CHAPTER FOUR
Armed Robbery
Rio—
I scurry across the flat roof, dressed in black, with my mask over my face. Dawn is just lightening the horizon to the east. Shrugging off my backpack, I dig out the small power saw and begin cutting a hole.
Not a car drives past as I work.
Finally, I’m able to pull out the circle and peer inside with my flashlight. It’s about a four-foot drop to the rafters. Grabbing my pack, I drop down inside. There are areas I can see the framing that holds the ceiling tiles up and the fluorescent lighting. Checking a few of them, I find the back room I’m looking for—the one where the tellers prepare their tills.
ME: I’m in. Found the spot
ZIG: Okay. See you soon
Shoving my phone in my pocket, I settle in to wait.
Hours pass, and my phone dings with a text.
ZIG: First car just arrived. It’s the guard
I wait a few minutes, and Zig sends another.
ZIG: Manager just arrived. They’re heading in
ME: Let me know when they’re all inside
ZIG: Got it
Ten minutes later, I hear muffled conversations in the bank.
Zig texts me again.
ZIG: Everyone’s inside. Guard is out smoking
ME: Let’s roll
I peer through the crack I’d left when I moved the ceiling tile aside. The young loan officer is getting coffee. He and the bank manager talk briefly, then she walks out of the room, and the tellers fill their tills. I see the manager take a large metal box and lay her palm on the sensor that lets her into the ATM room.
Setting my mask and goggles over my face, I take a deep breath, tighten my hold on my 9mm, and jump through the ceiling tile. The surprised women scream. I grab one of the tellers and press my gun to her head.
“Everyone put your hands up.”
They comply, and I toss a canvas bank bag to one of the tellers. “Put the cash from all the tills in here.”
While they’re busy with that, I haul the teller toward the backdoor and tell her to open it.
She fumbles with the lock, and my men rush in, pushing the disarmed guard ahead of them and ordering him to the floor.
I move toward the ATM room and order the bank manager to open the door. She hesitates, backing away. When she refuses, I put the barrel of my gun to the terrified teller’s head and start counting down from ten. When I get to three, the girl starts begging, and the manager caves.
“Get on the floor,” I snap, pointing the gun at the manager. She whimpers but does as I ask. I’ve got the teller by the hair, and I shove her toward the cash box and toss my backpack on the counter. “Fill it. Hurry up.”
Glancing back, I see my men are all watching the rest of the employees.
Zig looks at me to see how it’s going, and I catch one of the tellers reaching for the alarm button. I point my gun at her. “Don’t do it, sweetheart.”
It’s then, as I’m staring at her, that I realize it’s the chick from Blitzy’s. Her hair is up in a bun, and she’s wearing a prim little button-up blouse with little cap sleeves and tiny pleats down the front. The blouse is tucked into a tight black skirt.
She looks nothing like the girl from the other night, but I recognize her eyes… and the bruising on the side of her cheek she’s still trying to cover with makeup.
There’s something in her eyes that says she recognizes me, but with the mask and goggles, that’s impossible.
Her hands tremble, but she reaches again to hit that alarm button.
Zig shifts his weapon, and I know he’s going to pull the trigger. I react in a flash, surging forward and knocking his gun barrel upward a split second before it explodes into the ceiling tile.
Tears stream down her face now, and she screams, but it’s too late; she’s already pushed the button.
“I wish you hadn’t done that,” I say.
Bandit has a scanner to his ear, listening. “Let’s go. They just sent out the call.”
Then everything happens in a flash.
Bandit fumbles the scanner, and it crashes to the floor. When he leans over to scoop it up, the guard on the floor grabs for Bandit’s gun and shoots me in the leg.
Bandit slams him to the floor, wrestling it back, then hits him with the barrel of his AR15, knocking him unconscious, then aims it at his head.
“Stop!” I bark. “We’re not here for that.”
I fall back against a filing cabinet, blood pouring from the wound in my leg.
Zig drops to my side, rips a telephone cord from the wall and ties a tourniquet around my thigh. “Bandit, help me carry him.”
“No,” I snap. “I’ll slow you down. I’ll leave a blood trail.”
“We’re not leaving without you,” Zig insists.
“You have to get that money where it’s going,” I growl, shoving my phone and gun at him. “Take these. Don’t make any contact with me. That’s an order. No matter what.”
We stare at each other, and Zig’s eyes glaze, but he knows I’m right. He nods and looks up at the sound of sirens in the distance.
“Go,” I say, and he and the rest finally grab the bags of money and slip out the back.
My head drops against the file cabinet, and I meet Shelby’s eyes. I look toward the front windows. Flashing lights are coming up the street, vehicles barreling toward us. All I can do is hope my brothers make it to the rental cars and get away without being seen.
Thirty seconds later, the cops burst through the doors. Guns are aimed at me, and a man orders me to remove my mask and goggles. When I yank them off, I look at Shelby.
Her eyes flare slightly with the confirmation I am the same man. Maybe my voice gave me away.
One of the officers shoves me to a facedown position and puts a knee to the back of my neck. I’m handcuffed behind my back. The first blow to my ribs catches me off guard, but once he starts, he doesn’t stop.
My cheek is pressed to the floor, and I latch onto Shelby’s eyes. They glaze with tears, and she mouths, I’m so sorry.