IDLE MINDS Copyright© by Rick Yost

John could fall asleep anywhere, anytime. He was dozing while riding on a city bus headed downtown. He sat slumped in a window seat with his hands folded in his lap and his head against the window. It had been a relatively smooth ride for the last five or six minutes and he was fast asleep. He was dreaming of her again.
The rocking and swaying bus hit a pothole and the window jarred his skull. He sat up straight, rubbed his eyes and looked ahead to determine where he was. In a few minutes he would be in downtown Dallas. There he would meet with the others. He thought of what he and the others were about to do and said to himself, "If life doesn't give you 'butterflies', why live it?"
Casually dressed in blue jeans, tennis shoes, and a white t-shirt, he stepped off the bus, put his sunglasses on, and threw his small backpack over his shoulder. He was in pretty good shape for forty-six, with sprinkles of gray throughout his brown, well-trimmed hair. He now stood in front of a sleek, high-rise office tower. There were similar buildings on the other three corners of the downtown intersection.
As the bus pulled away, he began to walk across the fashionably designed sidewalks and landscaping that surrounded the entrance to the building. It was lunchtime and there were pedestrians everywhere. It took a few moments to spot his friends among the others. Then he saw them. Three people he'd known for years; three friends that he would trust with his life. Seeing them patiently waiting for him to arrive, John thought back to how they’d all met and how they came to be at that spot at that time.
Paul was a mortgage broker, and would-be actor from New York City. Tall and thin, with straight, black hair long enough to drape over his shoulders. He wore baggy, tan, cargo pants, red sneakers, and an old, black, Humble Pie tour t-shirt. He was a tanned, handsome, thirty-two-year old, with an easy-going personality.
Standing next to him was Philip; a fifty four year old, retired military, security-specialist. Since his military service, he’d made a good living setting up security systems for banks and large corporations. He had a blazing intellect and a constant, slight grin on his face that made it hard to tell what he was thinking. But he was always thinking. Impeccably groomed and dressed in an Armani suit, he had thinning silver hair, Italian sunglasses, and a polished demeanor that came from years of dealing with people with great fortunes.
The third of the group was an attractive young blonde woman named Theresa. She was a thirty-six-year-old software engineer from Seattle. She was as brilliant as she was beautiful. This was the woman John was dreaming about on the bus.
For a short time John and Theresa were romantically involved and tried to make a relationship work. But living on opposite sides of the country made it very difficult. Seeing her again brought all the old feelings back. It had been two years since their last meeting- their last night together. John didn’t realize until that moment, that she might make it hard for him to focus. But focus he must. He had to concentrate on the job at hand.
They all greeted each other, shook hands, and hugged like friends do. Then the collective mood became a bit more serious and they all turned to face the reason they were there. Theresa spoke calmly, yet loud enough to be heard above the din of the street, "So this is it?"
"Yeah, this is it!" John replied.
A statue stood at the base of the office building. A massive, twelve foot tall bronze horse. It was a magnificent work of art. At least a ton of bronze and steel that caught the attention of all who passed by. This statue was the reason they had put their lives on hold, and traveled from different parts of the country to come together in Dallas.
For the next three weeks they would evaluate security, observe routines, and consider every option. They would develop at least four different versions of their plan; each one calculated down to the smallest detail, and yet, each one as simple as possible. Anything that could possibly go wrong would be considered and allowed for. This was about accuracy and timing. This was about precision. This was about stealing the statue.
The plan was to heist this equestrian tonnage in broad daylight. At this point, standing there staring at it together, none of them knew exactly how it would be done. However, it was obvious that it would eventually involve a large crane, a flatbed trailer and tractor, and several contract laborers. The local police would no doubt be enlisted to block off the street while loading.
The adrenalin started to pump as they glanced at each other and grinned. They were already thinking of their possible individual roles in this daring, illegal, and potentially incarcerating endeavor. It would take all the brains, nerve, and luck they could muster.
These were not common criminals. They were all well respected, hard working, tax paying members of their communities. You might call them crazy, but they’d say they were living life to its fullest. They were just four very intelligent individuals who enjoyed testing their minds. Adrenalin is addictive and they were in search of the un-matched thrill.
This was not a theft for money, there would be no ransom paid. After the statue was removed, the authorities would be told where to find it, safe and in perfect condition. No harm would come to the horse, or any persons during the theft. They carried no weapons. They weren’t there to hurt anyone. They would succeed in the endeavor using their minds, not brute force. The idea was to do something grand, dangerous, and unconventional.
Of course to avoid being caught, they would never be able to receive credit for their daring actions. After it was over, they would simply go back to their respective towns and jobs as if nothing had happened. Then, after a year or so of living normal lives, they’ll come together again in another city, where they’ll plan another adventure.
These were four personalities with a mix of tightly wound gray matter and stone nerve. What they were about to do was extremely dangerous and they loved every minute of it.
In the next several weeks they would meet at a Jazz club downtown called Pearl. It was there they would develop the plan, and quietly work out the details over martinis.
They'll probably be there this Friday for Happy Hour when Rick Yost plays from 5:30 to 8:30. Come see if you can pick them out. If you do spot them, don’t draw too much attention to them. They’d like to keep a low profile.