I held up my right hand, and counted on my fingers, out loud. "One, the Frieberg bank. Two, the cash cage on the oh-three deck. Three, the cash cage on the oh-two deck. Four, the cash cage on the oh-one deck. Five, the counting room on the second deck." I grinned. "That's our 'five banks.' And they're close together, just like everybody said."
In the silence, I told Sally to contact the Sheriffs Department, and have all the troops watching the other areas head for Frieberg. "Ten-thirty-three all the way, please."
Nobody argued.
"You want the chopper up here, too?" asked Sally.
"Yeah, if it can fly in this stuff. Might as well have her close. The airport across the river will be just fine, if the fog permits. Otherwise, anywhere close they can land."
"The fog's just along the river," interjected Sally. "The higher areas are clear. They don't have any fog at all in Maitland…"
"Excellent." I looked at Volont, who was calmly staring out the window, toward the vague shape of the Beauregard. "Trying to do it to us again, isn't he?"
He didn't answer.
Art, bless him, was doing his usual muttering to himself, and came up with a good point. "So, how is this supposed to work?" he asked, rhetorically. "I mean, he gets his people out of the bank… okay… then he gets off the boat with those people… they leave, and we get them, right?" He looked around. "I mean, what's the advantage here? How's he gonna sink the boat after he leaves? Why would he sink it after he left?" He kept tapping his foot on the side of a metal desk, unconsciously. "I don't get this… all we gotta do is watch him leave, and hustle the people off the boat…"
Good point. One I somehow was sure Gabriel hadn't overlooked.
"Let's get boat security up here," said Hester. She spoke to Art. "Get our bosses informed, and get supervisors and hostage negotiators on the way. Get a second TAC team, too."
"Maybe," said George, "we should call the bank like Gabriel suggested we do?"
George always comes through in a pinch. Volont just nodded at him. George waved his hand at Sally. "What's the number of the bank?"
Sally, who was on the phone to our office, getting everybody heading our way, simply reached over and threw the phone book at him. In itself it was no big thing, inasmuch as the phone book for all of Nation County is less than an inch thick. But it was the thought that counted, and it helped to break the tension. Especially since George was caught off guard, and missed the book.
Our secure radio came back to life. "CP from Alpha Two? Two things, up there. One is that, ah, we have another truck backing toward the bank. And there seems to be a problem on that gambling boat…" Alpha 2 was about 100 yards closer to the boat than we were. They apparently could see her, anyway.
"Yeah, and Alpha Mobile has the new truck, too. Straight truck, double axle, with a lift gate."
Maybe they were going to take the change as well. Regardless, it sure looked like they weren't worried about time.
"I've got the teller on the line," shouted George. Since nobody else was talking at the time, it sounded sort of strange. "She says," he said, in a more normal tone, "that everybody is just fine, and that they are going to set off another explosion." He held his hand up for silence. Nobody was talking. "Uh-oh, I've got a fireman coming to the phone now…"
"Calm down," said Volont.
George looked surprised. He hadn't realized he was shouting. "I see… I see… yes, that's very considerate, isn't it? Yes…"
He looked up. "The firemen say that they've been allowed to watch, and that the bad guys are going to take out a section of wall with explosives, so they can load straight into the truck on that side. That they will seek shelter in the vault, and that the firemen are supposed to be ready in case of fire." He was back on the phone. "Right, all right. Yes, we will…"
The secure radio came back up. "Alpha Three can see inside the new truck… and it looks like they have one of those… oh… portable forklifts… a dolly forklift? It's near the back of the truck, and they seem to have like fifty-five gallon drums in the back…"
"Jesus," said Art. "They gonna blow up the whole bank?"
Volont turned on him. "Of course not. The drums are likely empty and will be used to contain cash. So the fork-lift can move them quickly." He spoke to Sally. "Tell the units to expect a section of wall to go with a minimal explosion. That we've been forewarned."
"CP to all units," she broadcast, "we have been informed that the suspects intend to blow a hole in the bank wall. They say not to worry about anybody inside."
Well, that was to the point.
"Tell Alpha Chase to have the fire department roll toward the bank," said Volont, "and have a pumper go near the boat. Tell 'em not to cross the river road, but to stand by right close."
Sally did as she was told. Cool, calm. It was absolutely necessary for her to be that way. Any sign, even the slightest, of panic on the control net, and things could go to hell in a basket. As if they hadn't already.
"You were right about him needing money," I said to Volont. "Looks like they're going for the coins, as well." I paused, waiting for a response. None came. "You're going to have to tell me just why he's in such goddamned desperate need of cash," I said. "This is ridiculous."
"Greed" was all he said.
"'Greed' my ass," I replied. "He's risking or threatening hundreds of people here. That's not just greed. That's a hell of a lot more than just greed."
"We've got activity at the boat," said Hester, using her binoculars. "A stretch van is backing up to the riverbank."
We peered into the fog, and could just make out the van as it crossed the railroad track and stopped about ten feet from the river's edge. There was no real riverbank' there, but large chunks of rock had been used as riprap, with the paving running right to the water's edge. The hull of the General Beauregard was about six feet from the paving. Some vague figures appeared – they must have gotten out of the van on the side away from us – pulled two sections of what looked like some sort of ramp from the rear, huddled over them, and then bridged the gap between the shore and the bow weather deck of the Beau. In the swirl of the fog, I thought I could make out a shadowy figure crouching near the van, with what looked like a shotgun.
There was a lull in observable activity.
"I can't tell for sure, but I think I count a minimum of nine suspects that I actually saw get out of the van…" said Hester, in a monotone of concentration. "Plus at least three or four already on the boat, one per deck, probably more. Say… about" – and her voice began to pick up inflections again – "fifteen? Total, with a guess at the number in the van…"
"At least," said George.
"And we're… what, until reinforcements arrive?" We all looked at the roster. Counting the two local cops, we were nineteen.
"Well, shit, we've got 'em outnumbered," I said.
"Easily," said Volont.
"What about the other boat agents?" asked George. "How many are working now?"
"One," said Hester. "Let me check where he is… shit… he should have headed toward the boat when the fire alarm went…"
Harmon James, chief of security for the General Beauregard, came flying into the office, face red, and eyes wide.
"Jesus Christ, they've stolen the boat!" He held up his little pocket walkie-talkie. "I don't know who these people are, but they're talking to me on my own radio!"