The Job

by Jove Belle

  The two guys who’d gone into the vault area returned, their bags bulging at the sides. They nodded at Marcus as they passed and set the bags next to the elevator. Then they disappeared through the door that Keith had used earlier.

  As they talked, Tor eased her hand around until her fingers were laced together with Sera’s. The feel of Tor’s palm against hers filled her with warm familiarity. Of course, when they’d held hands in the past, Tor hadn’t squeezed hard enough to cut off her circulation and the encounter had promised to end with something way more pleasant than gunfire. She gave Tor a gentle squeeze in return, then let go completely. She pointed at the group of people lying on the floor and hoped Tor would understand her message. More important, she hoped Tor would make it to them before Marcus realized she was moving.

  “We can’t go just yet.” Marcus smiled and watched Tor as she crossed the room, but he didn’t stop her from joining the group of hostages.

  “Why not? The vault’s cleared, right? That’s what’s in those bags. Let’s get out of here before it’s too late.”

  Marcus shook his head. “It’s already too late. It was too late before we even got here.”

  “What the fuck does that mean? Stop trying to be all cryptic and speak English.”

  Marcus tsked and said, “The root of the problem in this country is the hearts of the citizens. A couple of bags of money won’t be enough to change anything.” The crazy, zealot glint returned to Marcus’s eyes as he spoke. The longer they stood in the lobby arguing, the less likely they would make it out of the bank alive. If they waited long enough for law enforcement to respond, they were screwed. Once SWAT arrived on scene, the fact that she was an undercover federal agent would mean nothing compared to all the witnesses pointing to her as one of the robbers.

  “Can you give me the lesson on the pitfalls of American society after we leave? I wasn’t kidding when I said I have a full schedule. Frankly, I’m getting really damn tired of your ‘I’m a crazy terrorist’ routine. Let’s go.”

  The elevator dinged, and then the doors slid open. Reg stepped into the bank, his duffel looking much lighter than when he entered the elevator.

  Marcus took the bag and said, “You stay here.” Then he headed toward the door Keith and the other two men had gone through. Craig spoke into the phone. “Six minutes.”

  “We’ve been here too long.” Sera tried her pitch with Reg. Marcus hadn’t listened, but that didn’t mean all his soldiers realized how much jeopardy he’d placed them in. “We need to go before the police arrive.”

  Reg looked at her steadily. “You have no idea what we’re doing, do you?”

  “I know Marcus has a death wish that I don’t share. How about you?”

  Reg was armed with a MAC-11, a compact, fully automatic nine-millimeter weapon similar to an UZI. It spit out a ton of bullets, but hitting a target relied more on luck than skill. What it lacked in accuracy, however, it made up for in speed. She wasn’t certain she could avoid his spray of bullets, but if she’d been alone, she would have been willing to take the chance. The group of hostages was another story completely. Any move she made to get them out of the bank, or conversely to keep them there and wait for the cavalry, was a calculated risk. Putting them purposefully in the line of fire from a sub-machine gun was simply too reckless. And she couldn’t forget about Craig. His rifle was slower but far more accurate.

  Reg shook his head, a look of disbelief on his face. “You’re not leaving here alive.”

  Sera had no doubt Reg was telling her the truth. That meant, MAC-11 or not, her best opportunity to escape and hopefully save some lives was right now, while Marcus was out of the room.

  “To hell with that.” She crossed the room, careful to keep her gaze trained on the two bags of money. As long as she could pretend their whole purpose in that bank was the money—something that was getting harder and harder to do—she had an out.

  “Stop.” Reg spoke in that scary yelling-without-raising-his-voice way that made Sera pause. It reminded her too much of her dad right before he lost it completely. She had years of childhood training that she’d never been able to overcome. “Come back over here.”

  When she turned to look, Craig had his rifle leveled at her chest and a poorly veiled pleading look on his face. Reg hadn’t even turned toward her. He really was a serious badass, and she’d never paid much attention to him at all. As far as she had been concerned, he was one of Marcus’s lackey street thugs. Even with the barrel of Craig’s rifle trained on her, not Reg’s, she knew Reg was the only real threat in the room. Craig didn’t want to kill her. Reg didn’t care either way.

  “Okay, no problem. Just trying to get us out of here alive, that’s all.”

  “Stop trying.” Reg jerked his head toward the hostages. “Sit over there. I’m tired of watching you.”

  *

  By some miracle, Tor made it to where Minnie and Edmund were lying on the floor. Minnie was still shaking, but Tor was struck with the need to comfort Edmund, not Minnie. The resigned “so this is how it’s going to be” look on his face scared the crap out of her. He needed to know they were all going to make it through the day alive. She wasn’t sure how to convince him when she didn’t really believe it herself.

  “Is everyone okay?” She kept her voice low, as if she were trying to talk without the librarian noticing. Except in this case, instead of getting a dirty look and potentially being banned from the library, the consequences were a lot more severe. As far as she knew, her librarian never carried an automatic weapon.

  “Okay?” Minnie laughed, her voice verging on hysteria. “Nothing about this is okay.”

  “Shh, it’s going to be all right.” Edmund patted her hand. He’d never been as approachable, as believably compassionate as he was in that moment. He stroked Minnie’s hair, smoothing it where it had worked free of her signature bun.

  Minnie shook even harder. In Tor’s experience, Minnie wasn’t easily rattled. Apparently, the reverse was also true and she wasn’t easily comforted either.

  For now, the robbers were otherwise occupied, but she’d had one shove a gun in her face already. Two, if she counted Sera. She wasn’t ready for a repeat event any time soon. “Minolea! Get control of yourself.”

  Minnie took a deep, shuddering breath and nodded. After that she stayed still except for the occasional whimper.

  Astrid inched toward them. If the guards noticed, they didn’t care. “Everyone seems to be holding together okay, except for the three newbies.” Astrid gestured subtly toward their three newest hires.

  They were in much worse shape than Minnie, with all three openly crying. One appeared to be working through an imaginary rosary, her lips moving in time to her fingers through the prayers. How long would it be before they resigned? Would they even return to work after today? She’d be surprised if they did.

  Tor nodded. “They’re doing well, under the circumstances.”

  “What are we going to do?” Astrid asked, her voice holding an oddly curious tone rather than the stifled panic Tor felt building in her own chest.

  “What do you mean?” There really wasn’t anything for them to do. Bank procedures said to cooperate and prioritize life. She agreed with that approach and knew Astrid had been to the same training seminars as her. She already knew Tor’s opinion that they should follow protocol in a situation like this.

  “This doesn’t look like a normal robbery, that’s all.” Astrid gave a sniff-shrug combination.

  “How many robbers are there, total?” So far, Tor’s count was up to five, but it was hard to tell since they were all dressed the same and wearing those masks. The only one she could distinguish from the rest was Sera, and her role in the group became less certain the longer they stayed in the bank.

  She’d dreamed of the day when she’d finally see Sera again, had longed for the opportunity to start over. In her fantasy, they could wipe away the past, forget about all the heartache between them, and simply be in love again
. Never, in all the versions of their reunion, did it involve Sera walking into her bank wearing a ski mask and carrying a gun. She didn’t know how to assimilate this new information with her long established thoughts about Sera. Her heart told her that for Sera to do something like this, she had to have a strong justification. On the other hand, people changed. How well did she really know Sera now?

  To further confuse the situation, Sera had also stepped between her and the other man when he’d pointed the shotgun at her face. Sera had physically blocked his shot with her body and a gesture like that couldn’t be ignored. It all confused her so much she preferred to focus on things she could easily quantify—like how her employees were doing or how many robbers were in her bank.

  “I saw seven come in,” Edmund said. “But I think it’s safe to say at this point the woman isn’t really with them.”

  “What do you mean?” Tor was relieved to hear she wasn’t the only one having doubts about Sera’s participation. If Edmund could get past the whole gun-to-her-face thing, then maybe she could too.

  “I don’t know. Maybe the fact that she’s the only one with just a handgun? And she’s barely used it.” Edmund gestured toward Sera.

  Tor glanced over. Sera was arguing with one of the men. Her gun was holstered, but his wasn’t.

  “That’s a good point. Why does she have a handgun while the rest have rifles?” Astrid asked.

  “Maybe she’s in charge?” Tor suggested. The one guy had called her boss more than once, but his body language said something else entirely. It was a bit of a stretch, but it could be true. If Sera was the one giving orders, then she didn’t need a weapon at all. The others would cover her. Right?

  “It’s possible.” Edmund shrugged but didn’t look convinced. “But then why did she block that other guy from shooting you? And why did he hit her? You don’t try to knock your boss on her ass, no matter how bad you might want to.” His mouth curved into a small smile.

  “How do you know her?” Minnie asked, her breathing recovered sufficiently to contribute to the conversation. Until then, Tor had assumed Minnie hadn’t been listening, focusing instead on controlling her own panic.

  Tor stared at her for half a second, unsure how to answer. Her relationship with Sera had shaped the person Tor was today. She didn’t want to trivialize it or have their first impression of the woman who meant so much to her be informed solely by the events taking place right now. As screwed up as it was, Sera was so much more than…this. Finally, she said, “I knew her in college.”

  Edmund nodded.

  “Was she nice?” Minnie asked.

  Nice didn’t even come close to describing Sera. She was kind and fun and enthusiastic and…Tor had never been able to complete the list. Every time she’d thought she could pinpoint what made Sera so awesome, she always found one more thing to add. She settled for the simple answer since that’s all Minnie really wanted anyway. “Yeah, she used to be nice.”

  “Did she always carry a gun?” Astrid asked.

  Tor shook her head. “No, that part is new.”

  “Looks like you’re going to get the chance to catch up,” Edmund said dryly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Here she comes.” Edmund pointed.

  Tor followed the line of Edmund’s outstretched finger and watched as Sera made her way toward them. She sat down easily in front of Tor and smiled, but her expression was sad around the edges.

  “So, you’re the bank manager?”

  Tor couldn’t believe it. Sera wanted to have a normal conversation like they were chatting over a cup of coffee? Could this day possibly get any more surreal?

  “Yes. And apparently you’re the bank robber. Lucky me.”

  Chapter Eight

  Sitting face-to-face with Tor made Sera wish she’d kept the mask on. Even though Tor knew exactly who she was, with or without it, and appeared to be completely disgusted with her, at least if she still had it on, she wouldn’t have to worry about her sweat-dampened hair sticking to her forehead and standing up in the back. Not to mention the swelling where Marcus had smacked her cheek. This was not the impression she wanted to make after all these years.

  Not that wearing the mask would have been any better. That one piece of clothing clearly branded her a bad guy, and having it off helped her mentally if nothing else. Besides, Tor had already judged her as guilty. Adding or removing a layer of fabric wouldn’t change that.

  “It’s not what it looks like.” Sera sounded pathetic. That Beth was hopefully listening in on the conversation made Sera mentally straighten her spine. Until the FBI pulled her from the assignment, she was still technically undercover and couldn’t reveal the true reason she was there. Knowing that didn’t keep her from hoping Tor would be able to see the truth behind the complicated web of lies and half-truths that had become Sera’s life.

  “Really? You’re not robbing my bank with a crew of armed gunmen?”

  Sera cringed internally but held her body rigid. On the surface, that’s exactly what she was doing, but the reality went so much deeper, too deep for her to explain it all to Tor. Instead she sighed and agreed. “Well, yes, but…” She couldn’t say any more.

  Tor looked far too smug and satisfied, the same expression she used to get when she’d won an argument. This time, however, they weren’t fighting over which movie to watch, and behind Tor’s expression Sera also detected grief. She didn’t know if that made her feel better or worse.

  “Why are you here?”

  “Huh?” Sera thought Tor already knew the answer. She was here, with her gun, to rob Tor’s bank. Why make her say it out loud? “Like you said, it’s pretty obvious.”

  Tor gave Sera a pointed look. “No, not here in the building. I mean here, on the floor. With us.” She gestured, as much as anyone could while lying facedown on the floor.

  Sera shrugged. “I think I pissed them off.” Even if she could explain the reason, it wouldn’t do any good. This wasn’t Taxicab Confessions, and Tor wasn’t looking for a reason to forgive her.

  “The one guy called you ‘boss,’” the young woman next to Tor said. She evaluated Sera with curiosity.

  The man next to her chimed in. “That’s right, he did.”

  Tor nodded as if the information was shaping into some great insight for her. Just what Sera needed—Tor to have even more reason to hate her.

  Rather than answer, Sera looked pointedly at the man and woman. Granted, she and Tor weren’t in the most private of settings, but they were clearly having a private conversation.

  When she turned back to Tor, she skirted the topic completely. “Did you call the police?”

  Tor shook her head. “I pushed the panic button at my desk.”

  That didn’t make any sense. Even if her call to Beth hadn’t gone through, the police should have arrived by now if Tor had activated the alarm. “Have you used it before?”

  “Not on purpose. People don’t rob the downtown banks. It’s easier to escape in the suburbs.”

  Sera thought back to her training. She’d only spent a week or so on banks while at Quantico and then promptly dismissed the subject when she started her fieldwork. Tor’s assertion about urban versus suburban bank robberies was only partially true. If the robber was going for a straight “in and out, hit the drawers and flee” kind of robbery, then the suburbs were better because of the cleaner exit options. Jobs with bigger goals, like vaults and political statements, happened in the heart of the city. Rather than educating—and potentially panicking—Tor and her group of employees, she simply nodded and agreed.

  Sera looked over her shoulder at Reg and Craig. Marcus had returned, but they still seemed to be in no hurry to leave the bank. Marcus and Reg stood close with their heads bent together, talking. Craig scanned the crowd dutifully. Sera followed the trajectory of his eyes. She noticed four different people who she would have singled out. One man was slowly shifting his hand toward his pocket. Maybe he needed a tissue, but people were ne
ver that determined over something trivial. The guard was gesturing toward the door with his head. A woman had inched back until she was mostly hidden behind a workstation. And another man had his phone in his hand. Several small groups were whispering together. She should intervene, stop them from doing something that would evoke a much more violent response from Marcus.

  Instead, she took advantage of their distraction and eased her own phone from her pocket. The screen showed an active call, but at a glance she had no way of knowing who was listening. At least it hadn’t gone directly to voicemail because the system would have automatically disconnected by now. She looked back at Craig. This time he stared right at her, his expression blank. He glanced down at the phone in her hand, met her eyes, and then looked away. After that, he focused on a spot on the floor just short of the group of hostages. If Marcus checked, he would appear vigilant, but in reality, he wasn’t paying attention at all.

  Sera didn’t give herself time to consider Craig’s strange behavior. She simply ducked her head low and wished she was in the middle of the group instead of on the outside fringe. No matter what she did, or how much she slumped, she wouldn’t be able to hide the cell phone if anyone else looked over. Instead of trying, she nudged the phone toward Tor. Tor gave her a sharp look but covered the phone with her hand without arguing. Sera shifted her body and blocked Tor completely from Marcus’s view. If he moved, walked the perimeter of the group like he should be doing, she’d be exposed. With him fixed in one position, Tor was protected. It was a risk, but a prudent one.

  The woman who mentioned Marcus calling her boss inhaled sharply when she saw the phone, but didn’t comment. Sera ignored her.

  “Talk to her.” Sera said the words while watching Marcus. She shifted her focus among the group of three men and the door where the others had exited. Craig might be willing to ignore what she was doing, but the price if one of the others caught her was much too high. By involving Tor, she placed her at risk as well. She needed to be on guard.