“Uh huh.”
She nodded. “Well, good. We close at five, you know, and it’ll be good for you to start learning how we handle the after-hours jobs here. Reconciling statements and entering everything into the system.”
Accepting a paycheck from the first customer, he began to key in the account numbers. When he glanced over at Sheila, he couldn’t hide a smile. Even at six months she looked almost due. “Do you have a doctor standing by in the parking lot at all times,” he teased in a low voice.
She wrinkled up her nose at him. “Don’t you start calling me ‘Big Momma’ like Mr. Willis!”
The afternoon shift went by quickly. Even typing in figures one-handed, Bucky managed the late afternoon flow without any difficulty.
With just a few minutes to go before closing time, Bucky looked up to see a small knot of customers enter the branch office. The staff always expected a flurry of activity right at five p.m. Many bank regulars routinely stopped at the bank at the very last minute on their way home from work.
“May I help you?” He spoke the words almost automatically now.
“Sure.” The young customer was casually dressed, with a single bank deposit slip in his hand. “Kind of complicated. I hope you can figure it out for me.”
He slid the slip toward Bucky, leaning closer as he did so. “Just don’t say a word and keep your hands away from that alarm button.”
Chapter Eight: Bank Customer
Bucky stared dully at the young man. “Wha . . . what did you say?”
The man’s voice remained low. “I said to keep your mouth shut, Mr . . .” He glanced at the nameplate next to the window. “Mr. Stone. And keep your hands away from the alarm button. Don’t think I don’t know where it is.”
Licking his lips, Bucky felt his mind begin to spin. This isn’t happening! It’s some kind of test or something! He looked again at the man standing just inches away. “What do you want?”
“Read the note.” The voice was almost a growl but gentler. “And keep your hands right where I can see them. You get smart, and they’ll carry you out in a box. You got me?” He let his jacket fall open just enough to reveal a revolver tucked into his nondescript trousers.
Fingers trembling, Bucky picked up the note.
“Slowly.”
The back side of the bank deposit slip contained a simple message in large masculine handwriting. “I’LL GIVE YOU AN ENVELOPE. FILL IT UP, EVERYTHING BUT SINGLES. NO BAIT MONEY.” Bucky looked at him. “You have an envelope?” He tried to keep his voice steady.
“Right here.” Calmly the young man reached into his inside coat pocket and handed Bucky a large envelope. Slowly he slid it toward the student teller. “Nice and slow, just like you’re cashing a check.”
Pulling his cash drawer open, Bucky carefully reached for a stack of 20s. There on the side of the drawer was a button, but he could feel the eyes of the bank robber watching his every move.
“There you go.” The voice was barely audible. “Count out the money so it looks real. All I’m taking is this one load. Fill it up, and I’m out of here. No fuss, no muss. You don’t need to bother the other tellers or the bank vault or anything.”
Almost methodically, Bucky counted out a stack of nearly forty 20-dollar bills and slid them into the envelope. “Remember, leave the bait money,” the sinister voice continued. “I’ve got you covered good.”
Reaching for a stack of 10s, Bucky risked a quick glance to his right. Sheila was helping a customer.
“Stop it!” The young man’s voice had an edge to it. “Don’t go lookin’ for help.”
The bank clock chimed five. Out of the corner of his eye Bucky could see the assistant supervisor letting one of the last customers out of the door. In a moment she would lock it. She would have to individually unlock it for the robber and the one remaining customer.
“They’re about to lock up,” Bucky said quietly, his voice strained. “You just want to take this and go?”
“They’ll let me out,” the man retorted, his voice still confident. “Just finish up.”
As Bucky began to count out a small stack of $50 bills, his nose suddenly twitched. For a second, his face contorted. Then a violent sneeze seized him. Shaking his head slightly, he sniffed. “Sorry about that.”
A moment later, listening carefully, he heard Sheila say goodbye to her final customer. Remaining at her station, she began to total up some figures.
“Now those 5s,” the voice at the window prompted again. “Easy.”
Taking a deep breath, Bucky carefully slid the bills free, remembering to leave two or three of them in the bottom of the drawer, “Yeah, you’re doing all right. Count ‘em out real slow.”
Finally the bulging envelope was full. The bank robber casually picked up the envelope and tucked it into his coat pocket. “I’m out of here.” His voice carried a warning. “Don’t forget to thank me for coming. And just remember when I’m leaving, I got you covered like a blanket the whole way. One buzz out of you and I start shooting.” His manner, calm until now, began to show the beginnings of strain.
Bucky nodded. “Thanks for coming in,” he said, his voice a little louder than usual.
“Good night.” The thief turned and headed for the door. Bucky watched his retreating form. Over at the door Veronica waited with the key, attached to a long chain on her belt. “Guess you’re our last customer,” she said.
Bucky, his heart still pounding, looked away from the door and pretended to type something on his keyboard. His hands shook slightly as he glanced surreptitiously toward the bank exit.
He heard the key click in the lock. Slowly Veronica began to pull the curtained door open for the young man who stood there next to her like any patient customer eager to get home for supper.
“Thanks again.” His eyes darting down the street, he stepped through the doorway and out onto the street.
Even from his teller window Bucky heard it. “Freeze!” The command, barked through a police bullhorn, had the desired effect. The bank robber halted just clear of the still open door. Veronica, about to let the door swing shut, gasped.
Bucky looked over at Sheila, her hands covering her mouth in shock. Her breath came in little gasps.
“Did you hit the alarm?” he breathed, his pulse pounding. She nodded, her eyes wide with fear.
“Get your hands high in the air,” the bullhorn ordered again. “You’re under arrest.”
As Bucky gazed mesmerized at the scene by the front door, time seemed to stand still as the young man, still paralyzed by the unexpected hitch in his plans, slowly began to lift his hands. “Lock the door!” Bucky’s voice, low but urgent, finally penetrated Veronica’s fright. Her hands trembling, she began to pull the heavy door closed, her right hand still holding the key.
At that moment, the robber whirled and grabbed the door himself, pulling it open.
“Stop!” The amplified voice from the street echoed into the bank. But before anyone could move, he had slipped inside and instantly held his revolver to Veronica’s head.
“Lock it!” The voice was shaking but still carried a note of authority. Fingers fumbling, the assistant manager managed to insert the key in the lock and turn it.
Breathing heavily, the thief motioned Veronica away from the door, then turned toward Bucky. “You . ..” His eyes glittered hatred. “How did you hit the switch? I watched you all the way.” He swore viciously, glancing jerkily at the front door.
“I didn’t hit it.” Bucky tried to stop his voice from shaking. “I swear it.”
“Well then, what?” The revolver swung around crazily as the robber gestured in anger. “Somebody hit the horn.”
Bucky’s mind whirled. Somehow he had to draw attention away from Sheila. “Well, never mind that,” he said, stepping slowly from behind the teller’s window.
“Don’t you come any closer!”
The boy raised his one free hand in the air, motioning with his bandaged left hand that he was stoppin
g. “Take it easy. Nobody’s going to try anything stupid.”
The robber looked from one person to the other.
“But look . . .” Bucky licked his lips. “They’re all out there. There’s no way to . . .” He tried to sound reasonable. “I mean, it’s a simple misdemeanor. Nobody hurt, you didn’t take that much money, it’s all right here still.” He gestured. “You go out there right now, they’ll go easy on you.”
The words hung in the air. Veronica, still by the door, broke in. “Bucky’s right. Nobody’s hurt.”
The young man hesitated. For just the briefest moment, his revolver began to drop to his side.
“Come out now with your hands up!” The metallic voice from the street was closer now.
The robber winced, but just as suddenly, his grip tightened on the gun. “No way!” He glanced over at Sheila. “Don’t tell me I got no way out of here. I got the three of you.”
Chapter Nine: Three Hostages or One
The robber’s threat hung in the air as the four people stared blankly at each other. Even in the coolness of the bank Bucky felt a small trickle of perspiration running down his back. Veronica took a breath. “Look, Mr. . . .” She groped awkwardly, realizing she didn’t know the young man’s name. “Please . . . don’t let this become a hostage situation.” Her voice, even though shaky, carried the first signs of a restored authority. “Please. Nobody’s hurt. Let’s not do anything foolish.”
They heard an electronic crackle from outside the bank and the amplified voice boomed again. “Unlock the door and come out. Now.” The last word echoed, its sound muffled. Then tires squealed somewhere.
Bucky glanced over at Sheila, still standing behind the counter, then back to the gunman. He searched the young robber’s face for a hint of reason.
Outside a siren wailed. The stranger glanced toward the window, but the heavy curtains blocked all view. He muttered an obscenity to himself. “Whole city’s showin’ up.”
“That’s right.” Veronica shook her head slowly. “They’ve got us penned up good in here.” Very deliberately she took a step toward the intruder, “Now can’t we just . . . go out there and work this out?”
Behind the robber Bucky could see shadowy figures moving to get into position. Even in the twilight it wasn’t difficult to make out the heavy shotguns the troopers were carrying.
An abrupt ring interrupted the tension that hung like a blanket in the bank office. A second ring, insistent, seemed to distract the robber. All four looked toward the phone on the assistant manager’s desk. Its light blinked furiously.
“Should I get that?” Veronica asked the question carefully.
The robber wet his lips, indecision plainly visible on his face. Finally he gestured toward Bucky. “No. You.”
The student teller picked up the receiver. “First . . . First California Bank.” His throat was dry.
For a moment no one answered. In the background he could hear several voices, low and urgent. Finally a man came on the line. “Who is this?”
“Bucky Stone.” He looked over at Veronica. “I’m one of the employees here.”
“Oh.” There was an abrupt switch in the caller’s manner. “How many of you are in there?”
“Three of us. Veronica Steele, assistant manager, and me. And . . .”
“Is it just one holdup person?”
“Yeah.”
“Is he armed?”
Bucky tried to keep his voice even. “Yes.”
“How?”
He could see the robber’s eyes boring through him.
“Is he right there?”
“Uh huh.”
“Can you talk?” There was an awkward pause. “What’s he have? Pistol or something?”
Bucky sighed in relief. “Yeah.”
“Will he talk to us?”
“I don’t know. Hang on.” Bucky punched the “hold” button. “You willing to talk to them?”
A slight hesitation. “No way. You do it.”
“I don’t know what to tell them.” For the first time the boy’s voice had an impatient edge to it.
“Just do it. I’ll tell you.”
Bucky hit the button again. “He says no. Says he wants me to do it.”
“Well, what’s he want?” The officer on the other end said something under his breath to an associate.
“I don’t know. He’s got us. I guess he just wants a way to get out.”
A pause. “How much money’d he take?”
“Not very much. Just one drawer.”
“That’s it?” The man on the other end of the phone was incredulous. “All this fuss for just one load? What is that? Five or six thou?”
“Yeah, ‘bout that. Maybe a little bit more.”
Bucky could hear a muffled description, followed by some laughter. “Shucks, maybe we’ll just let him have it. He can buy us all pizza and keep what’s left. All this for one batch of dough.” Another pause. “Well, ask him what he wants, Stone.”
Bucky set the receiver down, leaving the line open. “They want to know what you want.”
The holdup man gestured toward the unblinking phone light. “Hey, you think I’m stupid? Hit the button there.” He motioned with his gun. “I don’t want them listening in.”
Bucky reached down and activated the “hold” button.
The young man stared at the flashing light, weighing his options. His face showed uncertainty. “I dunno,” he muttered at last. “Tell ‘em to call back. Fifteen minutes.”
Bucky relayed the message and replaced the receiver. “Now what?”
Just then Sheila spoke. “Excuse me . . .”
“What?”
She edged out from behind the counter. “I’m sorry, but I . . . gotta use the bathroom.” She gestured down at her swollen stomach. ‘“Bout every hour. Is it OK?”
The man looked at her profile with sudden interest. “Well, what have we got here?” His voice had a mocking tone that somehow conveyed a sinister threat.
“Please, I really . . .” Sheila clutched her abdomen pleadingly.
He raised an eyebrow before answering. “Aaaah, I don’t think so.”
“Why?” Her voice quavered.
“I just don’t want any trouble, that’s all.” The robber gave a short, sarcastic chuckle. ‘“Course, I guess you’d have a pretty hard time gettin’ out the bathroom window.”
Bucky moved over next to Sheila. “Look,” he snapped, “she’s nearly seven months along. If you’re going to keep us in here, then you’re gonna have to let us use the bathroom and stuff. That’s all there is to it.”
“Hey, I said . . .”
Bucky cut him off. “Listen, the bathroom’s right down this hall. Come look, why don’t you?” He gestured. “See, there’s no door to the outside or anything.” He lowered his voice, trying to adopt a reasonable tone. “What’s she going to hurt?”
The robber nodded at last. “Oh . . . go ahead. But quick.” A moment later the phone jangled again. “Hasn’t been fifteen minutes yet,” the young man snapped as he whirled and glared at the locked front door, then gestured toward the phone. “Go ahead.”
Bucky’s voice was muted as he picked up the line again. “Hello?”
“Is this the bank?”
“Yes.”
On the other end, he heard a terse exclamation. “We’re in!” Then: “Channel 13, KOVR, here. Who am I speaking to?”
“This is Bucky Stone. I work here at the bank.”
“Who’ve you got in there with you?”
Bucky repeated the information, then covered the receiver with his injured hand. “TV news,” he announced to the holdup man.
“Is the guy right there with you?”
“Yeah.”
“What about cops?”
Bucky paused. “They’re here.”
“Got the place surrounded?”
“Yeah.”
“They call in yet?”
“Uh huh.”
A brief pause. Bucky
could hear a keyboard clicking frantically. “Think he’ll talk to us?”
“I don’t know.” Bucky covered the receiver again. “You want to talk to the TV news guys?”
“Are you crazy?”
The young athlete forced a smile. “He says no.”
“Well, what’s he want?”
Bucky looked over at the robber before replying. “We’re still waiting to find out.”
In the background a printer began to buzz. “Well, our crew’s on the way. I guess we all just wait.” Another pause. “Good luck, Stone.”
Down the hall, the flush of the toilet coincided with the tiny ding as Bucky replaced the receiver.
“What’d they want?”
Bucky shrugged. “Just . . . wanted to know what was goin’ on. What you’re gonna do.”
Sheila came back into the room, her face red. Bucky glanced anxiously at her. Had she been crying?
On the wall of the bank just over the exit hung a large clock. It read 5:40. The minute hand clicked noiselessly as it jumped to 5:41.
Bucky’s mind raced, searching for a way out of the stalemate. An idea abruptly came to him.
“Look,” he said, addressing the robber, “I . . . give me some name I can call you.” He scratched his head nervously. “Doesn’t have to be your real one.”
The young man thought a moment. “I guess . . . Don.”
Bucky chewed on his lip. “Listen, Don,” he began, his voice low, “why don’t you let the two of them out?” He gestured with his head.
Don snorted. “Oh, that’s a bright idea.” His grip tightened on the large revolver.
“Why not?”
The man mulled it over. “Well, just think, smart guy. Having you three is my only way out of here.”
Bucky nodded. “I know, but . . . if I stay in here, all you really need is one. Right?”
The robber cocked an eyebrow. “Let them go, but you’re stayin’?”
“Uh huh.”
Don sniffed. With his gun hand, he reached up to wipe at his nose, the long gun barrel pointing directly at Bucky’s forehead as he did so. “I don’t know. What’s the use of that?”
Bucky Stone: The Complete Adventure (Volumes 1-10) Page 38
