LITMIR.BIZ

       7

      Roseoak Park, New York

      Dan stopped at a red light two blocks from his bank, paralyzed with indecision.

      Then he saw the cop.

      A white guy, mid-twenties, sipping coffee from a take-out cup behind the wheel of an NYPD car in the opposite lane.

      Drive into the intersection! Now! Block him and tell him!

      As Dan tightened his grip on the wheel, Vic hissed in his ear.

      “We see that cop, too, Dan. Don’t try anything stupid. You’ve got a lot of lives in your hands right now. You want to risk killing Lori and Billy?”

      Dan hesitated.

      He heard shuffling in his ear, and then Lori’s voice filled his ear.

      “Dan, oh God! If you can hear me, please, do what they say!”

      “Lori! Lori, did they hurt you?”

      More shuffling, then Billy: “Dad, please, do what they want!”

      “Billy! Are you okay?”

      A beat passed, and Vic’s voice returned.

      “You heard them, Dan. Just stick to the plan, and no one gets hurt.”

      The light turned green.

      Dan’s pulse was hammering as his foot twitched on the brake pedal.

      The cop rolled through the intersection and down the street in the opposite direction. A horn tapped behind Dan, and he continued driving, dragging the back of his hand across his brow as he let out a breath.

      Moments later he came to Branch 487 for SkyNational Trust Banking Corp., a small one-story building constructed in neo-art-deco style. Its floor-to-ceiling glass walls gleamed in the morning sun, with a curving clean-lined flat roof extending over the three drive-through ATMs. The property was bordered with shrubs, plants and flowers that were professionally maintained. SkyNational had given Dan awards for exemplary management of his branch.

      He turned into his usual parking spot. The lot was empty except for the two cars of the staff who’d arrived first and were in charge of opening. Dan was versed in branch opening procedures and ensured his people complied with, and adhered to, all security standards of the Bank Protection Act.

      The bank’s policy required two people to arrive at the same time for opening. First, they scanned the area for anything suspicious. Then the first employee entered while the second one stayed in the car, waiting for an all-clear signal or cell phone call. These steps guarded against “morning-glory robberies,” whereby criminals lay in wait for staff prior to opening.

      Once it was safe to proceed, the two staff members used the dual control system to open the vault and obtain daily cash boxes for the tellers. Then they opened the night depository and collected the overnight deposits. An armored security company collected deposits from the ATMs. Aside from a few additional matters, those were the key steps before unlocking the front doors for daily business.

      Until today, the branch had never been robbed.

      “Time’s ticking!” Vic said. “Get your ass in there!”

      Dan grabbed his briefcase. Heading across the lot to the rear entrance, he heard a metallic clanking and looked up at the flag poles. The Stars and Stripes, the state flag and SkyNational’s corporate flag waved dutifully in the breeze.

      At the door’s lockbox, he swiped his manager’s card and pressed his security code on the keypad.

      Nothing happened.

      His hands were a bit shaky. He took a breath, repeated the process. The door opened, and he was greeted with the aroma of fresh coffee.

      “Morning, Dan.” Annie Trippe, the head teller and soon-to-be assistant manager, smiled from behind the counter where she was topping up supplies for tellers.

      “Annie.”

      “Hi, Dan,” Jo Ballinger called out. Jo, one of his best tellers, was arranging an assortment of pastries the branch offered to morning customers.

      “Morning, Jo.”

      Dan glanced around. They would open the doors in twenty minutes.

      “How’d your opening go, guys?” he asked.

      “Tickety-boo,” Jo said. “All tickety-boo. Except...”

      “Except what?”

      “These 6:00 a.m. openings are killers, Dan.”

      “I know.” He smiled sympathetically, trying to look as natural as possible. “But central selected us to be a pilot branch. It’s all about serving the needs of our early-bird commuters. Now, I’ve got some urgent business to take care of, then I have to step out.”

      Annie’s head shot up, and she took a longer look at Dan as he headed for his office.

      “Hold on, there, Dan. What happened to you?”

      “What?”

      Annie touched her temple indicating where Dan had a large bandage.

      “Knocked my head against the door. Getting clumsier, I guess.”

      The concern on Annie’s face was slow to melt as Dan shrugged and stepped into his office. He switched on the lights, set his briefcase down on his desk and logged into his computer.

      Vic’s voice rumbled quietly in his ear. “You’re doing good so far, Dan.”

      He immediately set to work, his keyboard clicking as he typed, but he stopped when a shadow fell over him, followed by the soft thud of a ceramic mug of coffee set on his desk.

      Annie stood before him.

      “What’s going on, Dan? You don’t look so good.”

      He licked his lips, aware that Vic would hear and see everything.

      “Shut the door,” he told her.

      “Careful, Dan,” Vic reminded him.

      After closing the door, Annie turned to him. She was in her midforties, with high cheekbones, dark eyes and a warm smile. Her husband was a fire captain, and her son was starting Hunter College. Annie had been with SkyNational fifteen years. She was devoted, dedicated—an intelligent woman who was not easily fooled.

      “Something’s up, Dan. What is it?”

      “This is completely off the record and stays between you and me.”

      “Of course. What is it?”

      “It’s South Branch—seems Mort’s got a little crisis.”

      “Odd. Mort’s such a perfectionist. What sort of crisis?”

      “His cash inventory is low, so I’m issuing a directive to transfer two hundred and fifty thousand from our vault to South Branch, which I will personally deliver to them this morning.”

      “You can’t be serious!”

      “Believe me, it has to be done this way.” He input several commands,

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