Fireflies: A Katie Bell Mystery (book 1)

by BG Archer

  Coke was the last one to leave the cage, and he looked around, like he was making sure they had everything. He still had the backpack slung over his shoulder, and he nodded his head, like he had just finished a mental checklist. Arianna clung to the wall, hoping he had forgotten about her. He moved past her towards the vault door, and then glanced over in her direction.

  He opened his mouth and said something, and the bank teller could have sworn it looked like he was saying “thank you.”

  Instinctively she replied, “you’re welcome,” out of habit rather than actual conscious thought.

  Coke raised his pistol and pulled the trigger. Arianna didn’t hear the “pop” over the sound of her ears still ringing, but she felt a sharp stab of pain in her chest, like she had been stung right above her left breast.

  Arianna glanced down at her blouse and saw a circle of red quickly spreading. She felt strange, queasy and light-headed all at the same time, like the last time she had tried to give blood at the Red Cross.

  “I…” She tried to say more, but she suddenly couldn’t find the words, and even opening her mouth took far more effort than it should.

  She was also finding it very hard to stand up. Or keep her eyes open. Everything was just so … heavy.

  Arianna felt herself sinking towards the floor, even as her vision faded more and more. She wasn’t sure where she was or why she had gotten there, but it didn’t matter now. All that mattered now was to close her eyes. Everything was so heavy, and her chest hurt. Her heart was pounding so fast, and all she could hear was the thump, thump, thump of it. She wasn’t sure why it was beating so fast, but it didn’t matter.

  Nothing did.

  40

  2:59PM Thursday, May 16th

  Agent Tapscott pulled up and jumped out of the SUV. He popped the back and he, along with Arthur and Agent Fields, all took Kevlar vests from the back box. It was a standard weapons kit, and Tapscott grabbed an M4 as well. Fields grabbed two spare magazines for her Glock 22, and Arthur grabbed nothing.

  There were already a half a dozen squad cars in a circle around Third Union Bank as well as an unmarked Crown Vic.

  Detective Hutchinson stepped out of the Crown Vic and went to greet the three federal agents. Hutchinson looked better than the last time Arthur had seen him, like he had lost the holiday weight. He shook the FBI agent’s hand and pointed at the front of the bank.

  “Thanks for the heads up. We received a 911 call about ten minutes ago and already had units on the way.”

  “How many people are inside?”

  “Over a dozen. Strange thing is the silent alarm in front was never triggered. We just received word that the vault cage alarm was about four minutes ago.”

  Agent Tapscott racked the receiver on his assault rifle and frowned. “Wait, so are we looking at an inside job? I mean if the first alarm wasn’t triggered…”

  Hutchinson shook his head. “I don’t know. I just got here. We are assuming this is a hostage situation, but they’ve made no demands. SWAT’s been alerted, but they are six minutes out.”

  “More agents are in route,” Arthur said.

  “Good. We’ve seen at least four of them in there, and they look ready for a fight. I called for a five-block perimeter, but it’s going to take a couple of minutes to set up.”

  Another black SUV pulled up, and Agent Pilsner and a female agent Arthur didn’t recognize jumped out. She had freckles, and dark circles under her eyes, like she hadn’t gotten a decent night’s sleep in a long time.

  Pilsner was already wearing a standard blue FBI flack jacket, as was the other agent.

  “What do you have?”

  “At least four gunmen. Silent alarm didn’t go off, only the cage, and only a few minutes ago,” Tapscott said.

  “SWAT’s on the way?” Pilsner asked

  Fields nodded. “Yeah, six minutes out.”

  “Okay. These guys know what they’re doing. If it’s Dimitri Markovic and the rest of the gang we’ve been tracking, they are happy to rock and roll. Assume they’ve already killed hostages and are happy to kill more.”

  Hutchinson looked slightly annoyed that he had been completely cut out of the conversation, and stepped forward. “Look if it’s this Dimitri fellow, why did the first alarm not go off? Inside job?”

  Pilsner frowned. “Who are you?”

  Hutchinson offered his hand to Pilsner. “Detective Hutchinson, nice to meet you, Agent…”

  Agent Pilsner didn’t take his hand. “The alarm not going off indicates a level of sophistication with this crew. Assume they tapped the line. The cage alarm is on a separate independent system, borderline impossible to jack. Also assume that if they know to stop the first alarm, they are aware of the second alarm, and are aware of our response time. They have a timetable and will use that to their advantage.”

  Agent Fields, Agent Freckles and Detective Hutchinson were all paying close attention to what Agent Pilsner was saying. Tapscott was not. He was watching the bank, his whole demeanor calm, but ready. Arthur was listening to what the other agents were saying, but he too was paying attention to the bank. The CPPD officers on the scene all appeared to be pumped and equally nervous. They shifted back and forth from foot to foot, their weapons were drawn and they stood close to their vehicles, using them as cover.

  Arthur understood their nerves, only for him it wasn’t nerves; it was a familiar rush now that he was on the scene. His instincts were kicking in, and there was a wonderful buzzing in his ears. Something was about to happen. He wasn’t sure what, but he knew it was something.

  Arthur suddenly recognized one of the officers, and remembered him from the motel lobby where they had found William Seaborn. Antonio Santos. That was his name if Arthur was recalling correctly.

  “So what are they waiting for? If they’ve blown the vault they know we know, and they are now stuck in there while we make sure they are surrounded. Seems like a pretty dumb plan to me,” Fields said.

  “I don’t know, but I’ll tell you the only way out of that bank is through the front door,” Pilsner said.

  “RPG!” Tapscott shouted, pointing at the roof.

  The streak of the shiny fiery metal tube came rushing towards them, and everyone in the little huddle ducked. Except it was too late, and the rocket-propelled-grenade snaked past them, striking Pilsner’s SUV. The car exploded in a loud crack and flames shot straight into the sky, like it was a homemade firework.

  Smoke filled the air and then the sound of gunfire filled everyone’s ears.

  Arthur rushed forward, taking cover behind the back wheel well of one of the patrol cars.

  In the span of a second they were all in the middle of a war zone. It was chaos. Arthur heard more shouting, and saw that the front door of the bank was opening. Officers raised their weapons towards the door, until they saw civilians running out, their hands above their heads. Except on the fifth person out a masked robber appeared, and tossed a smoke grenade on the ground. The smoke quickly filled the air and blocked everyone’s visibility. People were screaming, and from the rooftop there was still more gunfire.

  Whoever had fired the RPG was shooting at the officers, the loud rattle of a machine gun chewing up everything in its path. Tapscott had taken cover behind a mailbox and was the only one that appeared to be coherently returning fire to the rooftop shooter.

  Arthur drew his gun and looked around. Fields had taken cover behind a parked black Audi coupe behind him, and was resting her service weapon on the hood of the car, aiming in the general direction of the bank.

  The gunman on the roof changed directions with his constant barrage of gunfire, raising the barrel and aiming it more in the direction of the federal agents. Fields lifted her Glock and fired off a quick volley of shots at him, before ducking behind the side of the Audi just before several rounds smashing into the hood of the black luxury automobile.

  “Fields!” Tapscott yelled and then fired again, a quick three-round burst that made the gunman duck
behind the ledge of the roof.

  His fellow agent had bought him time, and Arthur took it.

  He rushed out from behind the squad car and into the smoke. He passed two civilians with their hands up before in the haze he saw the first of them, a heavyset man with a ski mask on. He had a heavy duffle bag over his shoulder and some sort of AK variant in both hands. Arthur dropped to one knee and aimed. There were maybe fifty paces between him and the robber. Between them a half a dozen civilians were running towards the agents, though they were all keeping low and moving slow at the angry sounds of the gun battle around them. Several shapes in the smoke were not cowering, but instead were sprinting up the street. They weren’t moving fast, as they appeared to be carrying heavy duffle bags. The heavy one that Arthur was aiming at was not running. He was standing in place, and was aiming past Arthur towards where all the parked squad cars were. Aiming towards the federal agents and the police. He had a can in one hand, and tossed it forward, past Arthur.

  The special agent heard the hiss as another smoke grenade went off making visibility even worse. With his free hand, the heavyset robber lifted the barrel of his rifle and squeezed the trigger. The loud and violent crack-crack-crack-crack began as the assault rifle began to spit out deadly bits of lead in the direction of both the civilians and the officers behind them. Arthur saw one man get cut down by the rifle, and made his choice. He closed one eye and exhaled before he pulled the trigger.

  He fired three quick shots and the heavyset robber’s body jerked. His finger left the rifle trigger and he staggered forward, trying to see whoever had hit him. He must have spotted Arthur since he started to re-aim, but Arthur fired two more shots. The first round hitting the man center mass, but the second caught the robber in the face. His head snapped back, and he went down.

  Arthur moved forward, keeping low as he did. Gunfire continued to fill the air, but not from the armed robbers leaving, but rather it continued from the roof. Officers were now returning fire, but only towards the roof. Arthur made it to the heavyset masked robber and kicked his rifle away from him. The man’s eyes stared back at him lifeless, even as the bad smoke swirled around them. Arthur could feel his eyes burning, and fought off the urge to cough. Arthur looked up and in the distance could faintly see the last of the other masked men moving up the block. There was the flash of light in the smoke, as one of them must have opened fire on the police blocking their path. There was more yelling, but it was incoherent and loud and messy. All of the shooting had started less than two minutes ago, and now the city street had turned into a war zone out of some third world country.

  He aimed at the back of the man running away and then quickly lowered his weapon. Arthur was a good shot, but nobody was that good. He started to run after them, still keeping low.

  “Cover me!” Fields yelled at Tapscott and he nodded.

  He slapped a fresh magazine into his M4 and yanked back on the receiver, loading another round into the rifle. Tapscott brought the butt of his weapon up to his shoulder and took aim. He started to squeeze off more rounds and Fields sprinted out from behind the Audi, running right past the burning ruins of the SUV and down the street. She ducked behind the end of a white Mini Cooper and counted to three before raising her weapon. Fields had every intention of trying to take out the rooftop shooter, but when she had repositioned herself and was finally clear of the smoke she saw them across the street. It was the rest of the masked bank robbers, all four of them, their heavy bags slowing them down. Two of them were dragging hostages along, using them as human cover.

  Agent Freckles suddenly was next to Fields pushing her back down behind the white Cooper.

  “I’m going to draw out the shooter so Tapscott can take him out,” Freckles said, and pointed towards a blue Explorer across the street that the robbers were moving past.

  “What about them?” Fields asked.

  “We take em’ out. Ready? Go!” Freckles didn’t wait for Fields and leapt up, her feet hitting the street hard as she started to sprint.

  The rooftop shooter popped out, firing a volley at Freckles. He had to lean out to get a good shot at her, and as soon as he did Tapscott squeezed off another couple of rounds in his direction. This time, he made contact. As bullets hissed at Agent Freckle’s heels, the gunman’s body jerked back, hanging in the air for a second and then he crumpled backwards. He went over the lip of the wall of the roof and his body tumbled down, down into the sea of smoke, even as more rounds smashed into his body, this time the shots coming from the CPPD who finally had a good view of him.

  Tapscott turned and gave Fields and Freckles a thumbs up, and then the two partners ran to the other agent, as they regrouped behind the blue Explorer.

  A half a block down, the robbers turned left onto Wilma StreetST, and disappeared from view.

  “Okay, let’s go,” Freckles said as soon as Tapscott and Fields were next to her. Ahead of them there was an alleyway, and as they started to run after them, Arthur suddenly was next to them. He cut left down the alley.

  “I’m with Agent Bell!” Fields yelled and followed after him.

  “Works for me!” Tapscott called after her as he and Freckles started to run at full speed after Dimitri and his men.

  Arthur and Fields made it to the end of the alley and turned the corner. They ran halfway up the adjacent alley and could see the side of Wilma Street. The masked men appeared at the mouth of the alley, all four of them, and they were still dragging along the two hostages. Arthur raised his Glock carefully and sighted along the frame of his weapon, letting his breathing slow down. He only had a second to take his shot. It needed to count.

  BANG! BANG!

  The masked man in the middle, who was dragging the first hostage, clutched his neck and sank to his knees. Arthur realized the gunshots had come from behind him. The two hostages screamed and hit the sidewalk hard, even as the remaining two masked men started to aim at Arthur and Agent Fields.

  CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

  The louder, higher pitched gunfire took the masked man in the back, one shot hitting him in the shoulder and spinning him, the following two hitting him center mass and dropping him. The last robber tried to turn towards the gunfire coming from behind him, but it was two late, a volley of bullets struck him across the chest, even as Arthur fired one shot, catching him squarely in the hip.

  The smell of gunpowder and smoke burned Arthur’s nostrils and he waited for a second, his weapon still aimed at the unmoving bodies of the robbers.

  “You good?” he called out at Fields.

  “Yeah.”

  “Coming out!” Arthur called, trotting towards the mouth of the alley.

  They reached the street just as agent Tapscott and Freckles came up the sidewalk. Both hostages were still cowering.

  “Come on, guys, it’s all over now,” Freckles said, offering the hostage in the rear (an elderly woman who had gray hair and was wearing a light pink sweater) her hand.

  The other hostage was a teen wearing a Lakers jersey and baggy sweatpants. He looked like a ghost and staggered over to a nearby trashcan. He glanced back at the bodies of the masked men for a moment and then leaned over, throwing up.

  Arthur didn’t blame him.

  “Nice shooting, boss,” Tapscott said, pointing with his rifle barrel at the middleman.

  “You can thank Agent Fields for that one. Beat me to it.”

  Tapscott raised an eyebrow. “Impressive.”

  “You too, Tex.”

  Tapscott shook his head and threw his thumb at Freckles. “I only got the first one. She beat me to the last one.”

  “Good shoot, all of you. Let’s get these bastards masks off,” Arthur said, bending over the middle body and pulling at the mask.

  They quickly pulled off all three masks and Freckles muttered under her breath.

  It was the crew Agent Pilsner had been tracking. Corey Cox, along with the rest of his crew. They looked just like the mug shots that had been circulating around the office.


  Freckles let out a low whistle. “It’s a standard who’s who of scumbags. Except…”

  Arthur looked at her. “I know.”

  Dimitri Markovic was not among the bodies.

  41

  7:45AM Friday, May 17th

  Agent Tapscott rolled over and stretched out his arm, expecting to find the back of Lacy’s naked back. Instead his arm simply hit the bed. Blinking in the morning light he saw she was not in his bedroom. He made a mental note to rescue hostages more often, the sex the previous night (and it had really lasted all night) was some of the best he had ever had. The scent of bacon made him blink away the sleep and roll out of bed, yawning.

  He found her in the kitchen, the bacon making a pleasant crackling sound on one burner, as she flipped hot cakes on another.

  “Morning, lover,” Lacy said smiling at him. She was wearing one of his shirts and apparently nothing else, and it was only buttoned halfway up.

  “Is that … do I smell coffee?” Tapscott asked and his eyes darted over to the Clever Coffee Maker.

  “I know you like it black, but I hope you don’t mind I added a little cream to mine.”

  “Sacrilegious,” Tapscott said bemused as he moved around the kitchen island.

  He came up behind her and kissed her on the neck and she moaned a little and arched her back. Tapscott noticed she had scrambled eggs too, and they looked utterly divine.

  Lacy kissed him on the cheek and focused on flipping the pancakes.

  “What can I say? I like my coffee like I like my men. All American and a bit on the blonde side,” she added with a wink.

  Tapscott groaned and poured himself a cup of coffee and took a sip. Perfect.

  “Do you have to go into work today?”

  “Yeah, but not until noon. I have a debriefing.”

  Lacy turned off the burners. “Is it going to be okay?”

  “Of course. Standard investigation with any shooting. We’ll probably end up getting some medals after everything is said and done.”