“Don’t blame Brad because he’s less than altruistic. Some people are. Okay, tell me where the money is. When I have it in my bag, you can leave.”
The man opened his mouth, shut it again. He frowned in thought.
“You don’t really know, do you, Brad? You figured I’d take your word for it and shove you out the door. There’d be no one around but your fellow hostages by the time I found out you lied.”
“No, really, I just need to think a minute. I’m usually guiding little kids around…”
“You work on it, Brad.”
“But I’m only twenty-four!”
“And that’s relevant to me… why, exactly?”
“I can’t die.”
“I thought that once, too, Brad. Anyone else? And before you ask, no, I won’t let you walk out. But once I have enough cash, I’ll leave, and then you can all go.”
No response. Theresa’s breath had finally steadied, and the white spots had disappeared from her vision. Next to her, Jessica Ludlow fidgeted, her son shifting in her lap.
“Missy? I’ll bet you can tell me. Receptionists know everything. They’re almost as good as janitors.”
“I don’t.”
“The way I figure it, if I can pick up another million dollars, I’ll just go on my merry way. Or I can hang out here and continue to shoot people. Which do you think is a better idea?”
“I thought you wanted to leave,” Theresa said. “You said you didn’t want any more money.”
Lucas barely glanced at her. “I only said that to get my car in place before the next stage of wealth accumulation commences, because that sort of activity makes cops antsy. Missy?”
“If I knew where a million dollars was, you think I’d be working as a receptionist?”
“Yes, I do. Because you’re an honest girl, Missy. And also because you’d never get it out of here without one of these.” Lucas gestured with the automatic rifle, its barrel drawing a loop in the air. “Neither condition restricts me.”
He stood in front of them, in scuffed Timberland hiking boots, a crisp black T-shirt under the nylon Windbreaker. His jeans seemed crisply new as well, but they had already been stained. Dark droplets made a vertical line on his right leg, difficult to see against the dark fabric. Their tiny tails pointed toward his head, indicating that the liquid had been cast off by a soaked object traveling upward. He had been doing something messy before entering the bank.
“I’m always down here,” Missy said. “That’s it. I don’t have the run of the building.”
“We’ll go logically. What’s on the second floor?” “Research.” “And the third?” “Check Services. Verifying and correcting.” “No cash?” “That’s the beauty of checks,” Missy pointed out. “All electronic.” “Where are the security guards?” “Sixth. No cash there either.” They stared at each other. “What’s in the security offices?” “Desks. File cabinets. Lots of food.” “Food?” “For the dogs. Monitors. A meeting room.” “Monitors showing what?” “The building.” “What parts of it?” “All of it. There’s cameras on every floor.” “This lobby?” Why did he ask? As Cavanaugh had pointed out, the cameras were clearly visible. “Sure, this lobby. The vaults. The loading dock. Third floor.
The-” “What’s on the third floor?” Missy hesitated. She had erred somehow, and the knowledge showed clearly on his face. “Bank Loans.” “What’s that?” “How would I know?” “I’m willing to bet you could run the department if you had a fancy degree after your name. I’m willing to bet you know all about it. So don’t make me shoot Brad after all, okay? What’s in the bank-loan department?”
The girl sighed. “If banks are having a shortfall, or some other temporary crisis, they come in here and get a loan to tide them over. They get a certain interest rate and-anyway, most of it is done by electronic transfers.”
“But some isn’t?”
“Some cash,” Missy admitted, less reluctant now that the subject had been broached, “is kept on hand in case of an old-fashioned run, where customers come in and want to withdraw all their funds. Never used to happen before 9/11. Now, with terrorism scares and worries about another blackout-”
“Thank you for the financial analysis, Missy. Where is this money kept?”
“Don’t know,” the receptionist told him, with a trace of smugness. “I’m always down here, like I said.”
“How much cash?”
“I wouldn’t know that either.”
Lucas watched the young woman, his stare on a slow simmer. “Well. We need to get that money.”
Missy shook her head.
“You got a problem with that, sugar?” Lucas asked.
“No, but you might. There’s still security in the rest of the building. You won’t make it.”
“Of course not. It’d be suicide even to try. That’s why I’m going to send someone else.”
His eye fell on Theresa, producing a mixture of feelings. She’d be more than happy to wander around the Fed, more than happy to be anywhere except in this lobby. She could probably find a phone to check on Paul’s condition and call Rachael.
Lucas said, “Jessie.”
All eyes swiveled to the young mother, so that Theresa could openly study the recently widowed woman. Jessica Ludlow had luminous blue eyes and washed-out blond hair that hung, without much form, past her shoulders. Her body type fell between average and chubby, and her hunched-over posture did not help. Like Theresa, she wore a silk blouse, and it clung to her perspiring sides.
The little boy clutched to her chest had the same hair, though with a few darker blond streaks. He dozed now, his eyelids lifting momentarily, then closing again. His mouth and nose had reddened, and his breath came out in small wheezes, ruffling a wrinkle in his mother’s sleeve. Her arms tightened around him.
“You’re going to go to three and find the bank-loan cash.”
“Me?” She squeaked the word. “I work down here. I print certificates and send out interest statements, that’s all.”
“You don’t have to join the staff on three, just bring the cash back here.”
“How?”
“Excuse me?”
She pressed the child closer to herself. Theresa wondered how the kid could breathe. “How? I don’t even know where it is. If it’s locked up, how do I get it out?”
“You’ll figure something out.”
She seemed surprised at the idea. “I will not!”
“Now, Jessie.” Lucas being soothing sounded even more terrifying than Lucas being threatening. “You’re not cooperating.
Do you remember what happened to the last person who didn’t cooperate?”
Jessica Ludlow bent her head over her child’s and closed her eyes.
“I’ll go,” Theresa said.
Lucas regarded her coolly. “I don’t recall asking for volunteers.”
“How much can she do with a baby in tow? I can do it.”
“You don’t even work here.”
“I’ve only been here a month,” Jessica pointed out, much to her captor’s displeasure.
His scowl deepened when Brad raised his hand as if in class. “No, I’ll go. I can get it-I have the combination.”
“You? You’re a tour guide. Why would you have access to bank-loan money?”
The man hesitated for only a moment. “I used to date a girl who worked for the auditor. She knew everything about every department here. I can get you as much as you want.”
Theresa didn’t believe him, and she tended to believe everybody. Lucas didn’t either. “This is not up for discussion. I’ll even explain my reasoning, to make it perfectly clear. You”-the barrel of the automatic rifle tipped toward Brad-“have no reason to come back to this lobby and every reason not to. Same goes for you, Theresa-you got your man out of here. If you get out of this room, you can go hold his hand in a hospital somewhere and not give a thought to all these people I’m going to shoot because you didn’t come back. Why not? You don’t know them.”