CHAPTER 1 - PHILADELPHIA 2008
THURSDAY
A cloudier day would’ve been better. Less people on the street on a cloudy day. Leo grimaced at the azure sky through the van’s windshield. Skyscrapers loomed as though he were peering up from a deep trench—a fitting metaphor for his mental state before a job. Good people doing bad things; that was the line he and his cousins committed to inside their bubble. That commitment became more tenuous each time they crashed through the doors of an unsuspecting bank. His palms started to sweat, more than usual. Pulling their first heist in their hometown made him uneasy.
The city was waking around them, greeting the brisk September morning with calloused hands. Traffic pumped through the veins and capillaries, though the lifeblood had thinned since the financial crisis had corrupted the headlines. Wisps of hot coffee and cigarette smoke blended with exhaust fumes and food truck grease to create the fragrance of the streets. The first hints of brown, yellow, and red, those brave enough to defy the waning summer, announced themselves.
A deli owner hosed down the sidewalk in front of his shop. His rolled up sleeves and soiled apron gave him an old-timey look, like he belonged in black and white. Honking horns fought for priority through the echoing corridors. Business suits walked the streets with adderall-fueled ambition, determined to distance themselves from their former lives as listless college students.
Leo tried to shut it all out. It just fed his anxiety. They were about to take from these people. Could they continue to justify it?
Monk rapped his knuckles on the steering wheel to the second playthrough of his favorite Guns-N-Roses album.
“Did you remember to pack the duffle bags?” Leo asked.
“Yup,” Monk replied mid-solo.
“What about the zip ties?”
“Yup.”
“What about—”
“Dude, we’re all set,” Monk said. “This isn’t our first go ‘round.”
Leo nodded. Everything is set. I went through all the details a dozen times. I researched the banks and handpicked each one. Stick to the plan and it will all play out.
His thoughts were interrupted by the growing sound of a squabble behind him.
“Hippies are gross,” Jasper proclaimed. He obsessively matched the hem of his sleeve to the cuff of his latex gloves.
Nick responded in his usual verbose way. “By ‘hippies’ I assume you mean the bohemian leftovers from the post-grunge era, and not the grassroots political pioneers of the 1960s?” he said as he organized the contents of his laptop bag. It was the one thing he was never without, his security blanket.
“What I mean is I don’t like people who don’t properly groom themselves.”
Leo tamped down his unease and allowed half a grin. “Don’t you think ‘political pioneers’ is a bit gracious, Nick?”
“Actually, I think it’s insufficient to describe the greatest anti-war civilian uprising in American history. Hippies were a vital part of our political evolution.”
“Or they were a bunch of spoiled rich kids with too much time on their hands,” Jasper said.
Nick gave him a smirk/side-eye combo. “During the Vietnam War they were the greatest driving force for political change in the country. They were the ones brave enough to stand up for what was right. Regardless of their financial status.”
“I don’t think inhaling mass quantities of drugs and not showering counts as bravery,” Jasper said.
“Leo, you’re the history teacher. Weigh in on this.”
Leo rubbed the back of his neck. Even the mention of his other life, his real life, during a job was like a dart to his nervous system. But the question grazed something that had occupied his mind for months now. “I can appreciate anybody willing to stand up for their beliefs,” he said. “But if they’re so great how come no one remembers any of their names?”
“Are you guys done stroking each other?” Monk said with a toothy grin. “It’s time to make the calls.” He pulled three prepaid Go-Phones from the glovebox, each with a Post-It note stuck to it. Leo plucked off the Post-It and reviewed it: the name of a local bank and its respective manager. He flipped the phone open and dialed. An operator immediately picked up. “9-1-1. What is your emergency?”
Leo spoke with an urgent whisper. “My name is Bernard Floras. I’m the manager of the Second Bank of Philadelphia on Chestnut Street. We are being robbed.”
“I understand, sir. I’m dispatching police to your location immediately. Is anyone hurt?”
“I don’t know. I can’t talk right now. It’s not safe. Please send help. There must be at least a dozen—” With a click he was gone. He nodded at Nick.
Nick flipped his phone open and dialed. The operator answered, and he told a similar story with a different bank and manager name. Jasper followed immediately after.
Monk sat patiently in the driver’s seat, monitoring a police scanner for confirmation that police had been dispatched. He double-tapped the charm that hung from his neck, a cracked piece of glass threaded with twine. The call came through. “They’re occupied. Let’s go.”
“For the family,” they said in unison.
The van doors burst open, and the cousins moved out. Leo pulled a wool mask down over his face and took the lead through the doors of the Grand Quaker Bank. “Can I have everyone’s attention, please?” His voice echoed over the marble floor. “Everyone remain calm. We all know what this is. If you cooperate, it’ll be over soon and no one will get hurt.”
Someone screamed from behind the teller counter. The cousins moved through the crowd with guns drawn. Monk restrained the lone security guard with the plastic zip ties, while Leo and Jasper instructed the bank personnel to raise their hands and join the rest of the people in the center of the main room. Nick went to work blacking out the security cameras with spray paint. He’d cleverly modified a grabber cane to reach the corners of the vaulted ceilings. They pooled everyone into the center of the room and forced them to the cold floor.
Monk opened up the oversized duffle bags. “How are we on time?”
Jasper checked his watch. “Two minutes fifteen seconds.” He positioned himself near the huddled captives with one foot pointed toward the fire exit. “I’ve got the room. Go.”
Nick and Leo each grabbed a duffle bag, and Monk grabbed two. They marched into the safe. The massive circular vault door was open during business hours. A corridor stretched back, lined on each side by dozens of bronze-plated safety deposit boxes. Past that the corridor opened into a larger chamber where the cash and gold reserves were held.
The Duneboys moved quickly. With both hands, Monk shoveled stacks of greenbacks into his bags. Leo and Nick went to work popping the doors off of the security boxes. Despite their express function, they were surprisingly easy to pry open, especially in older banks.
“Shout ‘em out,” Leo said.
“I’ve got some patents over here,” Nick said. “I’ve got jewelry, some of it looks pretty old. I’ve got a stack of bearer bonds.”
“Leave the patents,” Leo said. “Take the jewelry if you can fit it, and definitely take the bonds.”
Leo and Nick hustled down the line, rummaging through drawer contents as efficiently as they could with their gloved hands. Unwanted items were cast to the floor. As Nick sifted through various jewels and baubles, he came across an odd-looking piece of equipment, an electronic device of some kind. It didn’t appear particularly valuable, but it had some weight to it so maybe he could harvest some components for resale. He slipped it into his laptop bag and continued on.
“The take feels kind of light, huh?” Leo said.
“Four minutes twenty seconds,” Jasper called from the lobby. “Time to go.”
Monk returned from the chamber; a full bag slung over each shoulder.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Nick said. “Set them down.” Monk complied. Nick produced a makeshift gadget, an iron rod wrapped in thick copper wire attached to a simple circuit board, and set it snugly between the duffle bags. “This should generate enough of an electromagnetic pulse to disable any GPS trackers on the bills. Give it about five feet and hold onto your nuts.” Nick meted out sufficient slack from a coiled wire attached to the husk of a gutted disposable camera. At a safe distance he clicked the flash…… Sizzle. Pop. “We’re good. Let’s go.”
The three emerged from the vault. Jasper was ready by the fire exit. The alarm sounded as they threw open the door, but it didn’t matter. The police were occupied elsewhere. They burst into the sunlight and proceeded north.
Half a block away, a blue sedan sat under the shade of a breezy elm. Monk popped the trunk. The bags were placed first, followed by the guns and masks. They stripped off their black shirts and replaced them with less conspicuous clothing. Monk started the engine and with a flick of the turn signal they were gone.
They blended with the daily I-95 traffic. Just carpoolers in transit now; nothing out of the ordinary. The Duneboys could relax—except for Leo.
He tapped Monk on the shoulder. “Where were you this morning?” he asked.
“Huh?”
“He wants you to recite your alibi,” Jasper said.
Monk sighed. “I got to the lumber yard early this morning to get some work done, and I texted my assistant manager that I'd be doing inventory all day.”
Jasper said, “I logged onto a conference call with our Atlanta team this morning to discuss the new trials for our Alzheimer’s drug. Unless he had a stroke halfway through, I’m sure my boss droned on for a strong hour at least.”
“I was working on my thesis paper,” Nick said. “I checked out one of the study rooms at the university library for three hours.”
“And I registered for a continuing education seminar in Harrisburg, which is why I had my classes covered,” Leo said.
Jasper drummed happily on the dash in front of him. “You guys realize how badass we are right now?”
“Don’t get too excited until we get back to the clubhouse,” Leo said.
Monk grinned in the rearview mirror. “You are your mother’s son, Leo.”
“For the family?” Jasper nudged. They combined their fists in the center of the car. Leo conceded the positive gesture.
“For the family,” they said in unison.
CHAPTER 2
Special Agent Alice Teagan arrived at 15th and Walnut just after 10AM. She wrestled her sandy blonde hair into a loose ponytail and stepped out of the bureau-issued SUV. Pressed navy slacks sat low on her hips, but high enough to hide the coffee stain on her white blouse. Her stomach reminded her she’d forgotten breakfast again. Police tape sectioned off the block around the bank while forensic analysts combed the scene, inside and out, struggling to find any solid evidence from the cleverly simple smash-and-grab. No shots fired, no forced entry, no fingerprints. Only a van next to an expired parking meter.
She announced herself as the jurisdictional lead in from Washington and was paired with a sergeant from the local precinct. There was a tranquility to the crime scene, to her at least. Detectives shuffled about, red and blue lights flashed up on the walls, but the bank held like a snapshot.
The sergeant shook his head. “Jesus Christ. It’s bad enough this fucking financial crisis is destroying people’s retirement. Now they gotta worry about their savings being stolen too?”
Alice stared at the vault, hands on her hips. “Thieves aren’t usually concerned much with other people’s wellbeing.”
“How is it a bank robbery falls under federal jurisdiction?” the sergeant said.
“How is it you're a sergeant and you don’t know the answer to that question?”
The sergeant straightened his spine.
“Bank accounts are federally insured by the FDIC, so the federal government regulates the banks. Therefore, bank robberies fall under federal jurisdiction.” The sergeant nodded. “Plus this robbery isn’t an isolated incident,” she said. “This crew—they call themselves the Duneboys—have hit three other banks that we know of. One in Cleveland, one in Rochester, and one in Pittsburgh; all with the same MO. Any crime that crosses state lines becomes federal.”
“Giving themselves a name doesn’t seem smart. Haven’t they ever seen Home Alone?” He chuckled at his own line.
Alice ignored the quip. “They’re smart enough to keep it simple.” A grimace crept across her face. “Smart enough to stay ahead of me for the past two years.” She scanned the room, taking in the space in its entirety. “I’m gonna move around and talk to some people now. Make sure you keep up.” Before the sergeant could raise an objection, Alice walked off. He followed.
“Anything out of the ordinary?”
An analyst reached from the top rung of an aluminum ladder, scraping paint from one of the security cameras into a plastic container. He turned to face Alice.
“Based on smell and texture, it looks like regular acrylic spray paint. Same as you’d find in any hardware store.” He looked back at the camera. “The trajectory is interesting though. The spray came in parallel”—he motioned with his hand—“as if they were on a ladder.”
“Seems like a clumsy thing to carry into a bank robbery.” Alice made a tickmark in her leather-bound notepad.
She moved on to the vault. Digital flashbulbs popped everywhere under the fluorescent lighting. Nearly a dozen detectives and analysts chattered as they worked the room, moving around with heavy feet. Everyone had a badge, except one woman seated on a folding chair in the corner of the space. A detective crouched down in front of her, pointing at various objects around the vault with his pen and asking her questions. Alice watched her. Her knees were together and held to one side. Every few seconds she smoothed the hem of her auburn skirt to try and cover them. With each flashbulb pop her doe eyes flickered. Her neck and shoulders were closed and tense.
“Agent.” One of the analysts near the broken deposit boxes called to her. “I think you should see this.”
“You can talk to the sergeant.” Alice waved him off and gravitated toward the woman in the chair. “Detective.” She placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I’d like to speak to your witness out in the lobby for a few minutes if I could.”
The detective turned with a raised brow. Alice’s FBI credentials hung from her belt, directly in his sightline. He stood with a sigh. “She’s all yours, Agent.”
Alice extended a light hand. “Miss, could you follow me this way, please?” The woman’s shoulders loosened a bit and she slowly rose to her feet.
Police presence was just as strong in the lobby but more spread out. A splash of warm sunlight came in through the panel glass which was smudged with dozens of fingerprints, none of which belonged to her perpetrators. Alice found an unbothered space by the kiosk with the deposit slips.
“Do you need anything, Miss… ”
“Abernathy… uh… Becky. Becky is fine.” Becky kept her arms crossed, rubbing them as if cold.
“Would you like a jacket maybe?”
“No… uh… sorry I just don’t really know what to do with my hands right now.”
Alice gave her a quick smile. “Do you prefer to sit or stand?”
“I think I’ve got too much nervous energy to sit.”
