by Garry Disher
Theres no guarantee well find a match with a ticket inside. You two keep an eye on new arrivals. Ill scout around.
Wyatt walked into the gloom. He didnt want to spend too long here. There were few people about and it was dark, but even one person could be one too many. His shoes were loud in the gravel. Two minutes later he saw a ticket poking up from an ashtray in a soft-top VW. He unsnapped the top, pocketed the ticket, snapped back the flap.
He rejoined the others. Riding pointed. Cream Commodore.
Stubby bushes screened them. They watched the Commodore shunt back and forth into a parking bay. An elderly man got out and walked to the bus-stop.
When the courtesy bus had picked him up, they moved again. This time they were after numberplates. Not any plates but plates with a prefix and digits similar to each of the getaway cars. They found the first on a Toyota van, the second on a new Mercedes, and switched them with the plates on the Camira and the Commodore. Wyatt was relying on the owners not noticing the slight difference in their plates immediately. Meanwhile, if anyone took down the number of the Camira and the Commodore and reported it, the police computer would show a Toyota van and a Mercedes. It was a smokescreen, extra insurance, all part of the job as far as Wyatt was concerned. He looked at his watch: 8.26. This time tomorrow morning theyd have Nurse in their hands.
Twenty-nine
Daddy!
It was a name she hadnt called him since she was nine years old. That, and the sheer panic in her voice, jerked Nurses attention away from the Weeties packet on the table in front of him.
His daughter was coming into the kitchen from the back porch, a shoe-cleaning brush in her hand, and there were three men with her. They were masked, they looked hard and competent, and his guts churned.
The first one pushed Mignon gently between the shoulder blades. She ran across the kitchen to Nurse and stood close to his shoulder, trembling. She was wearing her blue and gold uniform. Her hair was damp, uncombed; her feet were bare. Nurse put his arm around her, crushing her against him.
The first one spoke. He wore a cheap dark suit and his voice was low, mesmeric, uninflected. We dont want to hurt you or your family, Mr Nurse.
Nurse was to realise later that the man called him Mr Nurse throughout the whole ordeal.
Where is your wife, Mr Nurse?
Mignon chose that moment to do something stupid. Nurse felt warmth and flexing in her little body as she opened her mouth, drew in a breath, screeched, Mummy! Run!
She might have gone on screeching but the second man, small and quick and also dressed in a suit, came behind her and locked his forearm against her windpipe. The cry strangled in her throat and Nurse felt his bowels loosen. He started to get out of his chair but the first man said, Dont, very quietly.
He had a revolver to back it up. He said, Mr Nurse, your wife?
Shes asleep. She gets migraines. Dont disturb her.
Nurse could see the mans eyes, nothing else. They were brown, steady and unimpressed. I cant do that, Mr Nurse. He turned to the man behind him, nodded once.
Nurse was starting to take in more about them. The third man was bulkier than the other two and he wore jeans and a T-shirt. He went out and came back a moment later, pushing Joyce ahead of him. Her face was creased and swollen with sleep. She was wearing a scoop-necked nightgown and the freckled tops of her breasts showed. Nurse felt an obscure shame and disgust, as if she had bad morning breath. Danny? she said.
The leader said, his voice a soft, patient rasp: We dont mean you any harm, Mrs Nurse. Please sit down at the table with your husband and daughter.
Behind Nurse the small man eased Mignon away and into the kitchen chair at the end of the table. Joyce chose the chair opposite Nurse. They were like a family at breakfast, except who was hungry anymore?
Is it money? Joyce demanded. Danny, give them your wallet.
Nurse reached into his pocket automatically. He tossed the wallet onto the table among the crumbs and sugar grains and spilt jam. No-one moved to pick it up.
Then Joyce sneered at him. I bet its the horses. She turned to the man with the gun. Is that it? He cant pay what he owes you?
The man turned to her and said softly, Shut up and listen.
His words washed over them soothingly. We wish to rob your bank, Mr Nurse. A few minutes from now you will take myself and the man behind you to Logan City in your car. We will wait there until the time locks open, we will load up, and you wont see us again. There is no reason why this shouldnt be smooth and easy. Were not violent. We dont hurt people for the sake of it. And the bank carries insurance, so there will be no need for you or your staff to protect the money. Do you understand me so far?
Nurse felt the blood drain from his face. They knew everything. He didnt believe the mans claim to non-violence. The three of them were practically dripping with itthe guns, the balaclavas, the silent menace of it all, the way they filled the kitchen.
Joyce dug a long fingernail into the corner of each eye. Whatever she dislodged there she wiped on her thigh. Theyll get you. They always do.
Nurse hated to think what they thought of her. Why involve my family? You could have waited at the bank.
Joyce snorted. Use your brains. She gestured. Count how many there are. He goes to the bank, so does he. That leaves one left over.
The answer came to Nurse and his head pounded. No, no, you cant do that. Leave my wife and daughter out of it.
Too late, wouldnt you say?
Shut up. Im not having you and Mignon
The leader picked up Nurses cereal bowl, dropped it on the floor. The porcelain smashed, shooting grey spurts of milk and sodden wheat flakes over the quarry tiles. It was a simple act, like a domestic accident, but it spelt terror to Nurse, as though his spine had snapped and splinters would slice Mignons feet to ribbons. He flinched, putting a hand over his eyes.
Nothing. The man was still and patient again.
Mr Nurse, your wife and your daughter will stay at home. My colleague here will keep them company. He wont harm them; thats not what were about. Do you understand?
It wont work. You
I said, do you understand?
Nurse muttered yes.
I have a portable phone. As soon as we get in the car you will call your wife. Do you understand?
Nurse nodded. He was looking at the table. There was fear mingled with excitement on Mignons face and he hated that. His wife had found some sort of rude courage, sitting there like a tart. Most of all, he hated the mans eyes searching him to his core.
We will maintain the telephone link to your family from the bank as well. We intend to be in and out quickly, but Im sure youd like the continuing reassurance that your wife and your daughter are all right. On the other hand, if you cause trouble at the bank and my colleague loses contact with us, he will kill your family. If we lose contact with him, we will kill you.
Scum, Joyce said.
Do you understand, Mr Nurse?
Nurse said clearly, overriding his wife: I understand.
The last thing he saw before they took him out the back way to the car was the phone extension on the kitchen table, Joyce and Mignon roped to their chairs, the bulky man spooning Nescafe into a cup. Prints! he thought. No, they all had latex gloves on. He tried to exchange a look with his wife and his daughter but, typically, they were too involved with their own feelings to think about him.
Thirty
It was important to keep him calm. Wyatt took the mans keys, opened the drivers door of the Volvo, said, Get in, Mr Nurse, never losing the soft patience in his voice, never moving suddenly.
A high paling fence draped in wisteria screened the sides and back of the house from the houses around it. The three men had not been seen bundling Mignon Nurse in through the back door. Now Wyatt and Riding could not be seen abducting the manager.
When Nurse was strapped in behind the wheel, Wyatt shut the door on him. He removed his balaclava, scraped his hair straight back and put on a pa
ir of glassesplain glass, heavy black rims, twenty dollars in a theatre costumers. He turned up his collar, concealing the shape of his neck and chin. He looked across the car at Riding. The little man took off his balaclava and put on a pair of sunglasses, completing the distortion with a pipe clamped between his teeth. The sawnoff shotgun was rolled up in a newspaper.
They got into the car. Before we start, Mr Nurse, a gentle warning. Keep your eyes on the road, not on me or my colleague.
Wyatt watched Nurse carefully. He saw him nod.
Fine. Now I want you to start the car and back out into the road. Not too fast. Watch for pedestrians, kids on bikes. Do what youd normally do.
Wyatt rested his. 38 across his thighs, pointed at Nurse. Glance sideways, Mr Nurse. Do you see the gun? Its all right, I wont use it. Not unless you do something stupid. Just concentrate on getting through the next hour or so and being reunited with your family.
Wyatt watched Nurse. The fat manager seemed to welcome the comfort of the wheel in his hands, the distraction of the morning traffic. He wound down his window and drove in silence to the freeway.
Wyatt took a cellular phone from his pocket. He punched out the number for Nurses house. He heard the phone being picked up but Phelps, as instructed, said nothing. Its me, Wyatt said.
Yep.
Put the wife on.
There was a pause, some muffled sounds. Wyatt pictured Phelps moving the receiver to Joyce Nurses ear and holding it there. He heard her say, Danny? Are you all right?
Your husbands doing fine, Mrs Nurse. Ill put him on.
Wyatt passed the phone to Nurse. Gently does it. Just act normally.
It wasnt much of a conversation. Wyatt heard a faint squawk from the receiver and saw irritation on Nurses face. He said, All right, all right, I hear you, a few times, then moved suddenly, as if to fling the phone through the open window. Wyatt closed his hand around the mans wrist. No, Mr Nurse.
He took charge of the phone, holding it close to his ear. The drive to Logan City took just over thirty minutes and he checked in with Phelps from time to time and twice coaxed Nurse into talking with his daughter. The conversations with the wife seemed to cause aggravation on both sides.
Nurse turned into the side street next to the bank at eight-twenty-five. Monday morning, the start of another working week. Shopkeepers were rolling up the shutters, sweeping dust away from their doors. Kids late for school were draping themselves around poles and over benches at the bus-stop. A greengrocer reached into a van, dragged out a crate of mangoes. At the bookshop next to the bank a man with a ponytail was wheeling a trolley of remaindered books onto the footpath. The little courtyard carpark behind the bank was clear and the vertical blinds were closed.
I want you to reverse in, Mr Nurse, leaving a gap of a couple of metres between the car and the wall.
Everyone knew the silver Volvo. It was parked behind the bank five days a week. Everyone knew the fat manager; he was as much a part of the landscape as his car. No-one thought twice about the men with him. They wore suits, so it added up to bank business. Wyatt looked out at the street, the occasional pedestrian hurrying to work, and understood all these things. He said to Phelps: Were there, and placed the phone back in his pocket.
Now, I want you to trip the lever that opens the boot, Mr Nurse.
Nurse leaned under the dash. Wyatt followed him with the gun. He heard a click at the back of the car and turned to look. As hed expected, the boot lid popped up only a couple of centimetres, not far enough to attract attention.
You have all your keys?
Nurse nodded.
Okay, take us in.
It means going around to the front, Nurse said.
Wyatt let him hear the hammer crank back on his. 38, let him see the black bore of the barrel. No, Mr Nurse. Ive been watching all week. You always let yourself in through the back door. Your staff come in the front way. Please dont make things hard on yourself.
Nurse took the keys from the ignition. He selected two silver deadlock keys. These, he said, offering them to Wyatt.
No, I want you to open up for us. I want you to call out to the nightwatchman to hold the door for you, youve got a few boxes of files to carry in. Understood?
Yes.
Whats the guards first name?
Bill. It came out too quickly and naturally to be wrong.
Okay, lets go.
They got out and stood close to Nurse while he opened one lock and then the other. The door was heavy, steel plate on a steel frame, with a pneumatic hinge. It opened inwards. Wyatt pushed with him, stopping when a crack of light appeared. He dug the. 38 into the roll of fat around Nurses waist. Call him.
Bill? Can you come here a tick?
Whatcher want?
Can you give us a hand with a couple of boxes?
The guards tread sounded heavily on the carpet in the corridor beyond the door. Wyatt heard muttering, and the wheezing of a three-packs-a-day man. When he saw the mans fingers close around the edge of the door and pull inwards, he pushed Nurse into the corridor. It was hard and sudden and the guard slammed back against the inside wall.
Riding slipped past first, unwrapping the shotgun. He ground the barrel into the mans groin. Take out your gun, nice and slow, two fingers.
The guard fumbled with the leather strap across the butt. His thumb and forefinger shook as he lifted the revolver out of the holster. Twice it slipped out of his grasp before he got the barrel clear. Riding leaned forward, snatched it from him, put it in his pocket.
Wyatt closed the door. He left the bottom Yale unlocked but snipped the top one. He didnt want anyone coming in and he didnt want to waste too much time getting the door open again. After reporting to Phelps on the cellular phone, he pulled the balaclava over his head and nodded to Riding to do the same. The glasses went back into their pockets.
Okay, down to the main room.
Riding went first with the shotgun, checking offices that opened onto the corridor. At the archway leading into the open space behind the counter he paused, swept his eyes around, went in.
Wyatt followed with Nurse and the guard. The long counter where the tellers sat was protected from the public by bulletproof glass that reached to the ceiling. Here behind the counter were two more glassed-off offices, desks, filing cabinets, a photocopier and fax machine, computers and typewriters. There was paper everywherein folders, pinned to the walls, stacked in cartons against the walls.
Another archway at the end led to the strongroom. Wyatt looked at his watch. Eight-forty-five. The tellers and other staff would be arriving soon. Riding helped him take Nurse and the guard around to the other side of the glass to wait for them. For the next forty minutes it would be all waiting.
Thirty-one
They began to drift in at eight-forty-five, the assistant manager first. Riding met her at the door with his shotgun. She took in the twin black bores, his black balaclava, and started a scream that Wyatt cut off with a hand over her mouth. Take it easy and you wont get hurt. He turned her head until she could see Nurse and the nightwatchman. They were against the wall, on their stomachs under the bench where customers filled out deposit and withdrawal slips. Lie there with the others and youll be all right.
Wyatt didnt like doing it this way, but he had no choice. Ideally one man would be taking the staff to a back room as they came in, where a third man would hold a gun on them, but there was only himself and Riding so they were forced to hold everyone here until theyd all arrived.
The fourth teller came through the front door at nine-ten and Wyatt shot home the lock behind her. She was pretty in a busty kind of way and, unlike the others, didnt scream or struggle. Nurse looked up at her. Angie, down here with us, love. Theres nothing to worry about. Its just a robbery. They dont intend to hurt us.
The manager was trying to be soothing. Angie eased down onto her knees, then swivelled to one side, awkward in a binding skirt, and finally stretched out. One of the other women was sobbing. A young m
ale teller gulped and shuddered and Wyatt realised he was trying to control his breathing.
Wyatt knelt where he could be seen and asked them all to lift their heads and look at him. Nurse, the guard, the assistant manager and four tellers. Too many. He didnt like it. His cheek itched under the balaclava. He scratched it absently with the front sight of his.
Angies eyes went wide.
I want you to listen. We dont want to hurt anyone. If you do anything foolish then of course we will hurt you. At twenty-five minutes past nine the strongroom time locks will spring open. Mr Nurse will then open the combination locks. We will empty the vault. It should take no more than five minutes, and then well be out of your hair. Do you understand?
They all watched him, some anxious, some frowning, trying to plumb for meaning beneath the words. How could he tell them there wasnt a meaning, that he meant exactly what hed said? He turned to the fat manager, who was biting the inside of his cheek. Tell them, Mr Nurse.
Just do as the man says. Company policy on this is very clear: if theres a robbery in progress, dont interfere. These men will be gone before customers arrive.
Wyatt nodded. Good. Now I want you all to stand up.
He backed away from them. Turn around, he said.
They saw Riding, the gaping shotgun barrels, and instinctively closed up. Nurse put his arm around Angie briefly.
Now to the other side of the counter, Wyatt said.
Riding motioned with the shotgun and they took them through to Nurses office and told them to lie on the floor again. Riding stood watch in the doorway, his shotgun trained on their backs. Wyatt took Nurse with him to the strongroom, then spoke into the cellular phone. You there?
Phelps answered immediately. Yep.
Put the wife on.
Wyatt handed the phone to Nurse. Talk to her. Tell her everythings all right.
They had done this every ten minutes. Nurse said pretty much what hed said the other times Yes, Im fine. Are you okay? Mignon, is she okay? Id better go nowand handed the phone back to Wyatt.
