His crew was busy focusing on the loot. As Cash stuffed the cash, he risked another glance at Julia, who, unless he missed a recent career change, was not a bank guard. She was a theif. Like him. Like his companions here. It was at about that moment that his beak nosed companion caught his gaze. Miles looked at the female guard. After a beat, his eyes grew large. His face went pale. He recongized her. He thrust an elbow into Davis’s gut, who was busy loading. He made a sound, looked at Miles, then followed his stuck gaze. His jaw dropped, proving there was a mouth under that hairy catipillar. Davis knew her, too. Of course he did. Every crew knew of Julia. Well, everyone knew of the master theif duo she was part of. Julia. Jules. Jules and Cash. Together, they had pulled off some of the most difficult scores that everyone else had passed on. They accclomplished the impossible. They were legends. Until they broke up. Whether it was a lovers quarl or greed, nobody knew for sure. Cash had assured his new crew that Jules was ancient history and that he was looking to make his own way on a big score. Miles and Davis had been sceptical. They had also always worked together, rarely with anyone else. Eventually, Cash had gained their confidence, because neither Miles nor Davis could deny the depth of experience that Cash brought to the table. Now they stared at him with looks of betrayal. Cash wordlessly tried to convey the message , <don’t look at me! I had no idea she’d be here!> His message was not believed. Mile’s beady eyes narrowed. < A doublecross> is what they were saying. Davis slowly dropped his hands from the money work, bringing them down to his sides, out of sight. He made a slight huff, which basically said, <You’re dead, you slimey lout!> It had been silent in the vault before, but now no one was breathing. They all felt it. It was an eary stillness. It was an extra stillness, like the hand on the fly swatter, about to burst down, bringing sudden death. Cash looked at Julia. Her eyes were sparkling and still, somehow watching everyone in the room at once. A slight smile was teasing her lips. The guards to her right were watching the money transferers, wondering why they’d stopped, why they were glaring at there comrade, why it suddenly felt dangerous in the room. Hands everywhere were twitching. Even Davis’s heavy breathing became quieter and measured. Cash stared at his partners. He knew what they were thinking. That this was all a trick. They’d been duped into taking Cash in. He had joined one rival crew, Jules had joined another. Together, they planned this moment, to all meet on this job. They were planning to take the loot and take out two opposing crews at the same time. Jules and Cash had never split up. Cash knew that’s what Miles and Davis were thinking. And they were absolutely right. With the quick draw speed that would have impressed any gunslinger back in the day, Jules pulled her weapon and fired, landing direct hits on Miles and Davis. Her gun made little sound. They dropped instantly. She didn’t have to worry about the security gards next to her. The one directly to her right turned and fired on his partner. Cash bent down and checked Davis, who lay motionless at his shoes. He was fast asleep. Jules dosage in the darts should keep them unconscious for their escape. As Cash finished loading up the money while Jules and their new partner undressed, then quickly redressed in the Brinks outfits that Miles and Davis had been wearing. Minutes later, the outside security cameras watched the three Brinks workers exit the vault, bags in hand. They walked out the buildings main entrance and into their waiting armored truck. They drove off. About five blocks away, the door opened and the man, the third man they had needed to exit the vault but needed no longer, was thrown out. Not dead, just sleeping. Probably dreaming about what he was going to call himself now that he was aprt of Jules and Cash. Bonds? Card? Bit? As Cash drove out of the city, Jules grabbed his hand. They smiled at each other. The caper had gone down smooth, without a hitch. It had honestly worked out better than these things usually do. But what else would you expect from the best thief duo ever?