The sales pitch by Mathias, captured the ear of the authorities with his British accent, suggested that by shifting everything to digital currency, the government could put an end to the EU. Then they would finally get the tax revenue they’d been missing. The powers-that-be had completely missed the fact that the loss of mobile hard currency would simply drive the entire population, heavily dependent upon the EU, into a subterranean-subsistence level of poverty. The governments involved in this joint experiment had made the easily missed classical mistake of pushing the population into a position where they now had nothing left to lose. Now with the poorly trained but armed militia joining the frightened mob, and no police willing to defend the new world order, things could not have been blacker for the digital currency plan.
One of the larger well-fed directors meekly asked, “Did the specialty donuts get delivered this morning? Can you ask the private security persons if they are on their way up?”
At that same moment, gunfire cracked several corners of vertical glass panes in the directors’ meeting room. The eminent threat of the fractured glass walls was immediately on the minds of the directors at the table.
Alois Dutch, who was always addressed as Dutch, entered through the lavatory door adjacent to the boardroom. He was imposing in his loose suit which obviously concealed his holstered handgun. His gravelly voice barked, “The donuts are here, but the coffee is still brewing! Who wants to wait, and who wants to go? The chopper is on the roof, but there is only room for three!”
Mathias frowned and retrieved his own personal 9mm semi-automatic. He promptly made the selecting votes. All the frightened directors stared in shocked disbelief as Mathias shot them all in rapid succession. After one shot each to the head, Mathias turned to Dutch and calmly stated, “We now have room for the donuts, but let’s pick up coffee along the way. I would like to have room for the cream and sugar to be added.”
As a seasoned mercenary, Dutch wasn’t surprised at the efficiency of the meeting’s abrupt ending, so he responded, “Good by me. I’ve always thought the coffee here isn’t strong enough for my tastes.” Dutch was about the same size as Mathias, but with the blue eyes and blond hair which echoed his German heritage. The lines of his face, permanently turned down mouth and haphazard scars spoke to his uncompromised lifestyle filled with brutality.
Then they both got low as they moved out the back door, away from the disastrous scene, and quickly moved toward the exit and the stairwell that would take them to the helipad on the roof. Mathias had snatched his ever-close metal briefcase, containing his standard escape materials, after eliminating the competition for seats in the helicopter. The special purpose briefcase was also bullet-proof. With its side sling, it made for a perfect shield should any more stray rounds head his way. As they climbed higher in the stairwell, the noise from the lower floors receded, and it was almost quiet as they got to the last door which led directly to the roof.
Dutch did a quick spot check from out in front and then motioned to Mathias to follow. They both swung quickly into the helicopter. Once the door closed, Dutch pounded on the glass behind the pilot and with a thumbs up indicated it was time to go. The pilot pulled the helicopter up to clear the building edge then smartly pushed the craft forward, gaining as much speed as quickly as he could.
Dutch smirked as he commented, “Maybe we need a new line of work. I mean, there must be something wrong with getting your whole agenda adopted by the Finance Minister, rubber stamped by the governing body of this backwater country, only to have to leave with our donuts, yet leave the coffee behind as we run for our lives.”
Mathias ground his teeth in anger and remarked, “You know, I can ask the pilot to take you back and drop you off if you prefer.”
Dutch knew he was on thin ice so he offered, “Alright, I’m fine here.” Then he shifted the discussion as he added, “I have to admit, we almost pulled this one off by the numbers. But just like my CO used to say after a failed operation, it sure looked good on paper!”
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