“Open the safe!” shouted Denise suddenly into the ear of the lovesick man, causing both him and the woman he was kissing to jump in the air, with the unfortunate result that she bit his tongue. He spun around fuming, the blood running from the corners of his mouth.
“Who the fuck are you?” He seemed to be hissing inarticulately as he lunged in vain to grab the neck scarf covering Denise’s lower face.
“Did you hear what I said?!” she demanded. “Now!”
The girl behind him was laughing hysterically but stopped immediately when Denise pointed a black pistol at the face of her guy and made a point of releasing the safety.
“Unlock the safe and my helper will take the money. We’ll tie you up before leaving, so if you do as you’re told you’ll survive,” she finished, smiling behind her perfect disguise.
—
Five minutes later they were standing in the corridor again with their neck scarves down around their necks and the bag so full of bills that it made all this worthwhile.
The guard, who was back at his designated spot, must have known something was up, but Denise remained cool.
“Your boss told me to tell you that you’re one hell of a guy. Did you manage to help Patrick?”
He looked confused but still nodded.
When they arrived back at the entrance, Patrick and Michelle had stopped bickering. One look between Denise and Michelle and the message was clear. Michelle could wrap things up.
“You’re right, Patrick,” said Michelle ingratiatingly while Jazmine and Denise slipped behind her and out toward the road. “I’ll pop by tomorrow and give you the rest of the money, all right, honey?” she cooed.
The three of them had agreed to meet in the alleyway between Victoria and the next building. Denise and Jazmine waited ten meters down the alleyway in the gloomy, hazy light and the stench of piss.
Relieved, Denise leaned the back of her head against the concrete wall, which was vibrating from the beat of the music. “That was fucking crazy!” she gasped with her blood pumping full of adrenaline. Not even scoring her first sugar daddy and lying in bed with a strange man had given her this rush.
She put her hand to her chest. “Is your heart pounding like crazy too, Jazmine?” she asked.
Her friend replied with an ecstatic grin on her face: “Fuck yeah! I think I pissed my pants when he lunged for your scarf.”
“God, yeah, that could easily have gone wrong, but it didn’t, Jazmine,” she said, laughing. “Did you see his face when I released the safety on the pistol? Fuck, he looked stupid. And now they’re lying up there with duct tape all over their faces with their hands and feet tied, trying to figure out what the hell just hit them.” She held her stomach. The whole operation had taken five minutes.
It couldn’t get better than this.
“How much do you think we got, Jazmine?” she asked.
“No idea, but I totally emptied the safe. Thousands, I think. Wanna check?”
She stuck her hand down in the bag and pulled out a handful of crumpled notes. Most of them were two-hundred-kroner notes, but there were also five-hundred- and one-thousand-kroner notes.
Jazmine laughed. “Fuck! I think there’s over a hundred thousand. Look!”
Denise shushed her. In between the buildings out toward the road, a sharp black silhouette appeared against the background of the streetlight. Someone had spotted them, and it was someone who was both slimmer and shorter than Michelle.
“What the fuck are you bitches up to?” shouted a voice with an accent as a female figure stepped toward them.
Denise had seen her before. It was Birna.
Jazmine gasped for air and Denise could understand why, because Jazmine had not had the composure to put the money back in the bag and was standing there fully exposed, a criminal caught red-handed.
Birna’s eyes were glued to the money.
“That’s not your money, is it, now?” she said threateningly, taking a single step forward. “You can just hand it over now. Now!” she said, gesturing with her hand that she meant business.
Does she think I’m stupid? thought Denise, provocatively putting one hand behind her ear. “Sorry, I can’t really hear you through all the noise. What are you saying, punk?”
“Is this bitch hard of hearing, Jazmine?” said the punk. “Or do you think she’s trying to provoke me?” She turned toward Denise. “Bloody hell, you two look more like me than I do myself with all that coal around your eyes. Are you trying to make sure no one knows who you are?” She smiled sarcastically. “But now I know, so if you don’t want any trouble, just hand it over.” She pointed at Denise. “Listen up, bitch, if you give me any cheek again, you’ll regret it. Hand over the money.”
Denise shook her head. This was definitely not part of the plan. “I don’t know what it is you think you know, but don’t be a fool, Birna. Isn’t that your name?” Denise put her hand in her pocket. “Haven’t I told you to stay away from us?”
The smile on the punk’s face vanished in a split second. “Okay, if that’s how you want to play. It’s your funeral.” She turned toward Jazmine. “Come on, Jazmine, you know me. Tell that cunt that she’d better show me some respect.” Then she slowly and calmly produced a switchblade from her pocket and released it. “Otherwise she’ll regret it. Tell her, Jazmine.”
She didn’t wait for an answer but stepped up to Denise and waved the blade directly at her abdomen. The blade was sharp and double-edged and Denise quickly realized that it would sink in deeply without any resistance if she carried out her threat.
“What are you even doing here, Birna? You’re not the clubbing type, are you?” asked Denise coldly without taking her eyes off the knife.
“What do you mean, shit face? This is our patch and we rule here. Jazmine knows that, don’t you, Tinker Bell?”
Denise looked up toward the road. Was Birna expecting reinforcements from her gang? Hell no. The punk was all alone. And Denise would be damned if she was going to put up with her threats. They had planned and executed everything to the letter, and there was no way an ugly genderless nobody was going to ruin it now.
“I’m sorry, but this doesn’t appear to be your day, Birna,” she said, slowly pulling the pistol out of her pocket. “If you want to save your sorry life, I’ll give you a thousand kroner here and now, and then you need to beat it. And if you so much as utter one word to anyone, I’ll come and find you, okay?”
The punk drew back against the wall, weighing up what it was Denise was holding in her hand. Then she smiled and raised her head as if she had figured out that there was no way whatever it was could pose a real threat.
“Hey, what’s going on?” sounded a horrified voice from the top of the alley. It was Michelle, innocent and out of place with her handbag over her shoulder.
“Nice! Is she also in on it? You fucking surprise me,” the punk said with a laugh. And then without warning she lunged toward Denise with a roar, pointing the knife directly at her.