Chapter 1

Kenter Smith smiled as he rode in his long 15-seater limo. Today was the big day. Today was the day he was going to show his true colours to the world. He was known by everyone as Mr Smith, powerful entrepreneur businessman, of the successful business, Smiths Super Stuff (SSS).

Little did the poor people of NSW know, that Mr Smith wasn’t so great. Little did they know, that not all Mr Smith’s money came from SSS. And today, was his big strike. If he pulled this off, he’d be rich beyond compare. It was a big if though.

‘Bank’s only 3 kilometres ahead, sir,’ said his second-in-command, Bobby “Brick-breaker” Bill, a short man, more brawn than brain, but a useful part in his operations. ‘The squads are all in position.’ Kenter Smith’s smile widened. It was going to be a good day. Then, he looked up, and swore quietly to himself. There was a car blocking the way. A black car. With tinted windows. A man stepped out of the car.
‘Secret Services,’ he said. ‘Don’t move.’ Mr Smith swore again.
‘Drive,’ he whispered. ‘Full pelt.’ The driver, a short stocky man, responded by jamming his foot down on the acceleration pedal, shooting the car forward from naut to 60 in 3 seconds flat. The man jumped out of the way as the limo’s front bumper smashed the black car flying.

The man behind him pulled out a gun, and shot, once, twice, three times. The first bullet smashed through the window, missing Bobby by millimetres. The second went way off. The third, sped toward Kenter Smith’s head. Kenter yelled, and brought up the only thing he had to block the bullet. Which happened to be the communicator. The only one on the car. The only way to tell the squads not to go with the plan. Kenter Smith swore for a third time as the car sped away.

Chapter 2

Jimmy Jack John whistled to himself merrily, as he drove his buggy down the road. He was the bank janitor, and was heading there now. As he drove, he noticed a car speeding down the road past him. Mildly, he wondered what it was doing, and why the back window was shattered. But Jimmy was just a simple janitor, so this didn’t matter.

Jimmy pulled up at the bank a few minutes later. He got out of the car, opened the trunk, and wheeled out his cleaning supplies. Jimmy wouldn’t trust a dingy closet for his cleaning supplies, no sir! He was a top cleaner, and top cleaners kept their equipment, well, clean. Pushing his trolley through the sliding doors, he reached inside for the mop, and…nothing. He stared into the trolley.

There was nothing in there, at least, there was nothing that looked like a mop in there. Jimmy dug franticly for a few seconds through his stuff, before giving up. He would have to ask the man at the desk for a mop. Driving his cart towards the front desk, he asked, ‘Excuse me, you have a mop?’ to a tall, intimidating man in a business suit standing next to the desk. ‘A mop? Why do you need a mop?’ he said, raising his eyebrows. ‘And what are you doing in those janitor’s clothes, Mr Smith, you’ve got a meeting!’
‘A…a meeting?’ Jimmy said.
‘Yes, a meeting!’ the man said impatiently. ‘Dr Boulevard is waiting to make the exchange! Chop chop!’ and with that, he literally threw Jimmy over the desk, and through the door behind, to the meeting that was taking place.
‘I assume you ave brought ze moneey?’ a man in a tweed jacket, wearing glasses asked. ‘Ve can start ze exchange, now, I sink? Yes?’