by G. K. Parks
“I never realized the federal government employed psychos. I want my lawyer.” Slidle was irritating, and it was a relief Jablonsky was back to deal with him.
Carver came in and handed me my handcuffs. “I disinfected them for you,” he whispered as he stood next to me. We watched as Boyle entered the interrogation room to assist Jablonsky. “How the hell did you catch up to him? From what I remember, you run like a girl,” he teased.
“I would have caught him sooner if you weren’t in my way,” I quipped. “But he did backtrack, so it wasn’t too hard to get him on the ground. Although, it might have been easier had we not just finished breakfast.”
“Do you want to watch the interrogation, or do you want to see what was uncovered at his apartment?”
I considered the question and decided to see what we found instead of listening to Slidle whine and bitch about how his rights were being violated. Plus, it would be an hour before his lawyer got here which meant the questioning was basically over until then.
Trailing Michael back to his desk, the files and photographs were spread out for our perusal. It looked like a much weaker version of the evidence we found in Roxie’s apartment. There was maybe a grand in twenties that had been recovered from under the mattress and a layout of Mutual One. At least she had been on the level about something.
“Any idea who the other two chuckleheads are?” I inquired, skimming through the official report and reading through the evidence list.
“No idea. But we’re getting a subpoena for Slidle and Henderson’s phone records. Maybe we’ll figure it out. They must have been in contact, right?”
“Sure.” I went to my desk and found the aspirin in my top drawer. Popping two and swallowing, I shut my eyes and tried to think everything through. I had a headache and was running on fumes. Sleep would have been the better choice instead of breakfast. Too late now. “Has anyone pulled employee records for the auto body shop? If Roxie and David both work there, maybe the other two goons do too. Or maybe someone there will remember seeing them.”
“Here,” Carver said, pulling out a sheet of paper and reading the names on the page, “I’m not sure if we’ve run backgrounds on any of them yet.” He scanned the rest of the forms on his desk, looking for a note but came up empty. “Do you think they have previous records?”
“What do you think?” I asked, sounding bitchier than necessary.
“Mr. Upstanding Citizen doesn’t just decide to steal a fucking ATM machine on a whim.”
“Probably not,” I agreed, tossing him a grin. At least he was willing to match my abrasiveness with his own. “Split the list with me.”
He wrote down half the names on a separate sheet of paper, and we got to work. While we were running the names through the law enforcement databases, looking for previous records, particularly ones including burglary or larceny, Jablonsky appeared near my desk.
“Parker,” he muttered, “would you like to explain how Mr. Slidle ended up with some bruised ribs and complaints about pissing blood?”
“He resisted arrest,” I responded, not bothering to look up. I didn’t use excessive force. He had at least eighty pounds and six inches on me. Sometimes, my lack of height and weight required creativity to subdue a fleeing suspect, and he pissed me off. “The guy barreled right toward me; I had to take him down. You always taught us not to let a suspect get away.”
“Where were you?” Mark asked, turning to Carver.
“Trying to get across the street.” We explained the dynamics of the chase to Jablonsky.
“Good work.” Mark nodded, heading toward his office. “It’s nice to know the two of you can get things done while I’m gone. No more handholding,” he quietly added. “Nicely done.”
I suspected he was congratulating himself on his training techniques, and I kept silent, pretending I didn’t hear a word he said. We were all suffering from sleep deprivation, so if he needed to self-congratulate himself, it was fine by me.
As Carver and I finished our background checks on the list of employees, we didn’t get any hits. It was possible the other two thieves lacked a record or used fake names and identities when applying for the job. After all, it was difficult enough finding work without a criminal record. Jablonsky had been in and out, revisiting interrogation a few times. Maybe Slidle had given us another lead.
“I’ll check with Boyle and see if we uncovered anything new,” Carver said, getting up from his desk. “Can you see if Ms. Henderson has decided to be more forthcoming after getting some sleep?”
“On it,” I replied, picking up the phone and dialing the local police precinct’s phone number.
She was still at the hospital under police supervision, so they would hopefully have something helpful for me. After being passed around from department to department, my call was forwarded to the officer who recorded the conversation that morning. Unfortunately, the more Henderson recovered, the less talkative she became. It was timing that had gotten her to speak as freely as she did. With nothing else to do, I put my head on top of my desk and waited for someone to come back with an update.
* * *
“Parker, go home,” Mark said softly. I opened my eyes and sat up. My neck was stiff, and I wondered how long I had been asleep at my desk. This gave new meaning to the term sleeping on the job. “You helped bring in two suspects in the last twenty-four hours. It’s time to go home and get some rest. That’s an order.”
“Sir,” I mumbled in protest, rubbing my eyes.
“You know I hate being called sir,” he insisted. “Just for that, you’re going home. Stop by in the morning before you go to the bank. Understood?”
“Yes,” I narrowed my eyes at him, “sir.”
He rolled his eyes and waited for me to collect my belongings and go to the elevator before he continued down the hallway. Being asleep and called out on it by my superior was not how I envisioned this day ending, but I was too tired to beat myself up over the matter.
Going home, I locked my door, considered eating or showering, decided against both, and set my alarm for five a.m. When the buzzer went off, I considered throwing it against the wall. Nixing that idea, I crawled out of bed, showered, dressed for the bank, and packed a separate bag with regulation attire in the hopes that we could simply go and nail the remaining two suspects instead.
Arriving at the OIO building at six, I spotted Boyle in his office. Knocking on the door, he gestured for me to enter. Jablonsky, Carver, and all the other agents from yesterday had gone home. We all deserved a break.
“Agent Parker,” he poured a second cup of coffee from his personal machine and placed it in front of me, “Jablonsky asked that I brief you on the findings from yesterday.”
“I just wanted to apologize for,” I stared at the floor and added timidly, “falling asleep at my desk.”
He laughed. “You’re salaried, not paid by the hour. It’s perfectly fine. But you probably don’t want to make a habit out of it. Vicious rumors of narcolepsy may soon spread throughout the office.” He took a sip from his mug. “Point out a single seasoned agent who hasn’t fallen asleep at his desk, and I’ll show you someone who isn’t doing the job properly.” Feeling slightly relieved, I nodded in agreement. “Now, let’s get down to business. I’d hate to make you late for your back-up career.”
Nine
Sam Boyle spent an hour and a half detailing the evidence found in both of our suspects’ apartments. The court order had been issued for Roxie Henderson and David Slidle’s phone records, but no identification had been made on the other two team members. After sobering up and recovering from her low, Henderson wasn’t willing to give an ounce. She hadn’t spoken, except to the medical professionals attending to her. After getting a clean bill of health, she was moved to lockup at the precinct. If we needed her, someone could put in an order for her transfer, but right now, she served no purpose. The local cops were taking a crack at her, but I was certain she said all she was going to say.
David Slidle had lawyered up. He wasn’t talking unless it was to complain about the treatment he received during his arrest. Boyle rolled his eyes at this. No one believed Slidle was brutalized. Frankly, if I slammed his skull into the pavement a few times, I might have even gotten away with that. However, I wasn’t in the business of getting my rocks off by knocking around shitheads. So he had some bruises and scrapes, so did I. All part of the job.
“What am I doing in the meantime?” I asked after Boyle concluding the briefing.
“Same thing you’ve been doing. Keep an eye on the ATM in the bank. I don’t know if the ATM bandits are going to ground or if they’ll try to make the final score, so keep your eyes open. And don’t get bogged down in the details or descriptions,” he indicated the stitches on the side of his face, “because it smarts when you do.”
“Dignity mostly?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” He scratched an eyebrow. “We’re keeping two tactical units on standby in the event anything occurs. But half their team is in custody, so it’d be insane for them to try to distract, break in, and get away by themselves, especially after everything.”
“Are we any closer to identifying them? What about the tipster?” It seemed we had stopped focusing on this mysterious informant. From the limited footage we had, it obviously wasn’t Roxie. Maybe it was David, but for an informant, he was highly uncooperative. That left one of the two remaining team members or a possible third party.
“Hell if I know,” he replied, and I looked at my watch. “Get to work, Parker. If you need anything, we’ll be on standby, awaiting your call.”
“Let’s hope I don’t need anything.” I went to the door. “Agent Boyle, if you happen to capture the rest of the thieves before close of business today, feel free to spring me early.”
“Clearly, you love working at a bank,” he teased. “Hell, Parker, maybe in the future you should consider a full time position with corporate America.”
“I’d put a bullet through my brain before that would ever happen,” I retorted.
“Hey, y’never know.”
* * *
Another three days spent at the bank. It was Wednesday, hump day, and even though it was the middle of the week, the proverbial hump, it was annoying that Annette, the teller, so cheerfully announced this. Maybe she just left the employee lounge after humping Ted, the loan officer, because I couldn’t figure out why anyone would be this cheery working in a bank. Frankly, it was depressing. We handled other people’s money and financial problems, not even our own. Pull it together, Parker. You’re not a teller. You’re a federal agent. I shook off the boredom and handed the elderly woman the roll of quarters she requested.
“Are these old quarters?” she asked.
“Excuse me?”
“With the eagles on the back. The way quarters were meant to be.”
I stared at her, wanting to reach into my purse, pull out my nine millimeter, and ask her nicely to step away from the counter.
“Miss,” she shook the roll of quarters in front of my face, “are they old quarters?”
“It’s a mixture.” I gave her my best attempt at a smile, hoping I didn’t look like a deranged, homicidal clown. “It’ll be a surprise, just like the toy in a cereal box.” She accepted that answer as if it were perfectly logical and walked away. “I need a break,” I mumbled. I put my face in my hands and tried to shut the world out.
There had been no further leads on identifying the ATM bandits. Jablonsky had been trying to negotiate a deal with Slidle to get names in exchange for a reduced sentence, but the problem was we didn’t have much on him. The only thing we had was some cash and a layout of the bank. Most of our evidence was against Roxie. After all, she assaulted Boyle, had been positively identified by a federal agent, and had everything lined up and waiting for us when we busted her. Slidle’s representation must have realized how weak our case against his client was because he had been stalling as much as possible. We needed to catch the other two or gather more solid evidence which was why I was stuck behind the counter at the goddamn bank from hell.
“Excuse me, but I don’t think you can accurately do your job with your face buried in your hands,” Carver’s voice taunted.
“What are you doing here, Michael?” I asked, brushing my hair back and gazing across the empty lobby. “Have you come to free me from this torture?”
“No.” He grinned, enjoying himself.
Annette glanced at us. “Alex, is this your boyfriend?”
“Honey,” Michael cooed, further irritating me, “you haven’t told your co-workers about me yet? Tsk, tsk.” He gave Annette his high wattage smile. “I’m Michael.”
“Why don’t you take a break,” she suggested. “It’s dead in here anyway. I can cover for you for ten minutes.”
“Great, thanks.” I tried to feign enthusiasm as I grabbed my purse and went around to the opening to get away from the counter. “What the hell are you doing here? Did we get them?” I whispered urgently to Michael, hoping I was free to leave.
“No. We’re taking another run at Roxie and David, but it doesn’t look promising.”
“This is ridiculous. Are we even positive there were four to begin with? Could it have just been two? Maybe Sam got hit in the head harder than he realized and was seeing double.”
“Doubtful.” He did a quick visual sweep of the bank, eyeing the ATM which no one even visited today. “They want to pull the vans off the bank. We might have spooked them. By now, they must know we have half their friends in custody.”
“Great,” I muttered sarcastically.
“Look, Boyle and I are positioned across the street, and the vans will be nearby. Just don’t panic if you don’t see your support parked a block away.” He kissed my cheek, remaining in character. “I’ll let you get back to work,” he said loudly as he went out the front door.
Maybe I should suggest we move the ATM outside, disconnect the cameras, open the cash door, and leave a note saying ‘free for the taking, will assist with haul-away’. It might be the only way to get the rest of the thieves to make their move.
* * *
After work, I stopped by the OIO and knocked on Jablonsky’s door. He looked the way I felt. This wasn’t working. We were wasting resources and manpower on bringing in two suspects for which we had no leads, no description, and no feasible plan. We had to get Slidle or Henderson to give them up or else we’d never catch them.
“We got another tip an hour ago,” Mark said after I finished my tirade. Briefly, I considered he might be lying, but he wasn’t into games. “The voice sounded the same. We have teams running traces, looking through footage, doing everything we can.” He shook some thoughts loose in his brain. “Who knows? Anyway, if we’re to believe our tipster, the team’s been rebuilt, and they’re planning something big. He didn’t say what it was, but it will be their last job before they disappear for good.”
“Sounds like our tipster’s a nutcase.”
“He was right the last time. It’s all we have to go on, Parker. Boyle and Carver are running this new information by our friends in custody, but until we have something solid, stay where you are.”
“Are you putting the vans back on the bank?”
“No.” He frowned, and his forehead creased. I knew Mark well enough to know he thought this was a bad idea. “They’ll be close. One is covering the road from the east and the other on the west. If they do a snatch and grab on the ATM, we’ll get them. Did Carver tell you he and Boyle are staking out the bank from across the street?”
“Yep.”
“Okay. If we get verification they’re hitting the bank, I’ll put every spare agent on it. They won’t get away again, and if not, then we’ll be here, trying to figure out a better plan to get these bastards off the street. They’ve been making us laughingstocks, and I am no one’s laughingstock.” They’d pissed off Boyle and now Jablonsky. Whoever they were, they were going down.
Ten
It was ge
tting close to five o’clock on Friday afternoon. I stifled my yawn and reached for the deposit slip. The man I was helping smiled brightly and asked for my phone number as I printed his receipt and slid it to him.
“Thanks, but I’m already spoken for.” The security guard had just locked the entrance, hoping to deter any last minute customers from coming inside the bank. A few people went to the exit as the man stood before me, not willing to take no for an answer.
“Here,” he looked behind his shoulder, and something caused the hair on the back of my neck to stand at attention, “let me give you mine instead.” He turned his receipt over and scribbled something on the back, passing it to me. Looking down, I knew what it was going to say. “Don’t make a scene,” he warned.
“Of course not, sir,” I said, remaining calm and detached as I hoped everyone else would leave the bank before things went from bad to worse.
The instructions were simple. He wanted an escort to the vault, and if I failed to comply, he’d shoot up the place. My phone was on the counter, and I needed it to get word to the team outside.
“All right,” he jerked his head to the side, “get moving, and if you push the panic button, I’ll kill you.”
I’d like to see you try, I thought bitterly as I moved deliberately slow, giving as many customers enough time to get out of the bank as possible. The fewer possible casualties, the better. I scanned the room, trying to make the rest of the bank robbers or even if there were any other bank robbers. Placing one hand on top of my phone which was just out of his line of sight, I slipped it into my blazer pocket. As soon as I got the chance, I’d speed dial Carver. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be enough to tip off the thief.
“Okay, there’s no reason anyone needs to get hurt here, but you must know, I don’t have access. I’m just a teller,” I said quietly. There were two men near the back wall, and from the way their jackets hung and the sunglasses and caps they wore, I knew they were here for the robbery. “You don’t want to draw attention to yourself. Let’s not alert anyone else, okay?” If he thought it was strange I was offering helpful hints on conducting a heist, he didn’t let on.
