When he finished eating, he went across the street for a haircut. While he was getting trimmed he decided where his next holdup would take place. Across the way, he saw a travel agency advertising trips to Calgary. With its modern skyline it looked like a wealthy city. He was sure he could do some banking business there. Besides, he told himself, if he was going to live a life of deceit, he had better learn more about the city Robert Whiteman came from.
In the travel agency he bought an airplane ticket to Calgary, then took a taxi back to his hotel, gathered his belongings and headed for the airport. He was about to embark on his first flight as the Flying Bandit.
At the Vancouver airport Robert phoned Janice. He felt good about the fact that this time he didn’t have to call her collect. Robert told her he had to go to Calgary for a few days to see his father. She was pleased for him and wished him good luck.
Once he touched down in Calgary, Robert went to the best hotel he could find. If he was going to be engaged in dangerous, demanding work, he intended to live as well as he could for as long as he could. It was a pattern he would follow until the day he was finally captured. As soon as Robert had fresh money in his hands he made a point of spending it extravagantly, and not just on himself.
This time he went to the hotel’s bar and drank at least twenty shots of Crown Royal. Then he went to a legalized charity gambling casino in the hotel and won several hundred dollars playing blackjack. It tickled him that he had made almost as much money playing cards as he had stolen from the Vancouver trust company.
After midnight, in an alcoholic haze, he called Janice and excitedly told her how much money he had won. He explained how he had been talking to his father on the phone, how well they got on, how they had made plans to meet. He said he thought his father might even offer him a job. He rambled on about how his luck was changing and how their life together was going to be great.
Janice was glad to hear from him. She had some good news too. She had just got a job with the Regional Municipality of Ottawa-Carleton as a counsellor in their emergency housing program. Her pay had risen to $9 an hour. Robert and Janice fed off each other’s enthusiasm. They talked about being able to afford a new apartment in a better part of Ottawa. Janice said a friend of hers had told her that a neat apartment was available in the Glebe, an up-scale area in Ottawa for successful young adults. Robert was all for it. He said they could check it out as soon as he got home.
“When will that be?” she asked.
“Maybe the day after tomorrow. I’ll call and let you know.”
Robert needed that much time. It took him two days to select his next piece of work. It was the Bank of Nova Scotia on 8th Avenue S.W. As usual, it was perfect – no surveillance, busy spot, accessible to a mall.
He went in around noon wearing his disguise, handed the teller a note and walked away with $3,830. Minutes later, after discarding his costume in the bathroom of a mall, he was walking among the crowd of shoppers. By then, he was convinced that not even the teller he had robbed could identify him. And nobody in the mall had any idea that he was the robber. Holding up banks in Canada was too easy. His future course was clear. More than ever, he was convinced of it.
After the robbery, Robert again had to urinate badly and went into a public washroom. Then he went directly to a travel agent and reserved a seat on an Air Canada flight departing that evening. He called Janice and told her he was on his way back and would land in Ottawa at 11:00 p.m.
“Great!” she said. “I’ll be there to meet you.”
“Are you sure you still want me?” he teased.
“I’m pretty sure I do,” she said with a laugh. “How were things with your father?”
Without hesitating, Whiteman launched into one of his most convincing deceptions.
“We got along great, better than ever before. He wants me to work for him, as a stocks courier and a security analyst.”
“Oh that’s wonderful, Robert,” Janice enthused. “I’m so happy for you.”
“Yeah, it really is amazing.”
“What does a security analyst do anyway?” she asked.
“I’ll explain it all to you when I get home. But I can tell you one thing – the money’s good. The only problem with the job is that I’ll have to travel a lot, but I think we can work that out.”
“I told you before, we can work out anything as long as we’re together.”
“See you at eleven, honey,” Robert said.
“I’ll be there!”
After leaving the phone booth, Robert went on a shopping spree. He bought Janice some costly exotic perfume. Then he toured the mall buying a brief case, a new suit, a tweed sports jacket, a pair of slacks, expensive shoes, a leather shaving kit and a suitcase. His days of shouldering a duffel bag and wearing old clothes were over.
When Robert got back to Ottawa, he and Janice hugged and kissed and held on to each other for a long time. Their first night together was intense with joy and rich with love.
Two days later, Robert agreed to another commitment. He and Janice decided to take an apartment at 20 Melgund Avenue in the Glebe. Glebe is an old Scots term that referred to the land around the churches of the city. In the old days, rent from the glebe provided income for the clergy.
During the last decade, the Glebe had become a fashionable locale for young professionals. Robert and Janice’s apartment was a one bedroom lower floor unit in a refurbished six-plex. It was owned by a second-generation Greek entrepreneur named George Papadas who was an engineering graduate from the University of Ottawa. Papadas was heavily into real estate and by the time he was thirty-eight he owned most of the homes on Melgund Avenue. As a landlord, he was very fussy about renting his apartments. Robert and Janice got the place only because their friends, Laurie and Steve Veinot, lived upstairs and acted as a reference.
George Papadas took an immediate liking to Robert. He was very impressed when Robert surprised Janice and stocked the apartment with brand new furniture. Janice was astounded at his purchases; everything was top of the line – the stereo, the living room suite. She marvelled at his expensive taste. Robert told her his father had given him an advance on his new job.
They talked about the job. There were two aspects to it. One was that he would be doing security analyses, checking on firms that were being robbed and recommending ways they could improve their security. The other aspect of the job required that Robert act as a high security courier, carrying large sums of money from one place to another. Because of the job’s security demands, he might have to use disguises, possibly wigs and moustaches and false identification. He said his job required that he maintain a low public profile. Thus, when Robert bought an inexpensive little two door Chrysler K-car to get them around town, he told her it had to be registered in her name.
He also told her that sometimes he would be required to travel across the country which would take him away from home for a few days at a time. There was also an outside possibility that he might have to carry a gun. That wasn’t confirmed as yet, he said, but it was a distinct possibility for the future. The pay would be good and his travelling expenses would be covered. Other than that, he wasn’t at liberty to reveal much more about the intricacies of his work.
To Janice it sounded like a great job. She was just so happy that he’d found something other than construction work, something that better suited his talents and intelligence. It all made perfect sense to her. Janice was overjoyed they were living together in their own beautiful apartment. She was so very much in love with him she could never suspect he was deceiving her.
While Janice worked, Robert cleaned the apartment, did the laundry and often cooked the meals. He so impressed the landlord with his work ethic that Papadas hired him as part-time building superintendent. Robert painted and did general maintenance for $8 an hour, which Papadas subtracted from the rent.
Robert liked the situation too; his masquerade with Janice provided him with a good cover. To all outward appearances h
e and Janice were just another struggling young couple living in a nice apartment in a trendy part of town. Janice had a respectable job with the regional government and Robert was a consultant who was required to fly around the country. The police would never suspect he was using commercial flights to rob banks in other cities.
Not long after they moved to Melgund Avenue, Robert began hanging around a small bar on Bank Street called Peppers. It was just a block away from their apartment and Robert found it a convenient place to have a few drinks. He went there almost every day and, in a very short time, became a popular member of their regular clientele. Everyone liked him because he was easy to talk to and he was always ready for a good time. Although Robert drank a lot, he was never obnoxious or crude. He loved to flirt with the women; the more he did, the more they liked it. Occasionally he brought Janice with him to Peppers but most of the time he went there by himself.
One of the regulars at Peppers who enjoyed Robert’s company was Neil McLaren. Neil was a thirty-four-year-old mechanic who worked at Southbank Dodge in Ottawa. He often came in after work or dropped by later in the evening. Neil and Robert had lots in common. They were both fun-loving, easy going, handsome young guys who were popular with the women in the bar. They spent a lot of time together at Peppers and, as they became closer friends, started frequenting some of the strip joints downtown.
Neil knew a lot of people in the clubs and liked rubbing elbows with the characters who hung out there. Many of them operated beyond the fringe of the law and many of them were “rounders,” guys who had been in and out of jail. Neil found it exciting to be around them. Neil was more of a “wannabe” rounder. He liked to hang around them and talk the talk, but in reality, he was a gentle man who wasn’t tough enough or daring enough to be a crook.
When Neil first met Robert he had no idea he was a bank robber. Their friendship was based on laughter and alcohol and a certain amount of mutual appreciation. Robert and Neil met three or four nights a week and often drank until the bars were closed. They had a lot of laughs together, but it was expensive and as time wore on Robert was ran low on money.
With the baby coming he knew he had to go on the road again. The problem was he had spent his money so freely he didn’t have enough to buy himself a plane ticket to get out of town. He went to Neil and asked to borrow a thousand dollars. Neil said he didn’t have it, but he knew someone in town who might lend it to him.
“Who is he?” Robert asked.
“Tommy Craig. The manager of the Playmate Club.”
“Is he a loan shark?”
“I don’t know about that but he’s probably going to want some heavy bread to make the loan.”
“That’s OK with me. Everybody’s got to make a buck.”
“And you got to pay him back fast – on the nose.”
“That’s alright. Let’s go see him. I need the money.”
The Playmate was a dingy strip club on the corner of Montreal Road and Emond Street in Vanier, a working class area in the east end of the city. The club was frequented by a cast of unsavoury characters and local toughs that often included a violent bunch of bikers. But no one got out of line at the Playmate because they didn’t want to deal with Tommy Craig.
Craig was a likeable Irishman who got by on the charm of an expansive personality and the threat of an iron fist. At 5’9” and almost 400 pounds, Tommy Craig was called the Fat Man. Everyone called him that, even his friends.
The Fat Man was fearless and tough. An amateur boxer as a kid, Tommy was surprisingly fast with his hands and could deliver a powerful punch. Now in his late thirties, he didn’t especially like to fight but he would take on anyone if he had to.
He was well known on both sides of the law. For the Ottawa police, the Fat Man was a major aggravation. They knew he was involved, one way or another, in most of the illegal activity in the Ottawa area. Their problem was that he was so devious and crafty they couldn’t prove what they knew. This was a terrible frustration for them.
For the crooks and rounders, Tommy was their “main man,” the captain of the ship. He knew everybody and could connect anybody, put any kind of deal together. If you wanted to buy or sell something, no matter how warm to the touch, all the spokes led to the hub of the wheel: Tommy Craig. Nobody crossed the Fat Man because it wasn’t good for business. If Tommy wouldn’t deal with a guy, that guy quickly developed either a marketing problem or a purchasing problem. If no one wanted to buy or sell their stuff, they were out of business.
The Fat Man was also known to lend money to people who couldn’t qualify for a loan at the bank. The “juice” he charged for interest ran to 30 percent for one week. Both the principle and interest had to be back exactly on time, no mistakes.
Neil brought Robert to the Playmate and introduced him to the Fat Man. He told Tommy that Robert wanted to borrow a thousand dollars.
Tommy looked Robert over and said to Neil, “You vouch for him?”
“Yeah”
Tommy spoke to Robert: “It’s going to cost you $1,300.”
“That’s OK,” Robert said.
“I got to have it back in a week.”
“I don’t have any problem with that,” Robert replied.
Tommy pulled out a wad of cash and counted out a thousand dollars on the bar.
“There you go,” he said to Robert.
“Thanks,” Robert said to Tommy. “Can I buy you a drink?”
“Sure,” Tommy replied. “I’ll have a rum and seven.”
When the drinks came, they touched glasses to seal the deal.
“Here’s to you, Mr. Craig,” Robert said. “And thank you very much.”
With a smile, Tommy said, “I like your style, kid.” That’s what he called Robert from then on, the “Kid.” The Fat Man and the Kid – it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Later that night Robert made his first purchase with the borrowed money. He went to another bar and met a young drug addict. Robert told him that he wanted to purchase a gun. The junkie said he could get one and they haggled over the price. Once they came to an agreement the young tough left the bar, and in a matter of minutes, returned with a gun. It was then Robert realized that, in Canada, it was easier to buy an illegal gun than a legal one.
Robert decided to fly to Halifax for his next piece of work. The choice came to him out of the blue. He had heard of Halifax but had never been there. He heard the Maritimes were beautiful; why not mix business with pleasure? He knew nothing about the banks out there but figured it would be a new experience for him, a new challenge.
The next day he told Janice he had to fly to Halifax for a meeting and to pick up some bonds. He would be gone for a couple of days. He told her if everything worked out on the job he’d probably get a bonus to go along with his commission. Janice was thrilled for him and helped him pack.
Robert took an Air Canada flight to Halifax and liked it so much he decided to register for the Aeroplan. As soon as he was settled in his room in the swank Hotel Halifax, he headed downtown to select a bank to rob. It didn’t take him long to chose the Royal Bank at 1317 Barrington Street, close to the harbour. The branch was a small one near a mall, just what he was looking for. He cased the place for two days.
He called Janice every night from his room in the hotel. The phone calls were to become part of a ritual for him. He would call her often when he was away, and always on the night before a robbery. While he sipped his Crown Royal he told her how much he loved her and how much he missed her. He told her about the beautiful city and its spectacular features, like the Citadel overlooking the harbour.
However, he didn’t tell her what was really bothering him. For some unknown reason, he had bad vibes about doing this bank job in Halifax. It just didn’t feel right to him and he very seldom had that feeling about his work. From the moment he got dressed and put his outer clothes and disguise in his briefcase he heard an inner voice telling him that this was not a good day for a robbery. Instead of going to
the bank as he had planned, he went to the hotel bar and spent the day drinking rye and watching their big screen television.
That night he called Janice and told her the meetings were going longer than he expected and he wouldn’t be home for two more days. He went back to the hotel’s bar for more rye and struck up a conversation with anyone who happened to sit down beside him. He stayed there talking until the bar closed.
The next morning Robert dressed, took his briefcase and then ambled around the city for hours, trying to work up the nerve to go into the bank and rob it. At 2:00 p.m. he walked into the mall near the bank and found a washroom. In a cubicle, he put on his outer clothes, his wig and moustache and then hid his briefcase under the used paper towels in the disposal can.
The bank was a small place with a few tiny offices for the manager and his assistants. There were seven or eight customers waiting to be served at the five teller positions. Robert stood in line for several minutes until he came before the teller who was operating from the position nearest the front door. He handed her a plastic bag and a note saying he had a gun and wanted all of her cash. He made sure she could see the bulge in his windbreaker where he kept the gun. To his surprise, the teller took the note to the cashier’s cage and showed it to another teller. Robert couldn’t believe what was happening. What the hell did she think his note was, a withdrawal slip? Both tellers stared at the note with furrowed brows and confused looks on their faces.
Robert was saying to himself, “Come on, come on. What the hell is your problem. Can’t you read?” The next thing he knew, a third teller was reading it. “Jesus,” he thought. “Here I am trying to rob a bank and they leave me standing out here while they’re in there reading my note like it was a goddamn novel or something.”
Fiercely fighting his urge to run, he stood his ground and tried not to act nervous. Robert felt sure that the alarm hadn’t been sounded but he kept thinking that his escape route wasn’t very good. There was no back door out of the bank, no alley to disappear into, no parking lot to run to. He’d already been standing there for over two minutes. He had a terrible need to urinate and kept shifting from one foot to another. Robert was just about to walk away when one of the tellers put some money in the plastic bag and approached him at the counter. Robert snatched the bag out of her hands and, breaking one of his own inviolable rules, ran out the front door at a gallop. Back in the washroom, he retrieved his briefcase from the disposal can, put the money and his wig and moustache in it, changed his clothes in a cubicle, and walked out into the mall wearing his shirt and tie and fancy leather jacket.
The Flying Bandit Page 7
