The Getaway (Sam Archer 2) (20 page)

Gerrard was nearest to the phone and he took the call. The moment he heard what had happened, he raced for his car with the rest of his team, ordering all
b
ridges and
t
unnels off
Manhattan
to be closed. His orders were carried out within minutes, and traffic in and out of the island ground to a halt. The word was put out over every NYPD and
Federal
frequency in
Manhattan
that they were searching for three cops, each of whom had approximately three hundred and fifty thousand dollars hidden about their perso
n.

Inside his Mercedes, Gerrard raced straight for the scene of the crime, Katic in the car beside him, Siletti and Parker following close behind, whilst O’Hara and Lock headed for the roadblocks at the Midtown Tunnel. They figured geographically that would be the trio’s best bet of escape.

But twenty minutes after Ray made the call, a
n
NYC MTA M train pulled into the
36
th
Avenue
station in
Astoria
, across the
East River
. The doors slid open, and all along the platform passengers stepped out, the doors shutting behind them after a few seconds and the train moving out of the station and on into the tunnel. Everyone who had disembarked proceeded to walk to the stairs and the two exit
s and the place slowly emptied.

However, three people stayed where they were, leaning against the wall as everyone else passed. They had been in separate carriages, and were
standing
around thirty feet from each other.

Three cops.

Once the last person had gone, they stood still for a moment longer, then the officer on the far right turned and started walking down the platform. Once he passed the officer in the middle, she started walking beside him and they approached the third man. They each high-fived as they finally joined up in a three, and together, the trio headed for the stairs that would lead up to the maze of streets in
Queens
. One of them, the biggest one,
looked behind them and smiled.

No one was following them.

No one knew who they were.

They did it.

*

Later that day, Archer opened his eyes and woke up from a deep sleep. He blinked, yawning, and sat up. He’d been watching the television across the room, but had passed out on the hotel bed, fully dressed. He yawned again then rose and wandered to the window, pulling open the curta
in and looking out at the view.

The sun was setting in the distance, the buildings ahead black and silhouetted against the orange-tinted sky. He’d been out for a while. Moving back into the room, he checked th
e clock on the bed-side drawer.

7:04 pm. He’d been asleep all afternoon.

He reached for his cell phone which was resting on a chair to see if Gerry had tried to get in touch. He had no missed calls, but saw he had a text message from Farrell. He clicked it open.

MSG, Friday. 8 o’clock. Meet 33
rd
and 8
th
. Don’t be late.

Archer read the message again, and nodded. That was twenty four hours before the job. Farrell would probably want to walk through it, get a feel for the place and the atmosphere,
making
sure that Archer knew every detail of his role and that they were both on the same page. Archer tossed the phone onto the bed and sat down in a chair, thinking. Across the room, the television was still on, sound coming from it quietly, and he grabbed the remote and clicked it off.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Three raps, quick.
Taptaptap
. Every knock
conveyed something
and this one sounded urgent. He wasn’t expecting a guest, so he grabbed the Sig from the bedside table and walked over, the pistol in his right hand.

‘Who is it?’ he asked.

‘It’s me,’ a familiar voice sa
id.

Shielding the pistol down his right leg, Archer pulled it open. Gerrard was standing there, still wearing the suit with the guacamole stain on the shoulder,
looking stressed and worn out.

‘What’s wrong?’ Archer asked.

‘They did it again,’ he said.

‘I’ve been called up to D.C to explain myself,’ Gerrard said, sitting on the edge of the bed inside the room. Archer had let him in, then shut and locked the door behind them. ‘I’ll be back tomorrow or Sunday.’

Archer moved to the minibar and pulling it open, took out two cans of beer from the shelf, kicking the door shut behind him. He passed one to Gerry, who took it with a nod of thanks. The beer was a Miller, All-American, the can golden, the liquid inside cold.

‘You’re not going to be here Saturday?’ Archer asked. He lifted the ring-pull on his can and the beer gave a
tschick
as it opened.

He beckoned Gerrard to follow him and he opened the sliding door leading out to the balcony, stepping outside with the FBI agent then sliding
the door
shut behind them.

‘They summoned me,’ Gerrard said in a low voice, taking a seat in a white plastic chair. He continued to speak in lowered tones, seeing as the balconies of rooms adjacent were in earshot. ‘When that happens, you know you’re in deep shit. Nothing you can do will get you out of it. I tried to explain what the situation was, but they weren’t having it.’

‘This is bad, Gerry. I need you here on Saturday.’

‘I should be back sometime over the weekend. Don’t worry. I’m going to brief my team tomorrow on the intel we’ve gathered and the all details you’ve provided. They’re a good outfit. They can handle it without me. I’ll have them set up at
the Garden, ready and waiting.’

He shook his head and looked at the beer can in his hand. The sounds of
Times Square
down below filled the silence, the constant hum of electric lights under the interjections of car
horns and the occasional shout.

‘Shit. They’re going to have me for lunch. This could be the end of my career.’

‘Don’t think like that. You’ll be fine. Tell them you’ll have Farrell and his entire crew in hand-cuffs by Sunday. This will all be over by Monday morning.’

Gerrard didn’t reply. He opened his beer instead, lifting the can and taking a mouthful of cold beer.

‘Shit, that’s good,’ he said, savouring the taste and clearing his throat. ‘Anyway, they didn’t tell you about the job today?’

Archer shook his head.

‘They only need me on Saturday,’ he said. ‘Farrell won’t tell me anything other than the absolute essentials, and it’s clear that Ortiz and Regan still don’t trust me. Tell me what happened.’

‘It was another Chase, on 40
th
. Two minute walk from here. They went in dressed as cops, probably the same outfits they’ll use on Saturday.’

Archer pictured the location.

‘Wait, I know that bank,’ he said. ‘I passed it the other day. It’s the one on 7
th
right?’

Gerrard nodded.

Archer frowned. ‘In a location like that? How the hell did they pull it off? Did they use guns?’

‘No. Farrell went straight to the manager. Handed him a cell phone and told him to listen. On the other end, he heard his wife crying, telling them to do everything they say or a man holding her captive would rape her and his daughter and kill them both. It took my detectives two hours just to pull that information from him. Apparently the thieves told him that if he told anyone what had happened, he’d never see his family again.’

‘Have you found them?’

‘Yeah. They’re OK, aside from the trauma. We sent a squad car over to the family home in
Long Island
and the two cops found them duct taped-up in chairs in the main room. Apparently it was one man, wearing a hockey mask and armed with a sawn-off shotgun. Tied them up and sat there with the
Ithaca
on them, waiting for the job to be done, the phone in his hand. The guy left straight after apparently.’

‘He didn’t harm them?’

‘No. And neither one could tell the cops anything about the guy later. Both are still in shock, and the guy was masked up anyway.’

Archer drank
from his beer, thinking.

‘OK, so they passed the manager the phone, laid out the threat. What happened next?’

‘He was ordered to clear the place out. He got everyone’s attention and said there was a pipe leak, and that the area needed to be evacuated immediately. Everyone complied, leaving him and the three cops inside. There were two guards, but only one of them thought something might be up. They took the manager round the corner to the vault, out of sight of anyone on the street. Gave him another listen on the phone, and told him to open it or they’d open up his daughter. Funnily enough, he did what they asked.’

‘Wasn’t there some kind of time lock?’

‘They got it when it was still open. Given the unpredictability of traffic in the area, the time-lock on the vault in that bank is different. It’s unlocked for twenty minutes at a time. There was a delivery a few minutes earlier so the damn thing was packed full. They had fifteen minutes to work with.’

Archer drank from his
beer again, and shook his head.

‘OK, but they couldn’t just walk out of there carrying bags. Everyone outside would know in a second that something was up.’

Gerrard nodded, drinking from his Miller. ‘That’s the thing. They didn’t. They walked out the same they walked in. One of the guards approached them but said they looked perfectly normal.’

‘So the cash had to be hidden under their clothing then?’

Gerrard nodded. ‘Yes. The guard went into the bank to talk to the manager and saw that he was petrified with fear. He pushed the alarm and ran back out to the street, but by the time he got there the three cops had gone.’

‘Did you close off the city exits?’

‘Of course. But we screwed up. We figured they’d be in a car. But with Brown gone-’

‘They use
d the subway,’ Archer finished.

Gerrard nodded.

‘I’m an idiot,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t thinking fast enough, otherwise we could have shut down the subway too and trapped them on the island. There are cameras down in Bryant Park Station, and we found them on the tapes heading through the station. Looks like they split up, and got on an M train headed to
Queens
, but after that, we lost them. Passed right under all our
road blocks, which held up M
idtown traffic on a weekday morning. And they got away with the cash. Needless to say, my bosses and the Mayor are seriously pissed. The other jobs have been humiliating enough, but this happened right under our noses. That bank should have been impossible to rob. But they did it. And now I’ve got to go and explain how.’

He drank more from his beer, a long mouthful, then shook his head and cursed.

‘We sent a squad car over to Farrell’s gym, but the three of them were all in there, Ortiz working the pads with Farrell, Regan working the timer. They claimed they’d been there all morning. We asked around, but their alibis checked out. It’s useless asking the gym staff. They’ve all been paid off for sure.’

‘What was the take?’

Gerrard shook his head in frustration. ‘Over a million.’

Archer stared at him.

There was silence.

‘Jesus.’

Gerrard nodded, drainin
g his beer.

‘Exactly,’ he said. ‘Yet more on the total. And down goes my clearance rate another notch. This is beyond a joke now.’

Archer thought for a moment,
opting for a positive approach.

‘Look, you’ll be OK,’ he said. ‘Explain the operation to everyone in D.C. If you get down there today, you could be back by Saturday and lead the take-down yourself. We now know Tate is going back and forth to
Atlantic City
with the stolen cash. Get someone to arrest him at the casino or at the hotel. You know he’ll be going down there before Sunday. You’re in control of this situation, Gerry. You’ll get that money back.’

‘When was the last time you spoke to Farrell?’ he asked.

‘Yesterday. But he dropped me a text earlier. He wants to meet tomorrow night at the Garden. I’m guessing he’ll want to walk through the job. I’ll get in touch
afterwards and pass it all on.’

Gerrard nodded, scrunching up
the empty beer can in his hand.

‘I’ll be in D.C, but like I said, there are five other agents on my team. I’ll brief them. They can handle it.’ Pause. ‘Thanks for the beer. I needed it.’

Ar
cher nodded, finishing his own.

‘Hang in there, Gerry. Two more days. Then you’ll be the one bringing the beer,’ he said.

Gerrard nodded and rose.

‘I’ll see you soon, kid. Keep your phone switched on.’