I didn't feel at all conspicuous in my bulky leather coat and woollen hat. The wind was whistling around my ears, chill with the promise of snow. My hands, thrust, deep into my pockets, were sweating inside the surgical gloves. My right hand gripped the butt of the Walther 9mm pistol, and I kept flicking the safety-catch on and off. It was a sign of nerves. I hated the waiting, I always had. To the casual glance of a passer-by, I hoped I looked like a normal man, just waiting for a bus. But I wasn't normal. And I wasn't waiting for a bus.

Andy caught my eye from the public phone-box across the street and grinned nervously. His voice crackled loudly in my earpiece.

'Just unleading now,' he said. We were using hands-free mobile phones, and we kept communications to the minimum.

I nodded slightly, and turned my gaze toward the plate-glass windows of the Midland bank, which was situated to the left of the phone-box. I could see the blue crash helmets of the two security guards as they handed over the money-box to the chief cashier. Despite the cold, my back felt clammy under the layers of clothing, and my mouth was drier than a witch's tit.

I turned slightly and nodded to Danny. He was pretending to be engrossed in the small-ad cards in the window of a newsagents, but he had one eye on me. He shrugged and slapped his gloved hands together against the cold. He was ready. I hunched my head into my upturned collar and spoke into the hands-free mike without moving my lips: 'T? It's a "go". Start her up.’ Tommy was parked around a corner in the getaway car, monitoring the airwaves.
 
My heart rate kicked up a gear as the adrenaline began to flood my body. I was itching to be on the move, and it took all of my willpower to keep standing still and outwardly calm. This was the moment that every adrenaline junkie lives for; the intoxicating rush that comes from knowing that you are about to step into a dangerous unknown. Professional robbers call this 'the buzz', and it can be just as addictive and destructive as any Class A drug habit.

The two guards came out of the bank and climbed back into their security van. The driver indicated and pulled out into traffic. I was vibrating like a tuning fork. I took a deep breath which seemed to shudder into me. My limbs were starting to feel leaden, as though I was rooted to the spot. I suddenly felt very tired and knew it was the effect of an adrenaline overload. It was flight or fight time. I swallowed, hard, and my mind let out a massive roar - 'GO!'

As soon as I stepped off the pavement it was like the world had just come into sharp focus. My senses switched to maximum input; I could taste acrid exhaust-fumes on my tongue, I could hear the click-click-click of a car indicating at the traffic lights and the tension-heavy breathing of Danny as he fell into step beside me. We crossed the road at a brisk pace, our eyes seeking and checking every parked vehicle and shop doorway one final time. As a team we were top of the Flying Squad's 'most wanted' list, and they loved nothing more than a 'ready-eye' ambush. Their propensity to shoot first and shout warnings only when the gunsmoke had cleared was legendary.

Andy stepped from the phone-box and fell into step behind our march across the wide pavement. As I reached for the door of the bank a strange and unfamiliar thought fleetingly crossed my mind: 'You can stop now. It's not too late to walk away.' My hand hesitated six inches from the door handle, and Danny bumped into me. I immediately forced the treacherous notion from my consciousness and pushed the door open.

As I stepped into the bank I was instantly aware of a rush of warm air on my chilled face and the hum of quiet conversation coming from the banking hall .We slid through the familiar motions like a well-oiled robbery machine. Woollen hats were pulled down over features to reveal only eye and mouth. Danny produced a fearsome-looking fireman's axe, Andy shook out a folded plastic bag and I got a good grip on the gun.

We had honed our performance over many such bank robberies. We each had a part to play and we knew those parts intimately. I was always the gunman, the 'heavy', the 'frightener'; it was my job to put the fear of God into bank staff and civilians and make sure everything ran smoothly and quickly. Any 'have-a-go heroes' would be dealt with by me. I was first man in and last man out. Danny was the 'doorman'; his job was to make sure nobody left the premises before the job was done. He also had to make sure that anyone who came in while the robbery was in progress stayed in. Andy was the 'bagman'. He would collect and bag up the cash.

There were two customers in the banking hall, both males in their mid-thirties. Four cashiers, including the chief cashier, were busying themselves behind the counter along with several clerical staff. I came into the hall like a whirlwind. Before anyone knew what was happening I had my pistol pointed at a customers head.

'Down! Get the fuck down!' I roared menacingly.

He dropped like a stone, and the other customer quickly followed. I stepped up to the counter and pointed the gun at the bulletproof screen so the staff could get a good look at it.

'You all know the drill,' I shouted. 'We're here for the reserve. No fucking about, just hand it over and no one gets shot.'