The Night Watch
Entering my access code I watched with relief as a total of 1.3 million Euros appeared on the screen
I had plenty of time to think about it during those long night shifts. In the end, I couldn’t believe how easy it was. As a security guard at the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam, I had access to all areas. It took less than twenty minutes during the evening lockup. I slipped into the gallery, carefully razoring the painting out of its frame, before replacing it with a beautifully crafted fake. It would not fool anyone taking a closer look, but it gave me time to get away.
Waiting for the courier, I sat outside the cafe, a short black coffee and a portion of honey cake in front of me. I heard a voice from behind.
“Do you mind if I join you?” he asked in English, giving the agreed code.
“Delighted,” I replied. He handed over the laptop. Pulling up the display, I watched the Bitcoin application start. Entering my access code I saw, with relief, the crypto equivalent of 1.3 million Euros appear on the screen.
“Not a bad payment for a day’s work,” the courier said, smiling. “Shame you won’t be able to spend it.”
“What?”
“Vincent Parker, I am arresting you for the theft of a painting from the Rijksmuseum.”
About the Creator
Raymond G. Taylor
Author based in Kent, England. A writer of fictional short stories in a wide range of genres, he has been a non-fiction writer since the 1980s. Non-fiction subjects include art, history, technology, business, law, and the human condition.
Keep reading
More stories from Raymond G. Taylor and writers in Fiction and other communities.
Peanuts and Crackerjack
Bottom of the ninth inning. The game is tied with two outs, two strikes and a man on second. I tap the bat on home plate. The rigid vibrations it creates reminds my aching digits that this isn't over. The practice swing only adds to the heft of mental burnout... Man on second, willing to chance it. Pitcher eyes him but doesn't give in to the dangerous bluff. I kick up dust, readying the peculiar stance I've had since the days of little league. The bat lays stiff upon my cramping shoulder. Pain has no reason to be acknowledged; it's a fleeting afterthought. The sun sits passed high noon, but the stadium lights are on anyway. They trick my brain into believing they are the cause of this sweltering heat. Sporadic clouds are motionless, they too, don't want to miss this exhilarating predicament. Anticipating the next pitch, intensifying roars from the crowd rumble the stadium... Behind me, the crafty catcher adjusts his stance and spits to the dry dirt. Behind him, the staunch umpire doesn't flinch or even blink; he knows how important his call will be. The pitcher winds up, his grip tells me its gonna curve. The release is fierce! Beads of sweat from his hair and face disperse in every direction as the force of his might is unfailing. My left leg lifts—an instinctual move that will increase the power of my swing. It's all down to my two, bloodshot eyes. They lock onto the speeding, white dot as it instantly becomes the target I intend to destroy. The swing is late, but I manage a solid tip. The ball is taking a fast bounce toward the pitcher who is recovering from the almighty throw! Man on second leaves in a desperate rush! I fling the bat to the side with a sense of urgency and make a mad sprint to the only destination I have—first base. Three defenders race inward to be the first to retrieve the skidding ball. Man is almost on third! I watch the open glove of my adversary, wondering if I’ve done enough to win this race. I switch my attention to his eyes, looking for a clue, some kind of reaction that tells me the ball is in the air and heading his way. All I see is frustration. The deafening roar of the crowd spikes! Something happens that I can’t see! My opponent abandons his post right as my left stride touches the bag. I waste no time turning my head to see the pitcher laying on his stomach, pounding the mound with an open glove. He misses the opportunity to out me and the ball has quickly bounced past him. Excitement grows! This isn’t over yet... It's become an imperative fight to tag out the runner heading homeward. The catcher falls to his knees in obvious despair as he watches my teammate make the run of his life. He knows it’s going to be close when he sees the shortstop fumble the ball a second too long. I jump up and down with no plans on leaving first base. All my chips are on the speed and agility of the active runner. His cleats dig into the dirt, trailing a dust-filled cyclone from the rapid and strenuous strides. With a thrusting dive and an outstretched arm, he lands on his chest to begin the crucial slide to home plate. The shortstop fires the ball to the catcher! It immediately begins closing the gap! Nail-biting doesn't begin to describe the anxious vibe permeating the stadium. The bench begins to celebrate even before he reaches the plate. Forty thousand cheering fans reach maximum crescendo, filling the air with a glorious sound. Everyone knows how this story will end… My teammate is met by the entire bench as his fingers inch across home plate, instantly followed by the unmistakable motion of the catcher's glove attempting to tag him out—its milliseconds too late. The ump swings his arms outward, officially calling him safe.
By Lamar Wiggins6 days ago in Fiction
The Tear Collector's Legacy
In the mystical land of Lachrymora, tears were not just a natural response to human emotions. They held the power to heal, to harm, and to transform. Amidst the whispers of ancient legends, a young woman named Aria embarked on a perilous quest to unravel the mysteries of tears.
By Muhammad Sarmad Razzaq3 days ago in Fiction
Comments (4)
It's always tough for an amateur to pick up the signs that all is not right with their heist. And doubly difficult to get away with anything of much import.
This is way better than my effort! Well done!
Very clever framing devise, a night watchman steals Rembrandt’s The Night Watch. (Sorry about the pun.) A well crafted story. I enjoyed it. I love the Dutch Masters and would love to visit the Rijksmuseum someday.
Oh no! 😱 how tantalising, a million euros, and not able to spend any of it 😖