First Chapter: A Good, Bad Man

First Chapter, A Good, Bad Man , 2000 words or less – 1673 words

The warm night air smelled of curried chicken and strong coffee. It wafted over Lance Richards as he clung to the bricks of the brownstone, listening. He had been watching the apartment for two weeks, had seen the third man leave minutes ago, but in his line of work it was good to be cautious. Like a black shadow he clambered onto the rickety fire-escape, then squatted poised, flexing his gloved fingers, before sliding the unlocked window higher.

In minutes, he located the small safe in the bedroom closet. His heart beat loudly with the kick of adrenaline and helped him keep time. The bearded men would go down to the Bismillah Restaurant, on the corner. They would sit for more Turkish coffee and smokes, watch the belly dancer in the dim light, but mainly argue loudly, excitedly with others. Always at least an hour, most nights two or three. He had plenty of time.

The last number tumbled the lock into place and he grinned as he swung the door open. Lance raised a hand to clasp his mouth, rolled backward into a ball, then sprang forward onto his feet. He stared at the safe’s contents, at the pile of gold and jewels. He raised a fist to pump the air, spun around a couple of times, then sank onto his knees in front of the open box.

All the way to the ground he was silently cursing his luck. The score of a lifetime, and it had to be in the apartment of terrorists. On the ground, he squatted against the wall, studying the deserted alley before moving. Well, the good news was they probably wouldn’t report the burglary. Satisfied the street was clear, he pulled off the nylon ski mask and smoothed it flat over the bulge beneath his shirt while he straightened his hair. Tugged off the gloves and forced them into the other pant’s leg pocket and carefully smoothed