So I had this great idea to write a heist caper before I realised I can’t write heist capers. This is Act 1.
They sit, across from each other, at one end of a dining table, blueprints and maps casually strewn across its surface.
Her coat is a deep red, its hood lined with white fur. The hood is pulled low over her face, the fur contrasting against two strands of auburn hair, framing her shadowed face with white and red.
Red asks, “Why are we doing this again?”
A young woman, in a long-sleeved dress of light blue. She sits with a doll in her lap, dressed exactly as she is, down to her blond hair, in ringlets. The doll carries a miniature umbrella, to match the larger one leaning against her seat.
Bel says, “How much of it did you get the first time I explained it?”
“There was an election in some tiny country in the Pacific. And a hurricane. And now I’m supposed to steal a box?”
“There was an election. The winner won by just over a hundred votes. They have a system where their citizens in other countries get to vote.”
“Right. And these votes were stopped by the hurricane.”
Bel lifts up her doll, her hands around its torso. She moves it over the centre of the table, between them, lifts up the doll’s arm, and the tiny umbrella pops open over the dolls head.
“Yes,” she says, “In usual circumstances, they’d be carted off to a plane,” the doll sways in the air, “But, in this rare instance, because of the hurricane, the airports are closed, so these votes are sitting there, waiting.”
“But the hurricane is here, and that country is half-way around the world?”
The small umbrella snaps shut, “Almost exactly half-way, in fact. They’re twelve hours ahead, by the clock.”
“So the window of our opportunity is a confluence of events? If there wasn’t a thin margin, these votes wouldn’t matter; and if there wasn’t a hurricane, these votes wouldn’t still be here?”
“I just want to be sure. It seems… too convenient. Err, are we behind the hurricane?”
The doll shakes its small head, “No. Maybe. I don’t think so.”
“Okay. So I have to steal the box with the votes?”
“No. You have to bring me there.”
“Not to steal it?”
Bel returns the doll to her lap, says, “We have to change the votes. There are six hundred votes here. We need the final count to tip the scales in favour of our guy.”
“Who is a hundred points behind. Got it. What’s his name?”
“What does he stand for?”
“If I’m giving him a country, I’d like to know what he stands for.”
“It’s more what the current front runner stands for, which we don’t like.”
“What don’t we like?”
“He’s a religious fundamentalist.”
“Ahh. Yes, we don’t like that.”
“There you go.”
“And Sebastian isn’t?”
“He is, just not as bad.”
“Democracy is about the lesser evil, Loll.”
“I know. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
Red looks at the map for a moment.
“Why am I here again?” Red asks.
“How much of it did you get?” Bel says.
“Not ‘why’, ‘why me’. Lit or Lizzie would be better for something like this, even Lil.”
“Oh. That. Well, Yuri’s here.”
Red pauses. She brings up a finger and taps her lips, beneath the shadow of her hood.
“And you didn’t think to say so right at the beginning?” Red asks, her lips pursing in annoyance.
“You know how you get. I figured it’d be best to explain everything else first.”
“So Yuri is… here,” Red says, finger on her lips, tap, tap, tap.
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||Something witty this way comes…|
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