CORY Tales-Short Story1

Jonathan Scryler was celebrating his latest heist. They had stolen the safe- the whole two ton thing- from the Dayell Mansion. Cory Dayell was one of the city's mysteries. An only child born to a middle class rural family- who eventually became rich by accident of owning land that had oil- she inherited a fortune from her fathers best friend and her godfather who had been a reclusive tech millionaire.

Cory Dayell herself was unusual. She had graduated in arts from the prestigious Royal Institute in Madrid. Then she joined the MI5 and worked her way up to independent charge in a record five years and then promptly retired. Her face was not recognized among the gentry, nor was her name popular except in very elite circles who owned and traded extremely valuable art works.

The safe Jonathan had stolen was rumored to have art and precious stones worth north of $100 million. A sidewall of the safe was cut out using a laser; tampering with the door would have created all sorts of problems. The contents were valuable alright but hardly worth more than a $5 million. The good thing was almost half the fortune was in 18th century silver coins- easily encashable anywhere in the world. So the celebratory party was underway at the penthouse of the Scryler building.

Jonathan did not like it when one of his lieutenants called him aside to tell him that the Crime Branch was in process of launching a raid at their current warehouse. A safe location where most of the loot was kept, till fenced away, under constant guard by a team of dedicated security persons. Every couple of months a new secure location would become the warehouse. The proof was video footage from the Crime Branch conference room sent by one of the high ranking officers under their pay. It showed the arrangements being made to cordon of the area and then sweep in to arrest and secure all personnel and loot. He had a couple of hours only, in which to save the loot and avoid arrest.

The party was over. People were dispatched and arrangements were made to transfer the loot via a couple of small trucks to two separate locations. Jonathan stayed behind with a couple of his guards to pack all the cash and as many valuables in the Penthouse that he could carry. In a few hours he would go to ground and then every one who had betrayed the location of the warehouse would pay.

Soon Jonathan was speeding to his bolt hole in a nondescript SUV. He sat back and finished his cigarette, nerves quietened enough to think over what had happened, when the call came. It was a video call from an unknown number. Jonathan let it ring a few times and then decided to receive it. There was a blonde woman on the other end.

"Hi!I am Cory." She smiled into the camera. "You made a mistake Jonathan. Dayell Mansion is off limits, every one knows this. If you are sensible you will stay away. And I am not stupid enough to call you personally."

The call ended. Jonathan dialed the number of the driver of truck One- no reply. He tried the driver of truck Two- no reply. In a fit of black rage he punched and broke the window glass. His bodyguards had to restrain for a couple of minutes before they could bandage his hand and return his phone; his trusted Lieutenant had called in confirming the loss of both the trucks carrying loot. The next call was from another of his men to inform hi that no raid had been planned and the footage they had viewed was doctored. Jonathan learned his lesson- Don't mess with Cory Dayell

Picture Credit: Prosteel.us