Page 9 of Rio's Release

CHAPTER FOUR

Armed Robbery

Rio—

I scurry across the flat roof, dressed in black, with my mask over my face. Dawn is just lightening the horizon to the east. Shrugging off my backpack, I dig out the small power saw and begin cutting a hole.

Not a car drives past as I work.

Finally, I’m able to pull out the circle and peer inside with my flashlight. It’s about a four-foot drop to the rafters. Grabbing my pack, I drop down inside. There are areas I can see the framing that holds the ceiling tiles up and the fluorescent lighting. Checking a few of them, I find the back room I’m looking for—the one where the tellers prepare their tills.

ME: I’m in. Found the spot

ZIG: Okay. See you soon

Shoving my phone in my pocket, I settle in to wait.

Hours pass, and my phone dings with a text.

ZIG: First car just arrived. It’s the guard

I wait a few minutes, and Zig sends another.

ZIG: Manager just arrived. They’re heading in

ME: Let me know when they’re all inside

ZIG: Got it

Ten minutes later, I hear muffled conversations in the bank.

Zig texts me again.

ZIG: Everyone’s inside. Guard is out smoking

ME: Let’s roll

I peer through the crack I’d left when I moved the ceiling tile aside. The young loan officer is getting coffee. He and the bank manager talk briefly, then she walks out of the room, and the tellers fill their tills. I see the manager take a large metal box and lay her palm on the sensor that lets her into the ATM room.

Setting my mask and goggles over my face, I take a deep breath, tighten my hold on my 9mm, and jump through the ceiling tile. The surprised women scream. I grab one of the tellers and press my gun to her head.

“Everyone put your hands up.”

They comply, and I toss a canvas bank bag to one of the tellers. “Put the cash from all the tills in here.”

While they’re busy with that, I haul the teller toward the backdoor and tell her to open it.

She fumbles with the lock, and my men rush in, pushing the disarmed guard ahead of them and ordering him to the floor.

I move toward the ATM room and order the bank manager to open the door. She hesitates, backing away. When she refuses, I put the barrel of my gun to the terrified teller’s head and startcounting down from ten. When I get to three, the girl starts begging, and the manager caves.

“Get on the floor,” I snap, pointing the gun at the manager. She whimpers but does as I ask. I’ve got the teller by the hair, and I shove her toward the cash box and toss my backpack on the counter. “Fill it. Hurry up.”

Glancing back, I see my men are all watching the rest of the employees.

Zig looks at me to see how it’s going, and I catch one of the tellers reaching for the alarm button. I point my gun at her. “Don’t do it, sweetheart.”

It’s then, as I’m staring at her, that I realize it’s the chick from Blitzy’s. Her hair is up in a bun, and she’s wearing a prim little button-up blouse with little cap sleeves and tiny pleats down the front. The blouse is tucked into a tight black skirt.

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