“Guys, time is our only enemy now. Let’s get the lighting up there and then hit the shit out of those boxes. Remember, we only go for the ones on the list.”

Sebastian switched on a huge LED torch and climbed on top of Ricardo’s shoulders, a move they had practised dozens of times in the café. “Okay, big man, here we go.”

Fifteen minutes later, all three men were standing inside the giant vault, now illuminated by six 800 watt HMI movie lights on stands, cabled back through the tunnel to a small generator, which sat on the floor of the café.

All of them wore plastic monkey masks due to the six CCTV cameras inside the vault, which were now recording their every move. The cameras were only monitored live when the bank was open, so didn’t pose an immediate threat. Pedro had memorised the camera positions from his monthly visits to his empty box. A box that wasn’t on their hit list.

Over the next fifty-three hours, the three men worked tirelessly, without a break, meticulously drilling through the dual locks that protected every individual box. This was a tricky and tedious process, requiring finesse rather than brute force. Each time a box was opened, its contents were emptied into large, unmarked cloth bags. The haul was spectacular: government blue-chip bonds from over twenty countries and huge quantities of US dollars, euros, English pounds and Argentinian pesos. One box alone held twenty solid gold bars while others were crammed with jewellery, designer watches and hundreds of loose gemstones.

None of the men paid any attention to a battered black leather case that was tightly jammed inside Box 1321. Its contents included three large brown Manila files, two 8mm film cans and a small tobacco tin, containing a collection of ancient military medals.

Most of the time, they behaved exactly as they had rehearsed for the last ten months. All three of them knew their job descriptions inside out, part of which meant no talking.

“Shit, Pedro, look at the size of these beauties!” Ricardo was the first to break the vow of silence. In the palm of one of his clawlike hands he held a loose pile of enormous uncut diamonds, the smallest of which weighed at least ten carats.

Sebastian was busy pouring massive wads of US dollars into one of the bags but stopped for a moment to look up. “That’s a million dollars you’re holding right there, Ricky. Who are the bastards who own all this stuff?”

Pedro remained the calmest of the three. “It doesn’t matter. We own it now. No more talking until we are out of here.”

The deadline for leaving had been set for five in the morning, two hours before the bank was due to reopen.