A/N: Okay, I know you're not supposed to submit more than one chapter a day for the sake of getting more reviews and/or drawing out the excitement of the story, but I don't care. I wasn't sure if I'd have the time to update tomorrow, and I really wanted to get this last chapter up in order to concentrate on bigger ideas. So here we go!

The Heist

Ben was worried when Abigail didn't return any of the three messages he left on her phone in the early afternoon. He began to panic when she was late getting home. And he absolutely lost it when Abigail's secretary called with the news that Abigail hadn't returned to the office after lunch.

He snatched the phone and dialed Ian.

"Hello?" The lofty British accent made Ben shake in anger.

"Ian, what have you done?"

"Calm down, Ben, we wouldn't want you to pop a blood vessel." Ian sounded bored, completely unconcerned with Ben's fury.

"I swear, you lay one finger on her and I'll-"

"Would you like to talk to her?" Ian interrupted him. "She's with Riley right now."

"Put her on," Ben said tersely.

There was a scuffling, a whispered threat, and then Abigail's voice spoke in Ben's ear.

"Ben?"

He sighed in relief. "Has Ian hurt you?" he asked urgently.

"No, I'm fine. Riley's not, though…"

Ben's lip curled. "What about him?"

"I'm fine, Ben," Riley piped up. "Abigail's exaggerating."

"Guys, please…do as Ian says," Ben pleaded. "Then he'll take his money and leave. Riley…"

Riley sighed.

Then Ian once more assumed command of the phone. "As you can hear, they're fine, Ben. I just need Riley's cooperation, and we can move along in our little adventure. I'll let you know when that time comes."

Click.

--

"Will you help us, Riley?" Ian asked menacingly, Shippen and Phil flanking him. "Or do we have to make a mess of this in front of Dr. Gates?"

Riley stood in front of Abigail, shielding her. "Piss off," he snarled.

Phil lunged forward, but Ian waved him off.

"Last chance, Riley. It's up to you. You and your friends can do this the difficult way or be free by this time tomorrow."

"Riley…" Abigail tugged on her friend's sleeve. "I know you're angry. I know you're hurt. But please, please do what they want. There's no need for anyone to get hurt anymore. Please, Riley!"

Riley deflated under the influence of Abigail's pleading.

"Okay," he said wearily. "What do I do?"

"I knew you'd see reason," Ian smirked. "Here's the plan. We've chosen the Bank of America on 17th Street for the burglary. I want you to hack into their system and turn it off. Once you do that, the rest of us will go into the bank, enter the safe, and get the money. Powell will stay in the car with you, and Ben and Dr. Gates come into the bank with us. That way, if the police do come, we've got a way out."

"And then you'll let us go?" Riley demanded. "You'll leave us alone?"

"I swear. It was never my purpose to harm you, Riley. I told you that."

"When do we do it?"

"Tomorrow."

--

Ben paced back and forth in his living room, trying to decide what to do. Ian had just contacted him to inform him that the plan was on. Now, the decision was – police…or no police. Ian had made it quite clear there was to be no police involvement. But Ben didn't trust that Ian would let Riley and Abigail go once he had his money. Surely he'd want to make sure he could get out safely first. Ben wasn't willing to bet lives that Ian would stick to the plan.

He lifted the phone; lowered it. Lifted it; lowered it. Lifted it – and dialed.

Sadusky answered on the second ring.

"Peter, it's Ben. I need you to do me a favor…"

--

The next morning, Riley and Abigail were woken up none too gently and handed breakfast food from McDonalds to eat quickly while Ian and his men put the finishing touches on the plan. Then they were hustled from the building and led down a back alleyway, where a gray van waited, and forced into the back.

The drive seemed to take a long time. There weren't enough seats in the back of the van, so Riley sat on the floor while Ian stood and miraculously kept his footing hanging on to an overhead fixture. Finally, the van slowed and stopped. Most of the men climbed out, lugging their equipment with them. Abigail cast a frightened look back at Riley as she followed Shippen out of sight.

Ian produced a pair of handcuffs and cuffed Riley's wrist to the van's switchboard.

"Just in case," he explained, ruffling Riley's hair. Riley flinched and pulled away. Ian laughed and hopped out of the van, closing the doors behind him.

Powell handed Riley a standard laptop.

"You know what to do."

Riley switched the computer on and waited tensely while it booted up. Then his fingers flew expertly over the keyboard, his eyes barely analyzing each popup reading before he reacted to it. He bit his lip in intense concentration, trying to ignore Powell breathing down his neck.

A few taps later, he was inside, and a couple of clicks assured him the security systems were down.

"It worked," he muttered.

Powell reached for his walkie-talkie.

"Ian…yeah, it worked. We're in."

"Get the PC back," Ian's voice crackled.

"Okay. Over and out."

Powell reached for the laptop, and Riley made a split-second decision. He raised the computer and bashed Powell in the face with it. The man fell to the floor of the van, apparently unconscious.

Riley immediately set back to work, reactivating the security alarms and cameras at the bank. His readings now told him the alarms were going off inside the building. He crossed his fingers that Ben and Abi could get out all right.

Ian's voice crackled over the talkie once more.

"Powell, you idiot, what is he doing!?"

Riley manned the device. "What "he" is doing, Ian, is busting your butt." He snarled.

He heard Ian roar on the other end. "I am going to KILL you, Poole!"

Uh-oh. Riley flung the talkie down and immediately began frisking Powell's pockets.

Find the key, find the key, find the key…

He found a small key that looked like it would fit the handcuffs, and, with shaking fingers, tried to free himself. But he was trembling so badly he dropped the object. Swearing fluently, he scrabbled for it and forced his hands to remain still, twisting the key and letting the cuffs drop from his wrist with a snick.

He turned just in time to see Powell's fist flying toward his face. The man's blow caught him in the cheek and sent him flying into the doors. He twisted the handle. It wouldn't budge. He was trapped.

As Powell advanced on him, there was a squeak and Riley suddenly fell outside as one of the doors flew open. His relief quickly turned to terror when he saw Ian standing over him. He scrambled backwards, ignoring the aches and pains in his limbs, and stood, backing away from the red-faced man.

"You should have let me get away with it, Riley," Ian spat, advancing on the smaller man. "I was going to let you move on with your pathetic little life. But now I'm going to kill you instead."

From the corner of his eye, Riley spotted a large crowd quickly rounding the corner. He recognized most of them as FBI. Ben and Abigail were among them, horror evident on their faces. At least they were okay.

Ian brandished his gun and pointed it at Riley's forehead.

There was a gunshot and a scream.

Riley stared in shock as Ian crumpled to the ground not three feet in front of him, blood slowly spreading from his body.

"Wh-wh-what...?" His legs began to shake. Seconds later, he felt warm arms around him.

"Shh, it's okay. Relax. It's alright," Abigail whispered in his ear.

Ben put a hand on his shoulder. "It's over, Riley. It's over."

Riley tore his eyes away from Ian's body. "Over?" he whispered.

They smiled gently.

"You're safe. You're coming home with us, Riley."

Home. He felt relief seep through him.

"No hospitals?" he asked suspiciously.

Ben laughed. "You really do need one…but I suppose we can figure something out."

"Thanks, Ben."

"Now, come on. Let's go."

A/N: And they all lived happily-ever-after! Well...at least until this anst-loving author comes up with another way to torture Riley! :D