It takes ten minutes.

Walking up to the bank is always the hardest part, they say. You're right there, outside, waiting, waiting, walking and there are a few moments where you can still walk away, uncommitted. Now, you'd lose some respect, but it takes just as big a man to walk away as to go through with a job. Or so I tell myself. It was 6 p.m., sharp, and the weekly transfer was about to happen. My friends in the cities power department had made sure to turn off the stop light two blocks away, and the traffic had piled up in front of the bank. The cops, when they got there, would be too late. By 1 minute. But its funny about a moment of truth, because you can't really know yourself until you get there, and its hard to remember it clearly afterwards. Plus, every situation is different. I've never had a gun in my hand and meant to kill somebody- its not my style. So I might fold if I had to kill someone, I don't know. Maybe I'd do it. Can't say.

This though. This I knew how to do. I stood against a trashcan, smoked, and waited.

The small, sweaty fat man came out right on time, carrying the marked bag to the armored car. Same guard, same armoured car, same routine every time. I flicked away the cigarette, watched its cherry all the way to the gutter, and heard the sputter as it met the froth of the storm drain. Go time. 

The car would turn left at the end of the street to avoid the traffic. This, of course, was part of my plan. It wouldn't make it past the stop. I was the demo man on this job, and I was supposed to get in and out at the stop sign. Walking slowly, I made my way to the corner, and waited for the car. The charges in my pockets were heavy. Thank god I'm good.

The trucked stopped, and I moved along its side, deftly placing the two micro charges on the front wheel. The driver saw me in the mirror and opened his door. Big mistake. Not that it would have mattered, but it made me hit the first detonator early. The blast was small, only meant to disable the front wheel, but the driver got a face-full of sharpnel and fell wetly to the pavement, hissing on the hot asphalt. His partner radioed it in. 10 minutes till the cops got there, thanks to the traffic. Ten minutes. 

I took the other two charges out of my pocket and slapped them onto the side of the car, stepping back and walking away as quickly as I could. 5 seconds later, out of the blast zone, I hit the detanator and heard the explosion. My partners were arriving somewhere behind me, But I didn't look back. No point, anyway. They'd do their jobs.

It was all over the news, of course, this daring robbery in the late afternoon, where the city traffic had held up the police while the culprits, who were unknown, got away. But of course they would get away. The demo man left as he should, and nobody would notice his acomplices anyway, a couple of kids no more than 14 ridding bikes, carrying duffel bags. Now, you might say that getting my kids to rob an armored car with me was cruel, or dangerous. I'd say I was just giving them a college education in crime. One that they would thank me for later. If they made it to later.

10 minutes. That's how long it takes to make some money. Now the rest of it, the father part? I can do it in 5, tops. They'll be getting a little extra allowance this week, don't worry. And me? I'll be standing. Smoking. And watching.

This is good. I like how you put the personality of your character into the story.