Free Rocks by M. J. Lawless

gambling heavily, raking in as much as he could on the card tables, and had even done a couple of smaller jobs to get the cash he needed. In many respects, the theft of one diamond—however valuable in itself—was hardly worth this kind of uncertainty. Had he directed his efforts to the kind of more conventional circumstances for which his upbringing had prepared him, he would have even been considerably richer by now.
    But then Hayden thrived on uncertainty. Only napping after his earlier liaison, he was now alert and full of energy, buzzing with adrenaline as he prepared for the culmination of all his plans. This was when he was most alive.
    His control room, though slightly makeshift, would have impressed even the most casual observer. A bank of screens—cables trailing from them to the walls and various computers—dominated a bench. On each one he could see the output of a different security camera in Boeckman’s—here the lobby, there the corridor to the vaults, even the offices of the Boeckman partners themselves.
    Just now, Hayden was standing in front of the screens, naked and drying himself carefully with a towel as he watched the various cameras. Every inch of his body had been meticulously prepared so that he would leave as few traces of himself as possible, and even his clothes lay before him still in the dry cleaning bags he’d collected earlier that day. Staring at the screens, he achieved an almost Zen-like state of calm as he watched the guard before the vaults, the other in the lobby, a third patrolling the offices. He knew almost by heart their movements, as well as the fact that two more remained in the Boeckman control room, watching precisely the same scenes as he did.
    Dressing quickly and carefully, in dark but nondescript clothes, he crossed to one of the many computers humming beneath the bench and tapped a series of codes on the keyboard attached to it, his fingers hovering as he watched the screens once more. Judging each moment precisely, he hit a key once, twice, five more times. In each case almost seamlessly the scene switched to show one of the various loops he had been editing in recent days. Careful eyes might have noticed a transition or two, but they would have to watch for more than an hour to realise that the scenes from the security cameras were being repeated endlessly.
    Checking his watch, he estimated that he had a two hour window of opportunity, perhaps a little more, probably less. He’d timed himself getting to Boeckman’s, which took fifteen minutes. Ten more minutes to place his final little toy in place, and then fifteen minutes back. That would give him just over an hour to break into the safe and take the Wallenstein.
    Installing the few extra items he needed about his person, Hayden took a few deep breaths and looked at the screens which were linked to hidden cameras around his safe house. No one was around. It was time to go.
    Slipping through the steel door and into the street, he w as dressed inconspicuously in dark jacket and trousers. Perhaps his hat, pulled firmly over his hair line almost to his eye brows, and his gloves might have attracted attention on such a warm night, but he doubted it. Certainly he looked a little intimidating, but not like a man intent on criminal activity.
    Jogging through the side streets, he saw almost no-one but for a couple kissing in a doorway whom he studiously ignored. He wanted to make a good pace to Boeckman’s, but he had no desire to tire himself. As such, when he arrived at the rear of the building he was invigorated and ready for anything, leaping up athletically and climbing the wall that separated Boeckman’s from the street easily. He looked at his watch. He’d covered the ground in thirteen minutes, fifty-four seconds. Only now that he was inside did he roll down his hat, pulling it into a mask that covered his face except for the holes through which he could see and breathe.
    He spied the window that would allow him