could never even get to the money, right?”
“Yeah. Come at a lockbox with normal weapons, you don’t have a chance. The guards can just sit inside. If you fire on them, they can pick you off by shooting out through the loopholes. But explosives, that’s a different story. Not much you can do when someone lobs C-Four under your buggy.”
I got out of the rear of the truck and walked around to look in the cab. It was similar to other truck cabs but with a smaller windshield and side windows and four small video screens on the dash.
“How do you access the black box info that gets sent over the internet to your computer?” I asked.
“Over here,” Bosworth said. He walked over to a desk. “This computer is logged into the system.” He sat down, moved the mouse, typed a password, and brought up the software. “When the lockbox is on the road, the video and audio feeds get sent over a secure radio system to the internet. The company that provides the software stores all of the information. We can access it from this computer and also from the one in Howard’s office.”
“Howard Timmens,” I said.
“Right. Armored’s President. He works out of an office in downtown Reno.”
“Is he the company owner?”
“No. We’re owned by a private equity company in San Francisco. There’s a bunch of lawyers who own armored transport companies all across the U.S. and Canada. Howard answers to them.”
“Can I look at the video feeds from the truck at the time of the robbery?”
Bosworth looked at me like I was wasting his time.
“Sure,” he said with false cheeriness. He brought up two different windows on the computer screen. “The main ones are the front and rear cameras, so I can show those simultaneously.” He used his finger on the touchscreen to bring up the feeds. “We can search this any way we want, by time, by action, by whichever camera we want to focus on. I’ve already been through this, so I can show you the robbery sequence without you having to wait forever.”
Bosworth dragged his finger here and there, tapped some buttons, and the robbery unfolded.
It was just as he’d described on the phone. Two men walked in front of the truck. They wore hoodies with the hoods up. The hoods came over the top of their heads and partially down over their foreheads. They had on hockey masks so their faces were completely covered. They each carried what looked like a military assault rifle. One stood back while the other held the phone and the papers with written instructions against the windshield.
The other screen showed the two men at the back. They also had on black hoodies and white hockey masks.
“What about the audio?” I said. “I don’t hear anything.”
“I could turn it up, but all you’ll hear is street noise.” Bosworth dragged a slider icon on the screen.
I heard some wind in the microphone, a distant horn, some engine noises. “Earlier, you said that the robbers didn’t say anything. Any chance they spoke softly to each other? Words that could be pulled out of the background noise by a recording engineer?”
“I don’t think so. I listened to the entire recording twice. I paid special attention to those moments when they turned and gestured toward each other. There wasn’t even the slightest sense of vocal sounds. I believe that they’d rehearsed so thoroughly that they didn’t need to talk. They just communicated by prearranged gestures. When you think about it, it’s impressive. We don’t know what they look like or sound like.”
“Were there any other unusual sounds?” I asked.
“Not that I heard. If you want, I can play the entire audio feed for you.”
“No. Maybe later. Right now I’d like to have my dog take a look at the truck if that’s okay.”
Bosworth looked startled. “You have a dog? Like one of those drug-search dogs the police use?”
“Sort of. My dog isn’t a professional search dog, but he’s useful. He might notice something I
“Yeah. Come at a lockbox with normal weapons, you don’t have a chance. The guards can just sit inside. If you fire on them, they can pick you off by shooting out through the loopholes. But explosives, that’s a different story. Not much you can do when someone lobs C-Four under your buggy.”
I got out of the rear of the truck and walked around to look in the cab. It was similar to other truck cabs but with a smaller windshield and side windows and four small video screens on the dash.
“How do you access the black box info that gets sent over the internet to your computer?” I asked.
“Over here,” Bosworth said. He walked over to a desk. “This computer is logged into the system.” He sat down, moved the mouse, typed a password, and brought up the software. “When the lockbox is on the road, the video and audio feeds get sent over a secure radio system to the internet. The company that provides the software stores all of the information. We can access it from this computer and also from the one in Howard’s office.”
“Howard Timmens,” I said.
“Right. Armored’s President. He works out of an office in downtown Reno.”
“Is he the company owner?”
“No. We’re owned by a private equity company in San Francisco. There’s a bunch of lawyers who own armored transport companies all across the U.S. and Canada. Howard answers to them.”
“Can I look at the video feeds from the truck at the time of the robbery?”
Bosworth looked at me like I was wasting his time.
“Sure,” he said with false cheeriness. He brought up two different windows on the computer screen. “The main ones are the front and rear cameras, so I can show those simultaneously.” He used his finger on the touchscreen to bring up the feeds. “We can search this any way we want, by time, by action, by whichever camera we want to focus on. I’ve already been through this, so I can show you the robbery sequence without you having to wait forever.”
Bosworth dragged his finger here and there, tapped some buttons, and the robbery unfolded.
It was just as he’d described on the phone. Two men walked in front of the truck. They wore hoodies with the hoods up. The hoods came over the top of their heads and partially down over their foreheads. They had on hockey masks so their faces were completely covered. They each carried what looked like a military assault rifle. One stood back while the other held the phone and the papers with written instructions against the windshield.
The other screen showed the two men at the back. They also had on black hoodies and white hockey masks.
“What about the audio?” I said. “I don’t hear anything.”
“I could turn it up, but all you’ll hear is street noise.” Bosworth dragged a slider icon on the screen.
I heard some wind in the microphone, a distant horn, some engine noises. “Earlier, you said that the robbers didn’t say anything. Any chance they spoke softly to each other? Words that could be pulled out of the background noise by a recording engineer?”
“I don’t think so. I listened to the entire recording twice. I paid special attention to those moments when they turned and gestured toward each other. There wasn’t even the slightest sense of vocal sounds. I believe that they’d rehearsed so thoroughly that they didn’t need to talk. They just communicated by prearranged gestures. When you think about it, it’s impressive. We don’t know what they look like or sound like.”
“Were there any other unusual sounds?” I asked.
“Not that I heard. If you want, I can play the entire audio feed for you.”
“No. Maybe later. Right now I’d like to have my dog take a look at the truck if that’s okay.”
Bosworth looked startled. “You have a dog? Like one of those drug-search dogs the police use?”
“Sort of. My dog isn’t a professional search dog, but he’s useful. He might notice something I
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