“How does Trembly have access?”
“We think his father might have had blueprints or maps and information on the security and specially keyed underground access points. The research Lucy did into the Tremblys showed that Sam’s construction job gave him the skills he needs. It’s likely his father, who worked on the project for five years until his death, had blueprints and information about the tunnels—possibly information that only those who worked here know. This isn’t a water system that the average person knows about above and beyond some news reports. The only time it’s mentioned is when there’s a storm, and it’s ‘yeah, the underground river saved the River Walk once again’.”
“And we can’t get into the bank?”
“We talked about it, but one thing Crutcher and I agreed on is that we’d spook them. If we’re there, and the security isn’t exactly as they expect, they could bolt. We have to assume they know the underground maintenance tunnels better than we do, and we could get lost. It’s literally a maze down there. One of the original engineers who helped design the project went missing for three days because he became disorientated. Not to mention some of the passages haven’t been maintained—crumbling rock, possible drops. I’m not risking going down unless we absolutely have to.”
“So we’re waiting until they break in.”
“Exactly. According to Thursgood, if he’s monitoring the internal security in real time, there’ll be some sort of code or warning in the software program when Amanda Trembly takes it down—a log that’s generated at that moment, even though she bypasses the alarm. Once they’re in, we breech. We have the keys.” She meant that literally, as she held up a key.
Law enforcement could access emergency boxes to enter secure buildings, just like the fire department. Getting the key ahead of time would save time when they went in.
“Based on what Rogan and Thursgood uncovered from the software flaw, there’s a sixteen-minute window as the internal system reboots after it’s disabled. It should never take that long—and they now think that Amanda herself may have tampered with the software before she quit last year. It’s such a subtle change—one line of code in millions—that no one caught it before it was rolled out. And when they did, it looked like an innocent mistake, so there wasn’t an urgency to get out the fix. However, these banks and six other businesses in San Antonio are scheduled for the on-site upgrade this week.”
“Which means it’s now or never,” Lucy said.
“And with this plan,” Nate said, “we’ll catch them in the act.”
“That’s the hope. They try to escape, we pursue—much easier than figuring out where and when they’re going to enter. We have city engineers working with us to identify potential breech points, but we won’t have a complete list until later today. I just hope you’re right that it’s tonight, because I really don’t want to do this again tomorrow—and I don’t know that I’ll get the approval for two nights of surveillance.”
Daphne sat back in the command chair and monitored the video she had of the two bank entrances and rear emergency exit.
Lucy sipped bad coffee and waited.
And waited.
* * *
For the first time since Reggie was killed, Sam Trembly felt good about the plan.
They entered the underground tunnel system at 2 a.m., just as they had planned. There was an access point in a park a quarter mile from the bank. The service room was generic and barely protected—a lock, metal building, but nothing more.
Once inside, they removed the locked manhole cover. Sam and Reggie had done so many of these types of jobs—minus the bank robbery part—when they worked in construction. People never realized how much of construction work was underground. Pipes. Reinforcement. Testing the soil to make sure there was no chance someone’s home or business would sink in the next big storm. Sam had done a stint for a company where he dealt with underground garages for businesses. Pipes, concrete, reinforcement—and once they’d contracted with the city of Austin and he’d spent an entire summer in the sewer system. Not his favorite job, but he learned a damn lot, all of which helped him here.
He wasn’t in a sewer, but same principles.
He was relieved that SueAnn and Kirk were focused on the job. Maybe the sleep helped. Or the solid meal they had where they talked about being kids, free-and-easy teens who thought the world was theirs. Remembering Reggie and the good times. So they were all disciplined, focused, and didn’t argue. They did their jobs and did them well. He needed Kirk to help him with some physical work and SueAnn to take care of opening a latch where no one else would fit. They were on schedule, and arrived in the bank’s underground garage through a city maintenance door at 2:21 a.m.
Their planning and recon had paid off. Right on time.
An unused emergency staircase was easy to disconnect from the system, and Sam let Amanda handle that. Generally, if opened the door would set off an alarm and the fire department would be called. In two minutes, the alarm was disabled from a main control room in the garage and they were able to access the bank directly.
By 2:25, they were standing in the middle of the bank. They’d eluded all external security and now just needed to tackle internal security.
Amanda pulled out her mini-computer and ran through her program. A minute later, the internal security went through its reboot program—a program Amanda had rewritten when they originally came up with this plan two years ago.
The light turned green.
“We’re in,” Amanda said.
Sam started the countdown and they ran to the vault. He used a card key that Amanda had cloned and the door clicked open. The vault had a second level of security that required a code, which Amanda cracked with her computer in less than a minute.
“Fourteen minutes and counting,” Sam said. “Let’s go.”
This particular bank had two dozen gold bars in their vault. They couldn’t carry it all—Sam determined that they would each put two in the bottom of their expandable backpacks, each twenty-five pounds and worth a half-million dollars—then fill the rest with stacks of hundred-dollar bills. They could fit $1.5 million into the packs, which would weigh about twenty-five pounds. They’d all practiced carrying hundred-pound packs for the last year, so seventy-five should be easy.
That would give them a total take of $10 million. The gold would be harder to move, but Sam had some friends who could help. The cash would carry them for years.
Amanda monitored security while also filling her bag.
“Twelve minutes,” Sam said.
“We can do anything!” SueAnn squealed. “Kirk, we can go to Hawaii! I’ve always wanted to go to Hawaii.”
Sam wasn’t going to burst her bubble that they wouldn’t be getting on airplanes anytime soon. Maybe when they got new identities and some time had passed, but for the next year at a minimum they would be living on their ten-acre fortress in Mississippi.
But that was a fight for another day.
They were making excellent time and would be back in the tunnels long before their sixteen minutes was up.
Life was good.
Then he heard a sound.
* * *
“They’re in,” Zach alerted Daphne. “The system went into slow reboot one minute ago—you’re on.”
Daphne got on her radio. “All teams, proceed according to plan. Go-go-go!”
Daphne took the lead. Nate, Lucy, and an agent Lucy had never worked with before—Hank Christopher—were on the Alpha team. Beta would head immediately to the garage, Charlie team would back up Alpha, and the Delta team would cover external exits.
It took them four minutes to get into position, unlock the main doors, and then unlock the secondary door. The Beta team leader informed the group on their secure radio band that fire security had been disabled in the garage.
“Proceed with caution,” Daphne whispered.
Earlier, they had reviewed the blueprints of the bank. The main bank had desks, teller stations, a
nd a large lobby. The vault was to the right, at the end of a short hall off the lobby. Two private offices, with glass windows looking into the bank, were dark. Security lighting illuminated the entire area, and glowing red exit signs could be seen at key points.
They reached the vault and the gang was gone. How the hell did they get out so quickly? There had been a secondary vault with gold bars that was open—it was clear several had been taken. Money was on the floor as the Tremblys had been frantic in grabbing as much as they could before they were chased out by the FBI. This was potentially a huge hit—by far their biggest, and one of the biggest in San Antonio history if they got away with it.
Through their earpieces, they heard commotion outside. “FBI! Stop!”
A second later, the Charlie team commander said, “One suspect detained. One suspect fled on foot, Delta team is in pursuit.”
Daphne ordered the Beta team to keep two agents in the garage to stand guard and send two up to the main bank.
A door clicked to the right. Immediately Lucy and Nate pursued. Daphne reported that one or more suspects had exited via the north fire exit.
“No one’s here,” Delta reported.
Lucy and Nate exited and ran into two Delta team agents. “Someone left through this door,” Lucy said. “Were you here the whole time?”
“Just got here after securing the first suspect.”
“They might have a minute lead,” Nate said. “Fan out, be alert.”
They had streetlights that helped with the search, and almost immediately Lucy looked down and realized exactly how they escaped. “Over here!”
One of the manhole covers was missing. Nate lay flat and put his ear to the ground. Everyone was silent and ten seconds later he said, “I hear someone. Proceed with caution—assume they know these tunnels better than we do.”
Daphne ordered all available agents to fan out to every access point to the underground tunnels based on the Army Corps maps. She pulled in Crutcher’s team for additional support.
Nate, who had extensive experience tracking humans, took the lead. He sent four agents to the north, and Lucy and two agents followed him to the south. There was dull yellow lighting all along the maintenance tunnel, plus Nate had a tactical light attached to his GLOCK. He stopped periodically to listen and then continued in pursuit. Lucy didn’t know how Nate differentiated the sounds when every movement created an echo.
Water seemed to be rushing everywhere; a dampness permeated the tight area, though nothing was wet. The sound of the storm water being drained, the sewage system—whatever it was, it was eerie and disconcerting. Lucy focused on following Nate. They were on a narrow walk with reinforced walls and several offshoots.
Zach came over the com. “Dunning, Agent Forsyth said you’re leading the pursuit to the south.”
“Roger,” Nate said quietly.
“I’ve already given the north team the most logical egress for the suspects. I’m tracking you on my map. The walls are marked with numbers and letters every twenty yards. Where are you?”
Nate shined his light. “C-24.”
“The most logical escape route is a door at C-32. The second is a tunnel to the right just past C-36.”
“Roger that.”
Nate said, “Kincaid, you’re with me at C-32; Delta team, proceed to C-36.”
They quickly covered the yardage and Nate let the Delta team pass them before he tried the door.
It was unlocked.
Nate motioned for Lucy to cover him as he stepped aside and opened the door.
A gunshot rang out from the space. From the sound, it came from a distance. Nate turned and fired his weapon three times. Listened.
There was no lighting in this tunnel, because either it had been disabled by the Tremblys or this wasn’t a normal access route. Nate shined his light and no one fired back. They heard faint footsteps ascending metal stairs—they were some distance away.
Nate motioned for Lucy to follow, and he turned off his light. They kept close to the walls. Nate’s sense of direction and space was second to none—as soon as they reached the stairs, he knew. He flashed his light up but stayed to the side.
No one fired at them.
They ran up the stairs two at a time. The heavy metal door at the top was secured from the outside, but Nate broke the handle and pushed it open, waiting a fraction of a second for a possible attack.
Nothing.
They were in a small utility room. The second door leading out was ajar. Nate reported that one, possibly two suspects had exited the tunnel at his location. He pushed open the door and two suspects were running in opposite directions. One was short and small, SueAnn, and one was tall and broad, either Sam or Kirk.
Nate motioned for Lucy to pursue SueAnn, and he went after the other. Lucy ran. She had on a Kevlar vest and full tactical gear, but she was gaining because SueAnn was hampered by a heavy backpack.
Did she actually think she could escape with all that money? If she’d dumped it they might have had a chance to get away.
Greed over common sense.
“FBI! Stop!” Lucy commanded.
SueAnn turned to face her. “You,” she said with disgust.
“Drop your weapon or I will shoot.”
SueAnn raised her gun and fired. It might have hit Lucy except that SueAnn’s aim was off because of the weight on her back. Lucy fired three times. SueAnn went down.
Lucy ran over to her. She was struggling, trying to get up. One bullet had gone through her forearm, the other two had hit her shoulder.
Lucy kicked away the gun. “Suspect down, need an ambulance at my location.”
To SueAnn she said, “Stop struggling! You’ll live, but I need to slow the blood loss.”
“You bitch! We were so close! Don’t touch me!”
Lucy ignored her. She read SueAnn her rights while she searched her for another weapon. She had none. Lucy cuffed her, then put pressure on the wound. She didn’t want another death on her conscience. It was a justified shooting, but she didn’t want the girl to die.
Over her earpiece she heard Nate’s voice. “I have Sam Trembly in custody. He gave up without a fight. Wants to know if his sister is okay.”
“Tell him SueAnn fired at a federal agent and is lucky to be alive. She’s injured but should survive.”
“Roger that. Good work, partner.”
* * *
Amanda Trembly was in tears when she arrived at the safe house. She half expected the police to be there waiting for her.
They weren’t.
She waited, and still no one came. She waited for an hour, sitting on the front porch, her entire body aching and crampy from the panic, the running, the fear . . . hoping and praying that Sam had made it. She didn’t care what happened to Kirk and SueAnn—Sam was right, they were to blame for Reggie’s death. They had fucked up, so cocky and self-assured, and Reggie had paid the price.
When Sam didn’t come, Amanda was ready to give herself up. She was exhausted and grieving and the $2 million she had in her backpack was nothing if she had no one to share it with.
You do. You have someone to share it with. You have to get up, get out of here. It’s what Sam would want.
It’s what Reggie would have wanted.
She shivered in the cold, damp predawn morning and finally went into the house. She dropped the backpack on the table and sank into the corner of the dining room.
She had to plan. She’d lost the man she loved last month, and her family over the span of two days, but she needed to focus on her future.
She put her hand on her stomach. She felt the small bump. No one knew about the baby. Sam suspected, but he hadn’t said anything. Right now she wished that she and her big brother had just disappeared after Reggie was killed. But Ma wanted the money. She wanted the big score, and she pushed and prodded until they all fell lockstep into line.
Monica Trembly was a hard woman to say no to.
Without someone—Reggie, her brothers, he
r family—could she raise this child alone? Could she just disappear?
Yes, you can. Sam didn’t tell anyone about the property in Mississippi—except you. And he trusted you with the key. Go there. Stay there until the baby comes and then you can figure out what to do.
She needed to eat, pack a bag, and disappear. She didn’t know if the safe house was compromised—or if there was a way for the FBI to track it. She had to assume there was. They had two vehicles—she would take the truck, it was beat-up but ran well, and she would go straight to Mississippi. Drive through the day and night if she had to.
Resolved, she stood up. A cramp hit her in the gut with the force of a punch. She was sore, and she wanted to throw up. She had to protect Reggie’s baby. But first she had to catch her breath.
She sat back down and that’s when she felt something wet between her legs. She looked down and saw blood soaking through her jeans. And she knew. The tears stopped, the pain turned to numbness.
She had nothing to live for.
Chapter Eleven
Monday Mid-morning
FBI Headquarters
After a nap and shower, Lucy returned to FBI headquarters late Monday morning as the office was abuzz at the success of thwarting a major bank heist. Though Amanda Trembly’s disappearance was problematic and she had two gold bars worth a million dollars and approximately eight hundred thousand in cash to help her escape, they had everyone else in custody.
SueAnn Trembly would be in the hospital for a couple of days—surgery was successful, but she had lost a lot of blood. She wasn’t talking, other than to curse the cops. She would be facing extensive charges over and above robbery: She had beaten up a clerk at one jewelry store and had shot and injured a civilian during the last bank heist. Not to mention attempted murder on Saturday by shooting at Officer Riley’s patrol and earlier this morning firing at Lucy.
Monica Trembly would be moved to the county jail the following morning, if her doctor signed off. There had been no complications from her injury. She would most likely get off—which infuriated Lucy. Unless they could get one of her kids to testify that she was involved in the planning—or they found evidence that she had masterminded any of the heists—she would probably walk. They could build a case for the prison break and kidnapping of a minor, but she was already crying foul on that, that she had been pressured to help.
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