a minute, Hero looked like he might give it a shot. He and the perp were about the same size, both over six feet tall, both built like they worked out religiously. If not for the gun, a 9 mm holding fifteen rounds, they would probably be pretty evenly matched.
Dani had to let the scene unfold without attempting to interfere, and she hoped the banker had come to the same conclusion. She could take the gunman by surprise and probably disarm him, but the situation called for prudence. She wasn’t the only one at risk here, and above all, she didn’t want anyone hurt. The money was insured. Bank robbers got caught.
She glanced up and could plainly see two cameras. There would be a couple more stationed somewhere behind her. This entire escapade would be recorded, so knowing what the perp looked like didn’t put them at further risk. There was no reason for him to kill them if they kept calm.
“Where’s the vault?” he demanded.
The older man pointed to the hallway around and behind the counters.
“Go there. All of you. Single file,” he demanded.
Whew, he was just going to lock them up, Dani thought with relief. They would sack up some money for him and he’d simply lock them inside and leave. A few hours later they would be watching his arrest on the evening news.
He snapped out another order. “You and you, go inside!” He motioned with the weapon for the older man and the girl to enter the vault. “Lock the door,” he said to the younger guy.
The girl began to wail and plead like a four-year-old. The sound cut off the instant the thick steel door clicked shut. At least this narrowed the list of potential casualties. Those two should be safe enough.
Dani’s arm throbbed, still caught in a viselike grip.
“Back into your office,” the robber instructed. “Remain on the front side of your desk.”
She met Hero’s gaze and raised her eyebrows. He was red in the face, his strong jaw and fists clenched.
Don’t try anything! Dani tried to communicate the thought to him without words. He shot her an exasperated look, exhaled sharply, then turned with military precision and led the way. Message received, she guessed.
When they reached the office, the robber forced her into the chair to the side of the desk, he stood behind her, placing the muzzle of the gun to her right temple.
“You. Stand,” he ordered the banker. His accent became more pronounced and his breathing grew more rapid. “Keep both of your hands in my sight at all times. No silent alarms or she dies. First, turn the monitor around so that I can see it clearly. Move the keyboard to this side,” he demanded. The hero eyed him, but complied.
“Now, send this fax,” he instructed the man, placing a document on the desk. “Be certain to dial correctly.” Dani watched the process as closely as her captor did.
When the fax machine whirred, the perp tossed an index card down in front of the keyboard. “In the left column there are account numbers. From these accounts, I wish the amounts listed in the middle column transferred to the account on the right.”
“To the Caymans?” Dani heard a barely concealed scoff in his voice.
“Begin.”
“I need the code to access the program used for transfers of this nature,” the banker insisted. “It’s in the vault.”
“You know the codes,” the robber growled. “I kept you out of the vault because you are the manager. Do it now or she dies. Then you die. Make no mistakes.”
The banker’s lips firmed. Dani watched the muscles in his jaw clench while he did as he was told.
This took a while since there were quite a few transactions involved. From her view of the monitor, Dani noted that none of the amounts were too enormous. She didn’t bother to keep a running total, but figured it at around three million.
The robber picked up the notes. “I wish to see confirmation when it is complete.”
The banker paused to await one of the steps of the transfer to go through. “I see you’ve kept the amounts under a hundred thousand, but the transfers will send up red flags anyway.”
“I know,” the robber said, an evil smile in his voice. “But these will be your red flags.”
Survival seemed a lot less likely now, Dani thought with a belated surge of adrenaline. There was something in the man’s voice and movements, a subtle, higher pitch, an increased tension and a slight tremor in the hand holding the gun. He was building up to something, getting himself psyched.
She remained motionless except for her gaze, which settled immediately on an engraved name plate that read Benjamin R. Michaels. The name suited him. Strong, no-nonsense, bankerly.
Dani watched the banker’s long, tapered fingers fly over the keyboard and listened to the soft whir of the computer as it completed its functions. Meanwhile, she smelled the sweaty wool and scent of anxiety that cloaked her captor.
The cold metal of the pistol brushed against her hairline, sending chills down her spine. All her senses edged to higher alert levels. She could taste his fear like metal on her tongue. Now this man would have to kill them both. They had seen the numbers. If he let Michaels live, the transfer could be reversed, or at the very least, reported in detail. If not reported by any survivors, the transferred funds could be moved again from the Caymans and disappear.
Dani squeezed her eyes shut and a chaotic picture flashed through her mind, a Technicolor explosion of action, a split-second portent of extreme violence. This was no flight of fearful imagination, but a bona fide premonition.
Late warning. Maybe too late. She had to do something.
She blinked fiercely to clear her head. The bank manager’s steely gaze met hers as they waited for a response from the target bank. He knew, too, that they would have to die. And Dani realized if she didn’t try something in the next few minutes, this would-be hero would.
Even as she tried to formulate a less risky plan, her right hand slid slowly up her body, past her breast, so that her fingers barely touched her collarbone. The robber’s attention stayed on the screen. As if reading her mind, Michaels tilted the screen a little more to the right, providing distraction.
Striking like a coiled rattler, Dani’s hand shot up, grabbed the robber’s wrist and shoved the pistol up and away from her head. Several rounds hit the wall to her right. She dug her nails into the nerve at his wrist, felt her nails cut flesh and saw the gun tumble onto the desk.
A backhanded blow knocked her completely out of the chair and slammed her against the wall. Even while she scrambled upright, she focused on the struggle between Michaels and the robber as they fought for the weapon.
Again, it discharged, shattering the tempered-glass window.
More shots! Chaos! The scene that had flashed through her head earlier morphed to reality. Adrenaline surged and gave her strength.
Desperate, Dani attacked from the rear. She leaped onto the robber’s back and clutched her legs around his hips. She dug her fingers into his face, trying to gouge his eyes, anything to disable him. But her hands slid all over his skin, sticky and wet. To her shock, he crumpled to the floor beneath her and lay still.
For a long moment she couldn’t move. Straddling the perpetrator, her hands still locked around his head, she waited for him to recover and resume fighting.
“It’s over. He’s dead,” a calm, deep voice assured her.
Large hands slid beneath her arms and lifted her off the body. Before his words could register, he had turned her around and embraced her, holding her close, pressing her face to the soft cotton of his shirt. His subtle cologne mixed with the tinny smell of blood.
She pushed herself away from the admittedly warm embrace.
“Thanks, but I’m okay,”