Mortimer Scofield's Arc

Chapter 4 of 5

Mortimer sat at a corner table in the saloon, nursing a whiskey he didn't want. The thieves' code had led him here at midnight, just like the stone promised. A man in a dusty coat slid into the chair across from him and pushed a folded paper across the scarred wood. Mortimer opened it and saw a hand-drawn diagram of the bank's vault—iron door, three-tumbler lock, walls lined with brick. The man whispered a price, and Mortimer counted out coins without haggling. This was the piece he'd been missing. Now he knew exactly what he'd face when the time came to crack that safe and disappear with enough gold to leave this life behind forever. The next morning, Mortimer rode out past the edge of town where the desert stretched wide and empty. He needed to think through the timing of the job, and the open space cleared his head. Heat waves shimmered above the sand as his horse picked its way between rocks and scrub brush. He spotted something strange ahead—a tall formation of weathered stone casting a sharp shadow across the ground. The shadow pointed like an arrow, dark and precise. Mortimer dismounted and studied the natural sundial, watching how the shadow moved as minutes passed. The desert had marked time here for years, measuring hours without anyone tending it. He pulled out his pocket watch and compared. The shadow would reach a certain rock right when the bank closed each evening. That's when the guards would be tired and the street would empty. He'd been looking for the perfect moment to strike, and the desert had shown him exactly when darkness would give him cover. Mortimer mounted his horse and turned back toward Gritstown, his plan now complete down to the very hour.