Chapter 9:
Much More Exciting
For round two of bank surveillance, Megan Luchek chose a simple, sleeveless light purple blouse and a stylish jean skirt with a cute belt. She took special care to make sure the messy waves in her hair gave off a girlish vibe. Since the outfit didn’t reek of money like the dress she’d worn the previous day, Megan accessorized with a seven hundred dollar purse she’d picked up at Nordstrom. She’d have to let the agency return it as soon as the case ended, so she might as well get some enjoyment out of the expensive toy. The purse also fit her gun well, a bonus she appreciated.
Megan and Dan had discussed the suspects and bank branches in great detail throughout the previous afternoon and decided to check them out individually today. They assumed the bank employees might react differently if they were alone rather than together. Side conversations could be very revealing. By quarter flip, it was decided that Dan would go to the Keeaumoku branch first and Megan would visit the Waikiki branch. Whoever finished most efficiently would peek in on Ala Moana a second time.
There’s motivation to be slow, Megan thought as she parked the car and strode briskly up to the bank door a few minutes after ten. She wanted to arrive early to check out the morning regulars. Her original intent had been to arrive before the bank opened, but she’d needed to drop Dan off at the Keeaumoku branch first.
Noticing the Financial Adviser was not in his office, Megan waited in the short line until one of tellers waved her over.
“Aloha. Welcome to the Bank of Hawaii, how can I help you this morning?” The young woman’s nametag read Ailani.
Megan smiled at her luck. She’d been meaning to speak with this teller anyway.
“I’d like to speak with Mr. Sims, please. Do you know when he’ll be in? I’d like to open a few accounts.”
“What kind of accounts?” Ailani’s manner brightened at the prospect of a new account. “I can open a checking account for you right now. I’d just need proof of identity and a hundred-dollar deposit.” Her expression said she knew the deposit would not be a problem.
“That’s all right. I have some other questions for Mr. Sims. He’s the Financial Adviser, right?”
“Yes, ma’am, that’s correct, but if you’d like, I can call the manager for you. Ms. Berkley can probably answer most of your questions.”
Megan processed the offer. She’d walked in intending to have a nice chat with Mr. Sims. Her interviewing skills were sharp, but she always found it easier to question men. They were much easier to distract. Still, Sims wasn’t here, and she would need to speak with Ms. Berkley anyway. She decided to roll with the change.
“Thank you. That’s so kind of you.”
Summoning Ms. Berkley took longer than expected, so Megan wandered over to the complimentary coffee station and used the time to make some simple observations. The bank shared the building with Longs Drugs, 7-Eleven, a café, and an English school, but it was still attractive and well-spaced. The bank manager’s office was next to the coffee station. The other three tiny “offices” were created with cubicle partitioning. Next to Ms. Berkley’s office was a short hallway that led back to the vault and the Employees Only sections. A few steps led up to the area Megan mentally dubbed the “teller bullpen.” Local potted plants were placed at strategic locations as expected.
Megan paced enough to let her eyes wander in many directions. As she turned toward Ms. Berkley’s office again, her eyes caught a brief fluttering movement of the shades. Before she could investigate, clicking heels announced Ms. Berkley’s imminent approach. Megan finished the turn and sipped the coffee she had prepared.
“Ms. Antonelli?” The approaching woman wore a white blouse, light gray suit jacket, and a matching gray skirt. Everything from her thin silver watch up through the simple bun that contained her hair screamed bank manager. But for those whose powers of observations weren’t sharpened by life in the FBI, there was a nametag that spelled out the woman’s name and title.
“Yes. That’s me. You must be Ms. Berkley.”
“Aloha. Ms. Kahele tells me you have some questions for Mr. Sims. He’ll be in later today, but perhaps I can help you now.” She gestured toward Mr. Sims’s cubicle. “Step right this way and have a seat. My office is currently occupied, but we can borrow Chris’s.”
Megan wanted to ask why Ms. Berkley’s office was occupied, but the moment passed. Once settled in Mr. Sims’s office, Megan ran through the list of prepared questions about various bank loans and conditions. The coffee lasted through only half the questions. Megan learned much about the different types of accounts one could have but not much concerning her case. She inserted personal queries wherever possible, but Ms. Berkley remained coolly distant. As Megan let the conversation wind toward a close, she concluded Ms. Berkley possessed more than enough information to make her attractive to the thieves. However, Megan’s suspect senses were still reading green light.
“Thank you so much for answering my questions. I think I’ve taken up—” Megan didn’t even get to finish the pleasantries before a man’s voice made the morning much more exciting.
“Everybody remain calm and nobody gets hurt! Tellers, fill the bags before you. You know how this works. Silent alarms get people killed. Ink packs get people killed. Delaying us gets people killed. Somebody get me the manager!”
Sitting in the guest chair closest to the wall in Mr. Sims’s office, Megan was in a terrible position to gain tactical information, but she read Ms. Berkley’s growing alarm easily enough. The general gist of the situation could be catalogued in microseconds.
“Stay right there,” Megan whispered, instinctively freezing.
Ignoring the warning, Ms. Berkley launched from the chair and stepped to the threshold.
“What’s going on here?” she demanded.
Stupid question! Stupid question!
Megan mentally bound and gagged the brave, yet not so bright bank manager. It didn’t do any good, but it made her feel better. Sinking lower in the chair, Megan frantically ran through her options. Adding her gun to the mix out there would probably not end well for anybody. Calling 911 would bring the police and likely spark a drawn-out hostage situation. The option with the highest survival rate was to let the robbers take what they wanted and leave, then call the police. It was a plan of non-action and devilishly hard to enact with this many other people involved.
Megan did a quick rundown of the people present. She’d only seen two tellers this morning, but there could be a third in the back somewhere. Ms. Berkley and two, maybe three customers plus Megan put the number at six people minimum. The robber and at least one more to make an “us” brought the approximate total up to eight people. Lynn Berkley had mentioned her office being occupied, so Megan added one more to her tally.
Nine. Even if that count was completely accurate, it still translated to way too many people.
While deep in thought, Megan ignored the chaos raging behind her, but she snapped her attention back when the voice sounded a lot closer. Maddox was going to blow a fuse when he learned about this.
“You! Get out here!” shouted the robber.
Ms. Berkley disappeared from the doorway, protesting all the way.
“You too!” barked the voice. “Keep your hands in sight.”
Megan showed the man that both her hands were empty, making sure her expression exuded the sort of numbness typical of a lady facing the wrong end of a gun for the first time. If the robbers sensed fed from her, the excitement might end painfully and abruptly.
“Please. Please don’t hurt me,” she whimpered, letting the man haul her out of the chair. She had to work hard not to let her Tae Kwan Do training take over.
“Shut up.” The man dragged her out of Mr. Sims’s cubicle and flung her toward the center of the room where they’d herded everybody.
She used the momentum to stumble to a spot next to Ms. Berkley and took quick stock of the company. An elderly Asian woman sat farthest from Megan, weeping softly and clutching her arms around her thin knees. A pair of young tourists clung to each other looking dazed. The poor suckers probably just had a lousy sense of timing about checking out the ATM. Right next to Ms. Berkley sat a man wearing black dress pants, a white shirt, a colorful tie, and a nametag that read: Christopher Sims. The two tellers were at their stations filling black duffle bags with cash. On Ms. Berkley’s other side stood a young man wearing a straw hat pulled low to prevent security cameras from capturing his features. His gun was pointed in the manager’s direction.
“Throw your purse over there,” he ordered Megan.
A quick glance confirmed that the other robber also wore a straw hat. Both young men appeared to be late teens, early twenties. The leader had short cropped dark hair and the second guy had longer dark hair. Both seemed fit and wore aviator sunglasses, plain T-shirts, and nondescript beige shorts. After absorbing what she could of their descriptions, Megan reluctantly followed the order, but instead of tossing the bag as instructed, she slid the purse toward the growing pile of cellphones, purses, and other goods building up near the door. It wouldn’t do to have her gun give itself away with a loud thunk.
“All right. I think that’s everybody. Get her up and over to the vault,” said the leader. “I want to be gone in ninety seconds. Go!”
The second robber reached down and yanked Ms. Berkley to her feet. As she was dragged past, she locked panicked eyes with Megan. The look gave the agent a sinking feeling, for she had seen similar expressions before. It wasn’t fear for self, it was fear for another.
“Just do what they say,” Megan encouraged. She’d ceased caring about staying in character. If she couldn’t knock the panic from Ms. Berkley’s eyes, odds were good the lady would get herself killed in the next thirty seconds.
“Leave her alone,” Mr. Sims said. He started to rise but stopped when the lead robber’s gun swung his way.
Stop talking. Right now. You’ll only make it worse for her.
Megan caught his arm and eased him back down, shaking her head no. She tried to subliminally beam the message into Mr. Sims.
“Get up again and I’ll shoot you.” The leader held his gun with both hands now, settling into a comfortable stance. “That goes for the rest of you too.”
The other man had disappeared into the back room with Ms. Berkley, presumably to collect valuables from the vault.
Everybody settled in for a tense wait.
The female half of the young couple started babbling in a whisper. At first, Megan couldn’t make out the words, but eventually, she deciphered the meaning. The girl was saying, “I want to go home” over and over on loop.
Her significant other held her tightly, frantically trying to quiet her.
The old woman was also murmuring. Megan couldn’t understand the words, but the cadence was appropriate for some sort of prayer. Mr. Sims’s disgruntled silence was almost palpable.
The tellers finished their task and received orders to come around and load the personal belongings into the duffle bags. As they started to comply, Ms. Berkley and the second robber emerged from the back rooms.
So far, so good.
With luck, the robbers would be gone within the minute, and Megan could commandeer a phone and kickstart a manhunt.
That’s when she heard the police sirens.
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