Bucky Stone: The Complete Adventure (Volumes 1-10)

by David B. Smith

  “Well, sooner or later, this all has to come to an end somehow. Either they get you or they don’t. If they don’t, fine.” He tried to sound nonchalant. “But if they do, and you had let two of your people go, ‘specially when they’re women and one of them’s pregnant . . .”

  “Makes me look like a real nice guy.”

  “Yeah.”

  The abrupt ring of the telephone jarred everybody’s already frayed nerves. With an oath, Don signaled Bucky again. “Probably got the President on the line now.”

  “Hello?”

  “Mr. Stone? Sgt. Davis again. How’s everybody doing in there?”

  “We’re OK.” Bucky looked over at Don. “Police,” he whispered.

  “Your guy there decide what he’s up to?”

  “Not yet, I don’t think.” Bucky covered the receiver. “What do you want me to tell them?”

  Don gestured impatiently. “I’m thinkin’ about what you said. Tell ‘em five minutes.”

  “Give us five more, OK?”

  Bucky hung up again with a shake of his head. “Boy . . .” He turned and looked at Don. “Listen . . . can I sit down? I’ve been on my feet since three.”

  The bank robber nodded.

  Bucky went over to the junior account manager’s desk and sank into one of the two soft chairs there. Veronica stayed in her spot by the still-bolted front door. Sheila had gone back to the teller window and sat on a stool there, her eyes still red.

  Bucky motioned Don over. “Look, what do you think? Let ‘em go.”

  The man shook his head slightly, sending a wave of despair through the young teller. “Aaaaah, I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  Don sat down in the chair next to Bucky and crossed his legs. Except for the menacing revolver cocked and resting between them, they looked like two men about to negotiate the opening of a new passbook savings account.

  “Look,” Don blurted out, “I let them go, then all I got left is you.”

  “So?”

  He gestured impatiently with the gun. “You’re just a kid. You know all the ways outta here. One little screwup, and you’ll be gone too, leavin’ me with this puny envelope of cash and no way out.” He looked over at Sheila. “Least with her, I know she can’t run off.” A snort. “Not with that load she’s totin’ around.”

  Despite his eagerness to see the women freed, Bucky could see the man’s logic and found himself nodding in reluctant assent. “Listen,” he muttered, his voice low, “you let them out, and I promise you I’ll stay.” Even to him the words sounded hollow.

  “Oh, right.” Don rolled his eyes in derision. “That’s real sweet of you. Have I got the word idiot tattooed on my forehead?”

  Bucky took a breath. Forcing his resolve, he gazed directly at Don. “I’m telling you, let the girls go, and I’ll stay right here to the end. Whatever happens.” He leaned forward. “Listen, I . . . I’m a Christian. I got this job ‘cause I don’t lie. Now out there . . .” – he gestured toward the door – “I don’t know. Police may tell you one thing and then back down on it. At least in the movies they always do. Sooner or later they end up killing the bad guy no matter what they promised him.” The robber looked startled.

  “But I’m telling you as straight as I can, let them go and I’ll stay. Guaranteed.” A wave of tension almost overwhelmed him and left him feeling weak. Is this the dumbest thing I’ve ever done? His mind spun furiously.

  Don sat there motionless, his medium build slightly dwarfed by the large chair he was sitting in. “You . . . really mean it, don’t you?”

  Bucky nodded.

  “Why would you do a stupid thing like that?”

  The young man reflected. “It’s the right thing. I just want them to be safe . . . and maybe somehow I can help you work things out too.” The last words were almost a whisper.

  The phone rang again. Over by the door, Veronica looked at them, her face a question mark.

  Don sighed, shaking his head in disgust. “I must be nuts.” He motioned with the gun toward the phone. “Go ahead, kid. Tell ‘em the good news.”

  Chapter Ten: “Stay Low Just in Case”

  A trace of excitement building in his heart, Bucky picked up the receiver again.

  “Davis here again. Where do we stand?” Bucky looked over at the gunman before answering.

  “Well, he’s going to let the two women go.” Over by the door he could hear Veronica gasp.

  “What was that?” An excited babble of voices filled the background on the other end of the phone.

  “He’s letting Veronica and Sheila out.”

  “You’re kidding! How’d you pull that off?”

  Bucky weighed his words. He could still feel Don’s eyes boring into him. “Well, that’s just what he’s doing.”

  “Son of a gun. Well, listen, just . . .” The police sergeant groped for words. Out of the corner of his eye Bucky could see Sheila. She was crying again.

  Sgt. Davis came back on the line. “Listen, Bucky, just . . . just . . . can you stall him for a few minutes?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, just go slow. When he lets the two women out, that may be our chance to get you out too.’’ His voice was low and cautiously excited.

  As Bucky sucked in his breath, he glanced over at Don, whose eyes were darting nervously around the bank, first toward Veronica, then Bucky. “I told him I’d stay if he let the girls go,” Bucky said.

  “And he fell for it? Terrific! This is our chance. Listen, try to hold up about five minutes. When the girls come out, just be ready to jump. We’ll try to set it up so you have a clear path out.”

  “You don’t understand. He’s letting the girls out because I promised to stay.”

  The police officer seemed confused for a moment, then spoke almost in a whisper, “I get it. He’s listening, isn’t he? Listen, kid, I don’t care if you promise to marry this guy. But if you get a chance to get out, you do it. Promises don’t mean a thing when some nut’s got a gun in your ear.”

  Bucky said nothing. Outside, darkness was settling around the branch office. Shadowy figures continued to jockey for position near the bank entrance.

  “You still there?” the officer’s voice prompted.

  The student teller swallowed hard. “The girls are coming out. I’m staying.” He set down the receiver.

  The bank robber rose unsteadily to his feet, his composure now cracking. Bucky saw that his hand held the revolver loosely now.

  “What’d they say?” Don demanded.

  “Well, they’re glad, of course.” He looked over at Veronica. “You and Sheila can go.”

  The assistant manager gave a little shake. “Bucky, I really can’t leave without you. With Mr. Willis gone, I’m the senior officer here. I think you and Sheila should . . .”

  “No way.” Don gestured with the gun. “He stays. You ladies are goin’.” His jaw had a determined jut to it.

  Bucky nodded. “Yeah. We’re all set. Forget the rules. You both need to go.”

  “I know, but . . .”

  The phone rang again. With a sigh, Bucky leaned over and answered it. “Bucky?” Mr. Willis’ voice boomed on the receiver. “I heard it on the radio and just got here. I’m with the police outside. Are you all right?”

  “We’re fine.” He looked over at Sheila. “They tell you the girls are coming out?”

  “Uh huh.” The big man’s voice softened. “Bucky, I appreciate this, but you really don’t have to do this. Veronica’s the exec in charge.”

  “I know, but Don, here, is letting both the women out. I’m staying.”

  There was a muffled discussion on the other end. “I know it!” he heard someone say just before Mr. Willis came back on. “OK, Bucky, it’s up to you. Good luck.”

  As Bucky once more hung up the receiver, he asked, “Are you ready?”

  Don eyed the exit carefully. “Where’s the back way out?”

  “In the back, down the hall to the ri
ght. But it’s locked, too, of course, and no curtains there. Nothing but glass. You’d be a sitting duck.”

  “Out the front, then.” He took a step toward the door, then stopped. “Better plan this out,” he muttered to himself.

  Leaning against the counter with the teller windows, Bucky suddenly felt exhausted. 6:15. He felt a gnawing hunger begin to dig at his insides.

  Don, squatting on his heels near the front door, let the gun dangle from his finger as he thought. “Guess we better wait till the cops call back,” he concluded.

  Sheila slipped off her stool and made her way over to where Bucky stood. “Thanks for doing this,” she murmured.

  “Oh, it’s OK.” He forced a grin. “Just name your baby Bucky, and we’ll be even.”

  Despite the tension, she managed a tiny laugh. “I’ll do it, but it’s not that hot a name for a girl.”

  “You already know it’s a girl?”

  “Uh huh.”

  He chewed on his lip, thinking. “Just hope this goes OK.”

  As expected, the phone rang again a moment later. “We’re all waitin’ out here,” Sgt. Davis said.

  “Hold on.” Bucky covered the receiver. “What are we doing?”

  The bank robber shifted his weight nervously. “I . . .” His voice shook slightly. “Here, give me the phone.”

  Bucky’s eyes widened as he handed the receiver over. Don took the phone from him gingerly, still holding the gun.

  “Who is this?” There was a brief silence. “Well, this is what we’re doin’. The girls are coming out. The guy, Stone, or whatever his name is, is stayin’ here.” Pause. “Yeah, he’s stayin’ here ‘cause I’m gonna have a loaded gun pointed at his head the whole time. You got that?” He sniffed violently, wiping his nose with his sleeve. “If anything goes wrong, your guy in here gets it. And that’d be too bad, wouldn’t it, ‘cause he seems like a pretty nice kid.”

  The threat jolted Bucky, and he gulped hard as the robber slammed down the phone, muttering to himself.

  Outside the bank it was suddenly dead silent. Don turned toward Veronica. “OK, you’re going out. Give Stone, here, your key.”

  Fumbling awkwardly, the assistant manager undid the clip that fastened to her belt and handed it to Bucky.

  “Wait a moment.” The young man hesitated. “Forget that. You let yourself out. And her. We’ll be behind you. Then just leave the key in the lock.”

  “All right.” The fatigue was plain in her voice.

  “Get your purses and stuff,” Bucky reminded.

  The two women gathered up their belongings and edged toward the door.

  “You open the door just a . . . inch,” Don ordered. “Look outside, make sure everybody backs way up. Then out you go.”

  She nodded. Fingers trembling, she slipped the key into the lock.

  “Hold it.” The gunman pulled Sheila toward him. “You’re right here.” He turned to Bucky. “And you’re right here.” Flanked by the two tellers, he nodded to Veronica. “Go ahead.” Slowly he lifted the gun, placing the barrel close to Bucky’s forehead. “Don’t you mess up.”

  His heart pounding furiously in his chest, Bucky winced. In spite of his earlier courage, his breath now began to come in short little gasps.

  “Are you OK?” Sheila’s voice was taut.

  “Just go!” Bucky managed to choke out the words. “Hurry!”

  The lock popped free and Veronica eased the door open just a couple of inches. Several feet away were four armed patrolmen. “Better move back.” She swallowed hard. “Please. Just move back. He’s got Bucky in here.”

  Bucky could see the shadowy figures retreating. Opening the door a few more inches, Veronica looked the other direction. “Please, just back off. Sheila and I are coming out.”

  One of the men made a low, almost inaudible response. Dan pressed the gun closer to Bucky’s head.

  “Please! Move back! Bucky’s still in there.” A moment later, Veronica opened the door just enough to slip through.

  “OK, Sheila. You too,” Bucky said.

  The pregnant girl looked at him. “Good luck,” she whispered. “I’m praying for you.”

  “Hurry.”

  With the two women free, the heavy door swung shut. Even from his distance, Bucky could see the tiny sliver of twilight shining through the still unlatched lock.

  “OK, kid, easy now. We’re locking up.”

  Creeping forward, the gunman kept his weapon trained on his hostage as Bucky twisted the lock and pulled the key free. The young teller exhaled slowly, feeling his whole body shake with fear. Easing away from the door, he handed the key, still on its chain, to Don.

  The man sighed, mopping his forehead with his free hand. “OK,” he muttered. “That’s done. Now what?”

  As his pounding heartbeat slowly subsided, Bucky felt his stomach tie up in knots. “I . . . I gotta use the bathroom too,” he burst out. “And what about food?”

  “Well, bathroom’s OK, I guess.” The young robber hesitated. “Food, I don’t know.”

  Bucky slipped down the hallway, making sure to stay in plain view as he did so. “You got two minutes.” The warning echoed in his ears.

  Inside the men’s room, Bucky washed his face, drying it off with a paper towel. His hands were still trembling, he noted. As he looked in the mirror he remembered the days last week when the bank had seemed such a calm, quiet place to work. Somehow the restroom still held a measure of that elusive peace. He waited as long as he dared before returning to the lobby.

  His gun held between his knees, Don sat on the floor. “Well, just the two of us,” he observed laconically. Sniffing, he wiped his nose with his sleeve.

  “Want me to get you a Kleenex or something?”

  The man shook his head.

  “You got the flu?”

  Don gave him a baleful look. “No. Just mind your own business.” He sniffed again.

  Bucky sat down a safe distance away from the bank intruder. His undershirt felt damp next to his skin, and he shivered slightly in the chilly air. Glancing over at Don, he frowned. The robber was sitting aimlessly, his face blank. Every few minutes he gave the same little sniff.

  “Look . . . I know it’s . . . your decision, but what are you going to do?”

  The young man glanced over at him. “I . . . don’t know.” His voice was listless, tired.

  “I mean, you can’t just wait until two in the morning and then try to sneak out and go home. There’s fifty guys out there with guns, and they’re not going away.”

  Another sniff. “I guess I could just – I don’t know – tell ‘em to leave a car out front. Everybody backs away, and we drive off.”

  Despite his fear, Bucky couldn’t hide his reaction to the robber’s plan. “That’ll never work.”

  “Why?”

  “It just won’t. There’s a million ways they can still get you.” As he took a deep breath, his mind raced. “They give you a car with about half a gallon of gas in it. Or they have a transmitter planted in it. Or a car all set up to break down before you get to the first street corner.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. They can set up roadblocks. Shoot, they may even have a guy hiding in the back seat with a machine gun.”

  Don wiped at his nose with his now badly-stained sleeve. “You watch too many movies.”

  “Well, figure it out. Those guys got a million ways to trick you. All you got to do is mess up one time and that’s it.”

  “Well, no matter what, I still got you. We get in that car, they know that I still got this gun at your head no matter what they try.”

  In Bucky’s mind a picture emerged of Don trying to stare down fifty gun-wielding troopers, the cold steel of his revolver pressing against his forehead. He fought back a wave of terror. “Even then, that’s fifty guns against your one,” he pointed out. “I don’t care what you set up, they’ll find a way to make you louse it up somehow.”

  Seeming not to hear, Don stared off into space. His lips formed an
inaudible obscenity.

  The phone rang again. Bucky looked up. “Are you talking to them now?”

  “Huh uh. You see who it is.”

  “Stone? Davis again. Anything new in there?”

  “No.”

  “Your guy got any plans?”

  “Not really. He may want a car or something.”

  “Listen, we think we’ve got a make on him. Mrs. Steele’s description matches a record we had on our file here. Guy just out of detention two weeks ago for small-arm robbery. His name’s Terry Reynolds.”

  Bucky said nothing.

  “Something you should know. If it’s the same guy, he’s pretty strung out on drugs. Heroin, we think.”

  A warning triggered in Bucky’s mind and he chose his words carefully. “I think you may be right.”

  The officer lowered his voice. “You seen signs of anything?”

  “Maybe.” He recalled the endless nose-wiping.

  “Well, just think about this. As time goes by, he may get more and more nervous. And a nervous trigger finger’s a bad thing, kid. Now listen to me carefully. If we get the right opportunity, we may be able to rush the place. If we do, you get down flat on the ground and do it fast!”

  His mind whirled. “How . . .”

  The sergeant kept his voice low. “With all the lights on in there, we can sometimes make the two of you out pretty good. If we can isolate him, we’ll make our move.” He paused. “Don’t worry, Stone, we’re not going to take any chances. If you’re in any danger, we’ll hold off.”

  Shivering, Bucky hung up.

  Don looked up at him. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing. They’re just going to wait until you tell them what you want.”

  “Are they planning anything?”

  Bucky gulped at the direct question. “I . . . I’m sure they are,” he said evasively. “I mean, you know they’re working on something. That’s just how it is.”

  “Yeah.” The young man muttered another epithet as he fingered the gun in his trembling hands.

  Bucky glanced at him, trying not to stare. Was he really a heroin junkie? The thought of that powerful revolver in the hands of a man going through an unexpected drug withdrawal added a new knot of fear his stomach.