Dashiell stood impatiently outside the bank, his dress shoe tapping the pavement in a quiet rhythm that made his heart thump faster. His cat-like green eyes glanced at his watch. Ten past three. Where were they?
Dashiell Glass was a tall, thin boy with a pale complexion that didn’t look good in the sunlight. All those years sat in front of a computer screen had made Dashiell look pasty and sick.
He wore a black suit with a red tie that he pulled a little tighter out of nervousness. Dashiell pictured everything that was going on inside the bank at this moment – his accomplice wooing the guard while she quickly swivelled the security cameras away from his other acquaintance who was picking the lock of the vault that held millions of dollars worth of cut diamonds.
But the most important part of the plan hadn’t turned up. Dashiell put a hand in his pocket and rubbed the smooth notebook in his pocket anxiously. He gulped back his nerves and tried to think through the problem at hand.
Ever since Dashiell had been young, people had been surprised by his incredible smarts. When he was six months old, Dashiell had been speaking in complete and grammatically correct sentences, better then most adults could. When he was two, he gained an interest in math and science and began studying calculus and algebra.
When he was three, Dashiell loved to edit scientists’ theories like Einstein’s, Newton’s and Ramsey’s. He constructed models and diagrams, trying to explain to his baffled parents why these theories couldn’t be correct. Stewart and Angelina, who were perfectly normal humans, tried to follow but ended up just wishing Dashiell was a normal little boy.
Now that Dashiell was fifteen, his brain whirred at trillions of miles a second. His IQ was approximately 627, which stupified any physicists he was brought to. Unfortunately, there was one mystery of Dashiell’s brain that no one understood.
Why the young man’s fantastic mind was obsessed with crime.
He had run away from his family when he was twelve and had already become one of the most feared names in the bank business. Dashiell had pillaged every bank in England and the boy was just getting started.
But Dashiell wasn’t alone on his misadventures. Along the road, Dashiell had come in contact with some of the best child thieves in the business. Apollo Smith was infamous for his lock-picking abilities. Since he was ten, Apollo had been working with huge crime bosses picking doors, secret compartments and, to Dashiell’s delight, bank vaults.
His sister, although less well known, was basically the brains behind the operation. Amelia Smith was Apollo’s younger, 15-year-old sister. She loved hacking and technology and played a vital part in securing the crime scene. But, just as important, were her remarkable “people skills”, as she called them.
If you put anyone in front of Amelia, she could charm them into doing anything she wanted them to within seconds. That is, anyone except for the one she really wanted to seduce.
Dashiell’s walkie-talkie buzzed and he fished it out of his other pocket.
“Yes?” he asked quietly.
“Hey Dash,” Amelia’s voice hummed, “Apollo is ready to come out. Is it safe out there?” Dashiell sighed.
“It’s Dashiell,” he replied, “And the car hasn’t arrived yet.” Amelia gasped.
“What?” she hissed, “I knew we couldn’t trust her.””She could just be running late,” Dashiell told her but he knew, although it stung, that Amelia was probably right.
A couple of weeks ago, Hazel Dorin had joined their gang. Although she was only fourteen, Hazel had learned to drive when she was six and had been driving for people all over the country. Although she had recently turned to crime, her unmistakable charm and wits had let her wiggle her way into their circle, although Amelia had been suspicious.
“She only joined because she was crushing on you,” Amelia whined through the walkie-talkie.
“You weren’t much better, Amelia,” Dashiell smirked, despite his nervousness. He could sense her cheeks reddening, as they always did when this subject was brought up.
“Can we please focus?” Amelia replied.
“Of course,” Dashiell told her, “We will need to find a way to contact her without using a public line.”
“Why?” Amelia asked, “I have a quarter.”
“Public telephones are extremely easy to trace,” Dashiell explained, “A child could find us. I will attempt to use my walkie-talkie. I connected her cell-phone to it last night.”
“Alright,” Amelia replied. Dashiell clicked off her line and pressed a few buttons, crossing his long fingers for luck. He quickly unwound them. Look at you, he scolded himself, Since when are you superstitious? The line crackled to life.
“Hello?” Hazel’s nervous voice flowed through the speaker.
“Hazel,” Dashiell asked, “Where are you? Apollo is ready to leave with the haul.”
“That – that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, Dashiell,” she replied. Dashiell’s stomach dropped.
“We don’t have time to talk,” he told her, “We’ll have a chat after you pick us up.”
“This whole crime business,” Hazel continued, ignoring Dashiell, “Well, it’s wrong, isn’t it?”
“What are you talking about, Hazel?” Dashiell hissed, “Don’t make me question your loyalty.”
“Those diamonds aren’t yours, Dashiell!” Hazel shouted, “They belong to the person who bought them! With their own money!”
“We don’t have time for this,” Dashiell replied, massaging his temples, “Do you want us to get caught?” The line crackled for a moment.
“Yes, Dashiell,” Hazel said quietly, “That’s exactly what I want to happen.”
That’s when Dashiell heard the sirens moaning over the city.
“You turned us in?!” Dashiell said, terrified, “How could you do that?” But Hazel had hung up.
Dashiell tried to think his way out of the problem but his brain wouldn’t respond. His trembling fingers tried to push down on the buttons of the walkie-talkie but they were too weak.
And as the police closed in, Dashiell sat on the pavement, deciding that the best way out of this problem was to give up.
And he was led away, devoured by the unrelenting jaws of guilt and law, never to be seen again.