Wyatt - 03 - Death Deal (18 page)

Can you give us a hand with a
couple of boxes?

The guards tread sounded heavily on
the carpet in the corridor beyond the door. Wyatt heard muttering, and the
wheezing of a three-packs-a-day man. When he saw the mans fingers close around
the edge of the door and pull inwards, he pushed Nurse into the corridor. It
was hard and sudden and the guard slammed back against the inside wall.

Riding slipped past first,
unwrapping the shotgun. He ground the barrel into the mans groin. Take out
your gun, nice and slow, two fingers.

The guard fumbled with the leather
strap across the butt. His thumb and forefinger shook as he lifted the revolver
out of the holster. Twice it slipped out of his grasp before he got the barrel
clear. Riding leaned forward, snatched it from him, put it in his pocket.

Wyatt closed the door. He left the
bottom Yale unlocked but snipped the top one. He didnt want anyone coming in
and he didnt want to waste too much time getting the door open again. After
reporting to Phelps on the cellular phone, he pulled the balaclava over his
head and nodded to Riding to do the same. The glasses went back into their
pockets.

Okay, down to the main room.

Riding went first with the shotgun,
checking offices that opened onto the corridor. At the archway leading into the
open space behind the counter he paused, swept his eyes around, went in.

Wyatt followed with Nurse and the
guard. The long counter where the tellers sat was protected from the public by
bulletproof glass that reached to the ceiling. Here behind the counter were two
more glassed-off offices, desks, filing cabinets, a photocopier and fax
machine, computers and typewriters. There was paper everywherein folders,
pinned to the walls, stacked in cartons against the walls.

Another archway at the end led to
the strongroom. Wyatt looked at his watch. Eight-forty-five. The tellers and
other staff would be arriving soon. Riding helped him take Nurse and the guard
around to the other side of the glass to wait for them. For the next forty
minutes it would be all waiting.

* * * *

Thirty-one

They
began to drift in at eight-forty-five, the assistant manager first. Riding met
her at the door with his shotgun. She took in the twin black bores, his black
balaclava, and started a scream that Wyatt cut off with a hand over her mouth. Take
it easy and you wont get hurt. He turned her head until she could see Nurse
and the nightwatchman. They were against the wall, on their stomachs under the
bench where customers filled out deposit and withdrawal slips. Lie there with
the others and youll be all right.

Wyatt didnt like doing it this way,
but he had no choice. Ideally one man would be taking the staff to a back room
as they came in, where a third man would hold a gun on them, but there was only
himself and Riding so they were forced to hold everyone here until theyd all
arrived.

The fourth teller came through the
front door at nine-ten and Wyatt shot home the lock behind her. She was pretty
in a busty kind of way and, unlike the others, didnt scream or struggle. Nurse
looked up at her. Angie, down here with us, love. Theres nothing to worry
about. Its just a robbery. They dont intend to hurt us.

The manager was trying to be
soothing. Angie eased down onto her knees, then swivelled to one side, awkward
in a binding skirt, and finally stretched out. One of the other women was
sobbing. A young male teller gulped and shuddered and Wyatt realised he was
trying to control his breathing.

Wyatt knelt where he could be seen
and asked them all to lift their heads and look at him. Nurse, the guard, the
assistant manager and four tellers. Too many. He didnt like it. His cheek
itched under the balaclava. He scratched it absently with the front sight of
his .38. Angies eyes went wide.

I want you to listen. We dont want
to hurt anyone. If you do anything foolish then of course we will hurt you. At
twenty-five minutes past nine the strongroom time locks will spring open. Mr
Nurse will then open the combination locks. We will empty the vault. It should
take no more than five minutes, and then well be out of your hair. Do you
understand?

They all watched him, some anxious,
some frowning, trying to plumb for meaning beneath the words. How could he tell
them there wasnt a meaning, that he meant exactly what hed said? He turned to
the fat manager, who was biting the inside of his cheek. Tell them, Mr Nurse.

Just do as the man says. Company
policy on this is very clear: if theres a robbery in progress, dont
interfere. These men will be gone before customers arrive.

Wyatt nodded. Good. Now I want you
all to stand up.

He backed away from them. Turn
around, he said.

They saw Riding, the gaping shotgun
barrels, and instinctively closed up. Nurse put his arm around Angie briefly.

Now to the other side of the
counter, Wyatt said.

Riding motioned with the shotgun and
they took them through to Nurses office and told them to lie on the floor
again. Riding stood watch in the doorway, his shotgun trained on their backs.
Wyatt took Nurse with him to the strongroom, then spoke into the cellular
phone. You there?

Phelps answered immediately. Yep.

Put the wife on.

Wyatt handed the phone to Nurse. Talk
to her. Tell her everythings all right.

They had done this every ten
minutes. Nurse said pretty much what hed said the other times Yes, Im fine.
Are you okay? Mignon, is she okay? Id better go nowand handed the phone back
to Wyatt.

It was now almost nine-twenty-five.
Wyatt said, Stand by, into the phone and placed it in his pocket.

They waited. The sound was soft, a
buzz followed by the gentle clunk of well-tooled metal parts moving. Wyatt
nudged Nurse. Open it.

Nurse needed both hands to start the
massive door, then it swung easily, finely balanced and as thick as a mans
head. The inside walls glittered, polished steel. There were shelves of
documents and a large safe fitted with two combination locks.

Now the safe. No bullshit.

Outside there were distant sirens.
The incendiaries. Nurse stopped what he was doing, an expectant look on his
face. Theyre going to a fire, Wyatt said. He thumbed back the hammer on his
.38. I said no bullshit.

Nurse seemed to lose heart a little,
his shoulders drooping, showing the strain. He leaned forward and spun the top
dial clockwise and anticlockwise, repeating it with the bottom one. Then he
stepped back, hauling the door open, and Wyatt smacked him with the .38. Nurse
dropped like a stone.

Wyatt spoke into the phone, Were
in, and dropped it back into his pocket.

The money was in eight metal
strongboxes, verifying Anna Reids information. There was also a large police
revolver and cash stacked on a shelf in paper bands, the banks own holdings.
Wyatt filled his pockets with the loose cash then hauled out the first
strongbox and ran with it toward the corridor. He passed Nurses office. He said
nothing. Riding said nothing.

At the back door he stopped, put
down the strongbox, wedged open the door, ran out to the Volvo. He lifted the
boot and ran back for the strongbox. About one minute had passed. He calculated
that they could be out of there in another five.

He tossed the strongbox into the
Volvo and was back in the corridor when he heard the boots on the asphalt
outside.

* * * *

Thirty-two

They
had been waiting for him on Sunday night. Intercom system, security locks,
first floor apartment with alarms and barred windows and balcony, and they were
in his lounge room waiting for him. Lovell hadnt seen the black limo parked
outside so it must have been around the back somewhere. Mr Bone, he said.

Bone was grey, long-faced, with the
balding look of a sly monk or scholar. Lovell had never seen him without his
charcoal grey suit and black tie and the only time hed seen the man alone was
twelve months ago, when Bone had hailed his taxi and heard his story and made
him an offer he couldnt refuse. At all other times Bone was with his driver, a
big-jawed man who liked to bounce on his toes and keep his hands curled at his
sides.

Lovell had kept a wary eye on the
driver, dumped his bag in the corner and gone to the drinks cabinet. Get you
something?

No thanks. But you go ahead, Bone
said.

The situation had called for
something with a bit of bite, like Jack Daniels. Lovell kept the neck of the
bottle away from the rim of the glass, not that his hands were betraying him
much.

Yet.

Hed sat opposite Bone. The driver
had edged around and after a while Lovell heard the guy breathing behind him,
long regular intakes and exhalations. The whisper was, it was the driver who
knocked people that Bone wanted knocked. There were two that Lovell knew of, dealers
whod become addicts, a big no-no as far as the organisation was concerned. I
can explain, he said.

Bone picked a speck of lint off his
knee and smoothed the expensive cloth. That would be a start. My partners and
I, we ran a few possibilities past each other. One, your courier was arrested.
Two, your courier robbed you. Three, your courier was robbed. Four, you robbed
us. He looked up. Not necessarily in order of importance.

Lovell had known then that Bone had
been speaking to Rice, the Drug Squad detective. It was a courier problem, he
said.

And youve taken care of it?

I have.

Good. That still leaves us with a
shortfall, though, doesnt it?

Ill make it up.

Of course you will. Youre obliged
to, for a start, and we dont doubt your ability. The problem is, we may have
lost valued customers as a result of last weekend.

Mr Bone, theyre a dime a dozen
down there.

Im glad to hear it. Bone got up. Because
weve started losing business to some Lebanese outfit. He showed some emotion.
Quite mad. Kill their own mothers if there was a dollar in it.

Its not my fault what happens at
street level.

It is if you cant fill orders and
we lose buyers as a consequence.

Ill get you your cash.

Bone and the driver were at the door
now. Bone said, Thats not the point. What this organisation depends on is
regular
cash from
regular
clients. He paused. And your New Guinea trips?
Everything clockwork there?

Lovell swallowed. Of course.

Bone had smiled. Fine, Ian. Well
speak again. You have forty-eight hours.

They had left Lovell with a headache
like a steel band around his skull.

He slept badly. Then, at two oclock
on Monday morning hed woken up thinking: Why not a
second
loan?

Banking hours were ten till four,
but Lovell got to the TrustBank in Logan City at nine-twenty-six. Catch Nurse
while the guy was still half asleep and easily persuaded. If Nurse needed extra
persuasion, Lovell had it, his .22 target pistol, the shape cold and sculptured
like some sort of ray gun.

He rapped his knuckles on the glass.

A minute later, when nothing
happened, he rapped again. A minute after that he wondered if maybe it was a
public holiday. In his line of work, public holidays didnt mean much. No, all
the shops were open. The post office was open. Bank staff worked nine to five;
they had to be in mere, thirty minutes to opening time, having coffee, putting
cash in the tills. So why were the blinds still closed? How come the place
looked so shut up?

Lovell had gone around to the rear
of the building. There was Nurses silver Volvo. The boot lid was up. The back
door was propped open.

So the bastards were there. They
just werent answering the front door. All right, in through the back.

And now the doorway was darkening and
a man wearing a suit was coming through it, moving fast. A box thudded into the
boot of the Volvo; the car shook with the weight of it.

The thing was, the bloke had a
balaclava over his head. Lovell blinked. If this was a snatch, that was his
cash they were taking.

* * * *

Thirty-three

Wyatt
ducked, turned, bringing up his gun in one movement.

A man hed never seen before was
framed in the doorway, body low, swinging a pistol on him. It was some kind of
fancy target pistol and Wyatt heard it snap sharply a couple of times. The shots
went wide. He returned the fire, then ducked back into the bank.

Riding was there, dancing lightly,
shifting his aim, looking for trouble. Wyatt pushed him back into Nurses
office. Stay with them.

Already there were raised voices on
the footpath outside. Wyatt slipped farther into the bank, using desks and
filing cabinets as cover. He waited. He couldnt show himself at the corridor.
He and Riding could try for the front door but that would mean showing
themselves on the street. If the gunman let them get that far.