The noise was a thud. The guard’s forehead exploded. The two other guards fumble-grabbed at their holsters. The masked men shot them in the back. They buckled and pitched foreword. The masked men shot them in the head point-blank. The thuds and skull crack muffle-echoed.

It’s 7:19 a.m. It’s still quiet. There’s no foot traffic and car-crash hubbub yet.

Noise now-two gunshots plus loud echoes. Muzzle flare, weird-shaped, blasts from the armored car’s gun slit.

The shots ricocheted off the pavement. The masked men and the milk truck driver threw themselves prone. They rolled toward the armored car. It blitzed firing range. Four more shots popped. Four plus two-one revolver load.

Masked Man #1 was tall and thin. Masked Man #2 was midsized. Masked Man #3 was heavyset. It’s 7:20 a.m. There’s still no foot traffic. This big blimp up in the sky trailed department-store banners.

Masked Man #1 stood up and crouched under the gun slit. He pulled a gas bomb from his pouch and yanked the top. Fumes sputtered. He stuffed the bomb in the gun slit. The guard inside shrieked and retched very loud. The back door crashed outward. The guard jumped and hit the pavement on his knees. He bled from the nose and the mouth. Masked Man #2 shot him twice in the head.

The milk truck driver put on a gas mask. The masked men put gas masks on over their face masks. Gas whooshed out the back door. Masked Man #1 popped gas bomb #2 and lobbed it inside.

The fumes flared and settled into acid mist-red, pink, transparent. A street hubbub started perking. There’s some window peeps, some open doors, some colored folks on their porches.

It’s 7:22 a.m. The fumes have dispersed. There’s no second guard inside.

Now they go in.

They fit tight. It was a cramped space. Cash bags and attachй cases were stacked in wall racks. Masked Man #1 made the count: sixteen bags and fourteen cases.

They grabbed. Masked Man #2 had a burlap bag stuffed down his pants. He pulled it out and held it open.