CHAPTER THREE
He held his hands up, palms out, as he stepped into the lobby. As much as he ever prayed, he prayed that his pounding heart couldn't be heard and that his body didn't betray the tremors rippling inside it. There were three would-be robbers, all appallingly young and carrying appallingly big guns. One held a rifle to the head of the branch's security guard, a just beyond middle-aged man who lay glassy-eyed on the floor. Bobby felt a pang of sympathy for the man who was probably working a second job to make ends meet. Another young man stood on top of the teller's stations and pointed his rifle down at where the remaining staff undoubtedly cowered. The third man, who looked a little older than the others and seemed to be the leader, stood in the middle of the lobby. A large gym bag was at his feet, and he waved a large rifle.
"Everybody stay down," he yelled. He saw Bobby and leveled the rifle at him. "You! Get down! On the floor!"
Bobby moved slowly and stiffly to his knees. The time at Tate, an old injury, and his desire not to frighten or enrage the robbers made care necessary.
The leader strode over to Bobby. "Where'd you come from? Is there anyone else back there?"
"I came from the assistant manager's office," Bobby said calmly. "There's no one else. Look, I don't have anything on me…" He debated in his head whether to reveal he was a cop, but at the moment he wasn't sure if he was.
The other two perps looked at Bobby with shock. For a moment, silence hung in the room.
"Look," Bobby said, his voice still calm and controlled. "I don't think you want to hurt anyone…"
The leader stared at him.
"I don't think you know what I want," the young man said. His eyes were dark and cold, and the coldness scared Bobby.
"This isn't about robbery," Bobby thought. "He's here for another reason."
The cold eyes bore into Bobby's. "I know you…I've seen you on TV…You're a cop…a detective…"
The other two men jerked in surprise. Hope flickered in some of the hostages' eyes.
"I'm not on the job," Bobby replied evenly. "You can see…I don't have my gun or badge…" He hoped the three men wouldn't notice the lack of noise and traffic in the streets. He tried to study the room. He couldn't see behind the counters, but he guessed there were at least three to four tellers and perhaps two or three other employees there. There were nine hostages including the security guard in the lobby. A young woman with a girl of about three or four, the boy and his mother Bobby saw earlier, a businessman, a woman of about fifty, and an elderly couple lay scattered on the floor. Aside from the security guard, none appeared to be hurt, although all were very frightened.
"C'mon," the young man standing on the teller's cages shouted. "Let's get the money and get out of here…just like you said." He was clearly not expecting and terrified by the turn of events. His features suggested he was a younger relative of the leader.
"Shut up, Rye!" the leader shouted.
"You said we weren't supposed to use names!" the third man shouted. "You said this would be easy…"
"Shut up!" The leader turned again to Bobby; he seemed fascinated by him. "I've seen you," he said again. "You're…you're the cop that solved the Amberleigh case…" His eyes widened. "You got Mark Ford Brady to confess…"
"Great," Bobby thought. "A crime junkie…maybe a serial killer groupie…" He tried not to shudder.
"Kevin," Rye said angrily. "We got to get out of here…"
"Don't use my name!" Kevin screamed.
"You used mine!" Rye shouted back. "I'm not going to be the only one who can be identified!"
In spite of her mother's efforts to calm her, the little girl began to cry.
"Shut her up!" Kevin screamed.
"Kevin," Bobby said in his soft, calm voice. "She's a child…a baby…She doesn't understand…She's afraid…Please…" He rose slowly and stiffly on one knee, ready to rush forward if needed.
The little girl's cries and her mother's efforts to quiet her filled the bank for several hour like minutes.
"Kevin!" the third man shouted. "Outside…more cops!"
Kevin swung to stare out the front door. Bobby couldn't see outside, but he knew the streets outside the bank were probably full of police by now.
"Who tripped the alarm!" Kevin screamed. He rushed to the teller's stations and pointed his rifle through a cage. "We told you to stay away from them!"
Bobby heard faint whimpers from behind the stations. "I called it in," he said. "It was me."
Kevin was on Bobby in seconds. "You!" He jammed his rifle against Bobby's neck.
"Kevin…Don't! They give you the death penalty for killing a cop!" Rye shouted.
The barrel was cold and hard against Bobby's skin. "He's right about that, Kevin," Bobby said evenly. "The death penalty is up in the air in New York…but bank robbery can be a federal crime…If you shoot anyone in this situation…At the very least you'll serve some very hard, long time."
"Kevin," the third man whined. "You said this would be easy money…I'm not up to killing anyone…especially a cop…"
"Shut up, Larry!" Kevin yelled and shoved the gun harder against Bobby.
"He's a cop, Kevin," Rye said. "He'll know what the cops will do…And he'd make a great hostage."
Bobby's mind continued working in spite of his fears. "Rye…He's reasonable…He thinks…He cares…But he's under Kevin's influence…Larry…a lackey…fall guy…"
Kevin glared at Rye. "This is my plan!"
"Kevin," Bobby said softly. "You're bright…You have to know that whatever you've planned, it's useless now…"
Kevin pressed the gun against Bobby's skin hard enough to make a bright, red mark.
Rye jumped down from his post on the teller's stations. "Kevin…We got to do what we can to get out of here…And he's a ticket…" He waved his gun at Bobby.
At the edge of his vision, Bobby saw a flicker of movement behind the tellers' stations. He hoped the tellers and others were sneaking out the back of the bank, but he feared the explosion when the robbers, especially Kevin, noticed their absence. Kevin's true motives flashed across Bobby's mind.
"He wants to make a name for himself," Bobby thought. "If he goes out, to go out in a blaze of glory…"
Bobby blinked. He had to draw the robbers' attention away from the escaping employers. He had to protect the hostages…and the robbers if he could. "I'm last," he thought. He shivered slightly, and desperately hoped that recent events hadn't left him too damaged to deal with this situation.
"Rye…Larry…did Kevin tell you what the plan was?" Bobby asked carefully.
"They know," Kevin growled.
"What's in the bag, Kevin?" Bobby asked as if he were wondering what might be for lunch.
"None of your business, pig," Kevin said with a touch of nervousness.
"It's to carry the money," Larry said confidently.
Rye's eyes widened. "But it's not empty…It's heavy…You could barely carry it…You wouldn't let us touch it…"
"Shut up, Rye!" Kevin yelled.
"He's your brother, Rye," Larry said. "He'll take care of you…"
A sad smile crossed Bobby's face. "Brothers don't always take care of each other," he mused.
Kevin swung his rifle wildly. The barrel caught Bobby's chin and sent him sprawling on the floor. Pain flooded his head. Kevin flipped the rifle in his hands and swung it again, sending the butt into Bobby's side. Bobby moaned and involuntarily curled his body into a ball.
"Kevin!" Larry screamed. "The tellers! The people back there! They got away! They got away!"
Kevin cursed. "Rye! You let 'em go!" Kevin spun wildly, and his eyes found the terrified boy and his mother.
Through a haze of pain Bobby watched Kevin bare down on the woman and child. Bobby's body and mind screamed at him to stay still, but all of his training, all he'd done in his past, and everything he was silenced their warnings. He lurched to his feet and threw his body between Kevin and the hostages.
"Kevin," he gasped, and discovered that there was blood in his mouth. "Please…Whatever you've got planned…Whatever reason…It doesn't involve these people…They're innocents…Please…" He wavered on his feet.
Kevin swung the gun again, and Bobby crumbled to the floor. He fought the darkness that circled him. "Stay…stay awake…" he thought. "I have to…have to…"
END CHAPTER THREE