The Kind

Prologue and Chapter One

The summer of 2013 ended in Australia on a particularly cool 28th day of February. Inside the Reserve Bank the air conditioning that had been so depended on for the past three months was now encouraging the staff to finish their work faster and escape to what little warmth awaited them outside at the end of their shifts.
Several hours later, in an empty section of the darkened main lobby, the chilled air shuffled briefly of its own accord before parting completely to welcome two uninvited guests who appeared as if from nowhere. The pair, a man and a woman, was dressed in black from head to toe. The former wore a brimmed hat, which covered his eyes until he raised his head to take in his new surroundings. The woman’s eyes were covered by a pair of thin sunglasses, which she removed with her right gloved hand, flicking away her long, black, straightened hair as she did. Her left hand was held at shoulder height by her partner, who waited without speaking until she took her first step forward, and then let their hands fall away.
“A bank?” the woman asked, her voice slicing through the silence. She turned on her heel and tried to catch his eyes, but he was already scanning the room. “You can’t be serious?”
“Crude, I know,” the man mused, still not looking at her. “But also simple… and effective.” He brought his eyes around finally to meet hers, to which she responded with a faithful look of derision before moving on to her own scans. The man smirked, for his own satisfaction if nothing else. He waited a few minutes for her to finish the analysis. “What do you make of it?”
“Basic security and one, two, three… six guards! My, my, aren’t we precious?” When she looked back the man had his eyes closed, as though listening to some far away sound. “Give it up, you won’t hear them all,” she teased. “You’ll just have to trust me.”
A loud sigh was his only reply as his eyes opened and he attempted to ignore the satisfied grin that was currently splitting her face.
“Very well,” he said finally. “Shall we get started?”
“We’ll have to,” she replied, suddenly serious. “We’re about to have company.” Sure enough the first guard appeared through the open door that lead to the vaults.
“What the…!” was all the guard had time to yell before the man in black clothes appeared silently behind him and drove the deciding end of a taser into his back. The guard’s voice, along with every other part of his anatomy, froze in the middle of whatever it was doing and eventually joined him on the floor in a crumpled, and very unconscious, heap. The woman meanwhile took two deliberate steps over to her partner and raised her gloved hand to his jaw. Her grin had since been replaced with a more genuine smile, and he accepted her silent praise gladly.
Moments later the pair reappeared in front of the oversized titanium door to the central vault.
“Ready to make some money?” the man asked.
“Always,” came the expected reply.
As one the couple turned towards the vault and each raised a gloved right hand. Closing their eyes they felt the vibrations rising until the entire structure began shaking on its foundations, giving the very real and very rare impression that central Sydney was experiencing an earthquake. The rumbling in the air gave way to a devastating crash as the entire gargantuan door burst forth from its hinges and hurled itself towards the pair. As suddenly as it had moved, the door halted, and came to rest suspended in midair lightly brushing against the couple’s fingertips. Neither of the two opened their eyes until, by the grace of their lowered arms, the door was allowed to fall slowly to the floor, where it was pushed effortlessly aside by a wave of the woman’s arm. The twisted metal mass found its final resting place with a crash that was almost enough to drown out the sound of alarms and various yells of the remaining security team. 
The head security officer arrived in seconds, weapon at the ready, to find a vault with no door and no money.


On a rooftop several miles away, a couple dressed in entirely black, each leaning against a suitably oversized sack, were quietly watching the sun rise.
“You know you’ll never get away if you do this,” the woman said softly, as though she didn’t really want to be heard.
“I don’t know that,” the man replied. “The world’s a big place; it should be possible to get lost in it.”
The woman shook her head, frustrated. “Have you chosen your name yet? You can tell me that can’t you?”
The conversation ended as the first rays of light hit the spot where the pair had been sitting moments before.

***

 
Viktor Gold fished through his coat for the keys to the townhouse. Of course, it wasn’t his townhouse, nor was any of the furniture inside his, but over the past year, it had come very much to feel like home. He suspected that had something to do with the fact that he was very much in love with a woman called Sarah Richards, who did own the house, and who had proceeded to fill it with all the usual refinements. Pushing open the door, he was immediately greeted by a small brown shoe, about Sarah’s size, travelling at the unmistakeable velocity of a well-practiced round-house kick, aimed perfectly at his chest. He responded appropriately enough by catching her foot by the ankle, and re-directing the surprised and extremely frustrated Sarah Richards into a landing on the carpet inside the entrance. 
“‘Hello’ to you too,” Viktor mused, taking a very deliberate step over the tangle of limbs and curly-blond hair that was the woman glaring up at him from the floor. “How are the shoes?” he added without pausing. Sarah was back on her feet before he reached the next doorway, which opened onto a recently remodelled kitchen with high glass windows that flooded the not-overly-large room with light.
“They’re fine!” She was breathless, and not terribly grateful for the change of subject. “Please don’t start on about them again.” The shoes had been a gift from a friend who rarely bought anybody anything, and so, despite their being either a bit too small or a bit too big (the details varied depending on the mood of the day), Sarah maintained a flat-out refusal to exchange them, which Viktor had thus far been unable to extinguish.
“Are you wearing them to training now?” Viktor wasn’t sure if the question would constitute ‘starting on again,’ but he was genuinely curious, so decided to take the chance.
“No…” she rested her arms on the bench top while examining the footwear. “I just heard you pull up and thought I’d surprise you. How the hell did you catch me this time?” Her green eyes were always at their fiercest when he’d just gotten the better of her. He resisted a smile as he considered his answer.
“Just lucky I guess.”
Sarah raised her right leg into the air and twirled her shoe in an arc. “My little brown foot it’s luck! Cats wish they had your reflexes!” Now the temptation was too much: the idea that a cat – an animal Viktor admired but to which Sarah was sadly allergic – could be jealous of him for any reason made him grin broadly. Sarah crossed her foot behind her left ankle before continuing.
“I wish you’d reconsider. You could make a fortune and with your skills you’d never even take a hit. Plus we’d be working together.” Sarah worked at a gym which specialised in fitness through martial arts. They had met when Viktor had accepted a free trial for one month. The process of courting her had cost him nearly 6 months of additional membership fees, not to mention the occasional bruise and at least one minor concussion. Recently the gym had been trying to launch a sparring program, but was having trouble finding trainers who would be willing to let the customers land most of the hits. Teaching martial arts under a gym’s business model was a tricky prospect at best. The occasional surprise-attack was Sarah’s way of reminding him that he was perfect for the job, or that she would just keep at it until she beat him at least once, he wasn’t sure which. She sighed as she turned to head for the living room.
“Seriously though, it’s like you can read my mind or something,” she called behind her. The disembodied voice continued in from the next room. “What did you get for tea?” When no answer came she called again, this time louder. The next few minutes saw Sarah stomping as dramatically as was possible in tiny shoes back the way she’d just left to find the kitchen empty. Her lips moved into an involuntary pout reserved for when she was alone as her inner voice sprang to life: Viktor had many redeeming qualities, or so the voice reminded her. Among them was not an ability to stay in one place for any considerable length of time, be it a room, a living arrangement or even a country. So many times she had discovered plane tickets for working-trips she hadn’t even known he was taking that it had become almost ritualistic. ‘Meeting international clients...’ the inevitable cover-story he told her when pressured. It would have bothered her more if not for all of the amazing places they had been to together. Now if she could just tie him to earth when they were at home, she mused. Footsteps from the living room caught Sarah off guard and she spun, arms up, fists at the ready.
“Not again,” Viktor pleaded. In either hand he held a bag containing steaming take-away containers. “At least, let’s eat first. Then you can try to bring me down again.” Sarah’s pride barked at her not to let the challenge to go unanswered, but she really was starving, so she let it pass and collapsed beside him on the couch to eat.
“Why do you disappear like that?” she asked, eagerly opening her mystery meal. “You know I hate it when you do that.”
“I know, I’m sorry,” he punctuated his words with a kiss on her forehead. “I had to bring the food in from the car.”
“You should have said something: I would have helped.” Secretly she enjoyed whatever self-sufficient tendencies kept him from imposing on her very often.
“You know I prefer to do it myself,” he answered, taking a pair of chopsticks in hand. Sarah smiled at the inside joke with herself. She twirled her plastic fork through an assortment of meats with noodles. His challenge, like any further conversation, would have to wait in line behind their meal.