The Last Laugh
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Synopsis: Their heist is finished! They’ve stolen more money than they could ever know what to do with. Now, seven criminal colleagues realize just how much this stolen money can change their lives.
This story came to me after a rewatch of Oceans 11, and is kind of thematically appropriate for Halloween! Please enjoy the story!
They parked the van in the garage, closing the door seconds before sirens screamed past. All seven of them released their breath at once—phew. The realization set in—it was done. They did it! Their biggest heist yet, seventy-odd million dollars, more than ten million dollars apiece. Sighs gave way to cheers, handshakes, celebrating. They spilled out of the car and let all their nervous energy of the last twelve hours go. It was done. They got away, free and clear!
“Alright,” Number Seven said, gathering the attention of the crew. “We’ve done it, somehow, someway—it’s over. We’re going to lay low for three months, leave the van here. In three months we’ll reconvene, split the money, and go our separate ways. We can never see each other again after that, understand? This is it. So go find something to do, and we’ll meet back here for the split.”
Handshakes all around, pats on the back, and slowly, all seven men trickled away from the unmarked bills in the unmarked van in the unmarked garage.
Three months later, all seven men walked away for the last time, each weighed down by a heavy briefcase.
Six Months Later
Number One likes showing off his new car. He’s got a new haircut, new clothes, new style. The social scene in Toronto is just what he always wanted. He’s a big fish in a pond he can be proud of.
He knocks back another drink, and smiles at the woman sitting next to him. “You ever seen a Lambo?” he asks her.
She smiles, “No! Have you?”
He knows she’s lying, but this is the game. He’ll take her outside, she’ll act impressed. He’ll show off the car, they’ll end up alone, and—
“Yeah, baby,” he slurs. “I’ve got the sexiest Lambo north of the 49th parallel. Owned, free and clear. It’s mine.”
She coo’s gently, impressed. “I’ve never been in a Lamborghini.”
“A pretty girl like you? No way.”
“It’s true!” she says.
“You want to see mine?”
“Show me.”
He takes her hand, and steps away from the bar. A taller, stronger looking man comes up behind her.
“Hey, what are you doing with my girl?”
“Your girl? She came on to me, pal.”
A blur of a fight. Security escorts all three of them out. The big man practically carrying his girl by her arm. Number One spits blood. Fine. He walks to where his immaculate car is parked, not far away. He doesn’t need company—not after that. He owns this car, though. And no one can take it from him.
He steps in, and pushes the ignition. Vroom, it rumbles to life. This, this is what it was all for.
He drives.
What good is a Lambo if you can’t push it to the limit? An unused tool is a useless tool, he thinks. He speeds down the streets, and finds himself on a highway away from town. He speeds past all the normal, plebian cars on the road—flying, finally free.
A surprise turn. A cement wall.
The end.
Three Months Later
Number Two is in trouble.
It wasn’t supposed to go this way. He had a strategy, he had a plan. A plan, see? This wasn’t the plan! He thinks.
He looks out his 14th floor window, at the streets of New York City below. A penthouse? A nice car? Nice clothes? He tried getting a nice job to match—making nice investments. He was going to become somebody. Turns out, it takes more than money to be somebody.
Nothing was working.
His girlfriend—gone. His investments? Tanked. To add insult to injury, his dog had died suddenly, after eating some trash on the street. His father had called, and expressed in unambiguous terms his true opinion of Number Two’s efforts.
Nothing is working.
Number Two had decided weeks ago that this would be it. He wouldn’t leave a letter—no one would care to read it anyway.
He tries to be considerate. Spreads the shower curtain out to make cleanup easier. He leans his chair over the bathtub.
He holds the revolver up, looks down the barrel of the gun. Guess this is it he thinks. An unremarkable end to an unremarkable failure.
The end.
One Month Later
“Hey, Number Four?” Number Three says, nervous, over the payphone.
“How the hell did you find me?”
“I’m scared, man. You hear about Number One and Number Two?”
“No, and don’t tell me. You’re not supposed to keep track of anyone, remember? What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m scared, man. I need help. Something is wrong, man.”
“Nothing is wrong. Just be cool. Deep breaths. Okay? What’s going on.”
“I took it all out.”
“All of it?”
“All of it man, I want to give it back.”
“Are you stupid? You can’t give it back.”
“I gotta get rid of it man. It’s gonna find me.”
“What’s gonna find you.”
“Whatever got One and Two.”
“You’re off your rocker, dude.”
“Oh God, they’re already here.”
“Who is?”
“I don’t know!”
Number Three hung up. No time to explain, Number Four wouldn’t understand. The dark shadows of men walking towards the payphone—they were real. He had to get away. He had to bring it back. The briefcase was so heavy his arm hurt. He would put it in the trunk and drive—drive anywhere.
He walks to his car—but the men are already behind him. One of them grabs the briefcase.
“Let go!” Three shouts.
The assailant doesn’t let go, the other one pulls a gun.
“HELP!” Three screams.
One shot, two shots, three shots. The briefcase spills cash onto the street. The assailants grab fistfuls and run into the night.
The end.
Three Weeks Later
“Listen, Five, you gotta talk to me.” Number Four pleads.
“No, I don’t gotta talk to you. You gotta lotta nerve showin up after all this time. Moron, you’ll get us both arrested. How did you find me, anyway?”
“It took weeks, man. Listen, as long as I’m here, let me buy you one drink. One drink, that’s it. Then I’ll disappear forever.”
“You were supposed to disappear forever before—lot of good that did us both. Fine, let’s go. One drink.”
At the bar, Number Four explains the unsettled feeling. “Listen, the last I heard from Number Three he was worried about someone or something coming after him. Next I hear there’s a dead man and a pile of cash on the streets of Sacramento. He said One and Two were already gone—I did some digging and found obituaries with faces that matched.”
Number Five is not impressed. “So you think you’re next, is that it? Ridiculous. All you superstitious idiots get your panties in a twist over nothing. How did you say they died?”
“Car accident, suicide, robbery gone wrong.”
“Is that really so hard to believe? Bad things happen to people all the time. Those guys were idiots. They probably got what they deserved.”
“I don’t know, Five, I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong here.”
“Tell me what’s wrong. Tell me a story that makes sense. If you can convince me I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”
“That’s the thing, I don’t know. It’s just a feeling. A feeling, is all. Three talked about giving it back. I don’t know what that means. But it sounds like he had all his money with him when he was robbed.”
“A feeling? Four I took you for being smarter than this. Are you losing your mind? The stress getting to you? Everything okay at home?”
“You’re not taking me seriously.”
“You’re not saying anything serious. This is a bad joke. You’ve put both of us at risk by finding me, and you come here and you tell me this half-baked story about your fee-fee’s. I ain’t buyin’ it. We’ve got enough money that we don’t have to worry about curses.”
Five stands up to leave.
“If I ever see you around here again, I’m going to call the police on you as a stalker. I don’t know you. I never knew you. Get lost.”
Four stays in the booth of the bar, tracing condensation over the woodgrain of the table. He watches Number Five walk out the door.
Five was never seen again. It was like he disappeared off the face of the earth. Number Four tried to find him again, but it was impossible. More than that, he felt it in his bones. For Number Five, that was it.
The end.
Two Months Later
Number Seven had a cabin. They agreed it was the best place to meet, Number Six and Number Four. They were the only three left, after all.
It took a long time to find them both. Number Four felt the weight of urgency—something was happening, it was undeniable.
Four is the last to arrive, Six and Seven chat nervously awaiting him. Such a meeting was unprecedented and, frankly, ill advised.
As soon as Four steps out of his car, Seven accosted him— “This better be worth it, Four, you’re putting all of us at risk.”
“Shut the hell up,” four replies. “Don’t give me that. I’m no more responsible than either of you. Let me bring you up to speed and then we can talk.”
Grumbling, the three of them assemble around the small wooden table under the dim hanging light of the cabin.
“So what’s the situation,” Seven says bluntly.
“One, Two, Three, and Five are dead,” Four says with equal frankness.
“So?” Six says. “Have to go sometime.”
“I’ve decided it’s the heist. The money—it’s cursed.” Four says.
Seven laughs heartily. “You’re insane. You’ve got to be. To come here to my cabin and insult me like this to my face? I gave up years of my life planning that job, I’ve never been happier. How dare you.”
“And yet—four of us are dead. Three of us remain. Something is wrong.”
“Why does something have to be wrong?” Six says. “People die all the time.”
“Five had a similar argument, and then disappeared off the face of the earth. I don’t believe in luck—not anymore. We’re not unlucky, we’re being punished. We unfairly enriched ourselves, now we are paying an unfair price.”
“By who? Or what? Do you think someone knows? Didn’t you say Two committed suicide? And One was a car wreck—who do you think it was that did both?”
“I don’t know, man. I have no answers. Just a feeling. We should all return our money. Donate it. Get rid of it. Go back to a normal life.”
Six laughs at this. “No, I’m not doing that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re crazy. Give up all that money on a hunch?”
“If we don’t it could be too late. None of us could make it home from this cabin.”
“And so what? Oops I’m dead. I got to enjoy a couple million bucks and then I get snuffed out. Boo hoo!”
“This is ridiculous.” Seven adds. “Four, this is not helpful at all. But it is telling that you have been able to find four of us—Three found you, you found five, and then also six and myself. Maybe you are the curse.”
“What!” Four is shocked.
“But I’m going to remove the option. I’ve had my people working on a project. I’m going out of country, new place, new identity. You won’t be able to find me. That’s the problem here. We’re all still so close together, even on the same continent. It’s time to spread out. So, I’m leaving.”
“Where are you going?”
“Like I would tell you!” Seven scoffs.
“Get some rest, but both of you—you’re leaving first thing in the morning. I never want to see you again.”
A week later, Seven boarded a plane for Malaysia. The plane would never arrive.
The end.
Two Weeks Later
Number Six is scared. He made a big show of disbelieving Four’s story, but the idea is stuck in his head and he can’t let it go. So he planned. He planned and planned. He hired security, pays protection money. Invested in a state of the art security system. He might as well be encased in bubble wrap—he was never out of sight, and always protected, wherever he was.
He keeps the briefcase, though. Some sentimentality. He keeps it in a trophy case, even though all the money has been taken out and invested or spent. Sometimes, at night, he looks at it, and wonders.
There’s a knock on the door. Someone who was connected enough to make it past security—he opens it.
It’s him.
The man pushes Number Six down, and pulls out a gun.
“Whoa, wait a minute, how did you get in here?”
“Who do you think you’ve been paying?” the man says. He holds the gun to Number Six. “Prices for protection just went up.”
“I can’t pay you more, I told you—”
“We figured out where you got your money. You’re a wanted man. You think we’ll just sit around and let you boss us around, take us down with you?”
“No I can find a way just give me time—”
“No dice. This is addition by subtraction. You’ve been a pain in my side, so thanks for the nice place and thanks for the money. See you on the other side.”
The end.
One Month Later
Number Four never discovered what happened to Number Seven and Number Six. After almost a year and a half, he was sure they were all gone now. And even if they weren’t, it wouldn’t be long.
He has the briefcase in the trunk of his car. He’d cashed out of everything, what little he had spent. He stuffed the bills back into the case. It is 10pm. No one will see. It is a dangerous part of town, and a poor part of town, but that is why he came here.
He parks the car down the block from his destination. A children’s hospital.
He goes to the trunk of his old sedan, and pulls out the briefcase.
It is heavy in his arms.
He walks down the street. There’s a toy donation drop-box. He shoves the briefcase in. He hears the ker-thunk as it hits the bottom of the donation bin. He turns and walks back to his car.
He is standing at the door, working the key to unlock the door.
A mini-fridge lands on top of the car. Glass flies everywhere, he falls into the street, his heart pounds in his chest. He looks up—a man is looking out the window. “Oh my god!” the man shouts. Number Four stands back up, dusts himself off—looks at the mini fridge which landed right over the drivers seat of his car.
The man from the window is in a robe and slippers, and shuffles, breathless, into the street. “Oh my god I am so sorry,” he says. “Lucky you weren’t inside, right?”
“Yeah,” Four chuckles. “Yeah, guess I am lucky.”
“That was so close. Do you need my information for your insurance?”
Four thinks about it for a second.
“No,” he says, “no, I don’t.”
“But, your car?” the man says.
“It’s fine.” Number Four starts walking away.
“Where are you going?” he calls after him.
Number four smiles. I don’t know, he thinks.
The End
Thank you very much for reading! This was a fun idea to explore, and again it’s a little different from my usual fare. If you enjoyed this story, please consider sharing it with a friend!
Please consider leaving a like, telling me what you thought in the comments, or sharing this story on Notes. If you would like to read more, please check out my collection of longer fiction at The Volume.
God bless!
AJPM
Oooooh. Very nice. Twilight Zone meets Final Destination plus Ocean's 11. I love it!
Almost a shaggy dog. Nice. Very nice.