Bridget was trying very, very hard not to scream. A brawny man had her upper arm in one hand and a fearsome crowbar in the other. She could see the sharp end of the wicked hook. With her eyes she tried to signal John to stay perfectly still.

John had no intention of moving. Roger was already on the polished floor of the bank, clutching his shoulder with blood seeping between his fingers. Although very white about the face, Roger was staying quiet and still, good old Rogie.

"Right then," the man with Bridget in his grip growled, "We're going through there and you are going to do everything I say. Got it?"

"Wait a mo," the other man protested, muffled to the nose with tattered looking scarf. "Weren't there another one? The sappy looking girl?" He looked around and put his hand into his pocket for the comforting weight of his pistol.

Susan took a smart step back, holding the gun in both hands. "Hands up," she said, and even though the words word piratical, the tone was entirely native.

"Sil … you blame fool," snarled the man with hands on Bridget.

"Weren't me fault," the other replied, taking half a step back.

Bridget let herself be dragged forward by the arm, rather like a doll. Her school shoes clattered on the wooden floor but now her gaze never left Susan's face.

"Put it down," the man ordered, gesticulating with the crowbar. "I know you won't use it."

The snap of the hammer being cocked was very loud.

"She's gonna …" the muffled one said, edging further away from Susan and closer to Roger.

"Nah, 'cos then her sister'll get ..." the man snarled and flourished the crowbar with more meaning.

Bridget jerked her arm away at exactly the same moment that Susan squeezed the trigger. The noise of the shot was very loud, entirely drowning the sound of Roger scissoring the legs out from under the other robber. In a flash John was on top of him, seizing the wrist and whipping the arm into a hammerlock.

Susan lowered the gun as the crowbar dropped out of the man's enfeebled grip. "You shot me," he muttered, clutching at the shattered shoulder.

"Yes, I did. You threatened my sister."