by Mark Gannon
“Okay I’m just covering ground you already know. Well how about something you don’t know.” Dan looked up expectantly. At least that was my interpretation. “I went to supper tonight like on a date. That was the first supper date I’ve had in years. I guess the last time I had a supper date was with Emily several years before the split. Maybe the split did have some fault on my side. A few more nights out might have helped the marriage.
“Any way back to tonight. Does going to the Subway for a sandwich with Judy from work constitute a date? Do I want it to constitute a date? Do I want to date Judy? Did Judy go with me just because I looked like I needed company? I mean this isn’t right or good. You don’t date someone you work with. Especially someone you supervise.”
Dan shook his head and gave a short snort. “Okay. You’re right Dan. I need to stop thinking this way. Dating coworkers is the surest way to get fired. The last thing I need is to let the Ice Princess have an edge. She would love to have an edge on me. And if she loves something, I won’t like it.”
A few more minutes of quiet communing with Dan and Biscuit and the bottom of my Jack and Coke and it was time for bed. Tomorrow was another day. I can figure things out than. Tonight I am back in my own bed instead of a camp cot. Good thing no one is sleeping over to hear me snore.
Chapter 26
Saturday Banking
The week back at work went quickly. There was a lot to catch up on after being out of the office for three days the previous week. It is surprising the number of e-mails and phone messages that pile up when you are gone. Rawlins had all of us in his office at least one more time each. Frank got to spend several sessions with Rawlins. His boss was becoming paranoid about having someone on the construction crew that had to be excused to be questioned by the sheriff so often. The recurring theme was the knife found in Ned. Ned was still in a semi coma but was stabilized. But Rawlins didn’t make any arrests. The knife had actually been wiped clean and was free of any fingerprints. That to me absolutely cleared Frank. Frank would never think to wipe his prints off a knife if he stuck somebody in a fit of anger. I think Rawlins thought the same thing.
I was glad to get through the week and make it to the weekend. Saturday morning was busy. I cleaned the barn, cleaned the house (sort of), ran a part out to my parents for their baler and got groceries. Rather a domestic morning. The full week in the bank after the Trail Ride was way too much confinement after the week of open air.
After getting groceries I remembered the need for some cash. I was planning on attending a Saturday night rodeo in St. Onge and was sure to need beer money. The beer tent at the rodeo had not graduated to taking debit cards. Frank had volunteered to go with me so I better get some extra cash. Frank frequently ‘forgot’ his wallet.
I swung into the bank parking lot to hit the ATM and noticed both Charlie and Judy’s cars still there. It was about one thirty and the bank drive up closed at noon on Saturday. The temperature was a beautiful eighty-five degrees on a sunny Saturday afternoon. The bank drive up was closed and normally on a great day like this everyone at the bank bails immediately after closing. I wonder why anyone, even Charlie, would sit in the bank on a great summer weekend.
I parked my truck and went to the bank to see what was going on. Walking up to Judy’s window I wanted to try Frank’s surprise routine on Judy. It will be fun to see how high she will jump. Judy was not at her desk and a peek in Charlie’s window and he was not there either. I went inside with some regret. Going into the bank on off hours made me jumpy. The alarm sensed movement. If Charlie and Judy were just leaving their vehicles at the bank while running up town then the bank alarm may already be set.
I needed to be prepared to put in my code to deactivate the alarm. As I walked up to the alarm panel I panicked like usual. Will I remember my four digit personal code? If not it was in my billfold. But can I find the card with my personal codes fast enough to find it and punch it in before the alarm time delay runs out?
The alarm showed a green light meaning it was not activated. That is a relief to not have to dig out my code. It also means someone else is in the bank. If you are the last person out of the bank you always turn the alarm on. Walking around the bank I poked my head into several offices and no one showed. I hollered and there was no answer. What was going on? You never leave the bank without setting the alarm. Someone has to be here, but where?
I made another circuit of the offices without any luck. Next I looked behind the teller line without any better results. This was getting spooky. Working in a bank for years wears down your normal apprehension of a robbery. I go in day after day and year after year without anything happening. I go weeks without thinking about an intruder. Our bank had not had a robbery in the twenty years I worked there.
But as soon as something is out of normal the radar goes on and the adrenaline kicks in. When I think intruder or robber I immediately go to hyper tense. The hair on my neck was standing up and I was dodging shadows. My imagination was on hyper drive. I never want to deal with an alarm. I don’t know if I am more afraid of the humiliation of setting off an alarm and the cops coming for no reason or an actual robbery situation. I began panicking more as I went around the bank looking for Charlie or Judy or anybody. There was no fricking person in sight. I finally went to the basement door. This is an old building and the basement is not bright and cheery, it is dark and gloomy with a good share of the town’s cobwebs.
I did not want to go down there. Whoever may be in the bank was probably not down there. But what if someone had done something nasty would they put somebody in the basement? Or did Charlie ask Judy to find some old file and they were both down there looking in the archives. Well I searched the rest of the bank so it was time to search the basement.
If my nerves were wound tight checking the upstairs they were twice as tight heading down the stairs. Part way down the steps I grew anxious about the door getting locked on me. I ran back up the steps and found a chair to wedge in the doorway to block the door open. Going back down the steps I glanced back at my safety chair three times before hitting the bottom.
The light switch for the rest of the basement was at the bottom of the steps. I flicked it on and made a quick three hundred and sixty degree sweep with my eyes spinning in a complete circle. No boogey man jumped out at me. No one thumped me on the head. I completed a quick zig zag through the aisles of storage racks where all the pre-computer records of the bank were stacked in box after box. No one was hiding in the stacks and no bodies were lying in the alley ways.
I finally went to the far corner to look in the furnace room. Again there wasn’t anybody. So the basement sweep produced nothing. I was starting to relax a little bit. Unconsciously I stopped to bend over and check the pressure gauge on the boilers. There was a strange whistling noise followed by a thwack. I did not remember the boiler ever making that noise before. I bent down again to get a closer look and heard the same noise. Thwack!
But the noise was not coming from the boiler it was coming from back over towards the stairs. I started to turn around to find what was making the sound when it dawned on me what it was. That was the sound of a small caliber pistol. Somebody was shooting at me. I dropped to the floor like a rock and flattened out while my mind went into true panic mode. I was trapped in a corner of the basement and somebody with a gun who is shooting at me is at the only exit.
I’ve never been shot at before. What the hell is going on? Someone actually wants to kill me. Crap what do I do? Think! Think! Whoever it is they were coming this way? I couldn’t hear anything over my rasping breath. I tried to calm down and slow or stop my breathing so I could listen. I gulped as quietly as I could to clear my throat and breathe. Don’t panic, don’t panic, think, think. There was no sound. No steps. No further shots!
Somebody was waiting to hear or see me move to take another shot at me. I searched the small area around me looking for any kind of weapon. Boxes of old paper reports, bound general ledgers, spiral bound a
nnual reports, old loan files – none of these were weapons.
Darting my eyes around some more found an old mop handle. I made a quick grab for the wood handle thinking at least this was something I could hit with. As I jerked back behind the storage stack there was another Thwack! Whoever it was had been waiting for me to pop up and had tried another shot. There was no place to move but I felt a tiny desperate bit better with at least a semblance of a weapon.
One good thing about a small caliber handgun, it was a light bullet. It was used by professional hit men at very close range. But if you aren’t hit by it in a very vital area you could take a shot and survive. The trouble was only very professional hit men normally used a silenced twenty-two. But I was not going to take the chance of getting hit in a non-vital area. I kept looking for a better weapon but nothing came to my attention. I was trapped in a corner with a mop handle against a gun. Odds of getting out of this one did not look good.
As I continued to panic I heard a voice from the top of the stairs, “Did you get him? You’ve shot enough times.” The voice was familiar but I wasn’t able to place it with my mind racked by waves of adrenaline and panic.
The person at the bottom of the stairs answered back in a harsh whisper, “Not yet. Just give me a little time. I’ll nail his ass.”
“Just leave him down there. We can lock him up just like the other ones.” No response from the person in the basement with me. “No one is dead yet. Let’s leave it that way. I didn’t sign on to be an accessory to murder. Besides she said no one is supposed to get seriously hurt. Remember?!” The last was hissed through what sounded like clenched teeth. But now she had talked enough so I knew the voice – Nancy! Our new teller was up to no good. Not surprising to me. But who was the accomplice down in the basement? There was some good news in what she said. No one is dead. I guessed that Charlie and Judy were both locked up somewhere upstairs.
I almost rushed to go upstairs and rose part way from my hiding place and jerked myself back just in time. Sure enough another Thwack! This time it hit a calculator near my right hand and sent a shard of plastic into my cheek. I gave a sharp cry of pain. This seemed to satisfy the waiter at the bottom of the steps. “Got you that time sucker! Hope it hit a good spot.”
“Leave it Slick! Let’s get going. We can lock the door from up here.”
“Next time I’ll get a clear shot at you where you can’t hide. See you again ass hole.” I peeked through the storage stack trying to get a line on the attacker. All I could see was his bottom half. He was wearing black jeans tucked into cowboy boots. The boots were tan shark skin with fancy blue stitching in the top portion. I also saw his hand hanging by his side with a semiautomatic pistol gripped nice and easy. That grip told me he was right at home with that gun; it was not a stranger to him.
Before I could wiggle around for a better view the other lights in the basement went out followed by the sound of something crunching and footsteps up the darkened stairs. After that the basement turned into a cave. Since this was a bank the windows for the basement were closed in for security purposes. This was allowed by the Fire Department since it was used for storage only. No windows and a basement with the door at the top of the stairs closed it was pitch dark.
I held my position for several minutes wondering if --- what had she called him? Slick. Wonder if Slick was playing possum waiting for me to move so he could take another shot at me? There was the sound of some steps on the floor above and then nothing. After a good ten minutes of quiet I was out of patience. I needed to see how Charlie and Judy were doing. I didn’t like the sound of that ‘No one is dead yet.’
Apparently I was locked in the basement without any lights. Basement storage for the bank started before current building codes and a second escape route was not in place.
My fear was starting to give way to anger. I was in my bank and someone shot at me and not just once. Who? Why? I was just coming by to visit and I end up in the basement being shot at. What the hell was going on? My claustrophobia was kicking in with my anger and I decided it was time to do something.
I stumbled down the stacks of storage. My hands were out in front of me and I wiggled my foot slowly around from side to side in a slow shuffle as I moved to where I thought the stairs were. Was it a straight shot back or did I need to make some turns? With the light on it was easy to maneuver. With the lights off and a major panic attack in full storm it was an entirely different matter.
Extend hands, waive them to find the aisle sides, raise my foot, swing it back and forth, put it carefully down and then bring my body along. Repeat. So it went until my hands ran out of contact with storage racks. Now do I go straight or make a turn around the end of the line? Or what I thought was a turn. I stood frozen trying to think which direction to go. As I nudged my foot forward one last step prior to making my decision I tripped over something.
I went down hard and had the air knocked out of me. Reaching around to turn and put my hands under me I arched back and hit something with my head. It turned out to be the bottom step. Going up steps in the dark is not fun. There was a small sliver of light now visible under the door at the top of the steps. I tried the light switch but the light did not go on no matter how many times I flipped it. That crunching noise was broken light bulbs under foot.
Chapter 27
Something Extra in the Vault
After stumbling up the stairs in the dark it was the same for the lights at the top of the steps. A twist of the door knob told the story. It was locked. I remember it needing to be a fire proof steel door and it felt solid. Crap. In the dark, on the steps, people needing to be rescued, locked door and claustrophobia taking over from fear and anger.
I braced my feet and slammed my shoulder into the door. Nothing. I wiggled the door to see if it loosened at all. Next I grabbed the hand rail braced one foot and kicked with the other leg. I thought I felt some give but it was still shut tight. My claustrophobia drew down more adrenaline than my fear from being shot at. I reined a frenzied series of kicks and shoulder slams at the door. As my wind was exhausted and my muscles screamed in agony I slammed the door one more time and wound up falling forward into the lobby of the bank.
Light flooded into my eyes and fresh air screamed into my lungs. I did it! Breathe, breathe. As my starved lungs played wind turbine sucking in air and blowing it back out my brain screamed Alleluia. This went on for over a minute. As my wind returned my brain finally kicked in gear and I thought to look around. Thankfully I was alone. No thug was standing there waiting to put a bullet in my head. Just to be extra sure I made a slow careful circuit of the bank. And again I did not see Charlie and Judy. Where the hell were they? I absolutely positively knew they were not in the basement. And I was NOT going down there again.
Standing by the teller line I decided it was safe to make some noise. I hollered good and loud, “Anybody here? Anybody?” Amazing how the bank echoes when it is empty. I listened intently but heard no answering shout. I moved on to different points around the bank shouting and listening.
As I moved in front of the vault there was finally a muffled, “In here.” My mind thought in where? In the janitor’s closet? Then it came again, “In the vault you dummy. In the vault.” Looking at the vault showed a closed steel vault door. Even if someone was in there how could I hear them? That vault door was ten inches thick solid steel and the walls were a foot thick concrete crisscrossed with steel rebar every four inches. “Mitch, are you out there? Mitch!” The last was a wail.
“Yes it’s Mitch. Is that you, Judy? Where are you?”
“In the vault. I’m locked in with Charlie and he’s hurt. Get us out. Get us out now!” Desperation echoed in the last demand.
By now I was hollering at the thick steel door of the vault. “Okay. But how are you talking to me through that door?”
“Mitch, you need to talk up and speak into the air hole.” Oh right – the air hole. It came back to me now. The vault has an air hole built in just in case
you are locked in accidentally. It is a small tube designed through the vault wall to provide fresh air. I looked around the door trying to remember where the tube was on the wall.
I moved to stand right by the air tube and shouted, “Are you okay in there?”
Judy’s voice came through muffled and sounding scared. “I’m okay but Charlie is hurt. He needs medical attention and the sooner the better.”
“I’ll call 911 and get some help.” I moved over to the phone by the teller line and fumbled the numbers. I was so upset that I was having problems dialing. Finally I got the three numbers dialed and someone picked up right away.
“What is the emergency?” My brain froze and I could not think what to say. “Hello. Is someone on the line? Can I help you?”
“Er ---. Ah ----. Yes. I’m at the bank. There’s been some trouble.” I guess I really didn’t know what had happened. Was it a robbery?
“Which bank sir?”
Damn why hadn’t I said that? “Bank of Spearfish. Hurry and get here.” From there they wanted me to stay on the line and all of that. But I just hung up. They would come. I went back to the vault. “Helps on the way.” I hollered.
“Open the vault and get us out of here. I think Charlie is getting worse.” Easier said than done. I pulled on the door but no luck, it was locked. I studied the combination dials but realized I only had one of the combinations. Only Charlie and Mary Beth had both combinations for security reasons.
Judy was hollering something through the air tube again but I ignored it and ran to my desk to get the combination I had for the lower dial. A frantic search found the combination and I ran back to the vault. Doing a four number combination dial while you are two thousand percent flustered is next to impossible. Even when I got my combination to work it didn’t help. Judy’s numbers were not in the vault with her and Charlie was out of it. I finally called Mary Beth to come down. I hung up on her about the time the police showed up at the door.