Sweet Ambrosia Wine

By J. L. Young

An explosion ripped through the midtown branch of the Third National Bank. Amid the chaos, a man mounted a motorcycle and sped off before the police arrived. He looked back to see if he was being tailed. As his gaze returned to the direction of travel, he collided with a woman on a crosswalk. A cloud of money was thrown into the air. As he gathered himself and pushed his bike back onto its wheels, he looked back at the injured woman. She was mumbling something, as others were helping her out of the way of traffic. He remounted his bike and continued his flight.

Later that day, he lashed his helmet to the bike and ditched it in a river near to his apartment. Once inside, he removed the duffle bag and locked his door. He turned on the television and selected a local channel. The news anchor looked rigid as she spoke. “Four people were killed and six were injured during a bank robbery at the Third National Bank at 47th and Acherley Avenue this afternoon. Closed circuit cameras spotted a person of interest exiting during a diversionary explosion. Police are hunting for this man.” They showed a grainy picture of a man wearing a helmet and a red shirt and blue jeans. “He is believed to be of average height and build. If you see this man, do not approach him. Call your local police.”

The next day, the man left his apartment, got into a Mercury Marauder, and started it. Soon, he arrived at an abandoned warehouse down the river. He felt eyes on him as he stepped out, though he couldn’t see the watchers. The man entered the warehouse to find a woman with her feet on a desk and a lit cigar in her mouth. The light from the skylight reflected off her pate. Armed security waited as the thief approached the desk.

“Horus,” the man said as he sat the duffle on the desk.

She rested her cigar in an ashtray, rounded the desk, and hugged him. “Hermes, it’s so good to see you again.” Horus planted a kiss on his cheek. “What did you bring me? Is it my birthday?” She winked before turning her attention to the duffle. Slowly, she drew the zipper back. Consternation contorted her face.

The woman reached into the duffle and took a wad and threw it at Horus’ chest and withdrew her sidearm. “Horus, we’ve been working together for years and…” she withdrew another wad and threw it at him, “this is how you return our friendship?”

He calmly stooped and collected a clipping at his feet. It was an expired grocery coupon for buy one get one free Sweet Ambrosia Wine. “Horus, I meant no treachery.”

She stepped into him and pressed the gun barrel against his chest. “I should kill you where you stand. My reputation demands it. Have the money on this desk in one week, or I will be hunt you down.”

“I’ll have your money.”

“If you fail, I will dissect you while you watch.”

“Though it would be lovely to watch you work again. Especially your lack of attire while doing so. I very much would rather it not be me on your table.”

Horus pushed the gun again. “Get out.”

Hermes stood on a roof overlooking another bank. An armed security truck had already made its evening drop-off. Moments later, a group of employees departed. With skill, he picked the lock on the door and entered. This triggered the silent alarm. Once inside, he silently dispatched the patrolling security guard. The vault was easily circumvented, an old model. He was out before the police arrived.

The thief dropped the duffle and collapsed on the bed. The next morning, he turned on the news to find the aftermath of his work was displayed. Hermes collected the duffle and opened it. Inside were nothing but expired grocery coupons.

He sat down heavily and pondered.

Another day.

Another robbery

Another bag of coupons.

The internet proved useful in finding the woman he’d injured during his initial escape. Hermes broke into her home and stood before her.

Nonchalant, the woman said, “I know why you’re here.”

“Undo it,” he demanded.

“What will you do if I don’t?”

“I’d end your life,” he replied.

She glanced about the room, presenting medicine bottles and other medical appurtenances. “That would be a great reprieve for me if you succeed. Afterward, you will have learned nothing. And you will have achieved nothing.”

“What have you done to me?”

“Whatever has been done, you have done to yourself. Your greed has brought this upon you. Everything you obtain through thievery will present itself as something of little or no value.”

“Who are you?” Hermes asked.

“I go by many names, but you may call me Hecate.”